Do They Bother You? (Editing)

Chapter Three

I avoided LJ- and all of his friends- until Friday. I tried to tell myself they didn't matter. I'd only spent half a day with them, it wasn't like I wasloosing friends I'd known since I was little. It didn't seem to hurt me any less, though.

Friday wasn't really a good day in general, so I held onto the fact that Matthew would be here later tonight. He'd promised to bring me out to dinner for my birthday, before he left for college, and I knew seeing my big brother would lift my spirits.

It was lunch time. I'd taken to eating in the library, hidden behind stack after stack of books. I;d found a small sitting area in the back corner, and picked out a different book to read every day while I ate my lunch. Today though, I wasn't very hungry.

"Good afternoon, Lena." The librarian said as I passed her desk, looking up from the books she'd been sorting.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Wayne." I murmured, waving slightly before disappearing behind a shelf of books. The silence of the library engulfed me, comforted me. No one was ever in here during lunch, only in the cafeterias. It was the perfect hiding place.

Sitting down in the red chair against the wall, I picked up the book I'd been reading yesterday and kicked off my shoes so that I could tuck my feet up underneath me. I was wearing black flats today, along with a pair of black tights and a grey pencil skirt. My hair was twisted up on the back of my head and held there with a light blue clip. I flipped to the page where I'd left off yesterday, and instantly everything faded around me but the pages in front of me.

It was toward the end of lunch that I realized someone had sat down on the sofa beside me and was gazing at me intently. I'd been biting my lower lip as I'd read, and looked up with a surprised expression. The surprise quickly changed to despair when I saw who it was.

"I was wondering when you'd notice me," James said, smiling gently at me. I set the book down and stood, throwing my bag over my shoulder and putting my shoes back on.

"I have to go." I sighed, turning to leave. He caught my hand, tugging me back around to look at him.

We stared at each other, him in all his gorgeous intensity and me in my confused despair. Why did he care? Why was he still trying to be my friend?

"Why do you keep running from me?" He asked, his eybrows knitting together over his nose as he frowned. I looked away, shrugging. "Is it about what happened on Tuesday? In the garden?"

I shook my head, yanking my arm out of his grasp. I didn't move, though, instead crossing my arms over my chest and facing away from him. I felt him place a gentle hand on my shoulder and I stiffened.

"Lena, I want to help you. I just want to be your friend."

I suddenly wished I hadn't put my hair up, so that I could use it to cover my face and obscure his view of my expression. I felt trapped. It wasn't that I didn't want to be his friend; in fact, I desired his friendship so strongly it bordered on obsession. But I was so, so scared of what he would say to me about my scars. I'd not cut in a long time- almost two years. That didn't stop people from trying to 'help' though, and I didn't want anyone to have access to that part of my life. It was hard enough trying to get over it myself.

My sleeves were rolled up today. I'd taken to covered my wrists in makeup and different bracelets, as if that could erase the evidence of my suffering. It didn't, of course, but it gave me a little more freedom in clothing choices.

"It's too hard for me to have friends." I whispered. "Friends lie and spread rumors and try to 'help' you when they have no business doing so."

He gently tugged at my shoulder, turning me around so that he could stare directly into my eyes, his hands placed firmly on my shoulders. One of his thumbs brushed my collarbone.