Palindrome

Thirty-One

Chapter 31

Giselle gets us all passes to skip half of the day after lunch. I still have the first four periods of the school day to attend. Paxton and Nagi have theatre first period, and they're busy going through Chase's final notes, so I'm walking to my locker alone.

"Hey, Aarohi, wait up."

I stop, looking over my shoulder to see Abraham jogging up to me, his shiny black hair bouncing as he makes his way to me. Still, in his varsity jacket, I swear during the winter months he never takes it off except for that one time when he let me wear it to one of his games.

"Hi, thanks for coming today," I say.

He waves me off with a hand, "Paxton's a friend. Besides, you asked, how could I not?"

"You don't owe me anything, though," I remind him as the bell rings, and people rush towards their lockers all around us. Someone bumps me, and I nearly stumble, but Abraham catches me with one arm.

"You alright?" He asks, his voice concerned.

I nod, "I'm fine."

He nods back, then screams after the dude who ran into me, "Hey asshole, watch where you're going next time."

A genuine laugh escapes from my lips, and Abraham shoots me a sheepish smile. He's always been overly protective of me. He's like that with everyone around him. I see him like with Bronwyn, too, even though they're not biological siblings. Their parents started going out around the same time Bronwyn stopped being friends with me. When I started dating Ab, she made it pretty clear she disapproved. She went from being indifferent to rolling her eyes around me whenever I came within a five feet radius of her.

Oh, wait.

On second thought, I wonder what it looked like from the outside. Her ex-best friend dating her possible stepsibling. She probably thought I was doing it to spite her.

Damn, I must across as a bitch.

Abraham waves a hand over my eyes, "Yo, you good there?"

"Not really," I blurt out before I can stop myself.

He comes to a halt, turning to face me with his lips pursed worriedly. Then without warning, he takes my hand and pulls me into the janitor's room that so happens to be beside us.

"What are you doing," I hiss, slapping his hand away.

Abraham doesn't answer my question, flipping on the switch in the cramped room. Florescent lights fill up the space, effectively blinding me for a second. Blinking, I adjust to the area with its rows of stacked supplies, the musky smell of dust clinging to the air.

Remind me again why people thought it was hot to make out in this place.

Hold up.

I'm in the janitor's closet.

With my ex.

Who happens to be mere centimeters away from me.

As if he had the same thought as me, Abraham tries to put some distance between the two of us by walking backward. He ends up with his foot in a bucket, nearly knocking over a mop. Letting out a string of curses, he catches the mop with one hand and a paintbrush that's on the verge of tipping over.

Picture of elegance this one.

Plucking the dust mop that fell on his head, I set it down on a bare spot on the shelf. He manages the rest on his own. Now though, we're stuck in this compromising position where I'm nearly pressed against his back, his arms weirdly caging me from above.