Ariel & Caesar

3

Putting more Caesar in this story! Yay! Sorry for the short chapter by the way. I've also been thinking of writing shorter chapters and updating more often. Anyway, please comment because I would love to hear your opinions! Also, thank you -for the thousandth time- for reading my story. :)
• • •
Caesar jogs up to me in the snow. "Hi"

"Hello."

He brushes his ginger hair to the side. "Sooo."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Obviously walking to school."

"Right, I knew that. Um, so where do you live?"

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Curious."

"Sounds a little creepy, don't you think?" A snowflake drops down on my eyelashes. I blink it away.

"Sorry... I'm not the best at conversation."

"Then why did you decide to talk to me?" His eyebrows stitch together. Great going Ariel.

"Um, I'm not really sure, actually. Why? Do you want me to go away?"

"I don't know."

We walk in silence the rest of the way to school.

• • •

"Do you like geometry?" Caesar asks me from behind. I tap my pen on my desk.

"Hmm, it's okay." I say as I pull my pen cap off and doodle an eye. I scribble it out when I'm finished.

"What are you drawing?"

"Nothing." My face turns red.

"Are you good at drawing?"

"Um, no."

"Hey," he taps my shoulder. I turn around and he's smiling. "You never told me where you live."

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"You didn't answer."

"I live in the only yellow house on Bellsteen street." The bell rings and everyone rushes to the door. I grab my books and stuff it into my bag and walk to the door with Caesar.

"See ya."

"Bye."

• • •

"I heard you and your mother had a fight and you're not going to your counselor anymore."

"Dad, I don't want to talk about it." I drop my bag at the front door and pull a seat up to the island in the middle of the kitchen. I stare at the sink and notice water dripping from it. I scan the kitchen for a snack and grab a box of granola bars off the countertop and open a bar that has chocolate chips and raspberries in them.

"I just want to know why this happened. It's okay you don't want to go to counseling anymore."

"The lady was weird," I say through a mouth full of granola. I watch the water drop out of the faucet and into the sink. The faucet's handle wasn't pushed down all the way.

"Then what was the fight about with your mother?" Drip. Drip. Drip.

"It was about the divorce." Drip. I grab one more granola bar from the box and get up from my chair. I push down the faucet handle and walk upstairs to my room and shut my door.