BREATHE FOR ME

Chapter 12: The Way Forwards

Going back to school after that was easy, the hard part was seeing Lorrie again. Every time I entered the common room, going to sit with our group in the kitchen, it felt like a vacuum. As if all of the air in the room was being sucked out. Even though I was tempted many times, I refused to leave. I refused to let him put me off, distance me from my friends. The pair of us seemed content just ignoring each other for the sake of our group dynamic. No one wanted a fight, even though it seemed inevitable. That was that.

Surprisingly, Morgan loosened up a little, whatever weird hostility she had towards me before the weekend, was gone. I decided that I liked the less uptight version of Morgan quite a lot. Without the tension in her shoulders, without the cold glint to her eyes, she is very down to earth considering everything that has happened to her. I guess that she feels like she's played her part in all of this now, warning me about the past events. Unfortunately, it hasn't quite put me off Lorrie. Don't get me wrong, I'm wary about him now and a little disconcerted by the fact that the guy I like is caught up in some kind of gang life-style. But unlike everyone else, I'm not afraid of him. If anything, I sympathise his situation. He didn't choose this lifestyle or his family, he was born into it.

As Monday and Tuesday pass, my questions only grow, overflowing in my brain. They eat away at my mind, stressing me out to the point where I have to physically pinch myself to take my attention away from Lorrie. Is there any way that he can get out of the family business? Have I put him off of me? Where is Rose Street? Does his family love him or do they simply just need him? Will he have to marry someone that's already in the gang? Isn't that a little odd? No wait, they aren't blood relatives Gen. Is he ever going to talk to me again or have I completely ruined this? Could I get over him? I've never met anyone like him... but then again, I'm not exactly the most socially-mature teenager given my past. Is Teddy involved in all of this? Is Maddie in any danger? Do I listen to Morgan's advice and stay away from him, even though he makes me feel alive? Or do I listen to my heart and not back down? Can I help him? Can I help myself?

And so it goes on, through Monday and Tuesday, driving me slowly insane. Then Wednesday arrives. The day of our next history lesson. Unable to contain myself, I race down the corridor, after Maths, towards the history room. I know that I'm early, but I don't care. I need answers, I cannot keep tormenting myself the way I have been. My head feels like it's going to burst. My heart continually aches. I can't stop fidgeting!

Bursting into the familiar room, I'm surprised to see that he's already there. He looks up from his new seat, letting me have his old one still. Good, he's still wanting to sit with me. My heart does an involuntary flip, a flip that I've become used to over the past two weeks of knowing him, making me feel slightly light-headed. Swinging my canvas bag over my shoulder like a crazy lady and mentally preparing myself, I stalk down the middle of the room towards him, passing the other empty desks. He steadily watches me, guarding his expression. I don't care if I look like a woman on a mission. I'm determined and that's all that matters. As I near him, his familiar scent of leather and spicy cologne fills my nostrils. The ache inside my chest deepens as I realise that I've missed his smell. What?

I stop in front of him abruptly, resolution powering my mind-set, eliminating the wary feeling that ticks away at the back of my mind, along with Morgan's warning. He looks so beautiful today, wearing a white t-shirt and some navy, almost black, skinny jeans. His hair is pushed to the side, away from his eyes, in a neat yet dishevelled way; most likely a result of his journey here on the bike. Cocking one of his shaped, arrogant brows, he starts to bite at his pen. I realise that I'm still stood in front of him, staring at his body and day dreaming. Not a good start.

"We need to talk." I say, outright. When he doesn't immediately tell me to piss off, I allow myself to exhale in relief. I've passed phase one. Going around and sitting beside him, in my chair, he watches me curiously, continuing to chew at his pen in silence. Eventually, he nods.