Scar(r)ed

Perhaps

I didn't expect my trance to be broken this way. I didn't expect a tear to escape my left eye and fall on my jean clad knee. I wish that wasn't what tore me away from him. That I was the one that looked away first.

I don't know what triggered that tear, what allowed it to fall without my knowledge and consent. It's starting to piss me off. I turn to Nathalie who's looking as confused as Shane Dawson's sexuality in 2009.

"I'm gonna leave school now, Nat." I place my book into the red backpack by my feet and zip it up.

"Lunch is almost over. You have a history test in like ten minutes. You never skip school. You say it's for the weak. Where are you even going to go?" She narrows her eyes and I almost expect her to blow steam out of somewhere on her body.

I don't look at her, don't speak, just swing my bag towards me as I get up out of my seat and toss my waist length brown-blonde hair over my right shoulder. I take slow steps down the silent hallway, enjoying the sound my tennis shoes make on the squeaky floors.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. There's someone walking behind me, moving as if they're trying to catch me before I vanish.

Then and there God speaks to me, in a deep, raw and powerful voice. One that exudes the very conscience of a man. Not the boys who litter the halls and contribute nothing to society. A man who knows the answers to any question you have ever thought.

"Bambi, wait." The voices beauty echoes through the hallways, as if the air within it wants to keep the sound of heaven ringing through these halls for as long as possible. This causes me to stop completely.

The footsteps slow in pace and then finish abruptly behind me. I make no effort to turn, I know he will talk to me regardless.

"I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person. That's not my name." I start to walk again slightly surprised at my ability to speak coherently while still being dumbfounded by his voice.

"I don't know who you are," he talks again with more sense of purpose laced between the curves of his words. "But you have doe eyes. The same ones that caged mine earlier. Bambi, let me walk with you."

"Perhaps."

&&&&&

I did let him walk with me. I never said I'd talk to him though.

"So, Bambi, do you have a real name or am I just that good at nicknames?"

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm pretty sure Bambi is a very commonly used nickname for girls given by the hot guy in Teen Fiction."

He lets out the silhouette of a laugh, and even then it's enough to burn holes in my brain. Is this boy even real?

"You think I'm hot?" He raises his eyebrows provocatively, with a hint of humour in his voice.

"Perhaps." I watch him smile from my peripheral vision.

&&&&&

We finally reach our destination. "The subway, really? Nobody's even here. Isn't this the station closed for the week?" He casually sits down on a bench as if that's the only thing he sees possible to do.

I laugh softly, I didn't realize how ignorant he can be. I reach into my pocket and grab a metal lighter. I try searching my bag, only to realize I left my smokes at school.

"Shit." I reach to put my lighter back into my pocket, but then he throws something at me. I catch the box effortlessly in my left hand. His footsteps begin, until they reach me. He puts his hand out waiting for me to gift him a cancer stick. I do, then place one in my mouth so I can use the lighter.

I start it, staring at the flame as if it would engulf my whole being. My gaze is shifted when he brings his head down to the flickering heat. I do the same, breathing in to ignite my cigarette. I meet his eyes once again, feeling a pull towards him. My God, I want to kiss him and I don't even know why. I'm too hormonal.

I straighten my posture first, breaking whatever teenage girl moment I was having and letting the waves of smoke free from my lungs. He holds out his hand to me. The gesture is almost comforting.

"I'm Christian." I reach out to shake his hand, ignoring the fact that my heartbeat is now moving faster than Usain Bolt and my quick, deep breathing pace clearly audible. The moment I touch his hand, it's like someone's drilling nails into my palm and fingers and the wonderful pain is crawling up my arm. I realize he's waiting for my name, although I'm quite positive he'd be fine just calling me Bambi from now on. Even though I'm pretty sure he would anyways even with knowing my name.

I hesitate at first. "Valerie. So, are you religious?"

"I wish I was just to believe in something. I like the irony of it though, makes me feel like Alanis."

"Like rain on your wedding day?"

He smiles with his gloriously white teeth. "Exactly."

He takes another puff, the smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he talks. "So, why are we here?"

"Well, I was gonna come here to think. And now we're both here."

"Sorry to rain on your parade."

"No, honestly, I'm happy you did."

"Me too Bambi, me too."

&&&&&

Somehow, we had ended up lying next to each other on the cold (you guessed it) grey concrete floor. Our faces were a foot apart, as we looked into each others eyes and just talked about nothing. It was wonderful.

I didn't register when, but he had managed to find a stray lock of my hair to twist around and play with as I was telling him about the first time I heard Nirvana's cover of David Bowie's Man Who Sold The World.

"It was like I learned to read for the first time, y'know? Like Kurt was telling me the secret to the universe. The air around me went heavy like it was filled with magic. I found beauty in noise."

"You're really something else, huh Bambi?"

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows together and subconsciously began biting my bottom lip.

"I'll tell you someday."

"Someday?"

"Perhaps."

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