Beautiful Tiger

Chapter 4.

Alex Martin and I hadn't had much of a conversation, and I thanked the heavens for that. But I would have preferred anything else versus what actually happened within that remaining forty minutes before class. Afterwards, he even walked me to English and before I entered, asked yet again if we could be friends because he felt this was the start of a new friendship regardless his little brother—born 32 seconds later's—loathe for me.

I didn't want to laugh in the guy's face about friendship, because I should be the last one laughing at someone else. But I just couldn't believe he said he felt the start of a "friendship." I think he actually just felt pity.

What even is a friendship? Does that even have a feeling?

Sorry, but if you called: Me sipping on hot chocolate, Alex sipping on a latte quietly from across each other in the corner of a crowded coffee shop of teens whilst being interrupted by people that Alex knew, who even invited themselves to sit with us, forcing us further inside the booth until we were side by side, with me practically ontop of him (poor little guy), me sitting there awkward in the midst of several guys, and thankfully no blue heads by the name of Maximilian, the start of a friendship, then I'd laugh a long hard laugh in your face, and tell you that you were on drugs.

Samantha had taken her last boxes during the first break when I was having hot chocolate at the coffee shop, then she sent me a text asking if I wanted the spare keys, or if she should turn them into the office.

I replied: Give them to Elizabeth, and she'll give them to me in class tomorrow.

But then I was quick to send another text with my mind changed. Elizabeth would never do anything good for me. She would probably keep the key for herself, and maybe trash my dorm, and plan some sick prank.

As a matter of fact, you can turn them in into the office. Don't need 'em.

I sat on the small couch in the small livingroom, staring at the television, but nothing seemed to actually process in my brain.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it as my thoughts turned into ninety miles per hour, and my emotions were jumbling like a wrecked caged animal.

I didn't feel like crying now. Life was a perplexing mess.

A week ago, I was a depressed girl who hurt herself with the blade from her art kit's sharpener. Today, I was the girl who had been asked to be friends by an actually person who wasn't virtual. This was much more exciting than hitting one hundred thousand followers on Instagram. This was grand.

Though I did decline the guy two times in one day. All he had responded was "Fine," and with a smile on his face which meant that he wasn't giving up, and it wouldn't be the last time he asked me.

That flattered me so much that I smiled in return. Was he really wanting to be my friend?

But then the skepticism came, and I was afraid, because if a jock wanted to be friends with a nobody, that almost always meant there was something behind it. For a bet. For sex. Humility of the nobody. Using. For fun.

Then the angel in my brain tried to calm my nerves.

But he's the child of the man who practically owns the school! He isn't stupid enough to do anything as such. He'll be giving his dad a bad image, and maybe even be forced to have his dad kick him out.

She was right—I mean, I was right. He had to have just seen the light, and wanted to change. Then I let the Martins' situation go, having my mind racing even more.

Hunter Brooks, my mind kept repeating in different pitches and tones of my own voice. Hunter. Hunter? Hunter!

That name made my nose flare in heat which meant that my nerves were forcing me to keep from crying. My eyes were tickling in their sockets implying that the tears were there, not yet falling over the brim. Both of my hands pressed into the side of my skull as I resisted the urge to scream.