by Ellis Marie
Finally, he speaks. “What happened to your finger?”
I want to groan. I know he’s trying to break the silence, but any topic apart from that would have been preferred. Literally, any.
“The knife slipped while I was cutting chicken,” I answer simply, not knowing how else to extend the answer without lying or going into dangerous territory.
He nods and we’re back to silence, our footsteps the only sound as we get closer to the main building of the school. Neither of us looks at the other person. I struggle to come up with any topic of conversation. Instead, my mind chooses to reflect my own panicking face back at me, and it seems like Trent’s is doing the same.
I just want one of us to say something. Anything!
“Do you cook chicken a lot?”
Maybe not that.
I blink once before turning my head to look at him, as though he has just announced that the sky is green and the grass is blue. It must make him realise how strange his question is because he comes to a halt, his hand covering his eyes. “That was such a weird question. I’m sorry, I was trying to make it more comfortable.”
I can’t help but be put at ease by how on edge he is. It’s different to the persona he introduced himself with, which seemed so confident and self-assured. This one seems to be just as shaken up as me.
“Well, you succeeded in breaking the ice,” I offer helpfully, smiling up at him. “And I do cook chicken a lot.”
He seems to appreciate my joke but rolls his eyes. His brown hair flops as he tilts his head to the side, his lips pulled up in half smile.
“Maybe I’ll get to try it sometime,” he comments hesitantly, and my heart swells in my chest.
“Maybe.” My answer is soft and almost a whisper, but he hears it. His eyes meet mine, and I have to look away when, behind the shock, I see a glimmer of hope.
I don’t know why I said that. Of course I wouldn’t be cooking chicken for him! There are only two people I constantly cooked for, and unfortunately for both of us, he isn’t one of them.
Clearing my throat, I pretend to check the time on my phone, barely looking at the number as I let out a sigh and flash him the screen. “I better get to class before the bell goes.”
Trent nods in response but doesn’t move yet, furrowing his brows as he looks down one of the halls.
“The office is down that corridor,” I offer after a pause, pointing in the opposite direction. It seems to bring him out of whatever thought he’s having, and he quickly thanks me before beginning to walk away.
I watch him for a moment, my eyes locked on the back of his retreating leather jacket as I catch my breath and try to even out my erratic heart.
What exactly just happened?
I turn and head to class, trying to piece together his strange reactions and intense gaze. He certainly isn’t normal.
Maybe Matt is right when he told me to stay away from them.
Then why did my feet want me to turn around? Why did I have the urge to go to the office too?
I need to get a handle on this.
“Hey, Elle!” I spin around and look at Trent in shock, his words echoing down the empty building while his feet continue to move as he walks backwards. “Make sure you don’t overheat again!”
Even from the distance, I can see his grin and the wink that accompanies it. I’m frozen in the spot as he turns, disappearing around the corner.
After I get over my moment of shock, I can’t stop the smile that splits onto my face. I continue walking, his words playing over and over in my mind while his laugh echoes as I think about him. He’s not at all that I expected. I didn’t think he could be so funny or kind or embarrassed; he seemed so stoic and confident before. It’s surprising.
The fact that I’m thinking about him so much should scare me, but what makes it worse is that I can’t deny that everything I learn about him just makes we want to know more.
How am I meant to stay away when I could no longer trick myself with the idea that he’s a bad person or could be a danger to me like I had been warned?
As I arrive at the room and lean against the wall waiting for the bell to signal the end of the current class, I feel a rush of excitement, but I’m also terrified.
I have to admit that it’s nice talking to him, and I haven’t properly laughed like that in a while, but if Matt found out that I had even conversed with him . . . I would be in trouble.
As the bell rings and people come rushing out past me, they remind me of my thoughts—the disarray and confusion an exact replica of how my head feels, like one shove could send it all crashing to the ground.
Somehow, I know Trent isn’t going to say anything about what happened in the gym hall . . . to Matt or anyone.
Sure, a small part of me should be worried that he might do it just to annoy Matt. After all, it’s not as though Matt isn’t horrible in his own right, but by how he acted before, it seems like he doesn’t want to do that. Like he doesn’t want me to get in trouble.
As I push through the rows of tables and take my seat, I can’t help but be confused by Trent.
Why did he actually stay with me after I fainted?
The nurse had been there to look after me, and I’m sure he could have gone with the principal to get his timetable; it would have certainly saved time, but he didn’t.
Why is it that whenever I’m around him, I can hardly think straight or breathe properly? As much as I want to pretend it didn’t happen, I fainted because of him. That isn’t exactly a normal reaction to have to someone.
I don’t know him. He means nothing to me. Or at least . . . I don’t think he does, but even saying that seems to sound wrong.
I can’t help but feel guilty about my feelings; Matt is my boyfriend and I love him, even if he has his issues. He’s my first love, my first kiss, my first everything.
He makes me what I am. Without our relationship and him, who am I? What is he?
The teacher draws our attention to the board. I begin to work out equations, wishing that things were as straightforward as maths, that way there could only be one right answer. As I try to focus on numbers and not the growing concern in my mind, thoughts linger at the back of my head.
Did Matt truly love me? Or did he love Anna?
I try to shake the thought away. I couldn’t start thinking like that again. All it did was cause pain and tears and a lot of sleepless nights. I just need to stop getting so worked up by Trent and everything that’s going on.
I love Matt. Trent is just a person, and I have no feelings for him whatsoever. None.
As I mentally pat myself on the back and continue to try and focus on the numbers in front of me, my hand stills. My breath catching in my throat as the memory of Trent’s voice echoing down the hallway comes back to me.
He didn’t call me Anna; he called me Elle.
For the rest of the period, I can’t get his voice out of my head. Or his face for that matter. It’s as if he has consumed all my thoughts and it scares me. How am I meant to focus when all I can do is think about the way his hand moves through his hair, the brown locks combed by his tanned fingers. Or the way his golden eyes shine when he was laughing at me, his lips pulled into that gorgeous grin.
What scares me the most is that no matter how many times I think about him, I never seem to get sick of him. I could think about that smile on a constant loop.
“Well, you look like you’ve had a good day,” Kristie comments, sliding into the chair beside me. I feel my cheeks heat up. “What’s Matt done?”
Her sneer is obvious as she rolls her eyes and starts digging through her bag, not waiting for me to reply before she’s muttering about how much of an ass he is.
“I haven’t actually seen Matt all day, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond, avoiding looking at her by doodling in my notebook. “Nothing in particular has happened.”
She doesn’t respond, and I cautiously look up to see what she’s doing. When I see she’s
staring at me, scrutinizing me as if trying to figure something out, I avoid her gaze.
“What?” I ask innocently, and all I get in response are narrowed eyes and more silence. I continue to pretend to not notice it, trying to hold in every word that wants to sprout from my lips. I’m grateful when a voice interrupts from above us.
“Kristie, why do you look constipated?”
The laughter bubbles from my lips as I turn and look at the figure sitting down beside us while Kristie just pouts, folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, you do!” He laughs, leaning into me. His curly blond hair tickles my neck.
“Thanks for that, Tom. You always know how to make an entrance,” Kristie grumbles, glaring at our friend who reaches over and pinches her cheeks in response.
“You know how I love the dramatics.” He winks, and I grin at my two friends as they start to bicker.
Tom and Kristie became friends in drama class two years ago, and from day one, they just clicked. They work together so brilliantly that no one could deny the performance that they put on is anything less than perfection. They always got the leads in shows no matter what the parts are because of their chemistry on stage—whether this is down to the fact that they fought all the time like an old married couple is still up for debate.
Tom doesn’t look like your average drama geek. He gives more of a ‘surfer chic’ kind of vibe. His words, not mine. I swear. He has curly blond hair that hangs over his ears and a lip ring sticking out of his mouth along with his tanned skin and slim body made for the perfect look.
It always seems to be a hit with the ladies too, which often was a cause for mass disappointment upon them finding out that they are definitely not his type. Kristie figured it out the first day they had class together and got paired as partners. Apparently, she tried to pick the monologue for their scene, and Tom had some things to say about her choices and the lack of flair.
I sit and listen to the two of them argue, their voices getting louder and movements growing larger as they both start to get more passionate about their conversation. This is how it always goes—the two of them are always the focus of attention and could create drama out of a peanut. The number of times they have fallen out over something completely stupid is unreal, and so, I stopped getting involved. Whenever they aren’t talking, I would just wait for them to be friends again; it usually lasts no longer than a day.
“All I’m saying is that I don’t think Mr. Reynolds is straight,” Kristie complains. Tom lets out a scoff.
“Please. Have you seen that man’s haircut? He does not have a sliver of taste in his body,” Tom states flatly, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “Trust me.”
Kristie sighs but sinks back into her chair, seemingly defeated. “Fine.” She slumps before snapping back upright. “But you have to admit, he was extremely eager to get into that dress yesterday.”
Tom leans forward, pressing his hands on the table. “I said he wasn’t gay; I didn’t say he didn’t have hobbies.”
I can barely contain my laughter at his comment, and I sit, giggling to myself while rolling my eyes at his antics.
“Plus who doesn’t love a dress?” he continues with a sly wink. “You’re sounding a little patriarchal there, Kristie. Are you sure you’re not just annoyed that he looked better in it than you?”
Kristie opens her mouth to respond with her eyes wide and brows furrowed, prepared with an argument, but before she speaks, she pauses and mulls over Tom’s statement in her head. She taps her finger on her cheek as she does. “Touché,” she finally answers, and just like that, we erupt into laughter again.
“Thank you,” Tom says smugly, turning to look at me. “And now that we’ve stopped our friend from turning into a bigot, how are you today, my angel?” I lean into his welcoming arms and let him wrap them around me, ignoring Kristie’s objections from beside us. “Still as beautiful as ever.”
I grin up at him. “Have I told you I love you?” I joke. He wiggles his brows, kissing the top of my forehead. Kristie clears her throat, making me look at her, but I stay in the confinements of Tom’s arms. He gives the best hugs plus the arms feel like a little piece of protection against Kristie’s warpath.
“If you love him so much, maybe you’ll tell him why you’ve been grinning so much.” She smirks and I sink further, hiding my face from her questioning gaze.
“Oh, is this why you were glaring at her earlier?” I hear him ask and I want to kill Kristie for telling him. She knows that as soon as Tom wanted to know something, it’s impossible to say no. He’s too good at getting someone to talk.
“Elle . . .” he calls, trying to pull me out of his arms. I groan, clinging to him.
“Leave me alone,” I say quietly, refusing to move. “I don’t need to tell you anything!”
“Aha!” Kristie exclaims. “So there is something you’re not telling us!”
Why hadn’t I glued my mouth shut already?
I let out a low scream into Tom’s plaid shirt, muffling the sound of my anguish and hoping that they just let it go.
“There’s nothing!” I moan, refusing to give in.
There isn’t anything to say. Nothing happened. Totally nothing.
“So this isn’t about your encounter with a very sexy East Bay High student this morning?” I pull back from Tom so quickly that I get a slight head rush. I feel my eyes widen in shock as I process his words, his smug smile stretching across his lips.
How does he know? Does everyone know?
“Ah, so it is about that?” he teases. I know that I’m going to have to eventually tell them about what happened.
“What student?” Kristie demands, banging her hands on the table. Tom shrugs, signalling his innocence.
“I just saw Elle talking to a tall, dark, and handsome stranger at the front of the school this morning before getting dragged away by her rottweiler boyfriend.”
Relief pours over me. I only give Tom a pointed look at his description of Matt before Kristie grabs my arms, forcing all my attention.
“Spill! Right now!” she demands. I know that there is absolutely no way of getting out of it.
“His name is Trent,” I start while looking around and checking that no one is listening to us. “And yes, I spoke to him this morning, but only because I tripped and he caught me,” I explain, making them grin back in response.
“Knight in shining armour,” Tom comments but quickly shuts up when I glare at him.
“He just asked me to show him where the gym was and then Matt overreacted as usual and dragged me away.”
Kristie snorts at my comment, her disbelief clear. I try to not smile as I try to convince them. “That’s it!”
As much as I need to keep our time together a secret, I feel guilty for not telling them the total truth. Like I should be explaining how his eyes are a mesmerizing. When he looks at me, I forget where I am, that I forget I have a boyfriend, but I can’t. If I do, then it would be admitting to myself that he had an effect on me, which he definitely doesn’t.
They watch me as they wait for me to tell them more but the teacher walks in, bringing a perfect escape route. Silencing the class, she begins to write on the board, and the two of them have to be satisfied with what they’ve got, much to their dismay.
Maybe that’s the way it’s going to have to be. Maybe all he would ever be is a passing conversation that I would think about over and over again.
The rest of the class passes without much chatter, the only conversation between us is when we are put into a group discussion and quickly told to be quiet when Kristie tries to interrogate me.
At lunch, I sit quietly and listen to everyone discuss the newcomers as I keep my opinions to myself. The boys don’t hold back on their derogatory opinions of them, and I prefer to not say anything hateful about the people who had only been nice to me since they arrived, or well, the two I met had been anyway.
Luckily, the new kids didn’t hear any of the horrible thin
gs the football team are saying because it seems like barely any of them had come to the cafeteria for lunch. They must have somewhere else to go, or maybe they are all outside. Wherever they are, they are most definitely having a better time than if they had been here. I’m almost jealous.
The whole cafeteria seems to be buzzing with gossip. The witches cackle and discuss the ranking of who’s the hottest out of all the boys they’ve spoken to, talking about how most of them seem to be uninterested. I have to admit that it brings me a little bit of joy knowing that they had been rejected; usually, they never got told no.
Tracey certainly seems to be annoyed that she got nowhere with whoever she made a move on. She won’t stop trying to come up with excuses for why they aren’t interested. It ranges from being gay to being abstinent, or anything in between. Like she couldn’t accept that maybe someone just isn’t interested in her.
I refrain from reminding her that, just yesterday, she laughed at Amy when she suggested that the guys might be good-looking and continue eating my salad.
Matt doesn’t really speak to me much for the whole hour; his focus is on the boys and their insults towards East Bay. His eyes glint with anger as he rants about how his class had been swapped because of their arrival and how unfair it was that they should be mingling with people lower than them.
Sometimes, I don’t understand him at all. I don’t know why he hates them so much or why he seems determined to make their lives a living hell, but then again, I don’t want to understand.
If I tried to open my mouth and defend them at all, then I know I would just be making things worse for myself. I have no control over Matt; he doesn’t listen to me, and he certainly won’t see them differently just because I ask him to.
When the bell rings, I don’t move. I wait to see if Matt even says goodbye to me, but he storms off with Carter, shouting about how he hoped there weren’t any intruders in his next class, so I take the journey alone, my mind wandering as I walk. I bump into a few people I hardly know on the way and have a casual chitchat while moving, but no one is really paying attention to me.
Sometimes, I feel like I could disappear and no one would even notice until they see Matt alone and realise that one-half of the golden couple is missing.
