Matthew Chandlers is the captain of his school's hockey team, whose dad just happened to be the coach of. But if you ask Matt he'll tell you, his dad being the coach is far from the reason why he's on the team or why he's captain. He's captain becau...
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She called me every two minutes after I left her house that night. My phone lit up every couple of seconds with either a new message, her calling, or a text from her.
But I didn't care.
I had to walk home, having left my car at the school where Harmony had picked me up earlier that day. And with no school tomorrow I would just have to suck it up and take the bus back to get it in the morning.
I found myself on autopilot, walking from Harmony's richer neighborhood and into the middle-class one that I called home.
I walk only about ten minutes into walking when the sky lit up and thunder rumbled through the air, prompting me to walk faster as the rain started to rain, it started as little drops every few seconds then turned into harsh, angry rain that threw itself into my face at every chance it got. I was still another fifteen-minute walk from my house.
Fuck my life.
I ran into the nearest bus shelter, curing at the fact that it was last minute and this particular bus stopped running at eleven. It was cold, I was shaking, but I sucked it up and went back into the heavy rain, trying to avoid being splashed by every car that hit a puddle beside me.
What were fifteen minutes felt like hours, I wasn't even close to my house when I heard a car horn blast beside me and someone calling my name?
But there he was. Parked on the side of the road in his black Benz causing the busy traffic to speed around him in the dangerous weather. "Hurry up you moron!" He shouted over the sound of rain thumping down and cars rushing past. I ran over to him, opening the door and welcoming the hot air that heated up every inch of my cold exposed skin. Henry turned the heat on blast, pulling the car back into traffic as I shivered and hugged myself to keep what heat was hitting me in my body. "What the hell are you doing? You could have been struck by lightning!"
"Sh-sh-shut up."
"You could have hypothermia! You could lose a lung. Pneumonia!"
"He-Henry."
"What?"
"Shut u-up"
Henry stopped talking after that, not before giving me the stink eye and huffing. But he stopped and drove us to his house, where he parked in the garage to avoid me getting even wetter.
"Here's a towel, use my shower. Hand out your close before you go in, I'll put them in the wash."
"You don't have to do that."
"Shut up Matthew."
Finally, I was under the warm spray of water in Henry Oswald's bathroom. It wasn't overly fancy, just a bathtub with a showerhead and a sliding glass door, that for some reason also had a curtain in it. I guess for the extra privacy effect. He had more body wash than I was used to for a guy, Dove head, and shoulders, Dove just for men body wash, some orange face scrub, a loofa? He had more things in his shower than my mother did. He even had some bubble bath and a few candles around his sink that stood across from the shower.
