Sara and Joe Wildin

Cold Night

Sounds of the teacher blabbing about the previous night's assignments blur into one as I bite into my pencil's innocent body. I did my homework as always but it's Joe I'm worried about. He has the dumbest excuses when it comes to this stuff too. 'Video games, Sara. What was I supposed to do? Roblox was literally calling out to me.' I had to listen. Stupid stuff like that, that I kinda love. It's his personality and it's addicting when you get enough of it. Joe's my personal and legal drug that no one else can have other than Ryoko I guess. My heart falls, but I'm unable to register why since I hear the teacher ask for us to bring out our papers from last night. I left mine in my bag so I grab it and rest it on my desk waiting for him to come around and collect them. The disappointed and worried sighs that follow after the teacher talks fill the room. Joe turns around in his seat even though he gets reprimanded for it every time.

"Heya, Sara. How would you feel about loaning your best friend in the world last nights answers?" He asks with that cheer filled tone.

I give him a small eye roll and tell him off, saying that the questions were quick and easy. He doesn't take my words to heart and proceeds to copy from my paper anyway. I snatch it away from him and he whines. The teacher tells him off and he turns around until the teacher's gaze goes to another student. He gives me a puppy dog face that resembles the one in his pocket, saying he'll die if I don't give him the answers and I cave in. I hand him the papers. He copies with immense speed.

The rest of school blurs by like Vaselines been put over my vision until the last bell rings. I stand at the entrance to the school waiting on Joe. He emerges from the class with yet another write up declaring he got caught for 'cheating' again even though he was only copying homework. It's much darker outside than normal since I had to stay late to finish something with another student. Joe decided to stay for mine and detentions sake.

He's beside me and in an instant I feel warmer. For the hundredth time he offers to walk me home. We get closer than usual to the gate and a few times our hands brush up against each other. He gives me this look that I can't put an emotion to but it makes me blush. Him too. At last he confesses that he wouldn't mind holding my hand.

It's slow and he's gentle like I'm some fragile, antique doll in the window that could break. His hands are warm like I imagined. Joe's a walking lightbulb and I guess that makes me his outlet. We stay like this for a while until someone under a street light catches my eye. It's a man not much older than me. He eyes me with intent. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. That's when I realize.

It's him.

The next thing I know Joe's grabbing my hand and racing me towards my house. When we get there I'm in a huffing fit. That had to have been him. Who else would be this close to my house and at the perfect time too? Mom and Dad are out of town on that trip and if Joe wasn't with me who knows what could have happened. He could have been waiting for me around any corner. I open the door with shaky hands while Joe stands behind me like some kind of guard dog. We rush in when I get it open and relief washes over me.

I'm safe in here.

I start to settle down and that's when Joe suggests that he should be getting home for dinner. He takes a step towards the door but out of impulse I grab his hand not letting him leave.

"What if he followed us here? He's been after me for months so why would he stop now?" I ask, feeling my heart thump against my chest, creeping up my throat into my mouth, making me silent. He tries to reassure me that everything's fine, but all I can do is shake my head. He tries again, and this time I pull him into a hug feeling myself on the brink of tears now. Joe's the only one that can protect me, and I know that sounds absurd, but I feel like anything and everything and even-even nothing can happen when I'm with him. He hugs me back, still in shock. We playfully punch each other all the time and other buddy stuff like that, but hugs are for special occasions like birthdays and Valentine's Day. Things like that and not my anxieties. Still holding me in a tight embrace, he pulls out his phone to text his mom that he's staying over my house to keep me safe. Those last words ring through my skull, beating and throbbing like some kind of heartbeat. He pats me on the head asking if I'm ok now. I give a curt nod.