fearsome as a fuzzy kitten.
“Maybe there should be.” He stuns me with his easy smile.
Without a word, I make a beeline for French.
In class, Madame Mimi showers an inappropriate amount of attention on Gabriel. She flirts outrageously, giggling and flipping her hair, but I seem to be the only one who notices. I decide to call her Madame Putain. It fits.
On the way to third period, I pretend he doesn’t exist. Only I can feel the searing heat of his hand against my back. When we enter class, he keeps himself between me and Jonah all the way to our seats. Coincidence? I wonder as he sits behind me again, one seat over. Although Jonah’s halo is the deep slate of a stormy ocean, with Gabriel between us, he barely affects me.
Gabriel, on the other hand, I am keenly aware of…every movement, every shift, every breath. For the next hour, I try to concentrate on biology, but all I can think about is chemistry.
After science, I try another tactic and hide in the girls’ bathroom until the bell rings. The space has a cold, institutional feel I find comforting. From inside my stall I stare at the cracked blue floor tiles and read the graffiti that covers the walls. I learn Naomi is a slut . At least in someone’s opinion.
I’ve spent a lot of time hiding in bathrooms.
Not caring if I’m late, I actually consider ditching Government altogether until the Fosters’ concerned faces fill my head. Crap! When I finally emerge into the empty hall, Gabriel’s lounging against the wall, unconcerned. He grins at my unconcealed annoyance, pointing out smugly, “ You’re late for Government.”
His smile , I want to slap it off his face… or kiss it away .
Crap! Crap! Crap!
My words—short and clipped to cover my traitorous thoughts—sound angrier than I feel. “If you care so much about punctuality, you should’ve left me.”
That gets the smile off his face. He grips my shoulders firmly but without hurting me. It actually feels sort of nice. “I’m not going to leave you,” he insists.
It feels as if he’s talking about something other than class, something I don’t understand but sense is bigger than I can handle. I grumble, “Even if I ask you nicely?”
As my words sink in, he blinks several times. “Would you do that?”
“What?” My sullen response causes his eyes to widen.
“Ask me to leave you?” There’s surprise with an undercurrent of something I can’t quite identify in his voice. It almost feels like panic, but since we’re practically strangers the emotion makes no sense.
Ducking my head, I avoid the answer with a question of my own. “Even if I did, would you really go?” A red thread-like fiber curls on the ground near my feet. I stare at it while waiting for him to answer, afraid of what he’ll say.
Soft as a feather, his fingers trace my jaw line. Gently, he lifts my head until we’re staring into each other’s eyes. His narrow with the seriousness of our topic. “If you really wanted me to leave, I would.”
I believe him.
The air between us is heavy with his unspoken plea. It hits me that he doesn’t want to be sent away, and I don’t really want him to go—at least not for today. The stark vulnerability of need twists in my stomach. I feel weak and scared, because I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to need anybody.
“Do you, Alexia?”
His words flow over me like a haunting melody causing me to forget the original question. “Do I what?”
“Want me to go?”
Quietly he clears his throat and for the first time he appears uncertain. His eyes continue to hold mine and I’m unable to look away, to protect myself even in that small way as I admit the truth.
“No.”
I tremble slightly as the confession hangs between us. He swallows and I watch the way his throat bobs, the way his jaw muscles flex, the way his lips ripple, and his pupils expand. Movement at the end of the hall breaks the moment. Gabriel sighs, reaching for my bag. “We should get to
“Maybe there should be.” He stuns me with his easy smile.
Without a word, I make a beeline for French.
In class, Madame Mimi showers an inappropriate amount of attention on Gabriel. She flirts outrageously, giggling and flipping her hair, but I seem to be the only one who notices. I decide to call her Madame Putain. It fits.
On the way to third period, I pretend he doesn’t exist. Only I can feel the searing heat of his hand against my back. When we enter class, he keeps himself between me and Jonah all the way to our seats. Coincidence? I wonder as he sits behind me again, one seat over. Although Jonah’s halo is the deep slate of a stormy ocean, with Gabriel between us, he barely affects me.
Gabriel, on the other hand, I am keenly aware of…every movement, every shift, every breath. For the next hour, I try to concentrate on biology, but all I can think about is chemistry.
After science, I try another tactic and hide in the girls’ bathroom until the bell rings. The space has a cold, institutional feel I find comforting. From inside my stall I stare at the cracked blue floor tiles and read the graffiti that covers the walls. I learn Naomi is a slut . At least in someone’s opinion.
I’ve spent a lot of time hiding in bathrooms.
Not caring if I’m late, I actually consider ditching Government altogether until the Fosters’ concerned faces fill my head. Crap! When I finally emerge into the empty hall, Gabriel’s lounging against the wall, unconcerned. He grins at my unconcealed annoyance, pointing out smugly, “ You’re late for Government.”
His smile , I want to slap it off his face… or kiss it away .
Crap! Crap! Crap!
My words—short and clipped to cover my traitorous thoughts—sound angrier than I feel. “If you care so much about punctuality, you should’ve left me.”
That gets the smile off his face. He grips my shoulders firmly but without hurting me. It actually feels sort of nice. “I’m not going to leave you,” he insists.
It feels as if he’s talking about something other than class, something I don’t understand but sense is bigger than I can handle. I grumble, “Even if I ask you nicely?”
As my words sink in, he blinks several times. “Would you do that?”
“What?” My sullen response causes his eyes to widen.
“Ask me to leave you?” There’s surprise with an undercurrent of something I can’t quite identify in his voice. It almost feels like panic, but since we’re practically strangers the emotion makes no sense.
Ducking my head, I avoid the answer with a question of my own. “Even if I did, would you really go?” A red thread-like fiber curls on the ground near my feet. I stare at it while waiting for him to answer, afraid of what he’ll say.
Soft as a feather, his fingers trace my jaw line. Gently, he lifts my head until we’re staring into each other’s eyes. His narrow with the seriousness of our topic. “If you really wanted me to leave, I would.”
I believe him.
The air between us is heavy with his unspoken plea. It hits me that he doesn’t want to be sent away, and I don’t really want him to go—at least not for today. The stark vulnerability of need twists in my stomach. I feel weak and scared, because I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to need anybody.
“Do you, Alexia?”
His words flow over me like a haunting melody causing me to forget the original question. “Do I what?”
“Want me to go?”
Quietly he clears his throat and for the first time he appears uncertain. His eyes continue to hold mine and I’m unable to look away, to protect myself even in that small way as I admit the truth.
“No.”
I tremble slightly as the confession hangs between us. He swallows and I watch the way his throat bobs, the way his jaw muscles flex, the way his lips ripple, and his pupils expand. Movement at the end of the hall breaks the moment. Gabriel sighs, reaching for my bag. “We should get to
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