A Year Being the Cheerleader

53.

I burst through the front door, my head spinning a little. Nate had offered to drive me home and I am thankful. I don't know how I would have made it home alive driving my car. The pain of it all is too revolting. My mind feels almost painfully numb. And I can't believe this  is happening to me.

"Are you sure you're okay, Am? I can stay if you want," he says, his eyes rimmed by bags as he scans me with concern and something else.

I was about to apologise to him for bringing him into this mess, but I stop as my brain finally processes the other emotion that is present in his ocean blue eyes.

"You knew." I state deadly through clenched teeth.

I spin on heels to stump up the stairs before he can attempt to defend himself. He knows and I know, we both know, that I am right. He does know what happened. And they all planned to hide it from me. Even my own cousin! Funny how I always referred him to Coach Longmore or Mr. Longmore and now he is suddenly my cousin.

But that is beside the point. The meat of the matter is that they they didn't tell me. And they actually didn't want me to find out. How could I not?!

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something is wrong. Not with all their pity stares, abrupt halt in conversation when I walk into the room, the whispering with glances my way and most importantly, the fact that Ramona was not there for the entire day at school. The reason I even know is because I went over her house and her mother told me the heartbreaking news. That's when it all caved in.

I wipe my cheek angrily as I stomp up the stairs, breathing heavily. The barely there sounds of Nate following me is almost impossible to hear above my heartbeat and abnormal breathing, but the feeling I have is unmistakable. I turn to look and I am right. He is behind, but not as close as I expected. We are nose-to-nose and it is one hell of a moment.

"What do you want?" I ask breathless, hating the pleasurable shiver that run down my spine. Jeez...and we are barely touch. Fireworks should go off when we actually do touch. Or probably explosions. Not like I will allow that to happen. He does not affect me. Yeah, right.

"I'm sorry," he says in a low growl that is seductively husky.

I can't take it. Not this proximity, not the word sorry and I definitely can NOT take losing my friend. Even if she was annoying. Was. Past tense.

I turn to dash from this scene. Besides being in mourning for my friend, I can't stop thinking about his hands roaming over my body and he closing the small distance between our lips. It's very tempting, especially when those full kissable pink lips are slightly open, begging you to mash them with your own. Before I can even step away from him, he grabs my sleeve covered hand and I immediately yelp in pain. My legs become jelly and I almost crash to the ground, but he holds my hand in one of his and his arm circles around my waist.

He lifts me and places me on to a chair in the hall that seems to be there exactly for this purpose. Before I can move my hand out of his grasp, he holds it up into the light and tugs the sleeve of my blouse down. I watch as his cobalt blue eyes darken as he sees the bluish purple marks on my hand. Feeling ashamed, I try to pull my hand, but he holds on to it firmly yet gently.

"Who did this to you?" He growls as he pushes the sleeves up my arm to further investigate the other marks as well.

His eyes rake over my arm before they finally meet mine. I feel as if he can look right through to my soul and all my darkest secrets are bared to him. My insides twist and I have a sudden urge to crawl into a corner and curl up into a ball as my mother's sarcastic laugh rings the air after her taunts. I want to lie and defend my mother, but I can't. Not when I am under his spell, drowning into his dark oceans.

"Mom." Just one word and it feels like some amount of lead have lifted off my chest.

His eyes flicker between his usual cobalt blue eyes and a deep navy blue like a flame. It is enthralling and I find myself sucked into the orbs.

I thought he would demand answers to questions I am not ready to answer, flare up and get angry. But instead, he kisses the marks, slowly as he gazes into my eyes. I tremble and I feel a mutual understanding coming from him. He couldn't have been abused. Could he? I suddenly feel more vulnerable than I ever thought was possible.

1999beauty
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