Well...Not Anymore.

Well...Not Anymore: Chapter 14

A/N--So I feel as if this chater isn't one of my best, but I just started writing it and honestly couldn't stop.  So here's the product of that little streak :)  Also, I apologize for the shortness of it, but since I'm on break from school and have had this insane urge to write this story, I wouldn't be surprised if I update again tomorrow or sometime oddly soon, so yeah :)  Anyways...vote/comment, all that jazz. Hope you like it!

"Hey Lucas?" I ask him, resting my cheek onto my drawn up knees so that I can look on over at him. We've been playing Mario Kart for about three and a half hours now and about ten minutes ago, my thumbs got all cramped up. Lucas, though, being the testosterone driven fool that he is, cannot stop until he beats Luigi in at least one race.  

He glances over at me, something that he's oddly been doing since we've started playing so long ago, but this time he actually pauses the game when he sees the serious look on my face. He leans forward to place the little Wii steering wheel on the wooden coffee table, his T-shirt riding up in the back and exposing a tan inch or so of his skin. "Yeah?" he asks me, leaning back against the seat of the sofa. 

"When do you think it'll be okay for me to go home?" I've been thinking about it since our fight earlier, back when he said something along the lines of not letting me go home. Now that it's been able to stew in my mind, I realize that staying away from my dad and the house will probably just make things worse. The longer I'm gone, the angrier he'll get and the worse it'll be when I get back. Although it may suck going back today, at least it won't be as bad as if I didn't go back for a week. 

He sighs before running a hand through his already disheveled blonde hair. He looks to be concentrating hard on the thought, and it takes him a couple of seconds before he answers. He looks up at me when he's figured out, though, and with clear blue eyes he says, "I don't know...I honestly don't want you to go back." 

I give him a wry grin, knowing that he's just worried that my dad will reach out and strike me again or something. I tell him logically, "I can't just stay away forever." 

He nods and says, "I know, I know...I just...I don't want you to get hurt. I saw you after it all happened and I don't want you to have to go through that again." 

The sincerity of his tone strikes me, but in the best and most belly-warming of ways. It's been a while since I've heard him talk to me with that amount of care in his voice. So that's why I reach out and grab his hand from where it's resting beside his thigh. I give it a reassuring squeeze and tell him, "I'll be fine. I'm a big girl, okay? And besides, we only have a little while until graduation. Then I'll move away and won't have to worry about it." 

As if completely abandoning the conversation about my going back home, he asks me slowly, "So you're moving away for school then?" 

I nod, "Yeah. I don't know which one, but I know I want to get as far away from this town as possible." 

He bites down on his bottom lip for a second, and then glances up at me with a guilt-stricken look on his face. He asks, "That's partly because of me, right?" 

"Duh," I tease him, releasing my hold on his hand so that I can punch him in the thigh. "Up until yesterday or so I hated your fucking guts." 

"Gee thanks, Nay," he says jokingly, but I can hear the underlying responsibility in his voice. But even though it hurts a little to see him look guilty, I'm not going to coddle him to make him feel less-guilty. I may have forgiven him, but I still want him to know just how badly he hurt me. 

"But in all honesty I have no idea where I want to go, as long as it's far," I continue, choosing to just stop thinking about him and the whole abandonment issue for right now. We've had a decent few hours; I don't want to ruin them.