love, at the end

Chapter 7: damn

Come on, come on...where is she? It's been 15 minutes already! Is she too mad to come pick me up? I can't bear another moment of this.

I'm drenched in rain, about to get in trouble, weighted down by a school bag full of books, and have just rudely yelled at Cassius—I hate myself for that.

Even if he's ingenuine.

Truth be told, I don't know what to think of Cassius anymore. I've always tried to change my mother's thoughts on him, and being Lydia Calloway, she cares about me dating a rich, good boy instead of him. Because my mother and I know nothing about his background, Mom assumes him to be a shitty smudge to the Calloway family. I am hopelessly in love with him—-

No, I was.

The way he looked at me was just...damn. I'm not looking at his beautiful face anymore. Not his fluffy hair. Not his beady eyes. But his expression—cold, apathetic. Like he doesn't care.

But I can't blame him for not caring, anyways. All throughout my childhood, people knew me as the rich kid. Nothing else. Like some boastful, idiotic, bratty rich kid. And it's sort of true. I am bratty.

How could this be worse?

A slight tap on my shoulders. Oh, god.

I turn around, look down to the floor, and prepare to be lectured by the great Lydia Calloway.

But it doesn't come.

I look up—that isn't Lydia at all. Neither is it some threatening stranger. Well, it is a stranger, but not threatening. Calming, even, to be near him. It's a young man (??????) with curly hair as bright as the sun, and red eyes like flames. That guy must've had really good genes to have red eyes. He's definitely British. And incredibly hot.

But I stop those thoughts. He'll never replace Cassius...e-even if he's an ass.

"Um, y-you're Miss Calloway?" He tilts his head at me, his eyes scanning my uniform, stained with ballpoint pen ink. There's a stutter to his voice, yet it sounds so melodic. So...heavenly.

Oh god, I must've looked so awkward. But after all, at least Mom hasn't come. For now.

"That's me, Evita Calloway." I look up again to his towering figure. "Call me Evie."

"Oh, uh, nice name, Evie." Finally someone that respects my nickname. He shifts, as if he simply must have to do something, but I step back. Stranger Danger, after all.

"So...I'm Raphael, but I go by a lot of names...Raphi, Israfil, Izzy..."

Raphael...Sounds like an overused Spanish-ass name.

"Um, Raphael works for me. But–" I take a deep breath. He is awkward, and I am not being like him. "I have something to do, so..."

I trail off when he scans me once again. This time, all the awkwardness is gone. I stop laughing at the Spanish guy internally,

"Evita Calloway, I need you for something."

"I..." I'm the one who's stuttering now. "My mom's gonna—" The list of things I think she's going to do to me shows up in my mind again. It's like a rope that refuses to let go.

"No, she won't." he says slowly, his voice calm, but not Mom-ish calm. It's not a scary calm, either. "Just do me a favor."

"The fuck—what favour!"

"Come. With me."

"Wha—"

"We...we don't have much time left."

"What the FUCK?"

Before I can protest, he takes my hand. It feels warm compared to my ice cold skin. And for the first time in a while, I swear. I fucking swear.

He bends his thin legs, ready for bolting. I take a deep breath, preparing to be blasted in the face by a surge of wind. I never was a good runner. And he's going to run with me?

I close my eyes.

And all hell breaks loose.