His Gold ✓

31| Like you

I feel like a ghost haunting the hallways of the highschool as I float in solitude. My hair is thrown into a messy bun of wavy golden curls. Around my frame hangs a sweatshirt that swallows me whole. It is shapeless and hides almost every bit of me inside it. That's what I want.

I hear the regular chatter of a morning before first bell around me. It doesn't make me feel like it usually does. Today, I feel locked up. I feel confined.

My sunken eyes catch a familiar figure against the lockers. A crowd of athletes crowd around in their usual clique. Today, Bryce is with them.

An urgent sense of longing knots in the pit of my stomach.

I wish I could run up to him and wrap his arms around me and my billowing sweatshirt.

He doesn't notice me watching. He throws his head back and laughs at something his buddies say. I see Anson's dazzling white smile in the midst of the group. Bryce's large hand does a swift bro-shake with his best friend.

They look so happy.

I feel like a little thundercloud watching the sun shine far away.

Just keep going. What can Bryce do for you, anyways? What can anyone do?

I tear away from them and into myself. After settling into my desk in first period English honors, I fidget with the hem of my sweatshirt.

The class fills around me with every second. The seat next to mine is empty until the last second. I don't look at Bryce.

What would he say about my nightmare?

It's not like he can do anything for me. Nothing he can say will change what I saw. My father still exists, no matter how far I run. He's out there.

Bryce's arms can't change that.

I feel his stare on the side of my face, but he doesn't speak to me. If he does, I don't hear him. After a few moments into our lesson, a paper ball lands on my desk.

I unravel it to see Bryce's chicken-scratch handwriting.

Are you okay?

I pick up a pencil.

Where's the "check yes or no" boxes?

I toss it to his desktop. I don't look at him until he's reading my reply. A muscle in his jaw flexes.

He tosses the wad back.

Talk to me. Is this about your D-

Ice courses through my blood. I stop reading. Without explanation, I stand up. My chair makes a loud squeak against the tile floor. A few heads turn, but I'm already speeding out of the classroom before anyone can snicker, or worse, stop me.

My cheeks are hot and my tears are, too, when they're rolling down my face. My back hits the metal lockers and I dramatically slide down to the floor in a heap. The hallway is empty. The corridor has an echo effect on my sobs.

They chatter tauntingly in my head.

"Caroline!" I hear that I've been followed. Bryce pulls off his jacket as he speeds towards me. His shoulder hits the lockers as he slides down to the floor slowly.

I look at him through tears. I don't want him to see me like this-

"Caroline, did I upset you?" He whispers, "I shouldn't have put that out there-"