by Misty Wright
I looked at where our hands were joined together. His thumb had stopped caressing and I looked up only to realize that he was looking straight at me. He must see how red I looked, since he smiled--and that's a thing he rarely does. I listened as his beautiful voice said "If there's something bothering you, you can always tell me."
I don't remember if I nodded or not. All I know is that the next moment he had let go of my hand and I could breathe again. I sucked air into my lungs and it hurt that he didn't seem to feel the connection I felt. I felt like I wanted to scream at him, to tell him then and there that I liked him, so that maybe I could see some reaction on his face. But what would that result in? He would just turn away, shrug it off, and pretend as though nothing had happened. Or worse, he might not be comfortable spending time with me after that.
I dropped the pen I was unconsciously twirling around my fingers and closed my notebook. "Can we continue this tomorrow? I don't feel very well."
Spencer closed the dozens of books in front of him and stashed our project prototype away. "Are you okay?" He reached out a hand probably to check my temperature but I stood up and moved farther away.
"I'm fine. I just--I think I need some rest?" It came out as a question. But that's the best thing I could do, since I feel so terrible right now. I almost want to cry, and I never, ever cry.
"I'll walk you to your room," Spencer offered, falling in step with me as I clutched my bag tightly. I didn't expect him to walk with me and I could feel my every step falling heavier than the last. Does he know? Does he know what I feel? Is he purposefully rubbing it in that we can never be how I want us to be? Because that's the only thing that makes sense considering he seems to be making it hard for me, harder than it already is.
He was checking on me every few steps and it irritates me even more. There was a lump in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. We were almost at my room, that comforting zone where I know he would never be able to hurt me anymore. I reached out inside my bag to get my key, but he grabbed my hand firmly but gently. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?"
"No," I laughed almost hysterically. See, that's the problem Spencer, you never seem to do anything wrong. You seem to know what you're doing. The only problem is that the things that you're doing are making it hard for me to be with you.
He didn't let my hand go, but I tugged at it and he reluctantly did. I fished for the key and inserted it into the lock after so many failed attempts. I wasn't drunk, but I just couldn't put the damn key in. It may be because my hand was shaking too much--I'm too preoccupied to notice. When at last I heard the familiar click, Spencer pushed open the door for me and I quickly stepped inside, holding the door. "You can go now," I told him with the few shreds of sanity I had left. You have to go now, because I don't know how long I can take it anymore.
"Kayleigh--"he started, but I shook my head.
"Just go, please." I hated that my voice broke. I smiled, though bitterly. "I will be fine in the morning."
He stepped back and I choked back the tears that were trying to escape. Just a few seconds more and I can let them free. But not in his presence.
"Are you sure--"
"Just go!" I didn't intend to scream, but it was just so frustrating. He seems eager to make me feel more miserable by the second. And I couldn't take it anymore. "Please."
My voice sounded weak. For a moment I saw a shard of worry run through his face, but that was the last thing I saw before he turned around and walked away without another word. He didn't even look back, not once. I closed the door and leaned on it, my head tipped upwards as I let the tears run their course. I will be fine in the morning. If only that was true.
It had started to rain, and I laughed at myself as I brushed away the tears with the back of my hand. The rain seems to be agreeing with me as it dropped down into a steady drizzle. Just then, I heard a soft, almost undetectable knock that I wondered if it was on my door. But since I was leaning on it, I could feel the vibration the knocks were causing. I stepped away, wondering who it could be. It was late, and most students were asleep already. The knocks came again, then silence. I hesitated.
But it must be urgent. I opened the door and was surprised to see that it was Spencer. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked seething. I didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't speak either. He just stood there looking at me, me looking back, forgetting that my cheeks might still be wet with tears.
He ran his fingers down his hair and let his hand fall on his side limply afterwards. He swallowed, as though it was hard for him to be here. "I couldn't rest until I knew you were fine," he whispered into the empty hallway.
"I'm okay," I lied in a flat tone.
This didn't seem to convince him as he pushed the door open. "Are you sure," he asked, taking a step inside my room.
He stopped just inside and stole a quick look at the space behind me. I could already envision the clothes strewn everywhere, the books in various places, the bed unmade, and my various personal things out in plain sight. It wasn't a sight you wanted the person you liked to see.
"Sorry for the intrusion," he said, his voice notably sadder than usual.
"It's okay. I'm sorry for the mess," I apologized in return. "I didn't think anyone would come here and I haven't had the time to tidy up a bit."
"It doesn't matter," Spencer spoke again, this time taking a few steps forward, towards me. I didn't move, didn't want to invite him any further. I wanted him to leave, to leave me alone. But he didn't seem to notice, as he walked languidly closer to me. "Are you really okay?"
I could feel his hot breath on my face already, and considering my predicament, it was hard to speak. I didn't think he'd buy any lie I'd say at this point anyway, since he would be aware of every inflection, every squirm, every tiny movement that I might do. Instead, I didn't answer.
And it seems he didn't need any. He had stopped walking, since there was nowhere else to walk. He was just an arm's length away from me, or maybe even closer, but I could see his face drawing nearer.
It was a slow, painful, torturous process.
He brought his face nearer and nearer, savoring every second that I anticipated his next move. I hated that I anticipated it, but it was all leading there, wasn't it? Was he going to kiss me? Finally? Was he really going to torture me up to this extent? I didn't think he could be this…cruel.
But he wasn't cruel. Instead, he was sweet, painfully, passionately sweet. His lips brushed against mine, soft and kind. It was so soft that I didn't think our lips really touched. He solved that problem by kissing me once again, this time with a little more force. Above all the emotions jumbled inside me, two stood out. Happiness and sadness. Happiness that he was kissing me with a passion that I almost wanted to drown in, and sadness that it wasn't because he liked me. Because how would he like me when there are other girls who were far better than me in every aspect?
Happiness overpowered sadness as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. He didn't seem to hesitate as he tilted his head and crushed his lips against mine, a low moan escaping his throat. I kissed back as passionately as I could--never bother with the sadness. I would deal with that later on. Right now, all that mattered was that his hands were at the small of my back, pulling me closer, his body fitting against mine perfectly. This felt good. This felt perfect.
We broke apart, catching our breaths, our eyes both alight with fire. I sighed, the sadness already creeping up inside me.
"I'm really sorry if I said something wrong--" he started.
"What? No. You didn't say anything wrong. I just--"
But he didn't let me finish as he pulled me into his arms again and kissed me with a fire that was almost physically scorching where his hands touched me. My senses were acutely aware of his every movement, but a fraction of my mind wondered if the rain had stopped. As I reveled in the warmth of the kiss we were sharing, I heard a painful howl from somewhere in the distance, a pain that
I could almost empathize with.
Spencer pushed me away abruptly, emphasizing the pain that almost made my heart want to stop, though it was running too fast for it to halt suddenly. "I have to go," was the last I heard from him before he dashed out of the room without another look. He looked as though he had made a terrible mistake and couldn't get away from it soon enough.
Chapter 10 - Imagining Things
Physics class was nothing but torture. As I sat beside Spencer trying to listen to what Mr. Landover was saying, all I could really hear was the steady beat of Spencer's foot tapping. It wasn't distracting to the others, since it was just barely noticeable, but it was all I could think about. I gave up trying to write down some notes and just stared at Mr. Landover bleary eyed.
Beside Spencer, Alice was whispering something in his ear. He didn't speak, but he either nodded or shook his head inconspicuously. I hated her, I hated that Spencer was kind to her. Or maybe he wasn't kind at all. Maybe he was just like her, cruel, exacting, and judgmental. It all makes sense. Any sane person wouldn't torture you into believing that they somehow had even the slightest feelings for you only to disappoint you. And what a convenient timing that was last night, when we were mid-kiss and he suddenly left. I could feel the familiar loathing I feel for him coming to the surface already.
As the bell rang, I hurriedly collected my things and made for the door.
"Kayleigh, wait." As expected, he was going to talk to me as if nothing happened. How many times had he done this to me already?
I didn't want to stop, but several of our classmates had lingered on the doorway and blocked my way.
"About last night I--"
"No." I cut him off. "I know what you're doing Spencer."
"What?" his voice wasn't as calm as usual and he looked genuinely confused.
"I know what you're trying to do. And I won't be a victim." I won't be someone who begs for you to pay me any attention. And I certainly won't be one who helplessly waits for you to notice me. I know what you're going to say. That last night was a mistake, or something similar. "Don't even bother."
He stood there speechless as I finally made my way out of the room, wondering where to go without bumping into any of his friends. Lunch was not an option, since they would all be there at this time. I'll just have to hole up in my room for an hour or two until it's safe to get myself some food. I should start getting some food stacked up inside my room just in case.
One o'clock passed. It was time. My hunger had passed, but I had to get something to eat, since dinner wouldn't be coming anytime soon. I should get some snacks for when it's already late. I chuckled, realizing that it was easy to avoid them. I looked at the corridors before I left the room. The coast was clear. I walked quickly, eager to get back inside as soon as possible.
The trip was a blur, and when I entered the cafeteria with a meal already in mind, I was determined that all would go on as expected. However, when I heard someone clear his throat from behind me, I knew that my plan had been busted already.
"Kayleigh," he said simply.
I tried to ignore Spencer, concentrating on the food I was going to get. He was insistent, and he brushed his hand against my forearm, which, of course, had the desired effect. I snapped. "What the hell?"
A few students looked at us, but they looked away quickly.
"Please talk to me," he said in a hushed tone, nervousness lacing his voice.
"There's nothing to talk about." It was my turn at the counter and I recalled the order I had been chanting inside my head without difficulty. It must just be me, but the waiter seemed to be preparing my order extra slow today. I waited impatiently, already imagining my room and the long walk I would have to endure. Now that Spencer has found me, I don't know how I'd get rid of him.
"We have to talk," he insisted, his voice growing unbearably cold. "Look, I'm sorry about last night--"
"Of course you are, Spencer. You must be regretting every minute of it."
"No. That's not--Kayleigh--"
"Something wrong, Spence?" I heard Alice's irritatingly chirpy voice from outside the cafeteria but I didn't bother to check. I know she would be smirking evilly at me, and I don't want to give her that satisfaction.
"Nothing," Spencer answered flatly.
"I'll wait for you outside. Be quick, dear," Alice mentioned, certainly for my purpose. She was telling me that she had won. That Spencer was hers and that I should back off. Oh, sure. You can have him, bitch.
Spencer let out an exasperated sigh. "Will you speak with me later?"
"If you mean you're going to knock on my door helpless and sad, the answer's no. Just hurry and tend to Alice's problems, will you? She gets more and more irritating as you let her wait."
With one long look in my direction, Spencer left in a hurry. You see? I'm not imagining that Alice and he are an item. Just look at how obedient he is to her. It's sickening, actually. He's a man, for crying out loud. And Alice seems to be holding the reigns. No wonder he's regretting what he had done last night. For a moment I felt sad for him, but then again, he has a choice. If he doesn't like how she's treating him, he could just end it. He had done that before, so why can't he do it again? And why did he even get back with her in the first place?
### Much as I didn't want to meet with Spencer, I had no choice. We were the only two who had any concern for our projects, and though I know he could finish everything off on his own, I wouldn't allow myself to be viewed as someone who just lets others do things for her. If I can help with the project, I will. There's no changing that.
"Let's finish this quickly," I announced as soon as I dropped my bag on the chair beside me and sat down on the seat farthest from him.
He sighed, pushing a book towards my direction. "There are some revisions."
"Yeah," I answered without much interest. I studied what he had pointed out and wrote it down in my notebook. I have to admit, this is helping me focus on my studies. At least with the tension between us, I could improve my grades. At least there's a consolation in all this.
We continued working silently, separately, as the hours passed. It was already eleven thirty and I was growing tired. I still had a lot of things to do, and I was determined to finish my share so that this would be the last meeting we would have.
"You're still not going to talk to me, are you?" he asked out of the blue. He looked up from what he was doing and waited for my response.
I finished with my tasks and pushed it towards him. "I'm done. If you don't mind, I'd like to rest now." I stood up and collected my bag, ready to leave the room. I still needed him to check what I have done to make sure that there were no problems. I waited.
He looked at my notes, and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. I wanted to ask if he found some problems, because if he didn't tell me, I know he would solve them on his own. He flipped from page to page without saying anything. He didn't even bother talking to me, which was good.
As he was halfway on my notes, he stopped and wiped the sweat that had collected on his forehead. I also noticed his hand shaking a bit. "I'm sorry. It might take a while to finish this. You can go ahead and rest now."
I didn't move. "No, I want the revisions now if there are any." I didn't want to meet with him again. The sooner this is over, the better. I'm pretty confident with what I had done anyway. Spencer looked at me, but his eyes looked lifeless. I noticed that even his neck was sweaty, and he was shaking visibly now. "Are you okay?" I asked, though I made sure that he wouldn't mistake my concern as forgiveness.
"Yes," he answered weakly. He looked paler than usual and he seemed to be unable to keep himself straight. "I'll just leave it on your chair tomorrow, okay?" he finished with a weak, almost lifeless smile.
I hesitated, but he looked so terrible that I had to step in. I put a hand on his forehead and sure enough, he was hot with fever. He was shivering too. I panicked when I realized how high his fever must be. "You're not okay!"
"Call Evan," he attempted to s
tand up, but instead he collapsed on his chair and lost consciousness, his head landing on his hand on the table.
"Spencer!" I shouted for help, but since it was already late, we were the only people in the cafeteria.
### I didn't know where Evan's room was. All I know was that it was opposite Reid's room, and since Reid was the president, he must be at the first room in the East Wing; that must mean Evan was the occupant at room number two. I took my chances and knocked as urgently as I could. There was noise inside and I knocked again, this time louder. I might have woken up a few of the other boys on the nearby rooms, but I didn't care. The image of Spencer unconscious in the cafeteria kept reappearing in my head.
"Evan, please open up!"
Evan finally opened up and I barely had time to register the naked upper torso and the wet hair before I blurted out that his brother was unconscious. "Please, let's go!"
He didn't need any persuading. Though he wasn't as panicked as I expected him to be, he did seem concerned. We both ran to the cafeteria where I asked the attendant to check on Spencer while I ran for help. He was just as I had left him. "Spencer," I called, shaking him gently, but to no avail.
"Spence?" Evan tried, but still no answer. He didn't hesitate to put Spencer's arm around his shoulders and dragged him up. "Kayleigh, I need your help."
Spencer was taller than Evan, and Evan's body also seemed thinner than his older brother's, so it was impossible for him to be able to carry him on his own. I helped, putting one of Spencer's burning arms around me. The challenge was climbing up the stairs with Spencer's weight dragging us down, but we were both determined to save him. We might not be okay, but I didn't want anything bad to happen to him.
"We have to call a doctor," I suggested as Evan struggled to open his door. Thank God his room was just at the top of the stairs.