dancing in the darkest rain

chapter 8

tessa vaughn

Once we arrive to the high school, I jump out and practically run inside. How dare he take advantage of me like that?

He made my insides feel something entirely different. His presence alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire in me that I hadn't known existed. He puts me in positions that I never thought I'd be in, challenging my comfort zones and pushing me to confront my deepest desires and fears.

It drives me crazy, the way he effortlessly breaks down my defenses, making me feel alive in ways I never imagined possible. Every touch, every glance from him is a tantalizing promise of the unknown, pulling me deeper into an intoxicating, unpredictable dance.

Walking through the entrance, I find a set of double doors with tall windows on either side, the words FRONT OFFICE printed in big letters.

I turn around to see if Damon's car is still parked outside, but he's gone.

A tall man dressed in a dark green officer uniform approaches me. "You better get on going to class, young miss."

"I'm sorry?" I question.

The officer's brows knit together as he clears his throat. "Run along before your ass gets thrown in detention." He orders.

"I'm sorry sir, but-"

He cuts me off, "No buts!"

A young woman with dark auburn hair runs out of the office. "Good morning, Officer Herrera! What seems to be the problem?"

"This young lady needs to get to class!" He tells her.

The woman turns to me. "You must be our new transfer student from New York, right?"

"Jersey, ma'am." I correct her. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, no, of course not. Just a simple misunderstanding." She grins. "I'm your guidance counselor, Miss. Emerson."

Officer Herrera tilts his head. "My apologies, Maya." Then walks away without another word.

Miss. Emerson sighs tiredly, adjusting the glasses that rest on top of her hair. "Sorry about all that. It's the new year jitters."

I smile at her, even though I have no idea what she's talking about. "Thank you," is all I'm able to say.

"Well," she starts, "if you want to follow me into the office, your buddy for the day is waiting for you."

Buddy? What is this, kindergarten?

We enter the office side by side, but I can't keep the anxiety down in my stomach. It surfaces into my chest, causing my brain and my eyes to disconnect from what's in front of me. My heartbeat accelerates, and my palms grow clammy. It's an almost euphoric disconnection, where everything around me blurs at the edges.

The sterile smell of the office, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights, and the distant murmur of voices fade into the background. My senses are both heightened and dulled, creating a surreal, dreamlike state. I can feel his presence beside me, a steady anchor, yet my mind is adrift in a sea of overwhelming emotions. The cold, impersonal environment of the office contrasts sharply with the turmoil inside me, making every step forward feel both significant and insubstantial.

At the front desk, a girl that looks to be my age with honey colored skin and dark hair stands rather frustrated.

I notice the pink piece of paper in her hand when she says, "No, you're not listening to me. I'm supposed to be giving a tour to a transfer. Not transferring out of here!"