5 - Forcing a smile

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Aurora
As I walk down the hall, I avoid eye-contact with those around me. I didn't want to explain the reasons for my tear stained cheeks. So,
if anyone attempted to speak to me, I simply nodded at them, a forced smile on my lips.

My mood had been dampened whenever mom said to me that she had to leave for a while. To find myself, were her exact words. I knew why she was really leaving, though. I heard them fighting last night. I'm pretty sure Aspen did, too, but he decided not to bring it up.

Aspen followed a strategy where he'd ignore the problem at hand, and then he'd smoke a couple of cigarettes later.

Thankfully, Poppy and Emerson didn't bother me that much today. During first period, which was study hall, Emerson had left me to listen to my music. Throughout second period, Poppy and I exchanged about three
words.

Hunter, however, wouldn't leave me alone during lunch. He decided to drag me to a table with his friends, and forced me into their boring conversations.

All their conversations had consisted of were the lastest episodes of "The Office" A show that I have never seen. I simply shrugged when I had no clue what they were talking about, which was ninety percent of the
time, or I sat there in silence.

Finally, after what had felt like an entirety, the end of lunch had arrived, and I almost jumped up from my seat. Needless to say, lunch had been toture.

I take a seat at the back of class, and place the homework we were expected to complete on my desk.

Sam: Can we talk, Rory? I'd like to talk about
a few things. Is Camellia's okay with you?

The unopened message was another dagger to my heart that had already been shattered. For as long as I can remember, Camellia's had been our place. Camellia's was a quaint little cafe in town. Sammuel had brought me there countless times when I was a kid.

Being the younger sibling, he understood what it felt like to live in the shadows of the elder sibling. Aspen had always been the golden
boy in the eyes of my parents'. Sure, he had smoked cigarettes, but my mom had always defended him. She would tell dad that he acted out to gain his attention.

That wasn't true. Aspen "acted out" to distract himself from the broken home that he was forced to live in. He never wanted to be the captain of the football team, like my dad was.

He didn't want to be the guy who apologized for his wife's snide remarks at family reunions.
Instead, he would much rather be the guy that relatives would gossip about for snorting lines of cocaine. Aspen wasn't stupid. He knew that
they talked about him when they were playing bingo. Poor boy, they'd say, he'll die from an overdose one day from all those drugs he's
on.

Aspen doesn't give a shit, though. He'll laugh dryly, and take another drag of his cigarette.
He isn't the overprotective brother you read about in romance novels. He wouldn't mind punching a guy in the nose, but he's the type of brother that stumbles into the kitchen, wasted as shit, and claim he only had a
few drinks.

Then, dad would choke out a laugh, and say a few drinks, my ass. Aspen would give him a grin, and tell him that he might still have a couple of brain cells in his head, after all.

Let's just say that dad wasn't happy after
his comment.

Sam: Rory, are you there?

"Carter, are you crying?" Adrian asked.

I didn't give him an answer. I simply wiped my tears. I didn't give Sammuel an answer, either.

"Answer me," he pressed, his Italian accent laced in his words. He had ditched his usual leather jacket for a navy blue tshirt. Due to his exposed arms, his tattoos were on full display. One tattoo, in particular, stood out to me. The name, Idaila was scrawled onto his left forearm.

I frowned. Was that an ex girlfriend of his?

"I have a question for you, Adrian."

"Okay," he crosses his arms across his toned chest, and a lazy smirk on his lips. "Shoot."

I take a deep breath. "Why do you have the name Idalia written on your forearm? Is she your ex girlfriend?"

His eyes immediately turned cold, distant. It was as if water had froze over, leaving solid ice in its wake. He visibly stiffened at my words. "It doesn't matter," was his reply,
devoid of any emotion.

His eyes were empty, vacant. His voice was colder than before. There was a hatred in his words. I guess you could say that he closed off the gates
to his emotions. The gates of hell.

Why did you ask him that?! You overstepped so many boundaries, Aurora!

Before I could reply, I was cut off by a deep voice.
"Adrian Miller, Aurora Carter, can you stop talking for five minutes, so I can begin class? Would that be alright with you two?" Mr. Evans quirked an eyebrow. Giving him a small nod, I slumped
lower into my seat.

For the duration of the period, Adrian wouldn't utter a word to me. He wouldn't even spare me a glance. In his defense, I asked him a question that he wasn't comfortable with. I shouldn't have done that. I'd ignore me, too. I scribbled onto a page of my notebook, and placed it on his desk.

I'm sorry, I had wrote. He let his gaze fall to the folded piece of paper on his desk. To my surprise, he didn't crumble it up. Instead, he turned it over, and left a note of his own.

I'm Adrian, he handed it back. I bit back a grin at his cringey joke. At least he has a sense of humor.

Hey y'all! So, did you like this chapter?  If
you didn't, feel free to tell me why.

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