Little Miss Nosy

Chapter Eight: Perhaps She's The One

-Edited-

I don't understand love.

And if it's anything like what Carmen and Trevor show off—I don't want to understand love.

They were quiet all morning. In their defense we were too busy rushing to get ready after sleeping through our alarms to do much talking anyway. But the quiet treatment turned into flirty glances, which then turned into the occasional shoulder bump.

Now the two walk hand in hand into school, giggling the entire way. Probably laughing about how well they're playing chess with my emotions. If I wasn't there to witness last night's ordeal I wouldn't suspect there even was one. How expert they are at playing it off is admirable, but that's got to land somewhere on the unhealthy side of a relationship scale.

The bell rings. It's time to go to first period but my mind can't concentrate on calculus when all it wants to do is shut down and sleep. I brace myself for the long week ahead, planting my feet on the pavement and waiting for the crowd to disperse before me.

I notice someone sitting alone in the field across from school; the only person not with a buddy or walking in a group. Only after squinting and shielding my eyes from the sun do I realize it's Ashton. He stays seated in the grass like he's been growing in that spot, ignoring the bell like it's not really there.

Before I allow too much time to talk myself out of it, I jog across the street and meet him in the trimmed field.

"Are you mad at me because I don't like dogs?"

Ashton looks up with a questioning expression. "What are you on about?"

"You've been moody ever since I told you I don't like dogs...in the cafeteria?" I add to jog his memory. He's confused again before his eyes widen in recognition. "I'm sorry that I'm a cat person but-"

"Paige," he interrupts. "I don't care that you don't like dogs. Actually, I do. It's kinda criminal. But that's not why I got upset."

"Care to explain then? I can't correct what I did if I don't know what I did."

"I'd rather not."

I want to press further but decide against it after glancing at his appearance. The Ashton I'm used to is always well put together. Today his hair is disheveled and shielding his eyes unlike the combed back style he usually adorns. His eyes are dull and sport dark circles underneath. And probably the most noticeable is his posture. Since meeting Ashton I've always seen him take up space in a confident manner. Now it's like he's folding into himself.

"What happened to you?" I question.

"I could ask you the same." He attempts a smirk, but it doesn't hold the playfulness I've grown used to.

He's got a point. I couldn't be bothered with the normal amount of effort I put into getting ready every morning. I swapped my jeans and tank top in for a cozy pair of sweats and oversized band t-shirt. I threw my hair into a messy bun and called it a job well done. The brief glance I took in the mirror showed under eye bags that match his.

We both look like we just rolled out of bed after a stressful weekend.

"Yeah, I know I don't look the best today," I chuckle.

He scoffs. "You could never not look pretty. Bed-head, baggy clothes and all."

My cheeks heat, and I wonder if his comment flusters him like it does me. But he sits yanking at blades of grass, unmoved as if his words were akin to a statement about the weather. My lack of social companionship makes me question if that's a normal thing to say to a platonic friend. I'm not sure, but Ashton seems to think it is so I decide not to dwell on it.