Midnight

4

Crap!

I peaked up at Everett, whose distant eyes danced in betrayal. He looked hurt.

He had been eavesdropping in the doorway all along.

"I can tell you don't want to be mine either," As he processed my words his features transformed into a cold, angry mask. I needed to flush the grimy taste of blood from my mouth. I brushed past him, speeding to the bathroom— my nose bleeding just as fast— when a rough grip clasped onto my arm and pulled me back around. "Everett, I'm not doing this," I mumbled.

"No, Celestine, you don't get it," He claimed through nearly clenched teeth, erratically searching my eyes.

It pained me to look back at him, I forced myself to glance away. "Yes, actually I do. You ghosted me. You were my only friend, and you abandoned me," I let my words sizzle through his skin, sink in his heart and wither away at his feet. I tugged away from the death grip he had on me.

I huffed a big sigh of frustration when I felt two big hands land on my shoulders and whirl me back around, again.

"Would you let me explain?" He questioned, exasperated.

Part of me wanted to turn away, to refuse and shoot him down immediately. To treat him the same isolating way he had. Now he decides to explain?

But the other part, the one that I believed to be wrong, couldn't fathom possibly hurting Everett. All I could picture was the young innocent boy he was once, before his features turned harsh. What caused this switch in him?

"Please?" He continued.

I couldn't fight off this side of myself. Hearing his plea tore so deeply at my soul, I found myself gazing back into his intoxicating lapis eyes, almost seeing his younger self revel beneath his concerned characteristics.

Maybe my old Everett was still in there.

"At least let me help you," His eyes lingered on the blood trickling over my top lip.

"Fine," I stepped away from him, and this time he kept his hands to himself.

We pivoted, heading to the back parking lot. I could tell I was walking too slow for his long legs. He tried to pace himself and remain by my side, but I was just a beat off.

He'd stop occasionally when he noticed I had fallen behind, but I took the chance to take him in.

His black hair almost shone purple with the thick light filtering through the hallway window, his eyes still slightly angry, lips pressed in a frowning line, and eyebrows stitched tight together whenever he glanced to the side. I could still see the tension in his shoulders, and I felt my face heat up when a small part of me wished I could massage out the knots in his muscles on hard days.

"Are—" I stumbled in a pothole as he led me through a maze of cars. "Are you driving me home?"

"What else would we be doing here?" He scoffed, not in a joking way but rather to ridicule my question.

But I couldn't help myself from asking. He was still falling away from me and wore an aggravated demeanor, and yet he wanted to drive me home? Not that I wasn't a little excited, but he was confusing me.

Where would this lead?

I spotted his car— colored a purple so deep, similar to his hair I had always mistook it for black— when the headlights flashed as he unlocked it.

He aggressively paced to the passenger door, swinging it open with a heavy sigh. I paused for a moment with wide eyes, picking at the cuticle of my thumb, when I realized he was holding the door for me.