❝How did we get here?❞ I asked him as he twirled my hair between his fingers. He lifted my head up from his chest and smiled. ❝I don't know, but I'll do it all over again if it means I get to stay here with you forever.❞
✧˖*°࿐
Sophia Ross, a be...
It's Wednesday. Almost Thursday. Know what happens then?
My birthday! Except this year I won't be able to celebrate it, and because of that, I don't even want to party with my parents. I just want it to be over.
I did my whole morning routine and chose this as my final outfit of the day. A black, shoulder-strap crop with a black and white plaid skirt. I felt cute today. (Her outfit >)
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Again, in this town it really didn't get that cold, plus it wasn't even winter or autumn yet. Fortunately, the sun shone a bit brighter than yesterday. But I forgot to check the forecast for noon and after.
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I got at school and plucked out my earphones, continuing to hum the song that played before. Don't know why, but I was in a good mood that day. I failed to recall Josephine's death, and I felt awful later on.
"Hey, Natalie," I saluted her when I sat down in my seat next to her. She lifted her head up from the desk and her face softened when she saw me.
She smiled, laying her head back down on her crossed arms. I beamed at her and put my books for English on the desk in front of me, waiting for Mr. Sandberg to walk in.
Just then, he strode in the room with the same sorrowful expression on his face as the previous lesson. When he set everything ready and silenced the class, he began to say that if anyone needed to talk to someone about the passing away of Josephine, the guidance counselor has free hours before and after school.
Although I think it's very accommodating, wouldn't it be preferable for most students to talk to a friend? I mean, wouldn't you feel like you could be more open and comfortable with someone you know personally? But I guess it's better, they know what they're doing.
The rest of the lesson wasn't all too boring, though it wasn't exciting either. He dismissed us and we all left the room, me going to my history class. I leaned back against my chair, pretty much slumping down. I doodled with a pencil on the desk, not really paying attention.
Another student walked through the door, not hearing the teacher's voice, so I didn't mind checking. I heard the slight screeching of a chair sliding against the floor and I looked up. My gaze met his.
I straightened my back instantly and cleared my throat, hoping he didn't see how dispassionately I was acting. A blush rushed to my cheeks and I unintentionally crossed his eye-sight again. Those dark green eyes even darker and more baffling than usual.
There was an emotion in them. I couldn't quite separate it, though it seemed as if he were longing for something - or someone.
After a second, he looked away and observed the small designs I made on my desk. He tilted his head ever so slightly to the right, viewing them in his mind and searching a meaning behind them.
