The Feel of Water

Thirty-Three - What I Am

I walk to school Monday with my headphones in. No matter what song plays, my head finds a way to relate it to Sean, and I find myself day-dreaming. When I reach the school, I weave through the parking lot and mindlessly climb the front steps. Students are making their way through the doors before the first bell rings, most cozy in jackets as winter descends. I wore my heavier coat today. Tammy said last night that there's a cold front heading our way—she watches the weather reports because the weatherman reminds her of Colin Firth. 

When I reach the top step, I'm surprised to see Sean leaning beside the main doors against the brick wall. I pull out my earphones and give him a little look. He walks over.

"Were you waiting for me?" I ask with a suggestive smile.

"I was," he says and together we head inside. Sean holds my bag as I quickly shed my jacket, folding it over my arm. He takes my hand and holds it as we make our way to my locker—catching a few glances and prompting a whisper or two.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were waiting for me?"

Sean shrugs. "No reason. I just wanted to see you before class."

A guy passes us, and Sean must know him. He pats Sean's shoulder and says, "Hey, congrats on the game Friday."

I gasp and Sean looks down at me. "I totally forgot," I mutter against my hand. "I never asked how the game went."

"It was alright," he says.

"But you won? Doesn't winning deserve something better than just alright?"

"Danielle!"

I turn back to the voice calling my name from down the hall. Sean's grip firms up, and he looks as well. My eyes widen when I notice it's Jamie. He jogs over and opens his mouth to speak, but Sean steps forward as says, "You've got some nerve, huh?"

I let go of his hand and move in front of him before he does something he regrets. "What is it, Jamie?" I ask, not having time to break-up some stupid, jock fight.

"I just wanted to apologize again for what happened Friday at Cameron's," Jamie explains. "I really am sorry, Danielle."

Sean crosses his arms as he stares the guy down.

"Look, it's fine. I—"

"No, it's not fine," Sean disagrees. "I want you to stay away from her because clearly you have no understanding of boundaries."

"I wasn't talking to you, Donovan," Jamie counters, "I'm talking to Danielle, and I'm sure she can speak for herself."

Sean's eyes harden. I can see the contemplation on his face; the desire to shut him up. "You're right, Jamie," I say, "I can speak for myself, and I'm asking you to walk away."

Jamie's eyes shift to me, not liking my decision.

"Please," I clarify.

He glances to Sean, then to me, before saying, "I'll catch ya later then."

I watch with relief as he walks off. Sean reaches for my hand, but my arms are crossed. "Come on, Dani," he says as I start walking without him. I stop at my locker and swiftly spin-in my code, popping it open and shoving my jacket inside. Sean stretches his hand out to the locker beside mine, watching and saying, "The guy doesn't know when to quit."

"You didn't have to do that. It could have been done and over with."

"I don't want him bothering you."

I stuff my bag in my locker as well and take out my calculus textbook and notebook. I stick a pencil in the spiral binding and shut the door. "Jamie doesn't bother me," I tell him. "The party was the first time we've spoken in months. But don't worry, I'm sure he'll keep his distance so you don't punch him again."