That Night

Chapter Six

Going to school had become even more of a nightmare. Seeing her first thing in the morning, looking for her in the hall, hoping to catch her around every corner – only to be shut down, ignored, avoided at all costs. Juliet Taylor hated my guts, and she was never going to speak to me again.

It didn't matter that I thought about her every waking moment and dreamed about her every night. She turned and ran in the other direction when she saw me coming, never allowing me to explain. And God, had I tried. For three months, I tried.

It was January, and I had backed off for the time being in order to clear my head and pull my shit together. The problem was I had no idea where to begin. I knew I wanted – needed – her, but I didn't know how to get her. The guys all thought I was a hero, that I had finally participated in their sick game. They would ruin me if they ever found out I actually had feelings for her. Even Harrison was under the impression – or so he said – that our one-night-stand had been enough for me to get her out of my system. Damn was he wrong.

"So, Dash," Katia cooed in my ear as we stood in the hall one morning, her claw-like nails digging into my good shoulder, pressing her chest flush against me. "I was thinking about you the other night."

I perked up, spotting a petite, pixie-like girl with dark hair enter the hall from the stairwell. I had been on high alert since the incident, always looking for her everywhere I went, even outside school. I was a total wreck.

"Oh yeah?" I murmured, vaguely noting the suggestive tone to her low, seductive voice. Katia had been doing this a lot lately, stopping me in the hall to drop explicit, dirty innuendos in my ear. She'd been after me ever since the party, but I'd yet to give in, and she'd yet to take the hint.

"I was lying in bed," Katia whispered, breathing on my neck as she played with the collar of my t-shirt.

Juliet put in her locker combination with her delicate fingers, twisting carefully so as not to miss a number, and swung the door open to retrieve her books. Her dark hair was pinned up in her distinctive ballerina bun at the back of her head, and she was dressed in pair of fraying jeans and a grey sweater, not a hint of color anywhere. It broke my heart to see her so broken. Though she didn't show it so obviously, I knew she was. I could see it in the way she moved a little slower, spoke a little softer, hung her head a little lower. It hurt even more knowing there was nothing I could do to fix it, even though I was the cause.

I had completely tuned out Katia's dirty story of how she'd pleasured herself the night before, ignoring her finger tracing circles on my chest.

"So, what do you say?" she asked me, pursing her lips.

It was then that Juliet had looked up, her eyes automatically drawn to mine as if by some magnetic force between us. She paled visibly, looking from me to Katia, and then spun around on her heels, making a beeline through the crowded hall.

"I have to go," I muttered, having no clue what Katia had asked about.

She tried to grab my arm and stop me, but I slipped away and put plenty of distance between us. I headed straight for my History classroom, having lost sight of Juliet in the sea of taller students. We had only two minutes until the bell would ring, so she couldn't have gone anywhere else. It was the first time we had done so much as make eye contact in weeks, and she had stormed off after seeing me with another girl. It had to mean something.

When I turned down the next hallway, I spotted her, steps away from the classroom. I bolted down the crowded corridor, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the side just before she got to the door.

"Wha–oomph!" Juliet stumbled towards me, falling into my chest before she could catch herself. It was the closest we had been in months. I could smell her fruity shampoo, feel her soft, thick sweater brush against my skin. I wished I could hold her there forever, kiss the top of her head and never let her go. But the thought was instantly shattered when she realized what had happened and broke from my grasp.