Escape

- Chapter 11 -

My body freezes like ice as I only wait for what’s coming up, but Maggie’s not yelling yet nor am I getting a pair of confusing eyes from Albert.

Because they’re not looking at me. Not yet. They’re kissing their goodbyes and smiling with each other.

Thank goodness.

I suddenly wish that I’d just run up the stairs when I had the chance to and forget about the home school situation. I tugged on Shawn’s wrist, but he doesn’t budge. I glare at him impatiently. “Would you just listen to me and follow me?” I say rudely. He stays blank faced at my sudden tone. I feel a little guilty, but I really have no time to be nice to him. He himself had been rude to me earlier anyway.

I tug on his arm once more, a little harder this time, causing him to relent as he has no other choice than to walk after me. I cautiously lead him across the grass diagonally until our bodies are both hidden beside the house, below the window of my room.It doesn’t take too long to reach here, since the area around my house is small.

A few seconds later, the creaking of the stairs sounds. Then a car shut. Then the roaring of an engine. Then silence. And birds.

I’ve made it safely. For now.

I lay my back against the smooth tree near my room window, sliding down slowly to catch hard breathes that I’ve been holding for a little too long. It had all happened a too fast. I close my eyes and pictured what would’ve happened if my aunt had caught Shawn and me. At times like this, I wish life would just answer me why. Why I have to be hiding from my aunt like this. Why I’m too stupid to catch up on a class. Why the principal is helping me out. And his son too.

The ruffling of grass erupts from the silence from Shawn’s shoes. I look up at him and he’s now standing so close in front of me, looking down at me – eyes dull, still complexion and sealed lips. I wander off to what he might be thinking at the moment while just staring me down like this. Maybe somewhere along the impression of how crazy of a girl I am.

“Why are you so nervous?” His low voice seems almost secretive, sending an unfamiliar feeling to swim through my chest. I find myself staring into his eyes, glancing at his cheekbones, taking over his dark brows and down around those angled jaws that are structured so strongly, leaving me left with his messy hair to look over in finality. But there’s more. I take in the rest of his frame that's blocking the sun from shining on me, then further down to his faded jeans and boots, then back up, settling on his face. A frown appears on his full lips and he crosses his arms. I notice how buff his bare arms are; not overly full, but he’s fit. “Stop checking me out now,” he demands petulantly.  

I immediately feel heat coming up my face, but I don’t look away. Was I checking him out? I wasn’t. I was only looking at him. That was it. “I am not. And I’m not nervous,” I lie, answering his question.

I swear I’ve seen a quick smirk tugging on his lips, but it’s not there anymore. His eyes dart down to my hands that are on my crossed knees before meeting my eyes again. “Oh… you must be meditating then.”

I glance down towards my sitting position. “Am I?”

He raises his brows.

“Why do you think that just because I’m sitting like this, I’m meditating?” I ask curiously.

He lets out a low snort and gives me a look to my clueless expression. “I know you’re not meditating. I’m trying to say that you’re nervous and I can see it.”

I look down to myself again. How does he know? I’m not shaking or visibly showing any signs of nervousness. “How do you know?”

“You’re easy to read.”