Hunted

Act 23; Nice

He wanted to think about other things, like the report on History due on Wednesday, where he had to face his classmates and teacher when he presented it. Or that upcoming surprise OTH event on Tuesday that was rumored to give out rare items only available for one time. Or even the party come Friday where he had no plans on attending, like all the other parties last month but end up going to anyway because of peer pressure.

He sincerely wanted to think about anything else other than her.

But when he reached his dorm building and checked his watch to see it was half pass seven, he gave up.

Noah had always been a simple guy that tried hard not to worry about the little things. By doing so, he had lived an admirably easy life with few troubles and rare bouts of anxiety that didn't even reach the number of fingers on his hands when he tried counting.

So what if he had a crush on her? There. He said it. Again. It wasn't that big a deal anyway. She was practically a celebrity after all, and a lot of people crush on celebrities, so he wasn't any special. He looked up at the looming edifice in front of him, gargantuan and sporty and all-too-intimidating when the lights hit it from below, the windows lit up like eyes that didn't know how to blink.

He turned around, heading to the Arts Department.

Amelia lowered the phone when her father ended the call, feeling tired. He was relieved by the end of their conversation, she knew that much, but she also knew he was still worried. Of course he was. What loving father wouldn't be? At least they reached a decision though.

Until further notice, she'd be staying at DDA. She wondered why she felt happy about that part, but immediately excused the thought as mere fatigue. She still wasn't thinking straight. Zack had been gracious enough to feed her before she spoke to her father, so she couldn't blame it on an empty stomach.

Galen would send her homework via email around tomorrow afternoon, she requested, then she'll talk to the rest of her family. Coach and Sir Jasmine had been placated by the promise, and agreed to go home to get some rest, even though her father offered them to stay the night. Amelia wondered if the three ancient men were still in a rough patch. Hadn't her absence brought them together this time like all the other ones?

She didn't ask, of course, knowing it wasn't the time nor place. She'd get to refereeing once she was back.

...Which would be when, exactly?

She shivered at the thought of taking too long. She hated letting her guard down. That was the worst time when an enemy attacked. Like her bullied days in Baby Ballet School. She shivered again. God, those were tough times.

"You doing okay?"

She looked back at who spoke, pulling her poker face on, then nodded.

Zack Florence rubbed the back of his neck, as though unsure how to proceed, then nodded, his forehead knotted. "Then I'll leave you alone. Hope the quarters do you good."

She nodded back. She wondered if it would be proper if she gave him an autograph.

Once he left, she wondered what else to do for the rest of the night. One of the worst things about sleeping 'til afternoon was that it wasn't easy to fall back asleep come night. She looked out the window, where the red that once kissed the sky left it a navy blue, and breathed out. She had a sudden urge to dance. She wanted to dance. She opened the glass panes and leaned over the sill, shut her eyes and let the cold caress her face, her hair. She didn't want to worry anymore. It was too emotionally exhausting.

She sighed. She wished things would get better, if not for her then for the people around her. But things didn't get better. People just got used to what was going on until it becomes normal, so they wouldn't really know if things were getting better or not.