"Ugh," the now-proven whoever that oh-so-rudely caused the accident muttered above me. "Hey, are you okay? I mean, you landed pretty rough there."
I blinked a few times to clear my vision and squinted up at the perpatrator. As my eyes adjusted, I saw it was a boy, about my age, with longish, shaggy, dark brown hair. That was about all I saw because his hair was so long it covered the rest of his face. I decided to skip the identification process and get right to telling him off.
"I don't know who you think you are, but how do you get off plowing right into somebody in the middle of a staircase with a 'hey, are you okay'?!"
He looked up and his hair slid back so I could see the rest of his features. Big light blue eyes glittered at me, framed by long dark lashes. High cheekbones and a strong jawline covered by skin so clear and so pale that I would only ever expect to see it on a porceline doll. Not that it mattered, but he was pretty cute. I was actually stunned speechless.
When our eyes met, his widened and flashed a brilliant scarlet red that slowly morphed back to the blue, which dissolved into a shade of green that I had never seen before. He immediately looked like he was going to be sick.
"Who are you," he said in a hoarse whisper.
Oh, crap, I thought. He really is gonna be sick. I found my words easily and answered his question with as much distaste as I could muster.
"I'm Katy Henderson, who the hell are you?"
He sat back on his haunches (which put all of his weight on my thighs, right above the knee. Not exactly comfy) and held his head in his hands. Several times he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped it closed without uttering a word. In between those he either chewed his bottom lip in an adorable fashion or swallowed repeatedly. Both were obvious nervous habits.
"Tristan," he finally said. "Tristan Edwards. I don't have a cute nickname like you, so whatever you think up is welcome."
He looked down again with a small smirk. It suited his face to smile. Made him even more crush-worthy. I became sickeningly aware that there was about a hundred seventy five pounds of hot boy crouching on top of me and I wasn't doing anything to fix it. Not that I wouldn't mind keeping our current position, but he didn't need to know that. This Tristan guy was obviously new and I wasn't making a very good first impression
