My Motorcycle Guardian

Chapter forty-eight: Kissing is the key

I am alive!
I am pumped up on coffee and tea!
I am handcuffed to this table until I finish writing this!
I am ready!

Unedited

A quiet knock came from my door.

Yeah you heard that right.
My door.

I had arrived back home late last night, shivering from the cold and aching for the familiar arms of my mother, despite how cold our relationship may have been.

I had spun some lie about my hair, saying how I wanted to try something new.
My mom had simply nodded, then to my surprise, pulled me into a tearful hug.
Apparently she had missed me after all. Apparently.

Now, I sat on my bed, swaddled in blankets as I scrolled aimlessly through FaceBook.
The knock sounded again, and I sighed.
"Yeah?" I called, lifting my head.

My mom opened my door, smiling hesitantly at me from across the room. She held a tray of snacks, and she wore a white fluffy robe with no make up on.

I hadn't seen her this relaxed in years...it almost made me nervous. Was she on drugs?

"Hey sweetheart," she greeted softly, sitting at the edge of my bed.

I eyed her cautiously, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

She straightened a crease in the blankets, running a hand over the violet fabric.
"I wanted to talk," she began quietly.

I shrugged. "'Bout what?"

I tried not to flinch as my mom leaned forward and laid a hand on my knee.
"About...about you. I haven't talked to you, really talked to you in ages."

I scoffed and turned back to my laptop, opening the school email and trying to find Noah.
"There hasn't been much going on," I lied.

My mom must have seen through it, because a sad little smile curled her lips. "Don't lie to me, honey. Tell me about Rachel, and CJ, and the rest of your friends. Tell me why you dyed your hair, where you disappeared too," she hesitated, squeezing my knee tightly.
"Tell me about the boy."

My breath caught, and my fingers froze over the keyboard.
My eyes suddenly began to burn, and before I knew it, I was crying again.

My mom sat quietly, watching as I wept into my pillow. My shoulders shook as I tried to contain myself to no avail.
"Some-something happened today," I croaked. "And - and I think - I think my friends stopped being - being friends." I pressed my face back into my pillow.
"And I lost my phone, so I can't call any of them. He won't answer my emails. None of them will," I cried, raking a hand through my hair.

My mom scooted closer until she sat beside me, frowning at my face.
"You mean you broke up?"

"No! No we didn't - didn't break up." I shuddered. Did Noah and I ever make it official? Can you break up with someone before you even called it official?
I remembered how he looked at me before he ran away.
No...he didn't break up. He just wanted to be left alone. He felt betrayed, so of course he would tell me to leave him alone.

But what if he needed someone's shoulder to cry on? He had no way of contacting me besides the stupid school email, which was monitored for trigger words or phrases; so I doubted I could just email him saying: Heyy Noah! About the whole Quinn-having-crack-thing, I think my dad gave it to him because he wanted to break up our group so I would be more vulnerable. So...come over quick so we can talk about it.
- Hanna. xxx
P.S: Tell Jonas I won't be sleeping over tonight. I'm back home. Thanks!
And have there be no consequences.