The Bookworm

Chapter 10 (edited)

Amara

"What's the last thing you remember?" He, annoyingly, answered my question with a question of his own.

I could see in his eyes a slow fire was burning as he looked at me with so much intent, I felt weirdly exposed. I wasn't used to being the center of attention, and when I was, I avoided it by ignoring it. This time, though, I didn't have my books with me, Char, or anyone else with me to soften my uneasiness. It was just him and I in a house, his house, and this bench was the only thing that stood between us. If he knew he was making me feel uncomfortable, it didn't seem to stop him.

I took a bite and started chewing, mirroring but not matching his appetite... He ate like he was famished but at the very same time completely unsatisfied by his food.

"You seem to be taking a lot of interest in my memory. Any particular reason for that?"

Even though he had taken a mouthful seconds ago, his zealous chewing stopped abruptly. His piercing eyes nailed me on my seat tightly, as he stiffened in place. A storm of emotions flashed in his eyes, and his glossy gaze flashed dangerously as he took two resolved shallows before leaning on the bench almost disregarding the space between us. This closeness reminded me of what he had done the last time we were this close in my bedroom.

He had breathed me in.

"You think I had something to do with it?" He asked in a way that could be perceived as softly, but I knew better. It was controlled.

A smart person would have asked politely to get their belongings back, a smart person would've also thanked him for breakfast. A smart person would have gone home. I was usually that smart person, but not that instant. I was done with his bullshit.

"I'm at your place, and I woke up in your bed. Didn't I? Let me ask you this;" I tried again. "Is me not remembering a good or bad thing?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"How fast do your friends run?" The warning bite on the word friends was my answer. Perfect timing to remind me what a big jerk he was. He was Noah Wilson. He couldn't stand me, and to hurt me he hurt my friends. That's who he was.

Before answering anything, I leaned back, to put some much-needed distance between us because I didn't trust myself not to do something I regretted, but probably would've very much enjoyed.

First, it was Marcus, and then was Lucas, now who bothered him?

"Leave my friends alone."

I stood up abruptly and started to look around for my coat. My phone and glasses must be in there, I would call a taxi to pick me up, I had overstayed my welcome. Not that I ever wanted to set a foot into this house. But whatever this was, I was over it.

"Not everyone is your friend." He declared with a wave of underlying anger simmering there.

Well, tough shit, I was angry, too. At him. Actually, lately, I had been angrier with him more than I'd ever been angry with anyone else in my life. This was getting to me; he was getting to me in a way no one else could.

"Let me guess, only you are?" I fired back as I was searching for my damned coat. If I could, I would've laughed at the thought. That's what was missing from this morning to officially become a delirious episode.

I could hear him rushing after me when I finally found my things and was ready to leave determined to walk home if I had to.

"You were drugged."

Silence fell. My pace slowed until I stopped and froze in place.

"What?"

"You were drugged." He repeated carefully. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was worried about my reaction.

Drugged...

That couldn't be right. I couldn't think of a single person in that party that would want to drug me. I don't have any enemies, except maybe for the person that claims I was drugged and took me home last night when I was unconscious.

Unconscious... As my headache started to soften, the clearer my thoughts got. At that party, there weren't only peers from school. Charlotte had invited people from neighboring schools. People that her friends knew of, but none of us personally.

Mortification washed over me, and the few bites I had for breakfast started to surface. I wanted to move, run outside or towards the bathroom, in case I emptied my stomach right there and then, but my muscles were locked and stiff, even if I wanted I would be unable to move.

I met his eyes evenly. I never felt soberer in my life.

"Yesterday, you came uninvited to Charlotte's party. Why?"

His motionless gaze didn't flutter nor wither. The muscles of his shoulders, though, seemed to tense for a breath before they relaxed again.

"My friend is her neighbor. We were watching a game."

"What game?"

He tilted his head curiously, despite being investigated.

"Basketball. You a fan?"

"I don't believe you."

"You can check yesterday's tv program." He said without hesitation, matter-of-factly.

I don't know what reply I was expecting exactly. My gut, though, was telling me his intentions were good against my better judgment. At the very same time, though, I could sense he was hiding something he didn't want me to know. Had he been... following me?

"That doesn't explain why you were there."

Suddenly, his attention shifted to a lock of hair that must have escaped from the rushed bun I made earlier. I hadn't noticed it before, and I was too overwhelmed by everything that happened this morning to care. I was about to frustratingly brush it away when he stepped closer and... held the lock in his fingers.

Taken aback, I didn't react, I just watched him while he explored the texture and lazily played with that lock of hair as if he had never seen or touched hair before. His eyes glowed with something gentle, and for the second time ever, I allowed myself to see him... really see him.

He usually stared at me as if he had nothing better to do... I realized he did that often. He stared at me all the time like it was the only thing he had to do, and for a moment, I wondered if that was true. The more I didn't avoid his eyes, even as they were focused elsewhere, they got a shade warmer. It was... odd. For all the years I knew him and was around him, I never really looked at him. The more I was observing him, though, the more I saw him. Not like girls in my class that sighed at his sight. Not like the man I loathed because he despised me. I took in a part of him I hardly believed existed.

My heart squished before it started beating unevenly, spreading a curious heat all over my body.

A full minute or two must have passed before he gently set it aside, so it was falling on my cheek and not my eye anymore.

"What do you want me to say?" He muttered; his voice soft as smoke. "Because if you ask me, I'm not going to lie, Amara."

Something twisted in my stomach, and I was scarcely breathing. No. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the truth.

I took a step back and shook my head.

"I'm going home."

He didn't try to stop me as I walked out of the door. And I didn't look back until his house was out of sight.