Talk to Me

Chapter 2

Monday mornings, on principal, are generally hell. My Monday morning occasionally aren't hell. For example, when I have my English class that Alex sits next to me in. That would be the singular class I am more than happy to be early for.

"How was your weekend?" I asked him, steeling myself for the answer.

He grinned sloppily and I struggled not to mirror it. "Got laid. That always leaves a pretty good weekend in my book."

I rolled my eyes and tried to pretend that I hadn't just died a little inside.

"How're you?" He asked in response to my eye roll. "You seem a little off today."

"Oh, yeah. My friend's just out of town so I'm kinda alone at lunch today." Christine actually was out of town, but that wasn't why I looked like a character out of the walking dead.

"Hm." He stopped for a second and pulled his binder out of his bag, exracting a piece of paper slowly. "Well you can sit with me. Nobody else ever wants to. I mean, Katy might, but she doesn't actually go here, so you can understand where the conflict is there."

"If you want me to," I said softly, looking down at the top of the desk.

"Of course I want you to. You're a million times better than the pricks I usually sit with. Besides, you still need help with physics, right?" Alex offered.

"Generally speaking," I muttered.

He smiled again, and handed me the sheet of paper, reaching back into his bag to grab another. "Good. Library or cafeteria?"

I shrugged. "Whatever's fine. Library's quieter and there's less people, but you could eat lunch in the cafeteria."

"I don't always eat lunch."

"So library?"

He nodded.

I sketched a small butterfly on my hand as I sat there waiting for class to start.

"It's nicer in there anyway," Alex said distractedly. "More privacy, if you like that sort of thing."

"I like the windows when it rains," I told him. Our library had these floor to ceiling windows that faced the courtyard, and when it rained there wouldn't be people there. You could sit there and appreciate the beauty of the smeared colours and the sound of raindrops hitting the roof.

"It's nice." He agreed. I glanced over his shoulder at the motion when Mr. Q opened the classroom door. Several more kids entered the classroom after that, but my eyes had flitted back to his face.

His eyes were brown. They were fairly ordinary brown, but somewhere inside them was the story of Alex, and that made them so much more than plain.

"What's on your hand?" he asked, turning it over and pointing at the butterfly. I felt a shock run through my hand as he touched it. I couldn't remember a moment in all of two years that he'd touched me, but all I wanted right then was for him to do it again.

"A pentagram, Einstein. What do you think?"

"Jesus, Liza, no need to be vicious."

"Sorry."

"It's ok."

The bell rang suddenly and loudly. It left a continuous ringing in my ears for a short time afterwards. As the announcements crackled over the loudspeaker, I reached over and started to draw on his hand as well, a small butterfly on his thumb. He smiled when he saw it.

I leaned back in my chair, satisfied, as class wore on.

Second period passed quickly that Monday, and the walk to the library felt like teleporting.