QUOTE OF THE CHAPTER:

"I'll make sure to keep my distance, say 'I love you' when you're not listening."

― Christina Perri, Distance

Dedication: @nightdrives (her story His Heroine makes me laugh more than anything.)

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Later, Calvin and I are walking under dimlight. A light breeze brushes over my body, and it reminds me of the summer nights. In April, the weather is getting warmer already, and I want summer to come as soon as possible - not that I'll be going on a vacation with my family or friends nor I have an important plan. I bloody want to get rid of school, that is all. It's also my senior year which means I need to make a decision - which probably will be not going anywhere at all. I don't want to study further or specify my education. I don't belong to any of those job branches - I don't fit in. I want to stay in high school if possible.

"What are you thinking?" Calvin asks, his eyes casted on me questioningly. He is walking me home just because Isobel forced us to. Forced me to. Frankly, the conversation went like this:

"It was an amazing evening for me, Isobel, thanks."

"It's been a pleasure, Jack, please come again."

"Yeah sure."

"Calvin will walk you home."

"Oh no, I can walk myself, thanks."

"No, I insist," - she throws a look at his son and the message is taken.

"Oh, I'll walk you."

Here we are. I'm not sure if it is good that he didn't resist but we are talking about Calvin here. He would never miss a chance to spend more time with me.

I answer his question minutes later. "Nothing."

He huffs. Yeah, I am lying but I can't possibly say that I am conflicted about how I feel about him and that I don't deserve him. So it is equivalent to saying nothing in some cases. "You've been thinking," he insists, looking at me.

"Everyone thinks all the time, Cal, it ain't a big deal."

"This is different," he denies. "You were so kind all night. And well, we both know you aren't."

"What did you expect me to? Swear in front of your mother? I'm rude - not mannerless." He is being so ridiculous right now. I know he is digging for some information because he has been constantly asking me the same question about if I'm fine or what I have on mind but solemnly, I won't tell him anything. I'm not an open person, especially in this topic.

"Right," he breathes slowly. "I am sorry." I don't know what he is sorry for but I don't ask why. It feels good to hear that he is sorry. At least he cares. And maybe, I care as well. Despite a tiny bit, I know that feeling exists somewhere beneath my soul or stuck in my bones along with...what elements did we store in bones again? Calcium? I don't remember. Anyway, what I mean is I do care. Even though it is so hard to believe, I do. This is probably the greatest mistake I've ever made. He speaks up again when I don't respond because I am in so depth - and I don't know what to say. It is okay? The question is that is it really okay what I am thinking and feeling? "For asking," he mumbles slowly. "I know you don't like it when people push you to say things but I thought that we are friends," he pauses and his eyes meet mine and I am not sure what to utter once again. We are friends. Maybe the safest definition of the situation. Calvin clears his throat before he continues. "I know that we are friends. And I know that you aren't fine, either." He has a serious expression on his face - that face now shining under moonlight and eyes directly looking into me, making me feel thought-naked under his look.

I don't know what fine means. Or when I've felt fine. If I've ever felt fine in a long while. Then, all those moments we had - the beach, the first time I've slept in his room, all the laughters, Sue, and today, everything...the way he was so close. Not physically but mentally. He is always so close - disturbingly close for my liking. That is why I want him to stay miles away because when he is physically close as well, things get mad. I consider myself fine around him if it is what fine means. Happy. I also realise how his entry into my life changed the other things. How I feel less urge to punch and bully people. Shit, I am losing myself. This is getting out of hand. I stare at him for a while, helplessly, and then I gather he is expecting an answer from me. What did he ask? Am I fine? "I am fine," I say absentmindedly. Then, to highlight the rudeness, I add, "fucking fine." Moments later, I notice how stupid I've just sounded.

He pauses - I can observe his jaw tighten. He is angry. I don't know why but the way he clenches his fist shows it clearly. "Why are you doing this?"

I frown. "Doing what?"

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes, and darts them on me nervously. "Pushing me," he shouts and I look around to see if someone is listening. His words echo several times, making me hear and drink them in. "Pushing everything and everyone," he repeats softer, "that cares about you." I open my mouth to answer but he cuts me off. "Don't - don't tell me that you don't care."

"I am not pushing you," I answer instead, "believe me I am not." I step closer to him. "If there is a person who I let be around me, that is you." It is true. I only have him.

"You never let me in though," he replies bitterly. "Outside, yes, I am always around you, the boy who is trying so hard to gain your friendship - it is what you think, right? You think I am desperate for your attention." I look at him in the eyes. He is angry and he really thinks that I am thinking like that. Do I? Sometimes. But I never really get why he is trying. Why me?

"No," I say dully, "I know you aren't. I've seen that you are capable of making friends, Cal. I know that you are not desperate."

"Then," he says. I am scared to hear what follows next. "Why do you think I am doing this?"

I freeze under his look, instantly looking away because I certainly don't know. He doesn't mean what I think he does, right? Fuck Calvin, you can't like me. You bloody can't. I start walking towards home, hoping that he won't follow me and doesn't ask further. I don't know the answer - I don't want to.

I hear him sigh and step forward to catch up with me. We get to the porch silently, and we stop and stand for a while, not knowing what to say. He is probably awaiting a response from me and I am not ready to answer. Not yet or ever.

"Jack," he whispers, "please say something." He is so close - I realise it when he grips my upper arm slowly and unsurely. Then, he tightens it when I don't reply. Calvin, please don't. This is what I want to say. But I know this will make me look so vulnerable. The problem is I'm running out of witty comments and I can't seem to find any curses to say either. This is not the right situation and my vocabulary doesn't coexist with heart-related issues. I am so timid to look up at him so I stare at his chest, where my eye level reaches, and observe it up and down. He's breathing fast, and so do I. Jack, you aren't made for these situations. You have to slide out of this, you understand, find something. Find something awkward, funny or...just make this go away.

I remind myself that I've done this in the first time. I laughed. But now, what even can I laugh at? There is no teasing, nothing. I need to say something, and I don't know where this leads.

I clear my throat, looking up at him eventually, and it makes everything harder since there is a lump in my throat, stuck there like an anchor; it itches and hurts. I force out the words out of my mouth, anyway, no matter how hoarse and forced they sound: "Good night."

He looks at me in disbelief, followed by a breathy laugh. "Seriously?"

I look down again. "Good night, Cal," I repeat firmly, trying to give the message. But he is so close. My body screams. CLOSE. CLOSE. CLOSE. "By-by the way, don't you forget the rule," I quip nervously.

"What rule?" He asks, laughing. He laughs but I know he is actually nervous and pissed off, too. "Damn it, you are scared," he whispers, in turn.

I have no energy to deny it because I am fucking scared. I am fucking confused, too. "Good night," I mutter once more, turning back although he keeps his hand on my arm tight, and fit the key into the locker in rush with trembling hands and opening the door. It wasn't how I imagined the night to end. This is so deep, this is drowning.

He turns my body to himself and this is new. This is the first time Calvin has ever used force on me. He presses my body against the wall next to the door and I can see the lim light spreading from the house. What if my mother sees us like this? Not that I give a fuck. I try to find a proper excuse. "What the fuck," I whisper in shock. "Calvin, let me go." Either he is so strong or I am so weak at that moment, I can't find the energy to push him away.

"Answer me," he says instead. I feel his breath on my face, he is so close - too close and my eyes are shut. I can't bear looking at him. Why do I feel so fragile? What happened to the tough girl?

"I don't know," I whisper. I feel his nose brush mine. Almost there. No. I swear his lips almost touch - but I manage to turn my face to my side before he can actually kiss me. His lips touch where my neck and jaw unite. I shiver - with the feeling of what if's and the relief of what hasn't happened. It can't happen, I remind myself, I can't risk.

I open my eyes in shock, sucking for breath and his gaze is on me with the same shock. Maybe he didn't want what was happening next. It was a moment of hesitation - he felt so captured. It was the only explanation.

I push him slightly, and he lets me go, his arms hanging at sides and I glance at him once more before I step in and slam the door. I shut my eyes, trying to steady my breaths and leaning my head against the door.

He was so close - my mind keeps replaying the moment.

No, I can't let him go - love is letting go. Love is the last stage before heartbreak.

I don't want to be broken. I can't be broken.

"Jack." I hear my mother's confused and worried voice. I wonder how I look right now. "Are you okay?"

I open my eyes and encounter with her standing at the doorway of the kitchen. "I am fine." She nods and disappears into the room. I lean my head against the door once again. Fuck.

My phone beeps inside my pocket. I sigh and shove my hand in to get it. It's Calvin. I hesitate to check the message but I finally do. It says:

I think I finally met Jacqueline.

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