My Benefactor

My Benefactor Chapter Three

My Benefactor

Copyright © 2011 crimsonnebula

All rights reserved

Chapter Three
Picture on the side is Bryson (Model Tyler Bachtel)

No proofreading done.

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I couldn't think of anything to say. I could only stand there with my heart hammering and study how his eyes flickered from one emotion to another. Sure, it was rather surprising of him to react that way. I thought  he would have gotten over me by now, no thanks to that skank Rebecca, but Ciara? It was like I had been showered with tons of bricks ramming me over and over again.

Regaining most of my depleted confidence, I mustered up the courage to at least say hello.

"Hello Bryson. It's been a while." I said flashing him my sweetest smile.

I hope it was convincing enough or else I'm screwed.

He blinked a few times then all of a sudden, he unwrapped his arms around Ciara's waist and took hesistant steps towards me.

Before you know it, he flung himself at me with a bone crushing hug.

Okay. That was unexpected. But, what the hell?!

"Reagan, is that really you? Am I dreaming or something? Please tell me you're real." He murmured in my hair.

The hug was beyond tempting. I wanted to engulf him back with my arms but I couldn't. I wouldn't.

I looked over his shoulder and saw Ciara with an expression which I find very appalling.

Jealousy.

Why would she be jealous? I'm not with Bryson anymore, so she had to wipe that look off her face. She should know that I am not a fan of cheating.

I patted Bryson's back awkwardly, "There, there. Is that enough to prove I'm real?"

He pulled back a little and looked at me intently, "Where were you? I've looked for you everywhere. I went to your house but you're mom said you never came home."

He had been searching for me? And mom? It had been two years since the last time I saw her.

I shrugged, "I wanted to get away." I responded simply.

He let go of me completely and shot me an angry look, "Reagan, I was worried sick that I couldn't find you. And here you are looking all calm."

I glared, "Listen here Weiz," he flinched when I referred him by his last name, "I had no reason to explain anything to you and you can't blame me for not coming back."

He sighed, "Look, I'm sorry for what happened. It was really complicated."

My eyes bulged from its sockets. Complicated? Were you high or something, Bryson? because it sure sounded like it.

"I can't believe you. You call screwing the school skank complicated? You have got to be kidding me!" I said my voice tinged with disbelief.

"Reagan..." he started but was cut off by Ciara.

"Isn't this great that she's back? I mean at least she's here, right, baby? "She quickly went over to Bryson and had her arms wrapped around his waist to signify possession. I wasn't fooled with that. Derek taught me the meaning of body language and the way she spoke right now was forced and fake.

Don't try so hard Ciara. I know my boundaries. I have to give her props for trying though.

I smiled, "Yeah, it's good to be back. Don't worry, though. I won't make this awkward for you guys. I'm cool."

I glanced at Bryson for his reaction. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes unreadable.

I flicked my eyes back to Ciara, "I have to go get my schedule so I'll see you at lunch?"

She nodded, "Sure, I'll save you seat."

"Awesome." I said then walked around them. I glanced over my shoulder and waved, "See ya," and walked off.
 
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The hallways were crowded with students mocking around while some just dawdle, not really looking forward for the day ahead. I saw some students making out by the lockers. The sight made me shake my head.

You can never escape the cliche's of highschool.

I made a left turn and if my memory serves me right, the office was three doors down starting from the turn off. To prove my accurate memory, the door with a signage that says "Office" was now in view. I walked towards it, grabbed the knob then opened it.

Behind the reception desk was Mrs. Sozza, Principal Dane's secretary. She still looked the same with her dark brown hair twisted elegantly in a bun. Her smokey grey eyes were enclosed with thin gold frame glasses. Her tacky flowery ensemble made her look plump, and it looks like she had never improved her fashion sense, though I'm sure she had heard what the students said behind her back. The crease lines on her forehead were even more visible since the last time I saw her. She was a cheery woman in her late 40's.

But she was too nice. Way too nice for her own good.

I walked over to the desk, "Hey Mrs. Sozza. How are you?"

She smiled sweetly, "Reagan. It's good to see you again."

"Same here. I would like to get my schedule, please." I said politely.

She faced back to the computer and typed in something. I heard the roaring of the printer. After a few moments, she gave me a rectangular shaped paper which contained my classes and a welcome packet.

"I guess you probably know your way around here, but it's standard procedure to give you the packet." She said as she handed over the stuff.

I chuckled, "Yeah. You're probably right," I said as I adjusted my backpack,"Thanks, Mrs. Sozza."

"Anytime, sweetie."

I spun around and headed for the door, walking out.

I checked for the time on my wrist watch. I still have 8 minutes to spare so I could swing by the locker. I took long strides gracefully weaving through the crowd like a gazelle till the familiar rows of metallic cabinets had me smiling. Good thing my designated locker wasn't located near the bathroom. That would suck.

I didn't want to lug around school with a heavy backpack, so I left most of the stuff in my locker. Satisfied with my business, I slammed it shut and checked my schedule.

My first class was homeroom with Mr. Starks. I think the guy was obsessed with Buddha's way to enlightenment and hippies, because he was just too lax and chill.

The final bell shrilled so I took that as my cue to walk a bit faster, accidentally bumping some students on the way.

I was almost at the classroom when Mr. Starks was about to close the door.

"Wait! Don't close the door!" I yelled at the top of my lungs then sprinted.

At the speed I was running, I didn't know if I could stop so I shot my hand to grabbed the edge of the door frame and maneuvered a slide. I thought it was school but with my clumsiness, the desired effect had made me look stupid. Lame even.

I heaved a big sigh of relief, knowing I didn't do a face plant. I let go of the edge of the door frame and looked up to see Mr. Starks smiling,"Whoa there. You need to relax. Chill out." He said calmly.

Like I said, he was way too lax.

 "Hey Mr. Starks. Nice to see you haven't changed a bit."

He chuckled lightly, "Welcome back, Reagan." He stepped back to let me in and nudged his head in the classroom's direction, "Go on in."

I nodded, stepping inside the room, "Thanks."

Mr. Starks closed the door behind him and gestured for me to come with him to his desk. The awkward feeling was back with a vengeance. Remember the birds? I didn't have it anymore. I got pterodactyls flapping the hell out in my stomach.

He called for the class to settle down and started.

"We have a returnee. I think you guys remember Reagan. She was with us two years ago." He said then turned to me, "Reagan, care to reacquaint yourself to the class?"

I mentally groaned. He was freaking kidding me right? Oh well.

I cleared my throat and started to speak, "Hey guys. Two years ago you might know me as Reagan Sheldon but now, It's Alden. Reagan Alden."

Everyone was silent. I guess they didn't expect that kind of information.

"Did you get married?" the girl named Monique - I think - asked finally after the silence.

I shook my head, "No. Due to unfortunate events, I had to change my last name." I said.

"Is it true that after you left, you became a stripper and some old rich guy asked you to live with him?" a jock named Cole asked. He was one of the popular crowd.

I gaped, "Who told you that?"

That was beyond ridiculous. I'm a minor you idiot! You have to be at least 18 or older to be a stripper.

He shrugged, "Rebecca."

I scoffed. Typical of her.

Not wanting to entertain more stupid questions, I looked back at Mr. Starks,"Where will I sit?

"There's a vacant seat at the back." He said, pointing the back row.

I trailed my eyes to where he was pointing to. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes because the vacant seat was between Bryson and Rebecca.

What were the odds, huh?

I took my sweet time going there. I darted my eyes to Bryson and saw he was gazing at me with his smoldering blue eyes. He really needs to stop looking at me like that. Though the familiar tingles were still there, but the past was in the past.

But why do I get the feeling that the past will come back to bite my butt?