You Have My Attention

Four

« Winter's POV »

It's on repeat.

Just that short, small moment. It's stuck in repeat.

I'm trying to listen to Vincent talk to me about what he needs prepared and done before we leave tonight, but it doesn't matter if I do. I already know what he wants prepared and done. So I just need to act like I'm listening.

Thank God for that, because if I didn't, and I had to actually listen, I wouldn't be able to. Because it's on repeat.

Neighbor Boy knows something fishy is up with me. And he knows it's nothing good. After he dropped me off at the door of my apartment and before he went into his own, he finally got a good look at my face in a brighter light. He saw my split lip. My bruised eye. Hopefully not my broken soul.

"Here I am..." I say awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know," he deadpans. "I live literally right next to you."

Silence.

"Right..."

"Yeah," he says, voice laced in boredom. "Anyway, night."

I brush a piece of hair out of my face and nod anti-socially. It's always at the door of our apartments where things get weird between us, I suppose. "Night."

I twist my keys in the lock and am about to open my door when he grabs my forearm. I jump in surprise, and look back to him. His eyes are swirling with analyzing thoughts and confused thoughts and even slightly angry thoughts. But I can't tell. Because he has this facade that masks what he's actually feeling. On the outside, all I can see is that he's dull and pissed all the time.

"Did you get in a fight?" he questions.

I'm confused by this. I don't fight. I'm a twig. I can't fight. Despite knowing how fighting works, and the correct techniques to use, I've never actually done it before.

"Um...no?" I say uncertainly.

"Where'd you get the busted face then?" he asks bluntly.

"Ouch," I whisper, more to myself. He hears it though, and rolls his eyes. I answer him as smoothly as I can, although my guts twist and I feel like I might vomit. "I face-planted because I tripped over a rock."

"So you got a black eye and a split lip from face planting?" he asks rhetorically, bland. He knows I'm lying. "And what about your hand? It's bleeding through the bandage."

I look down at my palm and inwardly groan. It must've gotten re-injured when this guy pushed me out of a way in attempt to save my butt from getting squashed by a car. I didn't think it'd start bleeding again though. Maybe it sliced deeper than I thought...might need stitches.

I shake my head and unwrap the bandage, showing him the cut. This one, I don't have to lie about. But there's no way I'm giving him the whole story.

"I cut myself with glass when I was trying to pick it up," I explain. "Apparently I need a new bandage."

He buys this, thankfully, (not that I was lying anyway) and rolls his eyes. He sighs as he sticks his keys into his own lock. "Ya might wanna get that cleaned up then, Clumsy." He opens his door and faces me nonchalantly. "G'night."

He walks in and shuts the door, locking it as he did last time. I swallow and enter my own apartment, doing the same one-handedly. My heart is fluttering and my brain is going nuts. Why does he have to be so attractive? But he's a butthole too. Such a dumb butthole.