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The next morning, I walked down the halls of Berkshire. It was a whole hour before the bell rang, to indicate the start of the school day. There were barely any students roaming the school halls. Berkshire was participating in a science experiment, and if we won Regionals, we would be representing our State. Today was our first meeting. I, of course, joined. Science was my drug, plain and simple.
I was marching down the halls when something caught my eyes, making me come to a halt. Not something: someone. Through the window, I caught sight of Maddox sitting outside on a bench.
I didn’t even think he’d be up this early since they didn’t have football practice today. Why was Maddox here?
He stared at the empty field; his elbows perched on his thighs as he smoked his cancer stick.
It was starting to grow cold in Manhattan, and we now needed a sweater or thicker jacket before stepping out. Maddox was only wearing his Berkshire uniform, as if the cold wasn’t bothering him, as if he had grown immune or numb to it.
But that wasn’t what made me stop and stare. No, he was alone.
He was never alone; he was always either surrounded by his fangirls or his friends, or he was annoying me.
I placed a hand over the window as I studied him from afar. There was no reason for my heart to ache, but it did. Something clenched in my chest, like a fist holding my heart tight. Sitting on the bench, in the cold, with a cigarette between his lips, he looked like a sad, lonely god.
Maddox stood up, his longish hair falling across his face, hiding himself from my view. He took one last inhale before dropping the cigarette on the ground and stepping over it.
His hands curled around the back of his neck, and he looked up at the sky. His blond locks fell away from his face as a gust of wind breezed past him.
Eyes closed, he turned toward me and…
The agonized look on his face made me suck in a harsh breath.
His pain was stark and on display for all to see, but there was no one looking at Maddox except me.
He looked like a beautiful canvas being torn apart as sorrow bleed through him.
For the first time since I’ve met Maddox, I felt something other than annoyance. I really shouldn’t have cared. I convinced myself I didn’t, that I only felt bad for him because I had a habit of tending to strays.
But Maddox wasn’t a stray or a wounded animal.
He wasn’t mine to soothe.
But still…
“Why do you always think the worst of me?”
For the first time, I decided to not be a judgmental bitch and wondered what his story was.
“See, that’s your problem. You assume too many things.”
I did assume a lot of things, but that was only because Maddox had only ever showed me one side of him – the asshole side.
This side of him? The pained, broken one – it spoke to the inner part of me, my little caged heart. Because I remembered staring into the mirror, my own reflection staring back at me, with the same expression on Maddox’s face.
Broken.
Lost.
Lonely.
Scared.
His eyes opened, and my lips parted with a silent gasp as our gazes met. He couldn’t see me… right?
But oh, he did.
He watched me, silently, as I’d done to him.
Something unspoken crossed between us, something… personal.
He lifted his chin in silent acknowledgement before he walked away, fading out of my sight.
The heavy weight on my chest didn’t lift away. My heart cracked for a boy who probably would forget about me soon enough.
My fists clenched. I shouldn’t care.
I didn’t care.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lila
“I didn’t know you were a stalker, Sweet Cheeks.” His whisper crept along my neck, causing me to shiver. I didn’t hear him approach me. I had been too lost in my thoughts; I hadn’t even felt him coming closer.
It was after school; the bell had just rung, and all the students were filing out.
I swung my bag over my shoulder, closed the locker and turned to face him. “I wasn’t stalking, Poodle.”
“Poo-what-the-fuck-dle?” He asked, confused.
I didn’t even know why I said that. Maybe because he caught me off guard, or it was the fact he insisted on calling me Sweet Cheeks, and I needed to retaliate. Or maybe it was because I needed to feel in control again after what I saw this morning. I barricaded my heart, feeling the coldness seeping through me.
But one thing was true.
Maddox was definitely a Poodle.
One eyebrow popped up, and I stared at him, watching as realization dawned on him. His hand came up, and he touched his curly hair. “Poodle? Seriously, Garcia?”
“Poodle,” I said again.
His nostrils flared in brief annoyance before he turned the table on me. “So, stalking is your new hobby?”
