Page 91 of Withered

“Weird vibes from whom?” A familiar voice asks from behind us.

We turn around to see Jake standing behind us. He looks at Tyler before turning to me.

“Our English teacher, Professor Caleb,” Tyler answers.Way to go, Tyler.

Jake glances at me and asks, “That guy from Starbucks?”

I nod. “Yup, that’s the one.”

“What did he do?” Jake asks sternly.

“Nothing. He gave me an assignment. Look.” I wave the file at Jake. “He is nice,” I tell them both.

Tyler smiles as he looks behind me and excuses himself.Kristy.I turn around and see her walking our way. Jake grabs my wrist and drags me in the opposite direction before I can say hello.

“Hey!” I protest against his hold.

It’s difficult to keep up with him. I’m almost jogging because of his long strides. People throw us odd looks, but I don’t have time to think about it. We continue down the hall and turn right into the next, practically empty hallway.

He releases his hand from my wrist and stands in front of me. The few students scramble away when they spot us, leaving us alone.

“You need to stop talking to that dickhead,” Jake states. The way he says that didn’t exactly sound like a question or a request.

“Excuse me?” I ask him, bewildered. “Who are you to tell me that?”

I feel my rage growing. Never in my life have my parents ever asked me to do that. Who does he think he is?

“Look, I just know that he’s a fucking dickhead, okay? Just stay away from him,” Jake yells, his fist clenching and unclenching.

“I don’t care what you think of him. He is a professor. How should I stay away from him if he calls me?” I ask him, raising my voice.

“Then don’t go!” Jake screams.

“As if,” I scoff.

“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Jake says, running his fingers through his hair and tugging at the ends.

For a second, I forget everything we’re arguing over and imagine his soft hair against my palm.

“I am difficult. Are you even listening to yourself?” I wave my finger between us. He groans and looks up with his eyes closed.

“Jake,” I start slowly. “He’s no harm,” I assure him.

He opens his eyes, looks at me, and lets out a breath. He takes a step toward me and backs me up against the wall. His anger has cooled down, but his chest continues to rise and fall.

“I’m sorry.” He puts his head against my forehead. I close my eyes, seeping into the moment.

“You say that, yet you shout at me,” I whisper. He’s so close that I breathe in his familiar scent, which helps me calm and at the same time turns my brain senseless.

“I don’t just say sorry to anyone,” he whispers back, his minty breath fanning my face.

“Wow, I feel special.” I chuckle and open my eyes to face him.

Sunlight lands on my eyes, so I have to blink a few times. I get a good look at his face, and it hurts. He’s so gorgeous.

He opens his eyes and peers into mine. He doesn’t answer but says, “Your eyes. Fuck… amazing.”

“They’re plain boring.” My eyes are brown. His, on the other hand, are the most beautiful ones. Forest green eyes, just like after a rain in the forest.

---