Can I Have Your Attention Please

Chapter 16: Emotionless = Intelligence

QOC: How did you find this book?

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Sam's POV
O • o • O

I don't do the whole "talk" thing. I don't do a lot of things. It's not my forte. But parties weren't my forte either, and we all know how that went.

So now I'm in Kassidy's room, knees curled up to my chest. My chin rests on my kneecaps in boredom as Kassidy brushes out her shiny hair in the mirror. Neither of us have said a word, and I think that's only because I refuse to speak first. Yet, she patiently waits anyway. Without pressing. Without anything.

I could walk out of her on my own free will, but I don't want to for some reason. This room feels homey, and I feel protected.

The theme isn't girlish nor boyish. It's just...casual. And I like it. The colors consist of white and grey-silver. Her bedspread is just a white comforter with grey-ish pillowcases. Everything about the room is soothing. I just...don't feel soothed. For some reason, I feel sort of angry. And I don't know why. The anger isn't directed toward Kassidy. To be honest, I don't know what it's directed at at all.

"So," she sighs, plopping next to me. I give her a side look and scoot away a little. She hesitantly leans back, shooting me a cautious expression. "Um...how are you?"

"Fine," I mumble.

"You don't look fine," she says sadly.

I roll my eyes. "Then don't look."

Kassidy reels back, a pang of hurt stitched to her face. She hugs her knees to her chest identically to me and sits there quietly.

I sigh, feeling a little guilty for being so brash. "Sorry," I grumble. "I just don't really like to open up to people. The truth that I am willing to give you is that I'm not fine...but I will be."

She looks at me hesitantly. "Are you sure? One hundred percent, deep down, you think you'll be okay?"

I don't know why she cares so much. It's not like we've known each other long enough to care for one another. She's known me for about a month - or maybe just a bit over that time. I'm not sure. But either way, it's not like we're best friends. I'd consider us more than "acquaintances," but not "besties" or whatever.

I look at her in a mock sadness, trying to pull off my true heart-aching pain as a faux one. "No," I say dramatically, placing a hand over my heart. "Kass, I may look gorgeous and perfect and amazing, but deep down inside, way down into my shoe..." Her eyebrows dip in confusion, pity washing away. "...my sock is falling off."

She glares at me, and I snort at the face she makes. "Butthole," Kassidy mumbles.

I chuckle. "I've been called worse."

She smiles gently, a sadness in her eyes. But more gratefulness exists inside of her. Gratefulness for herself on not giving into pressuring me, or maybe myself for whatever reason. I don't know why she'd be grateful for me, so I'll just stick with the former.

"You've probably been through a lot more than any teenager should go through so young, but just know you're not alone," Kassidy says warmly. Her smile drops a little, and her eyes flicker down to the comforter. I glance down at her thumb and index finger picking at a loose thread. "I've had my fair share of shit happen to me too."