The ceiling fan overhead.
The china cabinet that takes up the corner by the window.
Clearing his throat, Gray finally breaks the silence.
“Sloane,” he utters, attempting to draw my attention. Attention he already has, but is unaware of, due to my efforts at keeping my vagrant eyes pointed in any direction but his. Unable to keep up a believable act, I’m forced to face him.
“Thank you for being kind to my sister, I’m sure you can tell she has it rough from the other kids at school,” he states with sincerity in his voice. He’s been done eating for a while, but strangely enough, hasn’t left the table yet.
“I could sort of tell, but she gives the impression of being steadfast. Of course, it doesn’t help that she’s so beautiful. I’m sure that gives a lot of the girls some extra ammunition to their logic on why they should give her a hard time. Girls can be stupid like that sometimes. Anyway, it’s more like she was being nice to me. I’ve never really been one for making friends,” I blabber away.
“Is that something you had a problem with, going from place to place?” he asks.
“Is what something I’ve had a problem with?” His vague words have me at a loss, unable to understand his meaning.
“Being beautiful, and girls giving you a hard time because of it,” he remarks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Quickly picking up speed, my hammering heart nearly beats right out of my chest. He had to have worded that wrong.
He can’t really think I’m beautiful. Can he?
No, he’s just being polite because of how he acted earlier in the day.
“Girls don’t give me a hard time because I’m beautiful. I have reddish auburn hair and everyone knows men prefer blondes. I don’t go out of my way to curl it every day or wear my make-up just perfectly and I don’t dress up in high heels and cute outfits every day either. I’m just average,” I clarify before continuing.
“They give me a hard time because they’re afraid their stupid little boyfriends are going to want to try out something new, particularly in a small town like this where they get used to being around the same people their whole lives and are hardly exposed to any outsiders like me,” I answer honestly.
“Hmm… I don’t think that’s all there is to it. I’m a guy, so trust my assessment of this situation. A dude isn’t going to be interested in you just because you’re new to town. If you were some beautiful girl that’s just come to town and he wasn’t used to that type of beauty because he’d never encountered it before, that would be why he’d be interested. Don’t diminish your beauty. It’s almost worse than dumbing yourself down.”
He says all this in a playful way, but at the same time I can recognize the realness of his words. I’ve never really cared about my looks. Never felt stunning. Never felt hideous either.
Right now, however, I’m smitten and believing I’ve just received the compliment of a lifetime. I’m practically glowing from his appraisal, as my attitude transforms into a rollercoaster of traits starting at confident and ending at shy. Contradictory maybe, but still true.
The sound of Lyra bounding down the stairs effectively ends the conversation, and I almost imagine I’d dreamed it up.
We exchange cell phone numbers, and I tell her that I’ll see her at school tomorrow. I wave goodbye to Gray, but hardly look in his direction again other than to do so.
Five minutes later, I’m pulling up outside my house. No sooner do I go inside and give my mom the low-down on my evening, am I taking a shower, and then falling asleep.
That night I dream of butterscotch, caramel, and swirls of black ink.
Chapter Six
Gray
I lay here in bed thinking about what a strange day it was. It started out with having to go into the high school to sign some bullshit papers because Lyra missed a day already when school’s only been in session for a week. Supposedly a student is allotted eight unexcused absences before any type of disciplinary harassment ensues. We should have known they’d give us a hard time the first opportunity they get.
But seriously, she’s on the damn honor roll.
Since I was already there, I walked her to class and it brought back so many memories of when I was a student, which made me think of my buddies on the football team and of Mom up there in the stands sitting by my best friend Gracie.
God I miss those days, mostly because I miss Mom so much. She dropped the bomb on me the day after graduation, Breast Cancer stage four. She had known for a month or two but didn’t want me stressing during a time she claimed I should be living it up.
Had I known, I would have been spending all my time with her and not giving her the shitty time of having to deal with my partying.
I guess she knew all that though.
When I walked my sister to class, I finally understood why she has such an aversion to school despite her academic successes. It’s got to do with the stupid brats who go there. I watched one of them trip her as she walked past on the way to her desk, and the whole group of them laugh about it. I’ve never wanted to hurt a chick before today, not that I believe in doing that sort of thing.
It affected me so much, I actually stopped on my walk back to my jeep, leaning against the wall to contemplate how I was going to handle the situation. It wouldn’t help to tell the principal. The no bullying policy is a joke, especially if it’s one of the popular crew who’s doing the bullying. Maybe I could pay another student to harass the bullies?
Still contemplating the merits of that one, because, wham! Someone tripped over my shins, which I’ve narrowed down to being the defining moment of what started the process of all the strange occurrences.
It only took about five seconds to realize the unfortunate individual who possessed the ungraceful gene, was in fact very fortunate in the looks department. I’ve never been attracted to red heads, but fuck, if she wasn’t the sexiest woman I think I’ve ever seen in real life.
She was curvy in all the right places, tits surprisingly big for her tiny little figure. Her eyes grayer than the ocean, sucking me in until they were all I could focus on. And with a body like that, that’s saying a whole helluva lot.
Smug satisfaction was all I felt the moment I saw it written all over her face. Desire. She noticed me… All of me. Her eyes widened slightly, words faltering as she drew her lush strawberry lips into her mouth. My gaze zeroed in on her pulse, visibly ticking erratically in her neck. All of these sure signs that she was into me.
The only thing I didn’t notice, or at least not soon enough, were the straps over her shoulders, her papers scattered on the ground containing a class schedule and map of the school. Fuck me, if it wasn’t my own personal brand of Hell on Earth.
I’m not sure why it pissed me off so much, her innocent attraction and inability to disguise it.
I turned into a total douche, attempting to distract her because I myself was having a hard time setting my moral compass down the right path. My idea was that if I offended her, she’d stomp away pissed and my issue with said moral compass would be taken care of.
Nope.
She laid into me, sassing me back instead of storming off. The fire dancing in her eyes, the way she acted, it was much worse. She was amusing, so damn adorable, intriguing, beguiling, the list goes on.
And on.
And fucking on.
Leave it to my sister, the one kid in the school who isn’t very close to anyone, to befriend her on the first day. I can already see this friendship is about to get bumped up to my sister’s top priorities too. I know her too well.
I know life to well. It throws you a twisted, way too low to hit, curveball when you least expect it.
But this broad, I have a feeling she’s about to throw me for a loop.
XoXo
Valley
Second day of school, here we come… My mental pep-talk this morning, as I get ready, is much shorter than yesterday’s. I got up extra early, drank an entire pot of coffee, and knocked out half the work
Ms. Murphy had assigned me.
I can’t wait to serve up my homework even earlier than I promised, yelling “In your face!” as I slam it on her desk. Ok, that might be going off into fantasyland a bit, but a girl can dream.
Anxiety is no longer a prevalent factor since I’ve gotten a feel for my new routine. If you’ve been to one school, you’ve been to them all, and my experience yesterday wasn’t so bad. More importantly, I think I made my first friend. I showed up to her home and ate dinner with her family. When she suggested we exchange numbers, it was a monumental moment for me.
She wouldn’t want me knowing her number if she didn’t want to hang out with me again, right?
When I’m finished getting ready, Mom hits me with a surprise of sorts. I’m to drive myself to and from school today, unsupervised. Apparently, she needs time to finish unpacking and getting things organized and set up.
“I’d really like to begin focusing on the décor for our new home once I get finished with the unpacking,” she states, as her critical eye roams the room, placing imaginary furniture and landscapes here and there. “And, don’t worry about me today. We stocked up the cabinets and fridge yesterday, so I’m not going to starve.”
These are her words of reasoning, which really mean she’s still trying to convince herself it’s okay to give me free reign of the vehicle.
It’s not even free reign, it’s just to and from school, I want to yell.
My morning at school nearly mirrors that of yesterday’s. Lyra and I take the same side-by-side desks, unpacking both our textbooks as well as our intended reading material. Once Ms. Murphy’s read-aloud session begins, all conversation ceases as everyone follows along. Lyra and I, however, smile in collusion each time our eyes meet over our textbooks.
It’s amusing that this 90-minute Senior English class has now become the perfect time to knock out my never ending to-be-read list.
“I’ll see you at lunch?” Lyra asks, eyes overcast with doubt.
“Of course! Same place as yesterday?”
Relief lights up her aqua eyes as she nods her head.
“What’s your second period? Maybe ours are in the same direction and we can walk together,” I suggest, imagining her walking the halls by herself.
High-school is brutal without people going out of their way to give you a hard time. I’ve witnessed it all. Shoulder-checking in the hallways, name calling, tripping. It’s a common misconception that most bullying comes from males.
Nope.
Females are the worst by far. They don’t just get physical, they harass you until you want to be home-schooled. Do you think boys are creative enough to make up and spread rumors throughout the whole student body? Nearly every incident involving the spread of rumors, a female is the culprit.
Seconds later, I jolt in surprise, my knees striking the bottom of the desk when the bell shrieks overhead.
“I have chemistry, it’s in ‘C’ building,” Lyra replies, heaving her backpack over her shoulder.
“Oh, good. My class is in that building too.”
Lyra and I navigate the crowded hallway together. She points out which people to steer clear of, and fills me in on who’s who. I mostly try to keep my head down and remain unseen, but I’m soon reminded of how impossible that task is when living in a small town. Knowing that, I decide my role of “new friend” is being promoted to that of “friend and bodyguard.”
XoXo
Ahhh, Second period, my time for relaxation and contemplation.
Today’s lesson is centered around making compost, and its benefits for plants. We venture out to the greenhouse, an impressive structure for such a small school district. Miss Laurent only lectures us for about 30-minutes before allowing us to get hands-on. We’re each instructed to plant three seeds using the school’s compost supply as the growing medium.
I opt for three Celosia seeds, their vibrant hues having always been a favorite of mine.
As we walk back to class to retrieve our items, Miss Laurent stops me at the door.
“Sloane, can you hang back for a few minutes so I can have a word?” she requests in a friendly tone.
“Uh, sure,” I agree as my stomach begins to churn. Once everyone’s left, I follow behind to her personal office, a separate annex to the classroom. I make note of how everything in the office is neat and tidy, yet still manages to have flair of personality. A yellow and white polka-dot mousepad, an arrangement of fresh-cut Daisies, and a few framed photos all sit along the edge her desk.
“Have a seat for a moment,” she orders, motioning to a cushioned chair pushed against the wall. I do her bidding, curious as to what this meeting is about.
Not more homework, a little voice in my head whines.
As if reading my mind, Miss Laurent addresses my worries head on.
“Don’t worry,” she smiles, “you’re not in trouble. I was wondering how you’re settling in? I may have grown up here, but I went away to obtain my degree. I think I learned more in my few years away than I did my whole life growing up here. And believe me, I know what it’s like adjusting to, or in my case, readjusting to living here. Is everyone treating you okay?” Maintaining direct eye-contact, she angles her body toward me as she speaks, giving the impression that this conversation is genuine instead of obligatory.
“I think I’m doing okay so far,” I begin hesitantly. “I’ve already made a new friend I think. I ate dinner at her house last night… and met her brother. I haven’t had many friends. Honestly, I’ve always been a bit of a loner.”
Actually Valley, you were lucky to have a partner when paired off for class projects. You didn’t have many friends? Please. You didn’t have one.
I fight the urge to fiddle with the ends of my hair as I speak, by squeezing the edge of the chair.
“I mean, I prefer just hanging back and focusing on things like reading books and writing. I’m an avid reader, and I’d honestly rather be doing that than playing sports or any other extracurricular activities.” I smile tightly, hoping I’m convincing.
A few moments of uncomfortable silence stretch through the small room as Miss Laurent appears to be lost in thought, silently thrumming her fingers against her leg.
“But with a new friend already, I’d say the odds are in my favor. I think I’m going to like it here for the most part,” I throw in just to fill the room with noise. She turns her gaze back to me, the line between her brows vanishing.
“That’s just how I was at your age. Reading and sticking to my studies most of the time,” she remarks, and I’m reminded that the time-period she’s speaking of wasn’t that long ago. “What I really called you in here for, is to say I’m glad that you’ve befriended Lyra. Her brother Gray and I grew up together and we used to be best friends. I’ve known their family my whole life, I even remember when Lyra was born.”
The corners of her lips tilt up, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “The whole ordeal with the accident was tragic, the Knightley’s have already had their fair share of sorrow, and I can’t fathom why the people of this town find it suitable to practically shun them. It isn’t right, and the simple-mindedness of people perplexes me. I’m ashamed to say I’m from here,” she says, anger beginning to seep into her voice. “Anyway, I’m just glad that you’re taking Lyra under your wing and ignoring how your peers are acting. In small towns like this one, it’s easy for people to become simple-minded. Sometimes what we need is for someone to come in from the outside and make everyone realize the error of their ways. If you ever need anything, or find the Knightley’s to be in need of something, please let me know,” she implores, grabbing my hand and squeezing.
Peering into her emerald eyes brimming with concern, I think to myself how great the world would be if all teachers were this compassionate. Releasing my hand, she scribbles something on a sticky note and passes it to me. Printed on the paper is her name, Grace Laurent, and a number I can reach her at.
“Okay, Miss Laurent, I will. And, thank y
ou.” She smiles at me as I collect my belongings and head to lunch.
I arrive to lunch 10 minutes late, mentally kicking myself for forgetting to plan ahead and buy groceries for a packed lunch. Consequently, I’m stuck between the choices of an old fashioned PB&J, or some mystery mush that looks like it came from a slop bucket. I choose the former. When I make my way outdoors, plopping down beside Lyra on the same stone bench from yesterday, I realize she doesn’t have any food.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask.
“Starving,” she admits, tipping her head in the direction behind me. I spin around to see what she’s hinting at, just in time to behold Gray walking the pathway that leads from the rear parking lot. I say behold because a person doesn’t merely “see” Gray, they become a spectator whenever he appears, admiring him in all his perfectly rugged and sexy glory.
His dark, inky hair is longer on top, slightly wavy and unruly as if he’s furiously ran his fingers through it. He’s wearing similar attire to what he was wearing when I first met him yesterday. A plain t-shirt, solid black this time, work boots, and jeans. Only, today’s jeans are a darker wash, giving them a more upscale appearance. The handles of two takeout bags are gripped in one fist, and his left arm is wrapped around two plastic cups.
I wish I had this recorded, him walking towards me, because I’d keep replaying it back like a movie. All. Day. Long
Gray was the focal point of my thoughts when I woke this morning. I lay there obsessing over whether my reaction to him was due to nerves of it being my first day, or if he really was as beautiful as I remembered him to be. The quest for answers over that question has just come to a close… He takes my breath away.
“Oh, are you going to eat with me today?” Lyra asks Gray, pointing to the multiple containers of food.
“Nope. Already ate. This is for you,” he remarks giving her one of the bags and a drink, “and this is for you,” he hands me the remaining items. “I didn’t know what you’d like but from what I remember from my days here, anything’s better than cafeteria grub,” he states with a lopsided grin that nearly makes me swoon.
Love on the Run Page 7
