The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Eighteen

Dedicated to JasmineJewelRamirez for her epic (somewhat accurate) prediction on the last chapter<3 A nor-easter is a BIG snowstrom.

Chapter Eighteen

I exited the classroom, relief washing over me as the day had finally finished. Glares had been sent my way all day, apparently, due to the fact that Eric had asked me out on a date. I wasn’t fully sure of why people weren’t in favor of it, but tried to ignore them.

      “Turner!” someone called out as my feet thumped against the cold tiles that lined the never-ending halls.

      I snapped my head in the direction of the voice, and hesitantly approached the boy I had said little to since our episode on top of the bridge. I was over it, but I wasn’t sure if he was.

      “Hey,” I greeted.

      “Are you fucking serious?” Dylan demanded.

      “Generally, but sometimes I like to joke,” I said lightly.

      “You’re going out with that douche?”

      “If you’re referring to Eric, then yes, I am,” I replied, pulling my arms back out of habit to tighten my ponytail that was beginning to loosen.

      “Why?”

      “Because he asked me and, personally, I find it rude to turn down someone,” I lied, trying not to laugh at the times I had done it myself.

      “Did the other night mean anything to you?” he questioned, searching my eyes for answers.

      “Look, Dylan, forget about what happened, we were buzzed, it was an impulsive decision, it doesn’t effect our friendship, please, just pretend it didn’t happen,” I pleaded, wishing I could do as I was advising.

      “I don’t think I can do that,” he said earnestly.

      “Don’t be such a girl,” I muttered, regretting my word choice immediately, as that phrase floated about freely in my mind, bringing back unwanted memories from my childhood. “I have to go.”

      “Wait!” he called, as I began to walk past him.

      “What?” I asked, turning back to face him.

      “Where are you two going?”

      “Firstly, I have no idea, because he wouldn’t tell me, and, secondly, even if I did know, I probably wouldn’t tell you,” I said, jogging off in a mix of confusion.

      When I finally escaped the building, the brisk, autumn air hit my body, causing a shiver to travel down my spine. I had missed this weather. When I was in California and Texas, fall didn’t exist. There were barely two seasons: bearable, and too hot to function. I much preferred the full four-season calendar that I grew up with in Boston, oppose to the fake weather I faced in the heat stricken states.

      Fall up in the North was something I took for granted when I was younger. I didn’t realize that the rest of the country wasn’t fortunate enough to have leaves that changed into a brilliant array of warm colors, or that apple picking and eating cider doughnuts wasn’t customary of the entire nation. I couldn’t fathom not having fall.

      Snowstorms, blizzards, and nor’easters were expected in the winter, and it truly surprised me how in Texas half an inch of snow excited the hell out of everyone. A half-fucking-inch! New England weather was strange in the sense that it could be sunny in the morning and eight hours later be brutally hailing. Despite the odd climate patterns, I loved the weather in Boston.