Finding Sloane Winters Crazy

Sloane Erin Mallory Winters
Glastonbury College for Girls
Visual Arts College Captain
Edelstein (Burgundy) House Captain
Student No #13783

"Tell me..."

His stare penetrates through me, and I nearly forget what I was going to say.

I look away immediately, and repeat. "Tell me about your dad."

There's that look again, the murderous, treacherous, unframed look, but this time, it's only in his eyes, he's more composed, and he looks away. Shaking his head.

I sigh, brushing damp hair from my face, "Why won't you tell me?"

"You don't need to know."

"You can't keep it all inside yourself for your whole life." I insist.

"Who says you're going to be here my whole life?"

That one stings me, it's true, nobody knows if I'll stay with him my whole life, but it's like he's saying he doesn't want me to be there. I'm only for now.

He notices my wince, and sighs himself, "Look Sloane, I just don't want to talk about it, al--"

"Um, h-hey Teak."

He shuts up immediately, and we both look at the source of the voice.

There's six or so year nine girls giggling, a redhead in the middle blushing as red as her hair, she shoots a glare at her friends, before turning shy again.

"Hey," he says slowly.

I look away, stare at the trees, try to ignore them.

What? You thought you could have him all to yourself?

This was going to happen sometime. He was undeniably attractive, tall, brooding and intimidating-- of course. And sometime, someday, someone would have plucked up the courage to say hello to him.

Someone would be brave, say hello to him, talk to him, hell, even flirt with him?

But how would he react?

Would he say hello back? Would he smirk? Would he ignore them?

And I realized, that I'd never seen him around other people (not including Riley, teachers, or my own friends) and how he'd react to them. Because maybe he didn't like other people? No. I was selfish, I wanted him to myself, I kept him to myself.

Because I was afraid of losing him.

Afraid of him slipping out of my life, just as easily as he slipped into it.

Why was I afraid of losing him?

Was it because I've already lost my mother? I'm nearly on my way to losing my father, with the way he's been all mopey and never calling?

Was it because I loved him?

Something tickles my hand, it's his hand, and it's just as smooth as his voice, as smooth as his hair, as smooth as his lips. I look at him.

What? I ask with my eyes.

His black brows raise, and his head tilts slightly towards the direction where the year nine girls are skipping away, the redhead looking embarrassed.

"What did you say?" I ask with my voice this time.

"That I was talking to you." he responds quietly, tugging at my school shirt, his knuckles brush the bare skin of my stomach, and I'm tingling.

Scowl, look away and say, "Why would you say that?"

He gaze is level, "Because I was."

I opened my mouth to retort, but there's nothing to say.

His stare says it all.

He looks at his watch suddenly, "C'mon, we've got five minutes left." He stands up, offering his hand to me.

I take it hesitantly, unsure if that if he touches me again that I'd get the weird feeling again. It's there, and my shoulders jerk slightly.

"Are you alright?" His eyebrows furrow, bending down to pick up my bag and handing it to me. I take it, and nod.

"Sure?" he says again, and his palm rests on my waist, and my eyes widen a fraction.

"I'm fine." I snap, although it doesn't sound as strong as I wanted it to be.

He smirks, "Okay then." He's tugging me forward, towards the Language and Science building.

I breath in deeply, and exhale.

His hands are like the comfort of shade.