Count On Me(22)

When I brushed her hand, there was this second where it felt like I stuck my fingers in a wall socket. I was charged with a current so strong I can’t even describe it right. I shook it off pretty quick, not wanting her to see me react, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t notice because I did and I liked it.

I’m fucking pathetic.

I walked away from her first because I wanted to make it easy on her, but I’m not entirely sure how much easier it’s all going to be when my final words were that I wasn’t done with her. If she wasn’t completely scared and put off by me before, she most definitely will be now. It wasn’t meant as a threat, but she doesn’t exactly think the way everyone else does, so she probably believes I literally meant it.

It’s another thing I’m going to have to go back and fix, that is if she lets me get near her at all. I’m determined as hell to see this through and prove to her that whatever it is she saw in me that first day isn’t wrong, but I’m walking a fine line. I remember her serial killer comment well and if I push her too hard, I’m only going to make her think I’m no better and that’s something I don’t want.

Shit. Why does this girl get to me this way? She’s got a list of issues so long it would take me forever to read through it. The right thing to do would be to leave her alone, but just like I’ve always been an asshole, I’ve also been known to be a stubborn one too.

“Did I really just see you walking with the retard?” I hear from behind me, not even needing to turn around to know who said it.

Yeah, it was definitely time for the rumor mill to start. By lunch I’d hear that I was screwing her on the hood of my car. It’s something I definitely don’t want Isabelle getting wind of. If she hears it, then she’s going to think it started with me and I can’t let that happen.

“Yeah, I was talking to her, so what?”

“I was right about the two of you, wasn’t I? You do like her.”

“It’s called being nice, jackass. You should try it sometime.” I answer back in response. There’s no way he’s goading me into saying something he’ll use against me later. He can kiss my ass if that’s what he’s after.

“Maybe I should try it with her.”

Even though I know he’s joking, I can feel my blood boiling the minute he says it. There’s no way in hell I’m letting him anywhere near her after all of the things he’s done. I might have been a part of it before but that’s done now. No one is going to hurt her again, not on my watch.

“You even so much as think of pulling something on her, I will end you. Fact.”

I don’t wait around for a response. As the final bell rings, I take off for the door. If I want to make things right then it has to start now. I need to talk to my first period teacher and get the okay to be let out early.

I have somewhere I need to be at 11:15 and this time; nothing or no one is going to stop me from making sure it happens.

Not even Isabelle herself.





Chapter Seven



Belle



There isn’t a whole lot that I like about school. It’s no real secret that the only reason I’m even here at all is because of my mom. If she didn’t think it would be good for me, going through this the way I am, then I would be happier learning at home. She can’t afford that and even if she could, she already has to deal with me enough, I can’t imagine adding another six hours to it.

Even a mom needs a break from her kid every once in awhile.

For all of the things that I hate about school though, this is definitely not one of them.

As soon as I enter the class after my altercation with Kayden, I’m not in the mood to do much but pull out a book and get lost in it for awhile. Anything that will take my mind off the way he seems to make me go haywire every time I’m around him.

So it’s like Christmas for me when Ms. Taylor tells us that today is free writing day. Considering how hard it is for me to talk, this is definitely something I enjoy. It makes those notebooks my mom bought me useful, which until now, other than in my afternoon classes they just haven’t been.

The only problem is, the assignment she gives us isn’t the type of thing I’m very good at. I have to talk to someone or at least talk to them in a letter. It should be easy considering I don’t actually have to open my mouth to do it, but trust me, it’s not. Writing to someone, whether you know their name or not, is not as easy as writing a story is. I don’t like talking about myself at all, so I have a feeling that what she wants from us, I’m just not going to be able to do.

When she said free writing, I kind of hoped we could write stories. You know, ones where the girl, no matter how strange or different she is, always gets the guy in the end. The ones that no matter how similar some of the experiences might be to what you’re going through, it’s still obvious that its fiction so you don’t feel bothered at all. Sadly though, I don’t get my wish.