Willow's Tree

17

For some reason, after Valentine's Day, February went by very slowly. And I didn't particularly know why. Or maybe I did. After Trey and I were together on the couch, he never touched me like that again. Everything pretty much stayed the same...except for that fact.

Sure he was the same—sarcastic, funny, mean, nice. Trey even continued to talk about doing things, but in the end, he wouldn't so much as lay a finger on me. Of course, we still snuggled in bed together when we went to sleep at night since it was still cold. But he wouldn't dare touch me in a suggestive way again.

And I didn't mind...I think.

At the moment, I was in English class. Throughout the day, I heard a lot of werewolves whispering about the season. And I knew they were probably talking about their mating season. The official beginning of spring was only a few days away, meaning Trey would go into heat.

Over the month, Trey explained to me that for the days during his heat, he would be out of the house. He said he didn't want to attack me during the season so he had to stay away. I found myself feeling cold at the thought of him not being beside me at night, but I couldn't exactly tell him no. After all, it was his instinct to mate.

For the time we had been together, Trey had been with me every night, excluding the nights when there was a full moon. Then he would disappear for the night, but he would come right back when the sun came up.

But these days, he's been distancing himself from me. Due to the season, probably.

Mrs. Carlson shushed us a few minutes before the end of class and I saw that she was holding a packet of about four to five pages. But the thing was, it wasn't just any packet. It was an essay. She said she couldn't help but share the paper, and of course, asked permission to share first—to which the writer allowed.

"I won't mention anything about the writer. I promised him that I would give him his privacy." She cleared her throat and a lot of the students didn't look enthusiastic about the reading. Mrs. Carlson was big on grammar and sentence structure, so everyone just assumed that the paper was perfect in that aspect.

I didn't particularly care about the essay since I had done it in a short amount of time myself. So instead, I began doodling in my notebook. My willow tree was gradually forming.

"There's this girl I've known for a while now." Mrs. Carlson began and immediately, all of the kids perked up and zoned in. "She's not what I would really call normal. In fact, she's not."

Plenty of giggles were heard about the classroom, but I didn't lose interest in my drawing.

"I could talk about her forever on paper, especially since she would never expect that the person I was talking about to be her. This girl is different from any and all other girls I've ever met. She's fearless yet careless, and knowledgeable in probably everything but her own feelings. Her smiles move me every time, just like her tears. When she laughs, I hear nothing else but the echo."

Rebecca's sigh caught my attention and I looked at her before glancing at the rest of the class. The other girls were practically melting at the words as well. The guys on the other hand, weren't melting, but just as curious.

"But even if I told her all of that, she would just wave if off, seemingly as a joke."

I looked back down at my drawing and noticed that I hadn't even finished the trunk of the tree before a black smudge was formed. I stared at it in confusion for a moment before I shook my head and let my hand do whatever it was doing before I got distracted. But Mrs. Carlson's voice stopped me.

"She's not spoiled, but could have anything in the world. When she's asleep beside me, I want to curl her up and never let her leave the bed. When she's awake, I can't let her out of my sight for a single second. Her anger could be compared to an erupted volcano. But when she cries...when she cries, even Death would comfort her. And when she smiles, it's as bright as the sun, but I can't, and even won't, look away."