RISKY BUSINESS

Chapter 9

APRIL,
BLUESTONE HIGH SCHOOL
b r o o k l y n     l e s l i e     c o o p e r
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The next week, unlike the last, I was able to attend school and proceed my learning. Alas, I was equally as bored and miserable. I'd gotten so used to my life being action-packed and full of events that'd bring on stress or excitement, that when a normal day finally came around, it felt weird to me. Almost foreign.

It was currently lunch time, and I was sitting in the cafeteria with Morgan, Luke and their other few friends at our usual table towards the back of the room. Everyone was making conversation with each other while I was shooting and receiving texts with my mother as she was worried about me; my safety. I was used to this. Being the quiet one, I mean. I only sat here for Morgan, who sat here for Luke. It wasn't my type of crowd. Not that I really belonged to any specific type of group in this school. I was a lone soul, bound to herself.

Mum, I'm fine. Trust me. My head doesn't even hurt anymore.

I was trying to convince my mother that school wasn't a danger zone for me, and that I wasn't in pain, but the truth was, my head did hurt. There was a small, invisible bruise where I'd gotten hit, and it was pounding disturbingly. I assumed it was the loud, echoed voices that belonged to the students in the cafeteria that caused the sudden ache.

Ashton Irwin, who was sitting in the seat beside me, was looking down at my phone, which showcased the conversation I was having with my not-so-easily-convinced mother via messages. "I heard what happened; the whole school was talking about it. Are you okay? Luke didn't blow a brain cell, did he?"

I knew he was joking. It was obvious by the sheepish grin on his face. But still, I frowned. "People were talking about it?"

He nodded, his grin fading. "Well . . .yeah. But it's only because they hoped you were okay, which gets me to ask my question again; are you okay?"

I didn't know if he was referring to my injury or how I felt in general. Sure, his question was aimed towards my injury, but his eyes said otherwise. He looked at me with such soft, questioning eyes; like curiosity was dripping from his hazel irises, and I got lost in them for a second. Why hadn't I had a proper conversation with Ashton before? We'd only really shared small "hello's" here and there, and sure we spoke that time I watched him preform in Luke and Calum's band, but only now the thought of missing out on such a caring and kind soul was dawning on me.

"If you're referring to my injury, then I'm okay. However, I do have a headache," I admitted before looking down at the table. "But other than that . . . I don't know if I'm okay." Anymore, at least.

I used to be okay. I used to be sure of myself. I used to walk these halls with my head high and no worry in the world, but ever since I got my media project things hadn't been so swell for me. Even my new neighbour happened to be a constant stress hazard.

Ashton looked sincere as he reached his arm out to place his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Everyone goes through times like those; times that put you in the mindset of feeling lost and confused. Dazed, even. I'd try to give you advice to help you through these times, but I've got nothing as I'm stuck in that stage of life also," I looked up and met eyes with him, his words hitting me like a baseball bat.

I'm not the only one, I realised.

"Just know that I'm here if you want to talk. Hell, can I get your number? You seem like a good listener, and I need someone like that right now."

My heart fell to the pit of my stomach as he got his phone out from his jean pocket. A boy, asking for my number? That was odd. Very odd. I'd never connected with a boy mentally enough for him to ask for my number just so that he could admit his feelings to me —in a platonic way—, knowing I'd be good emotional support. That was what he was implying, right?