Magnet & Steele by Trisha Fuentes Page A

man’s tanned arm up along to his athletic shape. The jolt
she received from his eyes alone leering down at her was
frightening, the fellow was really-really good-looking, but her
attraction for him however was instantly doused by the anger he
seemed to ignite by his apparent lack of sympathy.
     
    The Jock shoved the napkin in her
face again, “Here, just take it, I feel bad.” He then stepped away
from her side for a moment and snatched the football back up. “To
the left you ditz-heads,” he yelled back to his fellow teammates.
“Will you listen to your quarterback for once? Look what you did to
this poor girl.”
     
    Kids around them were laughing now
as the Jock unintentionally brought about more attention to her
plight. Still upset, Francine looked straight towards the back of
the Jock’s dark head and yelled, “Don’t do me any more
favors!”
     
    The Jock doesn’t immediately turn
around, but when he does, he was about to say something in his
defense and instead slowly closed his mouth to look directly into
her eyes this was where it got interesting.
     
    Francine had never experienced the
unexplained before and yet, extreme heat washed over her skin, it
was magnetic, it was magical and as soon as she tried to wiggle out
of the signs of intense physical chemistry she noticed the Jock
blink out of his gaze as well. “You could have broken my nose,” she
spat out, trying to ignore her heart pounding so fierce.
     
    The Jock guffawed. “Never,” he said,
trying to ignore his heart pounding as well. “It wasn’t that close
to your head.”
     
    Irritated now more than charmed,
Francine uttered, “If you’re supposed to be the quarterback, you
should have better aim.”
     
    The Jock opened his mouth to
counter-attack, but then closed it again to study her face. He was
so attracted to her, but why? She wasn’t spectacular like his last
girlfriend; she was just evenly basic with reddish-brown hair
pulled back with a head-band, baby-blue over her brown eyes and
pink lips. Feeling embarrassed all of a sudden because he felt the
urge to chew on those pink lips, the Jock let go a cough instead
and gruffly conveyed, “It was an accident.”
     
    Francine then turned around,
gathered up her things and headed off to her next class trying not
to take into account the kids around her pointing and laughing now
at her sopping attire as she came across them.
     
    The Jock watched Francine as she ran
away. Feeling the yen to go after her, he stopped and remembered
where he was, who he was and pumped the football twice in his hands
before throwing it precisely into the arms of one of his teammates
a hundred yards away.
     
    Francine managed to run into the
girls’ bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. Resting
the back of her head on the metal door, she wiped away the tears
that she had been holding back. She was mortified to say the least;
everyone at this new school would hereon in think of her as the
butt of their jokes. This was not the first impression she wanted
to leave—and the Jock? Who the heck was he? Stealing all her air,
she felt like she couldn’t even breathe, she had never been around
a boy who made her heart flutter as much as he did; he was so
handsome and rightfully so. With heavy lidded brown mysterious
eyes, heavenly sun-kissed skin, and his body? He was perfect, an
absolute hunk and she felt like a ditz ogling him as much as she
did. She would have to avoid him at all costs, steer clear of him
as much as she could in fear of the ridicule that she would forever
endure in the future from this new school, never mind the
sensations he made her feel. She couldn’t get passed that feeling
of wanting to touch him the next time she saw him in the hallways.
That wouldn’t look good—nope—and Francine smiled inwardly as she
made her way out of the stall imagining her body dragging at his
feet as she tried to hold onto him from behind.
     
    Inside her Economic class, Mr.
Conner was in