Oh, Dakota.

Chapter Forty.

Dakota Aniston

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The only thing I’m sure of anymore is cheerleading.

I finally dragged myself out of bed around noon and not because I wanted too. I had no choice, considering cheerleading practice begins today. There’s only a few weeks left until school starts again and just like every other year since I was a freshman, cheerleading tryouts are today. Well, tryouts for the freshman girls and boot camp for everyone else.

I didn’t bother with a shower, because I knew how sweaty I would end up by the end of practice anyway. I numbly pulled on a pair of baby blue workout shorts and a black, flimsy tank top. I pulled my long, knotty hair into a high ponytail and slipped my feet into my running shoes.

Grabbing my phone and IPod, I ran down the marble staircase, hurriedly trying to make it to my door, before my mother found me. She was in the kitchen whistling and I smelt the faint smell of coffee brewing.

She heard me before she saw me. “Oh, Dakota, is that you?”

Shit.

My hand stilled on the door. “Uh, yeah. It’s me.”  

I felt her come up behind me. “What are you in such a rush for? I thought practice didn’t begin until twelve thirty. You have time.”

I sighed inwardly and my shoulders hunched forward. I really didn’t feel like talking; to her or to anyone for that matter.

I haven’t seen Elijah in three days. I haven’t seen anyone in three days.

After my fallout with Stacey, I cried myself to sleep that night. I hadn’t cried because of what happened with Stacey. My crying had more than less to do with Elijah. And how badly everything was screwed up.

Because, really, what was I thinking? Could I actually be with Elijah? Did I actually see something happening between us?

I was stupid.

And fucked up.

I’m still fucked up. I hardly know what I want for myself; let alone what Elijah wants from me.

I’ve been cooped up in my room for those three days, drifting in and out of sleep and sometimes letting myself cry, because that’s at least what I deserved. I deserved a good cry. Heck, I still deserve a good cry.

I hardly eaten in three days, because I’ve hardly gotten out my bed, expect for the times to shower and to sneak down when parents weren’t home for a snack. But, other than that, I’ve been tangled up in my sheets, weeping and thinking.

Thinking of how over my head I am in all of this.

Thinking of Elijah and how good he is. How much better he deserves than me. Because, let’s face reality, he’s too good for me. He’s going places. He’s talented. He has his music, his friends and a future. And me? Well, I’m just me. Stranded and confused and heading nowhere.

My lips still burned from our kiss. I still taste his tongue in my mouth. But, his taste his too sweet now and if I don’t rid of it quickly, I fear a cavity.

And he’s still everywhere.

The smell of my sheets, the hollowness in my chest, and even the music on my IPod, is just a reminder of him and everything that he is. Everything reminds me of him.

He has such a power over me. Has the power to make me feel warm all over and just thinking about him brings a whole new wave of desire and even now the space between my legs is thumping in anxiety and lust for him.