Crazy in Love

This time when I wake up, I feel so much better, it's almost too good to be true
Lunch time arrived quickly. The canteen fills with life instantly - I don't know how people manage to get there so fast, but they do. I enter the packed, hot room and look round at the many faces. The air smells of many foods, and I hear all kinds of voices. My mobile buzzes in my pocket, so I take it out. I have a txt:

Come 2 the front. J xx

I find Joyce at the front of the queue right away and we grab our food. For me, it's a tuna cucumber sandwich. Not just because of my healthy-eating rule, but also because I simply adore tune and cucumber sandwiches. Joyce and I found a table near the back of the room and sat down to begin eating peacefully, although the life and loudness around us wasn't exactly as serene as how we were feeling.

"Hey girls." James greeted us, taking a seat next to Joyce, opposite me.

We both spare him a smile in the middle of our food, but don't say anything. We think nothing of it. …But James was waiting for something. To be acknowledge. To have some attention... I take a nice bite of my sandwich and enjoy the taste, the texture, and the process of my hungry stomach being filled.

"So Ally - I was just wondering, when would you like to start study sessions?" James naturally starts the conversation.

I smile and shrug, "Whenever we can, really."

James does that thing with his glasses again; I want to slap his hand down, but I know I won't, "Well I can't do tomorrow; I'm helping my mum sort out the rest of the house. Boxes and stuff - we made it official. So... how's about Wednesday, after school? We can get the bus together back to my house."

I nod agreeably, "Sounds fine. Thanks, James. It means a lot to me - you helping me out and all."

"That's what friends are for." He goofily smiles back and then tucks into his own food.

"Alright everyone?" A new, charming voice interrupts.

We all look up. Warren is standing over us, holding one of the trays in his arms. His eyes meet mine; we smile. Not just any smile, but a smile of knowledge, of forgiveness - sensuality. There's no friction from what happened at the party, or my reaction to hearing his voice in the background when I phoned Joyce. I don't think Joyce would have told him, but he must have caught on when I hung up.

"... Hi." I softly say, keeping my eyes on him.

He sits down next to me; I feel all tingly, "Hi."

James and Joyce watch us quietly, although there's not much to watch. We look quite casual, really, although my stomach was bubbling vaguely. I'm relieved there's no tension between us. I mean, I have no reason to be annoyed at him - but he could be angry at me, for having left the party like that. I guess him knowing I'm ok is all that matters?

"Hey Warren," James calls him; he looks up, "No hard feelings about the drink on Friday, right?"

Joyce and I instantly look up at this. Something in James' voice sounds... patronising? No, it couldn't be. James isn't like that. But then, why did it catch Joyce and I so suddenly?

"Course not, mate..." Warren stiffly replies; I can't help but feel that he's finding it difficult to speak, "accidents happen."

Lunch finishes as quickly as it had started. My last period is Gymnastics, which I adore. We go through routines, while our teacher walks round to each of all 5 of us (such a small class, I know, but gymnastics isn't very popular here) and gives us individual constructive criticism and directions. My teacher told me I needed to be taller, and find more control of my balance. Dammit. It's still the balance that I have a problem with. I can't understand it.

So, in that case, I make sure to stay behind an extra hour after school to get some practise done. My teacher tells me she's pleased that I'm showing dedication and determination, and that if I keep it up I'll have a good chance at winning the competition. This gives me confidence and faith.

As I walk the walk, arms out like wings, finger tips trembling, sweat beads running down my temple, back and chest, I stare ahead at the grey back of the horse I'm standing on. For you who aren't familiar with the names of gymnastic equipment, a horse is the long, soft block on which we walk and perform spins, flips and tricks. You'll know what I mean if you see one.

But I'm doing that thing again - concentrating so hard on concentrating that, in fact, I actually can't concentrate. It's a vicious circle. I huff heavily and go for it. One, two, next foot, four, spin, arms back, forwards and -flip-. I land on my feet strong, but my arms waver, flap about, causing my torso to wriggle, and therefore send a wave of imbalance down to my legs. I'm too far over to the right; my body leans and I'm soon falling.

I hit the blue ground, yet again, on all fours. I grit my teeth furiously and slam my fists into the mat to vent my frustration and strong displeasure in failing so constantly. Why can't I get it? What's so wrong with me?

"Having a bad day?" Warren's voice echoes into the still hall.

I look over; there he stands in the gap of the benches which have been pushed back against the wall. The doors are closed behind him. I lean back onto my legs and sniff, wiping the back of my hand against my hot forehead.

"Actually... no." I admit breathlessly.

He unfolds his arms and starts walking toward me, "Which makes it more frustrating?"

I stand up to meet him, "Indeed, master Yoda."

He snickers and passes a glance to the ceiling, perhaps of slight amusement, or embarrassment, I can't really tell right now. Perhaps both, actually. We stop with just a few centre-metres keeping the space between us. For the first five or ten seconds, we don't say anything, we just exchange smiles that state how we expect one of us to speak first. They're flirtatious smiles, but nothing too obvious.

Warren decides to say something, but comes out with this: "You look good up there."
I raise a playful eyebrow. He closes his eyes, to hold a finger up, which he bobs in the air as he tries to think. I want to laugh, but that'll make it too easy for him - I want him to explain.

"I mean," He sighs, also trying not to laugh, "you've got skills."

We don't last much longer; we both hiss and snort as our laughs dribble out through our tight lips. He rubs his forehead, I rub my shoulder, fidgeting through my nerves. Then Warren's behaviour changes... his eyes lock upon the shoulder which I'm rubbing, and he lowers his hand. I don't notice much yet, until his eyes flicker back and forth from my eyes and my skin.

"What?" I chuckle, looking quite clueless.

He licks his bottom lip; does that body language signify annoyance? I follow his gaze down and spot the love-bites. And the big bastard bite mark which has dry dots of blood. I whip my head up and go to speak, but Warren just smirks; he isn't really pleased.

"I actually... I came here to ask if you wanted to go for a coffee or something... but, uh," he pauses and gives another snicker; he thinks he's made a fool of himself, "I guess you and James started something Friday night. Joyce said you slept at his house in the end... Guess I know why, now."

I was horrified,"No, Warren, it's not"-

"It's ok," Warren shrugs, smiling sweetly, "You don't have to deny it. I won't say anything. Your business is your business- I just... damn... I'm gonna' go."

Why wasn't I interrupting him? Telling him to shut up and let me explain? He doesn't really want to be around me much longer. I can understand that. As far as he knows, he's come to ask me on a date, but I'm already involved with another guy - James. For him, that's rejection, and an awkward one too. But it's not like that! I have to tell him it's not like that, or else I'll stand no chance with him!

"It wasn't James!" I blurt out desperately.

Warren looks at me like I'm an even bigger whore, "... Ok."

Then he turns to go, but I step up to the table. It's now or never. I've never had any luck with guys, and the one time when I have a chance, it's going downhill? No way. I won't allow it.

"It was Matt!" I call out anxiously.

Warren glances back at me in surprise and laughs, "Two?"

I stomp my foot silently in frustration, "No! None! I pushed Matt away...!"

"Ok, sure - I don't need details, it's fine really..." Warren uncomfortably explained a she approached the doors.

He still wasn't getting it. He wasn't understanding that I had no pleasure or will-power in the situation. What did I have to do to get him to realise??

"Warren, would you just take the hint?!" I snap angrily and stop walking in defeat, "He forced it on me, ok?? I don't even like him and he tried it - he tried and kept going even though I said no! Are you happy now - making me say it? Do you like to hear me sound like something pathetic damsel??"

Warren has stopped, now. He's just standing there, still, in front of the doors. What's he doing? I twiddle my fingers nervously. I don't want to tell him what happened - if I can just make him understand. I don't want to cry out for help... I can handle myself.

Warren finally turns round and stares at me; his gaze is dry, "Matt. The guy with the bruising on his face. Was that from you?"

Oh CRAP! Now I look like some sort of -violent- whore, not just a plain whore. I was just digging a hole for myself the entire time.

I tighten the right corner of my lips in guilt, "I know, it looks bad... but it was self-defence. I'm not a violent perso"-

I cut myself off and roll my eyes. Just get to the point, girl, for goodness sakes. You're making a tit of yourself. Warren just looked so... dark. Was he believing a word?

I look down at the floor to take a break from my silly rambling, "What I'm saying is... I'd love to go for coffee with you. And I can. Because James and I - we're just friends, nothing more. And that's all we'll ever be... Warren? Will you look at me?" I ask him worriedly; his eyes are now on the floor.

"Why are you explaining yourself to me?" Warren gives an angry chuckle, "That wanker deserves more than just a little bruise on his face."

Oh boy. I'm so relieved that Warren believes me... but now, by seeing the dangerous sparkler in his eyes - the sparkle which could mean nothing more or less than a desire for revenge - I panic.

I rush up to him eagerly, "You're not gonna' say anything are you?"

Warren watches me as he tries to decide upon an answer. I can see it in his pretty eyes, the anger, the hate. Such pretty eyes shouldn't be filled with those emotions. Great. What had I done? Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut?

"If you don't want me to..." Warren whispers intensely, "Then I won't. But you should want me to. You should want me to kick the living shit out of him, you know that? You'd rather keep quiet to save a scene than give him what he deserves?"

I shake my head sadly, "I don't care. Bad people get their come-uppance sooner or later. I just don't want people to know... I've had a lot going on here; all the gossiping about what happened at my house and what not. I don't want something else. I have to focus on my studies and practise for the competition, which is only 27 days away. I just- I just can't be bothered with it."

Warren still looks angry, "But I can. Why didn't you just tell me straight away?"
I shook my head with embarrassment, "I just... I didn't want to moan about it, I guess."

"Moan about it??" Warren scoffs in disapproval, "Ally - it's harassment - the guy basically -attacked- you in the eyes of the law, and mine. You have a right to moan! He deserves a fuckin' smack!"

I place my hand on his chest, "-No-. Warren, please. I told you this through trust... don't make me regret it."

Warren sighs. His left hand rises and his finger tips caress the love-bites on my shoulder very sensitively. I look down at his hand, then follow up his arm, all the way to his face. We both smile at each other - it means a lot.

"Fine," Warren nods, "But if he does anything else..."-

"He won't," I snap pleadingly, "Trust me... he's got the message."

Warren gives another vague nod to show he understands and will obey my wishes. His finger tips start to perform larger strokes and move up my neck, to my cheek. I can't believe this is happening already. I mean, we haven't even been on this date for coffee yet, and still... I think we might be about to kiss?

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnggggggggggggg!

Suddenly, water bursts out from the fire-sprinklers on the ceiling above us and it's as though we're outside in a rainstorm. Warren and I both yell out in surprise, then look all around, confused and alarmed.

"It must be a real fire!" I exclaim, "The care-taker never puts the sprinklers on in a drill!

Warren grabs my hand, "Come on; let's go!"

And together, we rush out of the large hall and turn into the corridor. Seeing as it's only about 20 minutes after school, there're still a few students still around, either from after-school clubs, detention, or just dawdling. I'm in nothing but my leotard and feel very embarrassed, but sweet Warren removes his grey cardigan and lets me wear it; it comes down to just above my thighs, so that I'm mostly covered up except my legs. Great. I just hope my stuff will be ok.

~~~Ally... what are you doing to me? How could you be so close to Warren? I was watching her the whole time... they would have kissed if it wasn't for me. If I hadn't stepped in and saved Ally from making a huge mistake. God, that Warren needs to know where he stands. Watching her like that - touching her. It makes me so fucking angry. She's mine! No one else's!

I know Ally didn't want to stand there and kiss him. But after what I overheard... that sick Matthew Taylor... she must have felt frightened. She was scared that if she pushed him away, he'd be the same as Matt and just force her. That's why she lied to him and told him we're just friends. She was scared to tell him that there's something going on, in case he made it 'rough' too. My poor Ally. She's going through too much; she has to get her scholarship-

-... and move away from me?

That's... not good. I don't want her to go. Well, I'll just have to go with her then. She'll be thrilled. She'll feel so lucky that she's found a guy who's so dedicated and willing to give up his dreams for her.

But first thing's first. I need to have a word with Matthew Taylor. He needs to know that what he did was more than wrong. Don't worry Ally, I'll protect you - better than that cheesy Warren ever could.~~~