Friends Forever, huh?

Chapter 30 | "drive."

It takes all day for Cole to corner me, but as soon as the bell rings, he does it. I've just finished packing up my books and have gotten in my car when the door suddenly opens and he slides in beside me.

"Drive."

"Excuse me?"

Cole sighs, rubs a hand over his eyes, "Please? Drive somewhere we can talk?"

Cole doesn't make any move to exit the car. I glare at him. Stubborn pain in my butt. He leans against the window, eyes on me, "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

I scowl but realize I'm fighting a losing battle. I drive to the park, a block away. It's empty.

Cole exits the car and I follow suit. The smile he gives me is genuine when he asks how my day was.

However, when I respond with my usual "fine," he sighs and shakes his head.

"Ashley, can't you tell me the truth for once?"

No. I wish I could. However, I'm not only protecting myself here. I'm protecting you too.

But I can't tell him that, so I just glare at the ground.

"Will you stop pressing me about this? I'm fine."

"You are not fine! Ashley, you forget that I'm a person that has used that line a million times." He's shouting, but he doesn't sound angry. Instead, his eyes are filled with a deep sorrow.

"Stop worrying about me!" I say weakly, "I can handle myself!"

"That's not what it looks like, Ashley! For goodness sakes, you have bruises everywhere!"

"You don't understand. It's easier if I just let them beat me up! It's better if I'm just invisible." I cross my arms, hating myself for the tears that form in my eyes, "I'm better off alone."

"Ashley..." I lift my eyes up to his, caught off guard by how distraught his voice sounds, "That's not true."

"It is." I look away, angry with myself for being vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, I shrug. My walls go back up instantly, "I'm accustomed to it. I'll be an old maid with fifty cats." In situations like this, I'm not good at being honest. Instead, I typically resort to humor: the easy way to lighten a conversation and take the focus off of my feelings.

I expect him to crack a smile at my joke. He doesn't. Instead, he makes eye contact with me. Without flinching, he says "No you won't."

"I will. Please just let me make peace with it." I whisper, suddenly wanting him to leave me alone. Everything about his words feels devastatingly kind and I can't bear it. "Please, Cole. Just leave me alone, it will be easier."

My request is undeniably selfish. If I want to lessen the bullying I receive from Shelby, the easiest way is to avoid Cole. And honestly, I can't be around Cole for long without wanting to hold onto him and never let go. The boy standing in front of me is in some ways the opposite of the one I knew years ago. He's known more sorrow and pain. He's worn fear and guilt like they're his favorite sweater. But his eyes still look like Cole. They still look like home. They're still the eyes of the boy I fell in love with back when he kissed me for the first time.