You took my heart, could I please have it back?

[7] You took my heart, could I please have it back?

Please don't hate me for James's attitude :) OH and I'd loooooove to thank liliancarmine for her brilliant idea!! [The Gig] :D THANK YOU LILY!!

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.:Story Start:.

Sunday came, and I was cautious for Monday to arrive, eager because I wanted to see James again - why did he have that effect on me? - and worried in case he went back to his 'jerk' mode.

I was writing again. The flow of words wouldn't stop, but I was writing without thinking, so I had no idea what I had written. I eventually stopped. My hand ached from all the writing, so I flexed my fingers and rotated my wrist, while flicking back the pages to see what I had written. It only made sense for me to start from the beginning.

{Her eyes, a stunning blue colour, were reflected in his own mysterious dark ones. She was surprised by the intense beauty of the boy before her - strong arms, well defined face. Not completely flawless - she noticed a thin white line extending from just next to his right eyebrow halfway to his ear, a wavy, jagged edge. His nose was also slightly crooked, but these didn't matter to her - it was what was on the inside that counted, after all.

He was also rather tall, her head only reaching his shoulder. She had to look up to see his face properly. His hands clasped around her own, which hung by her side, and he brought them together up to his lips. They stayed pressed against her cool hands - not that she minded. When he released her hands, she grabbed one of his before he could drop them and dragged him over to a corner.

"Play me the song," she whispered, lifting the guitar that leaned against the brightly coloured wall, with books scattered all over the place. He smiled and took it from her, sitting on the bean bag and softly strumming.}

I swore loudly and closed the note book - I didn't want to read anymore. My frown had increased as I read, and now it was a fully fledged scowl. The description of him had been a perfect picture of James. I was writing about him now!!

Even the room was familiar, their basement, the books I supposed symbolizing the library, where we stood at close proximity, much like my description. What the hell? Why was I fantasizing about him? Was it the 'mysterious' angle that I knew a lot of girls craved that drew me to him?

The 'mysterious' angle had bugged me last night. I had barely slept. When Neil came over to check on me this morning, he said I looked a right state. I wasn't surprised. But the intensity of the emotions in his eyes had sort of scared me, but fascinated me at the same time - like a little kid in a storm.

I groaned in frustration, pushed my chair back and headed downstairs. I just wanted to know why I couldn't read him as easily as everyone else! Even his father, a man I wasn't sure I trusted, was easy to read. I could tell he had been hiding something from me on Wednesday. I was kind of hoping I would see him again tomorrow so I could grill him further on my father. How did he know him? Did he know what happened to make him an alcoholic?

So many questions. So few answers.

~*~*~

Neil continued to be frustrating the next morning. He arrived at twenty past eight again, when I was on the verge of walking to school, and he had obviously lacked sleep. But once he got in, and saw me, he was in uproar.

"What the hell did he do to you?" he said, staring at my face and forearms. I hurriedly rolled down my sleeves and pulled my hair from behind my ears to cover my face, but he wasn't fooled - he walked over to me and pulled them back up again, taking my wrists and turning them over, palm side up.

I suppose it did look rather painful. Six long scratches were marked on my arms - long, thin and shallow. Two were horizontal across my left wrist, one extending from the inside of my elbow almost to my wrist, crossing over the other two.