How to Deal with Anxiety ☹ a.f.i. • a.u.

7: "The future depends on your choices."

I do not bring Luke up during 5th hour, and I can truthfully tell you that I was very surprised at the fact that Kat did not mention him either.

I sit next to her in the back of that class, I was in the corner and she is at my left side. I would usually talk with her during this hour, but, since it's English and my lowest grade is in this subject, I decide I'd probably be better if I focused on my brain rather than my heart for now.

The storm has gotten worse by the end of an agonizingly long lesson on Shakespeare given by Mrs. Jackson, who was notorious for going off on tangents and an expert at boring her students to death.

When the bell rings, I don't even let her finish her tangent on Cassius' motives in Julius Caesar before speeding out the door and into the hall. I round the corner that leads to my locker, quickly spin my combination and clasp my emergency umbrella.

"Was her lecture really that bad, Ash?" Her mesmerizing voice startles me slightly, causing me to awkwardly, and loudly slam my locker shut.

"Fuck, Kat, you scared me. You know I hate it when people sneak up on me!" I hiss the last part under my breath.

"I scared you? That's funny, Ash." She rolls those damn sparkling eyes.

"Well, to answer your question, no, it was merely so fuckin' dry that we may not even need to use this umbrella." I chuckle, holding up the royal blue umbrella and gesturing to it.

"I don't even think a lecture that dry will protect us from that." She points out the window a few feet ahead of us, showing the rain gushing down rapidly from the clouds, "As much as I enjoy the rain, this is a bit excessive."

"Just a bit." I chuckle as we make our way to the double doors, holding out my hand for her, "On three?"

She raises a cautious brow, smirks a little, and takes my hand with a curt nod. It amuses me how small and pale her hands are. She hates her pale skin, as others used to make fun of her for not being able to tan. Whenever she attempted to make her skin a lovely caramel, she ended up a blinding shade of crimson, leaving her in dull pain for the days that would follow.

I love how soft and porcelain looking her skin is. I understand now why the witch was jealous of Snow White.

She has already reached three when I'm released from my thoughts. She pulls me out the door, umbrella held just above our heads, running swiftly so we don't become soaked.

I unlock my truck a few paces before we reach it and throw my door open and sit down. I grumble in annoyance when I notice my hair's become damp, curlier, messier, wilder than before.

I look to my right and don't see Kat inside my car, but outside, staring up at the slate colored clouds. My brows habitually furrow as I roll down the window.

"Kat? Come on, your clothes are getting fucking drenched." I suggest softly, slightly glancing up.

"Oh...right. Sorry, Ash. I really enjoy watching lightning is all." She answers, slowly turning to look at me before climbing inside the warm interior.

"You've mentioned that, however, you've never told me why it is that you watch it so much." I prompt her, turning the ignition.

"It's unpredictable, bold, quick. I wish I was like that. I overthink, become anxious, regret every fucking decision I make." She sighs, tucking her damp hair behind her left ear, and biting her bottom lip, "It's a stupid comparison, but it's how I've always thought of it."

"I don't think the comparison is stupid in the slightest." I state, taking her hand and squeezing it once before setting in back to rest on the beat up wheel, "Lightning is fascinating, bright, and, in a way, beautiful."