Falling For Your Antics (Editing)

Chapter 5- Touché Raisin Bran, Touché

I spent the rest of the week in anticipation. The thought at the back of my head since Monday night was now at the front of my mind. Why hadn't Carter texted me yet?

Maybe his school blew up with the same reactions mine had, which would make perfect sense. After all, how could you reach out to someone when you were being suffocated by other people's judgements? Maybe I had indirectly caused problems for him?

No. What was I thinking? How could I have caused any problems for him, when all I did was accidentally stick my candy floss to his shirt, considering he paraded right into me. Or, rather I paraded right into him. Anyway, why should I fret over if I had caused him any problems, when it was the same on my end of the stick.

The gossip did damage this week; causing everyone to constantly question me about what had happened between Carter and I, then they proceed to assume things behind my back. I swear, teenagers lived for gossip; so spoon feeding them reality's truth as an antidote turned into a mutated drug of lies they seemed addicted to, if you wanted to put it metaphorically.

I, on the other hand, was a person of truth. I believed that without any honesty, there could be no accomplishments, no matter the case. Whether it be gossip, rumours, friendships, relationships, etc. So many people tortured themselves over not knowing the why's and only focusing on the now, the present. Which was probably what made me itch for some answers, as I wanted to know why Carter hadn't contacted me, instead of ignoring it like others would do.

So, Friday night, as I was about to Facebook some Carmichael rivalries of our school to find out what the heck was actually going on, my mum announced that her and Angus were going out to buy tea. "Okay!" I called down the stairs as she departed, then instantly scurried in my room to Skype Rowan instead.

I was not satisfied being home with only my sister and Nate, so having Rowan to keep me company would ease my restlessness. Whenever I was in the same room as Nate on my own or for too long, I would dash out, filled with anxiety.

See, the thing is, my mum never believed me when I told her what was going on. It was bad enough I had to keep her secret, so she probably thought I'd built some resentment fuelled hate towards Nate. Which wasn't entirely wrong, but I was not making this up. Whenever he was around me, he would blatantly stare at my body, and whenever we were alone, he would make subtle attempts to touch me, or make subtle comments about my appearance.

It started when I was around 14, when I had just started to grow into myself. He didn't even hide the fact he raked his eyes over my body, in which I won't deny was getting rather curved due to me exercising most days to heal a tendon injury in my calf inflicted by excessive sport. All the physiotherapy was paying off for both my knee and myself, but instead of feeling confident in my new body, I felt objectified., like a toy for a cat to play with.

Now, though, at the age of 16 and nearing 17 in a several months, I couldn't help but be even more intimidated and frightened of him. Whenever my mum went out, he always made efforts to try and get me alone, and, knowing my sister was oblivious to all that goes on around her, I usually locked myself away in my bedroom talking to Rowan.

The most recent time he had crept me out was just last night, when I came in from a night run. I was just stepping through the door when he walked out of the kitchen and stared right at me, blocking my way to get some water. His eyes agonisingly raked my body slowly, from head to toe, then rested on my chest, which was only covered by a sports bra. I squirmed.

"You're filling out very nicely," he told me with a thick voice. I couldn't quite pick out whether it was coated with desire or not, but I guessed it was as he started walking towards me.