Chapter Thirty One.

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Elijah Astor

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Well, that didn’t go as planned, I thought as I slid my cell phone into my back pocket. Sighing softly, I lean back against the wall, pushing my hand through my hair. The air is stale outside, and the streets are empty and quiet.

Right now that’s what I need. Some peace and quiet.

“Why are you yelling at me?” A girl screeched.

So much for that. Opening my eyes, I causally turned my head to the side, my eyes landing on a couple down the street.

“Why am I yelling at you?” He repeated his voice louder than hers. “You’re the one yelling at me!”

The girl let out a loud, sarcastic snort. “Because all you do is constantly fight with me and I’m sick of it!” She snarled.

He stepped closer to her, his arms curving themselves around her waist. Their voices are familiar. “I just want to be with you. Is that so bad?”

“I just need my space, alright?” She slipped out of his embrace, and crossed her arms over herself, her hands cupping her elbows. Her red hair fell loose against her neck as she shook her head softly.

“Space? What kind of relationship is that, Stacey?” He yelled, his arms throwing out to the sides. “I’ll tell you what. It’s shit!”

Then, it clicked. The bickering couple is Stacey and Ryan.

“How dare you.” She growled, and her hands jumped out, shoving against his chest, but he barely budged. I felt bad spying on them like this, but I couldn’t look away. I wonder if I’m ever with Stacey, would we end up like this?

“I’m leaving.” She spat, and turned on her heel.

“Where are you going?” He called after her, his eyes trailing after her as she stormed off toward the club.

“Away from you!” She shouted, and let out a loud shriek. Her heels clicked furiously as she scurried down the sidewalk, her lips turned up in anger.

She was growing closer to the club. I drop my head down quickly, retrieving my phone from my back pocket and flipping it open, sliding my thumbs along the keyboard, trying to appear busy so I don’t look suspicious.

“Elijah?” The sound of her heels stopped. Her legs were in my line of vision, and dragging my eyes upward, my orbs clicked against hers.

She didn’t look sad. If anything, she just seemed angry. Her jaw is set and her foot taps up and down impatiently.

“Oh, hey.” I say causally, closing my phone and nodding my head in a greeting. “How’s it going?”

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” She rolls her brown eyes.

She looks nice. Her hair is pulled back in a clip from her face and she’s dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and pink camisole. She scratches the back of her neck timidly.

“Most of it.” I mumble, glancing away from her. “Are you alright?”

“Fuck him.” She seethes, and looking back, she was rolling her eyes again. “I’m over it.”

“Oh.” I nod solemnly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah.” She agrees. “How’s it going?”

Am I actually here having a casually conversation with Stacey Dugan?  “It’s going good.” I trail off, flickering my eyes across her face. “So, um, how’s Dakota?” I finally ask, my voice soft, shy even.

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