My crutches had barely hit the ground before Sam pulled away, the tires of the car skidding loudly on the concrete.

I had no trouble with pretending. I’d lived a great chunk of my life behind a mask of what they expected me to be, so it wasn’t a hard feat.

But as I watched her speed away from me, my resolve to be nonchalant crumbled.

I couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt when she drove out of the parking lot without as much as a wave. Or a glance, even as an afterthought. I felt powerless in that moment, leaning on crutches and watching one support system abandon me.

The burning in my chest hurt twice as much, knowing the last thing she’d said to me was to get out—something she denied me, in the end. She hadn’t even allowed me to walk out on her. She’d taken that power away from me. Maybe if I had been the one to leave her behind, I could have convinced myself that I was in control, and I'd have made that choice on my own. But it wasn’t so.

I turned towards the school building, moving with slow, calculated steps with my head held high—either to prevent gravity from letting tears stream down my face, or to appear unbothered and composed. I wasn’t sure which it was.

My phone weighed heavy in my pocket, and I had to adjust it every few steps, just so it didn’t dig into my thigh. That was when I realised the device was the only key to getting that high I desperately needed.

Once I got to the main entrance, I leaned against the wall and plucked out my phone, opening my messages with Sam. Her last text to me had been after my date, when she was being dramatic about my safety. How ironic that she didn’t seem to care now.

Above those, our texts had been about Adrián and my date, lighthearted and cute, with underlying tones of threat if anything bad happened.

One particular text stood out to me, and I read it over and over until my eyes blurred and the words blended into each other.

Sammy: You’re telling me you snuck out to go see this boy at 3am? Are you crazy? And you really thought to tell me NOW???
As a friend who’s excited that you’ve met someone you like I say: Yesssss. GET IT!
As your sister: you’re out of your fucking mind. I’m happy for you, but I also need to tell you that was the stupidest thing you could do for a guy you weren’t even sure of. Seriously.

Sammy: Sounds harsh, but I’m letting you know because I love you, and I’d rather have you hate me than regret the shit you do.

Well, she said it, not me.

I typed out ‘I hate you’, contemplated sending it, and ultimately deleted the text. I didn’t hate Sam, despite how angry I was with her. And I couldn’t bring myself to send it, even in a wave of raging emotions.

Finally, I settled on using the last bit of control I had. I deleted all our texts, blocked her number and told myself it was what I wanted.

I headed towards the newsroom, hoping to surround myself with the expected light chatter that always came as the editorial team prepared for morning announcements, and making sure all the articles on the Northwood Journal were up-to-date and accounted for.

A distance away from the pristine white door, I heard a familiar—and very welcome—voice call after me.

“Parker, over here!”

“Hey,” I said, waving.

“I didn’t think you’d come today. I thought the doctor said you needed to rest longer?”

“I couldn’t stay away,” I told him.

Adrián was beaming, but his smile disappeared when he took a longer look at me. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Just having a rough morning. But I’ll be fine.” I tried to smile, feeling the strain tug at the corners of my lips.

He didn’t look convinced, his head cocked to the side. “You don’t look fine. Do you want to talk?”

I thought about it for a moment and realized I had control over this, too. I chose not to drag Adrián down with me, instead reaching out my arms as best as I could without toppling over. “Maybe later. I missed you, Adrián. A lot.”

“Me too.” He enveloped me in a hug, and I let myself melt into his arms. The scruff of a light stubble on his face, the warmth of his breath against my neck, and the soothing smell of lavender emanating from his clothes. A heady mixture which had me slumping against him.

“How long are you still grounded for?” My voice came out muffled.

“Not for long, since I got my car privileges back. I’m free to drive the ends of the earth with you, as long as we’re back by curfew.” I could make out the smile in his voice as he spoke.

“That’s great. Do you mind driving me home after school today?”

“Not at all,” he blurted. “You’ll have to be early though.”

“Mmm,” I hummed with a nod.

He pressed his lips against my forehead, before leaning lower so his lips were the same level as mine. He was about to kiss me when a bang from behind the door interrupted us. Footsteps and excited chatter followed, reminding me we weren’t alone, and at any moment someone could come down the halls, or leave the newsroom.

“Come on.” Adrián pulled me inside the room next to it, making sure the door shut behind us. I registered which room it was, once the pungent odor of antiseptic and bleach hit my nose, and the forever lingering mustiness beneath it. The boys’ locker room.

I hadn’t been in here ever since I came out, and I hadn’t missed it one bit. “Adrián, this isn’t the best place for us to be.”

“I thought you’d like the privacy.”

“I do, really. But not here. This place just...” I made a face, and he understood immediately.

His eyes widened, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Oh, right. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Eyes darting behind him, he gestured to a row of lockers, marked with nicknames, lewd words and painted with very masterful drawings of dicks. “Will it be fine if I grab my stuff for gym first? I won’t take long.”

I nodded. It took about a minute for him to scramble through his locker for gym shorts and a t-shirt, and he passed me a nervous smile as he stuffed them in his backpack. “I guess you won’t be in class today, Parker.” He made a noncommittal gesture at my crutches.

“Nope. I’ll be in the library during gym class. Catch up on homework. Have fun with Coach.”

He visibly cringed, exaggerating a sour expression on his face. I turned towards the door, but my hand fell short of the handle as shadows of passing students cast beneath the door.

“We could wait until the coast is clear,” Adrián said. So we stood for a while, and as time passed, I began to feel the strain of the crutches under my armpits. Just as the hallway fairly cleared up, the sound of cymbals and yelling swelled up.

Adrián opened the door a little, peeking outside. “Shit. It’s the band.”

It was football season, and the band regularly paraded the halls with cheers to amp up school spirit. Northwood went all out with pep rallies. This was one of those days, apparently. We sat on a bench next to the door to wait for them to pass. The chants of ‘Northwood Dolphins!’ welled up with drumming and stomping, and I closed my eyes, hoping they’d be over and done with it already.

“I didn’t know you were taking signatures for your cast yet. Looks like...” Adrián’s voice had me sitting up again. He squinted, eyes following the faint blue squiggles. “Jamie already beat me to it.”

“He was very persistent,” I laughed.

Adrián pulled out a marker from the side of his backpack? “Can I?”

“Go ahead.”

He squatted next to me. “I don’t see Samantha’s handiwork, though?”

I stayed quiet for a bit too long, afraid that I might cry if I let any words out. Hopefully, the yells from outside balanced out my wobbled speech. “Sam’s... not around. Not anymore, I guess.”

“Does it have anything to do with the rough morning you’re having?”

“Yeah. It does.”

“You can talk to me. You know that, right? I’m a great listener.”

That was something he didn’t have to tell me, considering he only ever spoke a few times when we were on the phone, letting me talk to my heart’s content. “I know. But I don’t want you to have to carry my gloom around.”

Adrián didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on writing, sitting back up a moment later. “I’m done.” He pressed the marker into my palm.

“What’d you write? I can’t see it.” I tried lifting my head and looking at it from a different angle, but I could only see a single stroke of dark ink.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Then what’s the point of writing it?” I nudged him to pry out an answer, but Adrián only shrugged, a smile still on his face. “Tell me. What did you write?”

“Something about you and me.”

“Which is?”

“Not saying it, until you tell me what’s wrong.”

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “You really want to help, don’t you?” I stretched out a hand and he intertwined our fingers. He nodded in response, eyes bright and attentive. “Okay, then. Distract me.”

“What do you suggest?” He held his chin up with his other hand, looking thoughtful.

“I don’t know. Say something funny, or do something funny, or you could--“

Lips pressed softly into mine, taking me by surprise. I found myself kissing him back almost immediately, reveling the floating feeling when his hand framed my face gently. This was a distraction, all right. So perfectly executed that I could only pen the creaking and slamming of the door on the other side of the locker room as something in my head.

~~

Another week, another chapter!
I would love to hear what you think of this one ♡