One Step Forward

t h r e e

I stand there, frozen in shock and maybe even a little disgust.

Can't believe I was fraternizing with the enemy

The blonde headed she-devil whips her head toward me. "Eloise" she snaps and I fold my arms across my chest, hoping to reign in my snarky response.

I'm just here to make Dylan happy.

Behind her I see Thomas frown at his sister, probably confused at her hostility, but he mouths my name silently as his gaze snaps back toward mine.

Ugh, can't believe I found him cute. I think I just threw up in my mouth.

My curiosity grows a little when I notice that the two siblings look nothing alike. I frown.
One has platinum blonde hair while the other jet black. One has blue eyes while the other has green. Before I can delve deeper into my thoughts, I'm yanked back by her high pitched tone,

"Can you stop gawking? Go on, start apologizing."

This time, I don't bother to hide the eye roll and glare.

"Apologize?" Thomas finally speaks and then his eyes widen in realization.

My stomach clenches in disappointment when his gaze narrows into near slits at me, full of anger that makes the one in chemistry look like a hug. For some reason, this look hurts.

I squash the feeling down before it can blossom into something frightening.

"She trashed my car because I broke her brother's heart," she smirks and folds her arms across her chest, mocking my stance.

"At least you admit you're a heartless twit," I smile at her, "acceptability is the first step, sweetheart."

A body comes between us before she can retaliate and Thomas speaks with his green eyes locked on mine, his voice as cold as the Antarctic.

"Leave," he says. "You've done enough damage here."

I turn around and slam the door so loud, the drilling going on outside stops for a second before it resumes back up.

+++

"Well?" Dylan perks up from his phone in the couch when I storm in and roll my eyes with a huff.

"You dodged a bullet, let me tell you" I growl and his brows dip. "I didn't apologize. Her idiot brother is so... stupid!" By the end I'm yelling and I slam the door to my room close.

I grab my notebook from my school bag and begin drafting the next chapter for Art. I learned a long time ago that the only way to make something of my anger was through a pen.

As much as I'd like to stab a certain someone with green eyes with the one in my hand right now; I decide to focus on my writing and realize that I would probably damage any future writing success by this crime, and it also wouldn't look good written on a tabloid under my name.

With that morally questionable persuasion, I write for so long and with so much focus that I don't stop until my fountain pen runs dry thrice and my morning alarm for school goes off.

By the time I walk into my first class of the day, my anger is extinguished and my hands are stained with ink as they grip the cup and a delicious ache runs through my fingers, with the heat through the styrofoam cup creating a soothing sensation.

I've also decided that I'll give the finished chapters to Art piece by piece. She gets too greedy at times. She once gobbled four blueberry muffins in one go just because I got them for her.