The New Student

Chapter 3

Naomi's POV

Staring at the ceiling, I think of the moments before. 

Flashback

The ride to my house was silent. Not a uncomfortable silence, but silent. Something I haven't heard in a long time. 

After a 10 minute ride, we finally pulled up to my house. 

"You have a lovely house." I heard Dylan say from my left.

"Thanks for the ride." I reply unbuckling and was about to open the door when I heard him speak again.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" he questioned. Thank him?

"For?" I question back.

"Helping you out for what happened back there." he states referring to the situation that happened at the school. 

"I had it handled."

"I bet you did. You have a hard time controlling your anger."  Seriously?

"You're the one to talk." I murmured under my breath.

"Hm?"

"That's being a hypocrite. Don't think I didn't see you clench your fist in the third period cause of what that ignoramus said."

"He was discriminating against my race. Using a racial stereotype."

"And the blonde wasn't?" I asked raising my voice. 

He stayed silent, breathing out a long breath. That's what I thought. 

I scoff before getting out the car, slamming the door behind me. 

"I don't thank people and I don't do pity, either. So if I don't yearn for it, don't expect me to give it." I say through the open window before turning around and heading into my house, feeling his eyes on me the whole way there. 

Once I closed the door, I heard his car drive off. I sigh as I throw my bag down and lay my head against the door. 

This is why I don't have expectations. 

End of Flashback

Rethinking the memory felt like I was reliving it. A weird shiver went down my spine and I didn't like it. He was something else. But he needs to learn manners. 

Dylan's POV

After dropping off Naomi, I headed home. I pulled into my huge driveway  before parking my car along with the others.

I head inside my house with Naomi's words circling my head. They made an imprint on me and refused to leave. She made me regret. I never regret.

When I reached my room, the first thing I did was lay flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling. 

I hate the fact that I regret it, but can't apologize. She hates pity. But would it really be pity if I'm saying sorry for my actions?

I groan in frustration. Women are confusing. But they also have a point. 

Before I could drown myself in anymore thoughts, my phone began to ring. 

"Dylan," I heard my father's voice boom through the phone once I picked it up.

"Hm," I mumble into the phone. 

"I need you at the base. We got one of Salo's guys. He's not talking. Come handle it."