Moonlight Kisses

sharp practice

I've never felt so many pairs of eyes on me in my entire life.

It could just be all in my head. I know it's all in my head, but I just can't shake the feeling like everywhere I pass, someone's staring at me. Staring at my scars with as much disgust as I do. They're not big, hardly even noticeable unless you really pay attention. They're all tiny white scars, faded over with time. How I was convinced to let them see the light of day again is a blur. One moment I was on the phone with Beau ranting about how close I am to lighting my chemistry textbook on fire and the next we were talking about me not feeling confident enough to wear anything other than pants. The conversation ended here, me gathering the courage to walk out the door with a skirt on and a bright smile on my face to distract everyone from the damage on my once-clean skin.

The moment I stepped onto school grounds, I deeply regretted the decision. I almost ditched class just to go back home and change but that I figured that'd be a waste of time and my attendance is already bad enough. So I just decided to suck it up until I could see Beau and he could reassure my battling mind that this was a good idea. That progress is something I could make with my head held high and a smile on my face at the end of the day. Maybe he won't say it that way but something along those lines would help.

I don't see him at all in the morning. Kat drives me to school and Sophie is too busy fussing about her French teacher to let me leave her side long enough to at least catch a glimpse of Beau. Between classes, there's nearly no time to get to point A to point B, much less run into each other. That is, if I'd seen him anywhere. The only place I can count on him to be is psychology, the only class we have together. If he's not there, I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to get through the rest of the day.

Holding my breath, I step inside the classroom just before the bell. My eyes immediately fall onto where he sits and, thank god, he's here. I nervously smooth my hand over my skirt for the fifth time in the last ten seconds. That phantom feeling of being watched by someone I don't catch trails me still, not even eye contact with him could rid my mind of that. My hands have been embarrassingly clammy all day due to my anxiousness and that doesn't disappear either, much to my disappointment. I make a beeline straight to my seat, sitting beside him before the uncomfortable feeling can fully take form in this class too.

He looks at me with a hungry gaze, that's not a surprise. His eyes cloud with intensity as he takes in my ensemble. The last time I wore this was before the accident, seeing that he looks at me with the same desire reassures me without him having to say a thing.

"Goddamn..." he says in a low voice, still caught up in a trance. I pull my skirt down to cover a bit more skin as I adjust in my seat. If he takes his dark desires any further, I'm not capable of stopping him or myself if we find ourselves in a sexually-charged predicament.

"Don't be shy, baby," he bites his lip, still unable to tear his gaze away from the parts of my thighs that are exposed to him, "There's nothing to be shy about when you look that good."

It's hard to keep a straight face whenever he's talking to me. Especially like this. I prop my elbows up on the desk, hiding my burning face in my hands. The barrier of my hands causes my voice to be muffled when I quietly reply, "Stop looking at me like that." Normally, when we're alone and I don't want him to look at me a certain way for fear of how my body may react, I simply take away his ability to see me altogether. I can't just slap my hand over his eyes momentarily to blind him.

To provoke me, he leans closer to me ever so slightly so I can really feel his breathing creeping down my neck. I won't last the entirety of this class if already within the first five minutes of it he's playing with me this way. Dear god please let nobody catch us. I can't use that type of mortification on top of the nerve wracking day I've had. He won't put his hands on me, which'll do more harm than good when I lose control over my body's reactions. And that isn't a long way away.