Leather Kisses

Leather Kisses. 14

After we broke apart, Dean left, without an explanation or a clarification. In that giddy, high moment, I didn't need one. It was only until later that night, when I was lying wide awake in my bed, that I craved some sort of answer. Sure enough, he kissed me. But what did that mean? What did that say about our friendship?

Now, we were stranded in the middle of vast abyss of unspoken terms and misplaced labels. I was swimming in a pool of uncertainty. I didn't have a clue to why he kissed me or what it symbolized. He could have kissed me on pure impulse, or he could have been planning it all along.

It was only when my eyes began to close that I realized there wasn't anything I could do about it now. All of this would have to wait until tomorrow.

***

Tomorrow came, but Dean did not.

Dean, who was always prompt, never showed up. I stood in the freezing cold for fifteen minutes, looking up and down the street, waiting for him to arrive . . . but he never did.

When the bus came, I had no choice but to take it. This time around, I was too angry to even acknowledge the rowdy kids I had to share the bus with. Fuming with rage, I detested him for making me look and feel like an idiot. He could have called, could have told me that he wasn't going to school, could have explained everything before he left so I wouldn't have to spend all day and all night worrying about us.

He could have, but he didn't.

If it had been any other day, I wouldn't have cared as much. But after what happened and how we left things, I needed to see him, just so my mind could be put at ease. Was he aware of the insanity he was putting me through? Was he feeling just as confused as I was? Probably not, or else he wouldn't have decided to skip school.

I walked into Chemistry, almost expecting to see him sitting at his desk. But his desk was empty.

"Lawrence?"

"Here."

"Lepol?"

"Here."

"Marks?"

Silence.

Dean was not there to answer his name. Dean was not there to be marked present on the attendance sheet. Dean was not there . . .

We took a test, one that I thought I was prepared for. But every question seemed to baffle me, and I couldn't find it in my right mind to focus. Every few minutes, I would subconsciously glance at the door, hoping Dean would bust through in the middle of class. But he never did.

I was being over-dramatic and needy, but I couldn't help it. I was going mad, eager to see his comforting smile, desperate to hear his deep voice tell me everything was okay. Where was he? What was so important that he felt the need to skip school?

As soon as the bell rang, I rushed towards the door. I needed to get out of that classroom.

"Riley," Lucy called after me. "Riley!" I slowed down as she sped up. "What's going on with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You were acting strange all period . . . you were one of the last people to hand in your test, when usually you're the first. And the only time you looked up from your test was to look at the door."

"Sorry."

"Where's Dean?"

"Wish I knew," I lowly replied.

She grunted. "Well, how was your birthday dinner?"

"Why are you asking so many questions? Stop prying, would you?" I snapped, without justification. She looked hurt, so I drew back. "Sorry, I'm just in a really bad mood."