Chapter 4

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I walk on the balcony along a row of classrooms to my last class of the day, gazing at the grass covered courtyard beneath me. For a moment, I picture myself flying and landing gracefully on the lawn. Then I imagine myself with angel wings – then how beautiful a black ink drawing of angel wings could be. I start to plan the next page of my sketch book –

Someone grabs my wrist and pulls me into the cobble stone stairway as the bell rings. The hallways become sparse and it's just me and him alone. What on Earth is Darcy doing?

"Excuse me," I say, wrenching my wrist away from him as we stand in the bend of the staircase, mostly shielded by the tall, cobbled walls. "What are you doing?"

"I had to talk to you," he says.

I notice now how much taller than me he is, how his long dark hair frames his dark eyes. "Well, here I am," I say, not sure what to expect.

"I wanted to tell you how stupid you were yesterday," he says, eyebrows furrowing at me.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

"You willingly put yourself in a dangerous situation – you could've gotten hurt," he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry – are you my mother?" I spit back, finally finding my outrage, "Maybe I wouldn't have had to step in if you weren't being so immature."

"It was nothing you needed to be concerned about. Just mind your own business next time. You shouldn't have gotten in the way."

"Xander's my friend – and you're lucky I intervened before you gave him any permanent injuries."

"You're lucky you didn't sustain any permanent injuries in the process of your so called 'intervention'."

"Is that a threat?"

"No," he says, scoffing, "It's a warning."

"Well – I'm no one you need to be concerned about."

He takes a step closer, so close that I take a step back onto the wall. For a moment, I think he's going to push me against the wall. And unfortunately not in a kinky way. He leans down so he's eye level with me and scrutinises my face carefully. "How's your eye?" he says, almost sounding genuinely concerned.

My hand instinctively reaches up to cover my eye. Did he realise that he accidentally elbowed me in the eye socket? "It's fine," I say, looking down, starting to feel uncomfortable by his nearness. Why does being close to him make my heart beat so fast?

His hand reaches up to grab mine and pulls it down ever so slowly, exposing my eyes. Our eyes lock. I'm too stunned to move.

"It's bruised," he says, quietly, almost remorsefully. "Like I said," he takes a step back, changing completely. "It was stupid of you to step in. Don't do anything like that again."

With that, he strides away – not looking back.

And I'm left breathless in the stairwell.

.

.

.

As I start my afternoon drive, I'm furious. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. How dare he just impose himself on me like that? Who does he think he is? He's literally never spoken to me before, and the first time he does – I mean, does he even know my name? And, as if he doesn't apologise for giving me the bruise in the first place?

As I drive on the main road, I notice a police car driving behind me. Shit, was I speeding? I was so focussed on Darcy and how intimidating it is to look at him. I must've completely blanked out and went on auto mode.

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