out of her car, but not before grabbing a brown paper bag from the trunk of her bug. Scarlett walked up to the glass doors and saw that Francis was on duty tonight.
"Hey, Francis," she said as she walked in.
"Hey, Scar, you can go on in. Not many visitors today. Be careful, though. If anything...you know, happens, just press—"
"Press the buzzer. I know, I know; I got it. How long have I been coming here?"
"Four years."
"Exactly," Scarlett said, proving her point as she always did in any argument.
"Nice look," Francis commented as she started her way across the lobby of the building.
"Uh…thanks?" Scarlett said, glancing down at her lower than average look that consisted of a T-shirt and jeans completed with her marked up and, according to Teen Vogue, last season's keds. Her hair was falling around her shoulders in unruly curls because she had begun to get a headache from the tight bun it had originally been in. So, now her still semi-wet hair was drying in horrid curls down her back.
"It suits you nicely," Francis continued.
"That's really nice; now if you don't mind, could you open the door for me?" Scarlett changed the topic, turning a slight shade of pink from the obvious hints Francis was throwing at her.
"Sure. What are you doing this weekend?" Francis asked as his finger lingered over the red button that would open the door, which led to room 118: Charles' Room.
"I'm working on an English essay," Scarlett replied, not looking at Francis, but facing the door that was still locked.
"Always working on school work, aren't you?"
"Well, if I want to get accepted in an Ivy League college, then I have to be working on my school work all the time," Scarlett automatically answered.
She was desperately thinking. Is he flirting with me?
"Oh, well, I think you should take a break every now and then," Francis replied.
Oh my, God. Francis had never done this to her. She had gotten to know him better in the last two years because he had joined the program after Scarlett had started going to the hospital to visit Charles weekly. Francis had never once said anything about wanting to date Scarlett, let alone hinting that he liked her. She finally turned around from facing the door and leaned against the wall beside it, looking at Francis in the eyes.
"What are you getting at?" she asked.
"I'm asking you if you're free this weekend to go out with me."
"Francis!" Scarlett was astonished at how upfront he was being. He had only ever given her the occasional 'hi' and 'bye' as she came and left the hospital, and now all of a sudden he was asking her out?
"What? Haven't I given you enough hints already? For two years now, I've been shooting you obvious innuendos at my affection."
Oxymoron, Scarlett couldn't keep herself from thinking.
"You've never hinted anything before," Scarlett said quietly.
"Yes, I have. I've winked at you, smiled at you, given you extra days to pay the rent for Charles against official protocol, and I've even given presents on your birthday and Christmas."
"Can you open the door now, please?" Scarlett was surprised and astonished at herself for never realizing this before.
A muscle in Francis' jaw clench, and he pressed the button that automatically opened the door. Scarlett quickly scurried into the hallway located behind the door and leaned against the wall thinking back to all of the times she had come here. She had never once given Francis a second glance. Sure, he was appealing for an eighteen year old. He had black hair and sparkling brown eyes to compliment his tanned skin. His high cheekbones and thick eyelashes weren't so bad either. Not to mention, he was a senior at her school and sat with the 'popular' crowd at lunch. All in all, he was pretty easy on the eyes. But what did he see in her? She was your average seventeen year old junior with untamed scarlet ringlets and ocean green eyes.
"Hey, Francis," she said as she walked in.
"Hey, Scar, you can go on in. Not many visitors today. Be careful, though. If anything...you know, happens, just press—"
"Press the buzzer. I know, I know; I got it. How long have I been coming here?"
"Four years."
"Exactly," Scarlett said, proving her point as she always did in any argument.
"Nice look," Francis commented as she started her way across the lobby of the building.
"Uh…thanks?" Scarlett said, glancing down at her lower than average look that consisted of a T-shirt and jeans completed with her marked up and, according to Teen Vogue, last season's keds. Her hair was falling around her shoulders in unruly curls because she had begun to get a headache from the tight bun it had originally been in. So, now her still semi-wet hair was drying in horrid curls down her back.
"It suits you nicely," Francis continued.
"That's really nice; now if you don't mind, could you open the door for me?" Scarlett changed the topic, turning a slight shade of pink from the obvious hints Francis was throwing at her.
"Sure. What are you doing this weekend?" Francis asked as his finger lingered over the red button that would open the door, which led to room 118: Charles' Room.
"I'm working on an English essay," Scarlett replied, not looking at Francis, but facing the door that was still locked.
"Always working on school work, aren't you?"
"Well, if I want to get accepted in an Ivy League college, then I have to be working on my school work all the time," Scarlett automatically answered.
She was desperately thinking. Is he flirting with me?
"Oh, well, I think you should take a break every now and then," Francis replied.
Oh my, God. Francis had never done this to her. She had gotten to know him better in the last two years because he had joined the program after Scarlett had started going to the hospital to visit Charles weekly. Francis had never once said anything about wanting to date Scarlett, let alone hinting that he liked her. She finally turned around from facing the door and leaned against the wall beside it, looking at Francis in the eyes.
"What are you getting at?" she asked.
"I'm asking you if you're free this weekend to go out with me."
"Francis!" Scarlett was astonished at how upfront he was being. He had only ever given her the occasional 'hi' and 'bye' as she came and left the hospital, and now all of a sudden he was asking her out?
"What? Haven't I given you enough hints already? For two years now, I've been shooting you obvious innuendos at my affection."
Oxymoron, Scarlett couldn't keep herself from thinking.
"You've never hinted anything before," Scarlett said quietly.
"Yes, I have. I've winked at you, smiled at you, given you extra days to pay the rent for Charles against official protocol, and I've even given presents on your birthday and Christmas."
"Can you open the door now, please?" Scarlett was surprised and astonished at herself for never realizing this before.
A muscle in Francis' jaw clench, and he pressed the button that automatically opened the door. Scarlett quickly scurried into the hallway located behind the door and leaned against the wall thinking back to all of the times she had come here. She had never once given Francis a second glance. Sure, he was appealing for an eighteen year old. He had black hair and sparkling brown eyes to compliment his tanned skin. His high cheekbones and thick eyelashes weren't so bad either. Not to mention, he was a senior at her school and sat with the 'popular' crowd at lunch. All in all, he was pretty easy on the eyes. But what did he see in her? She was your average seventeen year old junior with untamed scarlet ringlets and ocean green eyes.
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