Flash Fiction: Pedestrian Crossing - A Flashing Red Light

One day, I am going to give some serious thought into a story.

But today is not that day.

So here's me goofing around, reliving some of my most embarrassing moments via this piece of flash fiction. I hope it'll strike a chord of familiarity in you as it has in me. (And maybe make you groan as it has made me.)

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Pedestrian Crossing:
A Flashing Red Light

Layla was not always a convincing actress.

She did pretty well on stage, sure. Her delivery was always on point, even when the glaring stage lights made her sweat under all that heavy make-up. A round of applause always followed every performance. In the theatre circles, she was seen as a minor celebrity. Although of course that didn't mean much in college.

Layla was not always a convincing actress - not when there was no stage, no script, no director. Not when she had only one spectator.

This is impossible, she thought as she punched random keys - the sound too loud in her ears. She stared hard at the paper on her the desk, willing meaning into the haphazardly written numbers. She knew that with the way she had been squinting, she looked more angry than absorbed. And yet, she just couldn't relax the muscles in her face.

Not when Allen Hawke's gaze was pinning her dawn.

She bit her lip, feeling a blush slowly creeping onto her face. With an awkward swoop of her hand, she swept all of her hair onto her shoulder - a flimsy barrier between her and Prince Too Charming.

Everyone seemed to love Allen. Even before she knew his face, she knew his name. Smart, talented, and charismatic. A musician, a dancer, and been-all-around kind of guy. It was ridiculous how he made perfect look effortless. She never heard him boast. Probably because he didn't need to. Everyone around him was more than willing to that work for him.

Layla tried to mask her lack of amazement whenever her friends rattled on and on about about him. As if they knew him as much as they knew themselves. But It wasn't as if she hated him. She just couldn't get into the hype.

She felt very much like the protagonist of a badly-written romance.

As it happened, fate seemed to favor badly-written romances. After being introduced once, he had developed a habit of acknowledging her existence every time they bumped into each other. She was not used to mostly-strangers treating her as if they were old buddies. Add to that the unease she felt every time their eyes met. Despite the openness in his body language, his eyes remained unreadable.

It started from there. Every fleeting eye contact with him was like leaving a mystery unsolved. And for someone who never waited until Christmas to open all her gifts, Layla was left unsettled. She had felt the uneasiness collect in her belly but instead of turning into lead, they grew into butterflies.

Even when experience told her that eye contact didn't always have meaning, her reflex was to develop the happiest of crushes.

She kept telling herself it was okay, she was smarter this time around. A crush - no matter how enormous it was - was only just a crush. Still a safe distance from falling in love.

She contented herself with the happiness she got from just a glimpse of him. Regardless, it was easy enough to spot him. He was always a blur of collared shirts, khaki shorts, and easy smiles. Although half the time it was spent convincing herself that stolen glances in crowded corridors were enough.

Alas, fate was not sensitive to the needs of small girls with too active imaginations. On the first day of class - in a science class no less - she had found herself in the same room as Allen Hawke. Classmates! In science class (cue the Twilight flashbacks)! She swore fate had laughed as she grappled with the nauseating happiness that hit her when he entered the room.

Laya fidgeted in her seat now, remembering their first day: She seated herself in the front, but the whoosh of the opening door caught her attention. Ten minutes had already passed after the bell rang. What kind of person would come in so late? She looked back and her breath caught in her throat when she saw a blue collared shirt... and khaki shorts.

Of course he just had to be late too.

She quickly turned back to the front, trying to calm herself. Joe, who was seated next to her, also noticed Allen's late entrance and the effect it had on Layla. He watched Allen take a seat in the back.

Just when Layla thought she could breathe again, Joe said, "You know, Hawke's looking at our direction". Needless to say Layla's composure was thoroughly lost thereafter. She knew that if she looked back she'd see a smile plastered on his face.

Which would be counterproductive since she needed non-wobbly knees to run away with.

Now here she was doing math homework in science class. Even after how many classes with him, she couldn't keep cool. Or even just as cool as she could get.

She sighed, slightly annoyed at the self-depreciating tone of her thoughts. Layla knew herself well, and was perfectly happy with the way she was. Although far from perfect, even she took pride in her above average grades and theatre experience. And yet, when she compared herself to Prince Too Charming, she imagined herself as a turtle hiding in its shell. In her mind she was sure her lukewarmness would just dilute his cool.

The bell finally rang, snapping Layla out of her memories. As she shoved her papers and calculator into her bag, she briefly felt guilt for not listening to the lecture. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Allen stand and stretch which emphasized just how much taller he was. She tried very hard not to think about his toned muscles --

Brenda gently nudged her shoulder, flashing Layla a knowing smile. Layla tried to look oblivious as she stood up and tossed her bag's straps over her shoulders. Joe had already gone ahead of them. But Layla she was torn between lingering inside the classroom for the slim chance that they might strike up a conversation, or dashing outside where she could just gush to Brenda about the cause of her class-long inner turmoil.

She sneaked a glance at Allen. Her face burned as soon as Allen caught her gaze. She quickly ducked her head. Run away it is then, she decided, as she grabbed Brenda's hand and headed toward the doors.

Once outside, Layla pretty much lost all pretenses of composure. Words upon words fell from her mouth the moment she thought them up. Brenda, being used to Layla, knew to wait it out with an occasional nod to show that she was still listening. They walked without no direction, much like Layla's train of thought.

"It's so frustrating you know," Layla said. "To be so simple-minded like this. This much happiness is a curse."

Brenda laughed, the curls on her head bouncing along with the motion.

"I don't even understand why I like him so much, you know?" Layla continued.

Blinking through unbelievably long eyelashes, Brenda asked, "Why do you?"

Layla shrugged. But really, she just wanted to avoid sounding silly - well, sillier. What could she say? That there was something extraordinary with an extraordinary guy noticing an ordinary girl?

A conversation with him. She was convinced that she could solve something if she holds a decent conversation with him. If she could, that is.

She saw him before Brenda did. As if her too-loud thoughts called him before her, there he was.

Allen Hawke.

Looking straight at her.

***