Rep(utation)

My eyes widen, before I tug him inside, thankful that my parents weren't coming home anytime soon, tonight. Slamming the door close and locking it, I whirl around to face him, stalking towards the downstairs pantry filled with towels and extra blankets.

As I'm grabbing one of each for him, I ask, "Why did you come here?"

"It was t-the closest p-p-place I could find." He stammers, shivering.

"Jesus Christ, Dutch, you're shaking." I mutter, wrapping a towel around him. "What the hell were you doing out in the rain this late, anyway?"

"Visiting...a friend." He responds reluctantly.

I don't push the matter, since it's pretty obvious he doesn't want to talk about it, given his vague answers. Jogging upstairs to where my parents' room also was, besides mine, I grab some clothes of my father's, before rushing back downstairs.

Shoving them at his chest, I say, "You should be able to wear these. They're my dad's."

He mutters a thanks, following my directions given to him to find the bathroom. After a few minutes, I hear him call me, asking where I was.

"Upstairs, first door on the right!" I shout through my open room door.

His footsteps grow louder, until he walks through the threshold of my room, a blanket in tow.

"You need a place to sleep for tonight?" I ask him, raising my eyebrows.

He nods. "Yeah. I'll sleep on the floor."

I started to let him, just to repay him for what he did the night of the game, but my heavy heart just wouldn't let me.

"C'mon, you moron." I pat the space next to me, smiling softly at him.

He stares at me for a bit, his green eyes piercing my heart, before he returns my smile, nodding.

Progress, I think to myself. This is definitely progress.

• • •

Anayla Thatcher is an average misfit.

Along with her other average misfit friends, she's strolling through her senior year, trying not to fail.

But, unfortunately, for her, too many parties can lead to rude, arrogant, sexy mentors, with anger issues, tattoos, and secrets.