them

Her

I was dreading Monday. Monday meant seeing Dylan after I told him what happened. He was the first person I'd told, other than Poppy, and I still wasn't sure why I did it. Maybe it was to get him off my back, or maybe to just get him away from me. I thought that maybe if I told him why I had so many walls built up around me, he might not want to hang out with such a damaged person.

Turns out I was wrong.

Over the weekend I had received 33 texts from Dylan, most were apologizing for his 'douchebag behavior' (his words, not mine) and some were just him asking how I was doing and if I was holding up okay. He was such a sweet guy under his cocky exterior that it really made me like him and I just couldn't have that. I couldn't have a relationship in the middle of all this, I just don't have time.

•

"Scarlett, are you okay? You look a little... Down," Poppy said with a frown. I looked up from my phone to give her a small smile.

"I'm alright. Just tired," I lied. Poppy squinted at me, as if she was trying to decide whether she wanted to pester me about it or just leave me alone.

"Stop lying to me," Looks like she decided to pester me about it. Oh, joy.

"Ugh, fine. It's Dylan," I admitted. "He got mad at me for never opening up to him so I got mad and then blurted out that my mother got murdered. And I really don't want to see him today, but I know that I will because we sit right fücking next to each other next period,"

Poppy's dark eyes widened as she took in what I just recanted.

"You... Told him?" She asked in disbelief. I nodded in response while trying to figure out what she was thinking.

"Oh my god! Scar, you opened up to someone! That's great! No, that's more than great, that's fücking amazing! Do you know what that means?" Poppy shouted, a huge grin on her face.

"No?" I said, completely confused.

"YOU'RE HEALING!!" Poppy screamed and wrapped her arms around me in a suffocating hug.

"Jesus, Poppy, let me breath," I groaned, untangling myself from her. Poppy let out a giggle and pushed her red hair out of her face.

"I'm just happy. Now, you've gotta talk to Dylan, okay? Whether it be to tell him more about your situation, or to tell him you don't want to be friends, you've gotta talk to him," Poppy said sternly. I sighed, but I knew she was right. She always seemed to be.

•

Math. The class I've been dreading, and my least favorite subject. I took a deep breath before walking in, keeping my head down as I rushed to my seat in the back. I glanced next to me to find an empty seat. Maybe Dylan was absent today and I wouldn't have to talk to him. Sadly, that wasn't the case. Dylan strolled in three minutes late, interrupting the beginning of Mr. Lance's lecture.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Mr. O'brien," Mr. Lance said sarcastically. Dylan just smiled at him and handed him his pass.

"Anytime, Mr. L," Dylan turned around and immediately made eye contact with me and smirked. I looked down and started doodling, ignoring him in hopes he would forget I was there. But apparently my tactic didn't work and soon I felt someone breathing on my neck.

"Let's talk after class, okay?" He whispered, his lips just barely grazing my ear lobe, making me shiver. I found myself nodding, his presence putting me under some kind of trance.

"Perfect," Dylan said, grinning at me. What had I gotten myself into?

Why did I always find myself thinking that when I was around him? This boy made me so fickle. Half of me wants to stay away from him and never talk to him again and the other half wants to make out with him and have him father my children. I'm so confused.