I sigh quietly. I don't belong here. I do not belong here. Todd starts to say something, but honestly I'm not paying attention. I want out. Without thinking, I stand from my hard chair similar to the ones at the clinic, all eyes on me, I inhale sharply when I realize what I've done. Todd then asks me if something is wrong. I shake me head quickly and sit back down. My cheeks are as red as a cherry, I'm sure. I look at my lap, and hear a light chuckle. I look up to find the boy with tattoos and piercings staring at me with those green eyes. I narrow my eyes at him and he shoots me a white smile. I haven't said two words to the kid, and he's already annoying me.
We finally begin to go around the circle, and of course I have to go first. I stand up and speak, my voice quieter than I wanted it to come out.
"My name is Stevie and I'm seventeen.''
And then I sit. I find that a little bit stupid that we have to stand to say our name and how old we are. I look up and tattoo kid is staring at me again. What does he want?! I'm beginning to feel self conscious; is he judging my hair? My clothes? Wondering what I'm doing in a support group? That last one is probably it.
It's his turn now, with his eyes locked to mine, he stands.
"I'm Harry an I'm nineteen."
Two years older. I can't date him, my mom wouldn't approve. Right because he said that he wants to date me, yeah. Why am I jumping to the conclusion that he wants to date me? My God my head is messed up.
Finally, after what seems like forever, support group is over. I really want to go home and sulk for a while. Support group is rather depressing. Go figure. It hasn't helped at all! If anything, it's made me even sadder. All those kids telling Todd their problems and how they hate life, I felt rather uncomfortable. It came my turn to stand and talk about my problems, and I declined. As did Harry. I wish he hadn't though. I really kind of wanted to know his story.
I made my way over to the elevator, and pressed the down button. My mind was racing with thoughts like, "Hey maybe I really am depressed" or " Harry, Harry, Harry..." he wont leave my mind. For some very odd reason I found him attractive.
Finally, the elevator doors spread open and I walked inside. The doors began to close, when a hand was placed in between them causing the doors to open again. And there he was.
Harry flashed me a slightly crooked smile and walked in, only three inches from my hoodie covered skin. My heart raced. why did this punk kid have such a great effect on me? I'm usually into boys without tattoos.
The elevator doors shut once again and began to move from the tenth floor to the first floor. I decided to take this time to study Harry. He wore a black pullover sweater, jeans, and dirty white converse. Who knew something so simple could be so affective. He smelled of mint and cigarettes; the smell was comforting somehow. Harry must have seen my staring because he turned his gaze to meet mine. I quickly turned my head to my shoes. He chuckled and out of the corner of my eye I noticed him dip his head down and shake his curls out. That was insanely hot. Can this elevator go any faster?
Of course we couldn't just stay silent.
"What are you doing in a depression support group?" He asked me like it's the most ridiculous thing in the world.
"My mother sent me here, I'm not even depressed. I bet that damn doctor man with the stained Van Halen shirt knew what he was talking about." I say, rolling my eyes. Harry laughed. I turned my head to look at his smiling face. I furrowed my eyebrows together in confusion.
"I didn't know that was funny." I spoke harshly.
Harry immediately stopped laughing and looked at his shoes. "Sorry it's not."
Is this person shy? This person with tattoos and piercings? He can't be.
The elevator finally arrived at the first floor, and we both wen to walk out at once. "Sorry go ahead." Harry said gesturing me to go first. I smiled at him and strutted out of the elevator, leaving the smell of mint and cigarettes behind.
(I reeeeally hope you're enjoying so far! Again, please don't take offense! luff you! x)
YOU ARE READING
Bold As Love
FanfictionLife really isn't what you expect it to be. That goes for seventeen year old Stevie Walsh when her mother forces her into a depression support group. Was it the best or worst thing to happen to her?