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It’s Tuesday now and she’s been making a big deal out of it forfive days and it’s pissing me off.
I silently enter the library, searching through my hockey bag for a slightly dog-eared book, and head for the front desk. Standing in the middle of the library, I distractedly observe the dozens of students immersed in their studies while the girl in charge of returns takes care of my book.
“Do you have your school ID?”
I glance at the brunette sitting on her chair who gives me the friendliest smile on the planet. I think she’s in one of my homework groups, and from the way she scrutinizes me, she knowsexactlywho I am. I pull out my wallet, avoiding dwelling on her doe eyes, and give her my card. It’s only when I look up that I noticeher. Sitting with a group of girls, she is focused on her computer.
My chest tightens. I haven’t seen her since Saturday morning. She’s a master of coming home at ungodly hours. I think yesterday she went to sleep at her boyfriend’s.
Certainly feeling my gaze on her, her hazel irises fly over me for a second before fully focusing on me. I easily notice the surprise on her face when she recognizes me, and a sudden anger courses through my veins when she ignores my smile.
“Do you need anything else from me?” I ask.
I lean towards the girl from the library. She is typing at a horrifically slow pace checking the book in and she tenses when she hears my irritation.
“I think I have everything I need,” she sighs. “You can go.”
I don’t give her the opportunity to tell me twice and I walk around her desk to cross the library with a determined step. Eyes fixed on one person, my rage intensifies when I see that she’s packing up her things. Given the speed with which she rushes towards the exit, I immediately understand that she’s running away fromme.
“Fuck,” I growl.
I pass by the table where her friends are still sitting and easily reach the door by which Scarlett has just left. I find myself in a hallway lit with artificial lights at the end of which a blonde figure trots along at a rapid pace.
“Scar!”
She turns, sees me, then runs.
“Are you serious?” I yell.
I sling my bag diagonally across my chest, locking the strap in my fist, and rush after her. She storms out into the parking lot. Her strides are slower, and I rush at her before she even reaches the first subway entrance. My arm smashes against her shoulders and I turn her around without any gentleness. Our two bodies collide, and I put my hand against her neck while I step back slightly. I glare at her. Her breath is short, her cheeks flushed from the effort, and her rib cage rises with each breath.
“If you want to escape me, Scar, you’ll have to start working out.”
She pushes me angrily, but I hold her arm as soon as she tries to leave again.
“What the fuck are you playing at?”
My voice hides none of the irritation I feel. I stare at her with annoyance and when my eyes meet hers, I see a strange glow in her irises.
Sadness.
“I’m avoiding you,” she admits. “You don’t make it easy for me.”
Her voice is thin, choppy, due to the frantic race she put herself through earlier. I release my grip, keeping a few inches distance from her. Enough not to feel the heat of her body, but not enough to let her slip away at the slightest opportunity. All my reflexes are on alert and as soon as she takes a step back, I move forward automatically.
“I think that’s pretty clear. Is there a specific reason or do Ismell shit?”
She doesn’t react.
Even if I know perfectly well the reason why she no longer wants to see me, I want her to start the subject by herself. That she understands that it’s stupid to act like that, when we both know it wasnothing.
I don’t blame her, but she doesn’t seem to realize it.
“You know very well why I’m doing this.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper.
“Did you come to insult me, or can I leave?”
