Fake Tales

Chapter 14- Just deal with it

Chapter 14- Just deal with it

I didn't head straight for our usual table, I decided to give both Mel and Dom some space and though everyone had promised not to take sides, I was going to push them to to do so by making things worse. It surely wouldn't be too long, after all. They would forgive me. They had to. 

"Do you want to sit with me Maddy?" Tom offered kindly. I hadn't told him about the argument, but clearly he wasn't completely ignorant.

"Yes, please" I accepted unwillingly, not wanting to sit alone. We walked together and I tried hard to ignore the envious glares of surrounding girls, which was rendered more difficult with Tom making flirty comments at any available opportunity.

We sat down on an empty table and I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows at him in surprise. Tom was really popular, why was he sitting alone with me?

"Where's everyone you normally sit with?" I asked awkwardly.

"Don't know, haven't been sitting with them recently" Tom replied shortly, frowning.

"Why?" I blurted out, before I could stop myself.

"Are you going to tell me why you aren't sitting with your friends?" Tom said challengingly, raising one I eyebrow. I took a seconds consideration before replying:

"That seems like a fair trade. Now start talking" I ordered. He huffed in frustration, apparently not expecting me to agree so easily.

"You were at Greg's funeral. Hardly any of them even bothered to turn up. So excuse me if I find my own company better than theirs" he retorted hotly.

"I understand. It annoyed me at the funeral and they're not even my friends" I comforted him, placing my hand on his. I could practically hear the inaudible collective hiss of surrounding girls, which I attempted to ignore. Friends could hold hands, right?

"You know that was the first time I really looked at you, that day" he murmured and I moved my gaze from our entwined hands to look at him. He gazed back earnestly.

"What do you mean?" I replied, confused at his meaning.

"I mean, you were the only person that entire day whose sympathy seemed genuine. You looked like you really understood, so when you walked away I couldn't help it" he admitted, sighing.

I frowned. I considered telling him the truth. That the only reason I understood was because I felt exactly the same grief he did. 

"What do you mean? Couldn't help what?" I urged him. He looked slightly nervous before replying sheepishly:

"Talking to you again" He said, as if the fact were obvious. I didn't know what to say to that, so said nothing for a minute. The silence was comfortable though, like the ones you have only with the people who know you best. Who understand the things that are left unsaid. 

"Anyway, your turn" Tom said, looking at me expectantly. Just at that moment the bell rang, and Tom groaned in frustration. 

"Oh would you look at that? I've got to get to my lesson" I exclaimed, trying not to laugh. I made to walk away from him.

"You're not getting away that easy. You will tell me later." Tom called after me, I chortled to myself, but didn't look back.

I made my way to my next lesson with a flurry of thoughts swirling around my head. The way Tom had been talking, well it made me think that he was more involved than I wanted him to be. But I didn't know if it was real or fake, otherwise I would have stopped whatever we were right now.

I sat down in my usual seat beside Dean in English. His usual immaculately styled hair seemed droopy, wilted like a dying flower. There were bags around his eyes: I had never seen Dean look so weary.