Rivals For Breakfast

42| Shatter

٥٥٥
Vote
Share
Comment
٥٥٥

In the middle of the night a mysterious figure shrouded in black eases into my bedroom door. The sensation of no longer being alone startles me awake and a blood-curdling scream resonates throughout the room. I gasp when I realize it's come from my very own lips.

He quickly flips on the light switch, rubbing his ear with a frown. My irises recede at the sudden flood of light, I squint in his direction, still panting for air.

"You're usually a heavy sleeper," he says.

"You scared me!" I clutch my labored chest for dramatic effect.

The light smell of his cologne floats in my direction and I'm instantly reminded of how much I've missed him. He looks the same really, except his unusual outfit choice puzzles me. He's got a fitted suit on, black, of course, unbuttoned at the top with the tie pulled loosely around his collar. He flips the suit jacket off his broad shoulders. He's got the arms of a god, his bulging muscles show through the tight dress shirt.

"I just came to grab some stuff, I'm leaving" his hasty fingers struggle with the two buttons that hold his sleeves together. One at a time he unfastens them and rolls the fancy fabric over his forearms.

I run the back of my hand over my flushed face, brushing away the sweat. I try not to think about what my hair looks like right now, or the dry drool that may or may not have accumulated on the corners of my mouth. I'm sure this is not what Beyonce had in mind when she said: "I woke up like this."

"But you just got back" I find myself whining. I hate how desperate I sound. I hate how desperate I am.

"So?" he snaps, refusing to look my way. He grabs a bag and begins stuffing it with a fresh pair of charcoal-colored clothes.

"I missed you"

He rolls his tired eyes and frowns even deeper "I don't care".

I want to scream again, but for a different reason now. His words sting like alcohol on a fresh wound.  My mind feels heavy with stress and I can nearly feel my hair strands accelerating into grayness. I can't stomach the thought of us being back in this painful cycle again. No no no, not again.

He noisily leaves out the way he came in, taking his bag and attitude along with him. I fall back into the fluffy pillows, deciding, just this once, to give all my problems to god, or at least to tomorrow.

The next morning I go on like nothing ever happened although word has already spread of Cole's return along with the notorious four. There's a storm of rumors about what he was up to in Switzerland, something I'd very much like to know myself. I drag my feet through the hallways to my first period, desperately needing a coffee as black as my spirit, or maybe a hearty shot of tequila. I ignore the grey cloud that follows me throughout the morning, taunting me to dwell on Cole's odd attitude.

Nolan sits beside me, quiet as usual. He fumbles with his pencil, twiddling it between his fingers and tapping it on the desk. He's got a new hair cut, a tapered look, faded in the back and sides, but longer in the front. It looks good. He wears a pair of fresh jeans and a hoodie, a jean jacket is pulled over top that, cloaking his broad shoulders. His choice of warm clothes reminds me that it's getting cold outside now. My brain still hasn't caught up to the sudden weather change, I guess it's because Cole has been keeping me warm. I rub the goosebumps that form on my bare arms.

He notices me staring and starts to stare back now. I surprise myself when I flash him a smile. It's been a while since I've heard his voice, or seen his grin. I miss him.