Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 17

 We sit in his beat-up hand-me-down car in silence, him driving me home. The radio plays so softly, only a dog could hear it. He is fully concentrated on what seems like the road, but it is obvious to me he is more focused on his thoughts. I feel embarrassed that he had to practically force me into the car. “It’s either this or the bus,” he had reminded me, both of us knowing with more distractions, the bus would be more dangerous. He promised multiple times he would keep his eyes glued to the road, and now here we are, and he is keeping his promise. His eyes squint at it, and I want to ask where his glasses went, but I don’t. I don’t want to speak, for I don’t know what to say or if he will get distracted. It may seem like I’m being a psycho about this whole ‘safe driving’ thing, and I know I am; I can’t help it. It’s like some kind of disorder I have. I am constantly making sure the past does not repeat itself.

 We pull up across the street from my apartment after the hour-long journey from his mom’s house. The engine is murdered when his key is yanked from the ignition, and he turns to me. “Are you still up for Mean Girls, or no?” he asks quietly.

 I shrug, replying, “I’m not really up for a movie.” He looks to his lap and nods. I know then, that that was not the answer he wanted. “But,” I begin, receiving his attention, “it’d be nice to have some company.”

 He smiles, laughing a little to himself. I grin at him, getting out of the car. He follows me across the street, rain just starting to fall from the clouds. The sun is setting, and a slight breeze makes the trees dance.

 I lead him over to the stairs, and he looks at me, bemused due to the perfectly good elevator on the other side of the lobby. “Why…?”

 “Anxiety,” I tell him. He nods, but I can see by his expression, he is still questioning me. He trails not too far behind me up to my floor, and when we get to the door, I am quick to dig for my key. However, when I pull it out of my back pocket, the door opens. I look up at Diana. “Umm...”

 “Who’s this?” she asks, seeming offended.

 “Why are you here?” I retort.

 “Oh, sorry, were you two gonna-”

 “No!” I shout, pushing past her. “Diana, this is my friend, Ashton. Ashton, this is Diana.”

 Ash follows me into the kitchen, Diana on his heels. “Hey,” he says to greet her, but she doesn’t reply.

 “What are you doing in my house?” I ask, agitated with her breaking in after the argument we had only a few days ago.

 “Why are you mad at me?” she spits back.

 “I asked first.”

 “I came to talk to you, but apparently you don’t want to,” she answers.

 “You broke into my house, again,” I state.

 “Only because I care about-”

 “Oh, don’t give me that crap!” I yell, shocking her. Ashton stands awkwardly in the corner, almost looking frightened. “If you cared, you wouldn’t keep rejecting me every time Daniel came into the picture! Sierra might be oblivious enough to give you yet another chance, but I’m done!”

 “Danny loves m-”

 “Really?” I ask her. “Is that what you think?” She stays silent, glaring at me. “Diana, I wasn’t born yesterday! I know the reason why you were in the hospital! I know what he did to you and for you to go crawling back – that pisses me off.”

 “What are you saying?”

 “Dump him,” I state, stressing each word. “You can’t see it, but he’s abusive. The only way it’ll stop-” But I can’t finish my sentence before she is out the door. I groan, rolling my eyes. I am swift to snatch a phone off the counter, dialing Misty’s number. It rings twice before she picks up. “Hey, Mist, Diana and I just got in an argument, and I’m really worried about where she’ll go.”