In Between the Lines

Chapter 8: The Aftermath

By the time I got to school on Monday, it was clear that the events from the party were the talk of the town.

I kept my head down when I could, ignoring the too-interested glances that came my way as I walked through the halls. I'd ended up telling Alyssa, Reed, and Olivia about what happened over the weekend because I knew it was inevitable for word to spread, and I wanted them to have at least heard it from me first. They were all upset and shocked and angry—maybe even more so than I'd been, if that were possible. But I was glad to have them. It made bearing with the aftermath just a bit easier to know that my friends were there for me.

I didn't see Evan in any of my classes. I wasn't sure he was even at school.

I walked into my last class of the day late on purpose—so I could minimize the time I had to speak or look at Dez. I was relieved when I walked in and realized the lights were dimmed because Mr. Matthews had chosen to spare us from our labs for the day, instead throwing on a movie for the entirety of the class.

After half-heartedly scolding me for being late, Mr. Matthews just ordered me to take my seat. I walked with my head held high as I took those few steps to my table, felt Dez shift beside me as I sat down, turning to cast his gaze along the side of my face.

I didn't acknowledge that stare. Not for fear that I'd say something I'd later regret, but because if I looked at him now, the small thread that had been keeping me stitched together all day might have snapped altogether. And I knew whatever it released was sure to be ugly.

So I ignored him and kept my eyes trained on the screen ahead. Even when he eventually tapped my shoulder. Even when he eventually whispered my name.

When it became clear that he would be getting no response for me, Dez backed off.

Until—he passed me a note.

Do you hate me?

Because he knew that no matter how many times we'd bickered, I'd never actually hated him—not really. No matter how many times I told myself I did, hate was too strong a word for what I'd felt for Dez. Annoyance, yes. Dislike, maybe. Hate? Maybe not before.

But now . . .

I tucked the sheet away and ignored him.

He passed me another one not two seconds later.

Can we talk after class?

Again, I folded that sheet and put it aside.

Again, Dez came up with another sheet of his own.

You're wasting precious paper, you know.

I still didn't respond and simply tucked the sheet away as I avoided his gaze, and for a moment, I thought he'd actually given up.

It was only after ten minutes passed that another paper slid out in front of me.

I told you not to come.

I tightened my grip around my pencil, nearly snapping it in half.

Dez had told me not to come—and that was supposed to make it okay? 

Are you looking for a thank you?

My writing nearly tore through the page. Dez took the note and read it before looking over at me, and for once I let myself look back at him. Let him look into my eyes and see what he'd done to me when he sat there for three days and didn't tell me a thing. I returned his stare, daring him to look away first—and he did, but only to write: