Daylight

chapter 7

ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Johnny ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Ever since Anastasia and I had almost kissed my head had been spinning.

I didn't know if she liked me or if it was just a spur of the moment thing.

Here I was sitting in class thinking about what could have happened if Anastasia's mam didn't interrupt.

And I really wish she hadn't.

I wasn't sure if I liked Anastasia in that way but for the past couple months I had been getting increasingly more protective over her.

Not to mention the raging jealously I felt when she went out with Mark.

Shite maybe I do like her.

I raced through the halls, as the bell had rang for lunch. I knew this would be the perfect chance to talk to Stas.

I was manoeuvring through people when a blonde girl ran into my chest.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," She blushed, her giant brown eyes looking up at me.

"It's grand, no worries," I nodded with a smile.

"I'm Sofia," The blonde grinned, her blush never leaving her face.

"I'm Johnny. Sorry you ran into my chest," I replied, making Sofia laugh.

"It's okay there are worse things," She blushed harder, "I'm new. Do you think you could show me where the lunch room is?"

"Yeah. I'm actually going there now," I agreed, my mind flashing back to Stas.

"Thank you, thank you," Sofia grinned, then leaned up to kiss my cheek.

I paused, slightly caught of guard.

"Sorry! Habit of mine," She blurted out turning red.

"It's grand. I'll show you," I muttered leading her down the hallway.

Once I had led Sofia to the lunch room I bolted to the table my friends sat at, only to find Anastasia's seat empty.

I slumped into the seat, feeling Claire's brown eyes practically burning a hole in my face.

"What?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing," Claire shrugged, biting into an apple.

"Where's Stas?" I questioned while looking around the lunch room.

"She went home," Claire mumbled.

What the hell.

Anastasia and I were supposed to talk about what had happened. Why in the world did she go home?

I reached for my phone and texted her, letting her know I'd come over after practice.

"Why'd she go home? Is something wrong?" I asked Claire.

"I really think you should ask her," Claire snapped at me.

In my seventeen years of life I had barely ever seen Claire mad.