Reaching You

I sighed as Haven left. At least he’s nice, well when he’s not being cold, obviously. Maybe he’s just trying to be cooperative. He’s actually fun to talk to as well. It kind of reminds me of Laine before, well, before I told him…

I cuddled into my blankets and tried to will myself to sleep. But I rolled back around, my chest hurting again. I hate remembering the rejection. I hate that I haven’t gotten over it. It seems stupid, I know. But four years was a long time to me. It was a long time to love someone for a teenager. And in the end, I got nothing, not even a kiss. It probably would’ve been better if I had loved someone other than my best friend because then I wouldn’t be as concerned with losing him. Maybe then I wouldn’t have hung onto the illusion that he could ever love this ugly body, this tainted soul. I remembered how, awhile back, I didn’t know if I could handle him being with someone else while I loved him so much. Knowing that anyone else was good enough but not me. But then it became common, he was always with some girl. And, very rarely another guy.

When I fell asleep it was around three or four in the morning. I just couldn’t bring myself to sleep. I was thinking way too much.

In world events I took my seat behind Amanda and next to Haven while Laine took the seat diagonally from me, next to Amanda.

“Did you do the editing, Laine?” Haven asked. I didn’t know if I was the only one who noticed, but Haven sounded kind of cold, distant in a way. Not that he seemed like a people person anyways.

“Yeah, printed and everything. Amanda did the design in her web design class,”

“Does this mean we’re done for the rest of the week?” Amanda asked the teacher.

“Well, let me read over it,” Amanda handed her the paper. I got nervous as she read over my handiwork, afraid that she might not like it. Or that it might not be good enough.

“Hey, Skyler, did you sleep any last night? Your eyes have circles beneath them,” I looked, surprised, at Haven. I mean, I would’ve expected Amanda to say something, but not really Haven. He just seems kind of… detached.

“Uh… yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. If I could let go of the past, I would be fine, but I can’t because I’m stupid and-

As I was thinking… again… a note from Haven landed on my desk. I opened it. Can we talk later? It read. I wasn’t afraid to speak with him alone, I was just nervous.

I wrote back, saying yes and where to meet. He quickly scribbled that we should meet at his house and that he’d give me a ride.

“Yeah, your paper looks good, really good, actually. Just finish up your worksheets and you’re done for the week,” the teacher said. I gave a small smile knowing that I’d done well.

*~*~*~*~*

I met up with Haven after school at the front entrance. “My mom said I could stay until seven.”

We got into his car and he took off. “So, I see that we did pretty well on that paper. I commend you on your writing skills.”

“Y-You too.” I looked at him and his eyes caught my interest. They were kind of red. I don’t know what that meant but I thought it was kind of weird. I didn’t really think he was the type to cry though, but that’s what it seemed like.

“This seems weird, doesn’t it,” he suddenly said.

“What does?” I asked.

“We hardly know each but we’re hanging out like this,” he chuckled.

“I wouldn’t say that necessarily true…” I spoke softly. “You seem like you’re nice, but you kind of seem like you want to cover it up.”

“I’m not nice,” he growled.

I was quiet for a little while before I mumbled a little apology.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…”

“See?” I said, almost feeling smug, and smiling.

He sighed, defeated. “I’m not usually nice, at all. I must be tired.”

“Too tired to be mean?” I chuckled a bit. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“So, are Amanda and Laine…”

“What? No, Laine’s… a man whore, to make it as simple as possible,” I said, feeling a pang of pain in my chest at that remark. I knew it was true, but it still kind of hurt. Was I really not over him yet? Well, I know I’m over loving him, but I didn’t know if I was over with the hurt of the rejection.

“I see.”

We pulled into the driveway of his house and went in. As we went to the kitchen, we ran into a man who looked at Haven before asking, “Did you finish your homework?”

Haven grit his teeth before handing over a test. I looked in awe at his score. It was a ninety-seven in AP world history.

His dad took a look at the score and furrowed his brow. My parents always congratulated me whenever I got an A in an AP class without examining which questions I missed. But yet Haven’s father was flipping through the test and then he said, “How could you not have known what the Delian League did?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” He apologized.

“Can you tell me what they did?”

Haven bit his lip. “They… fought the Persians…?”

His dad grunted some kind of approval before returning his test.

I sat down on Haven’s bed once we were in his room. He stowed away his test. “So… what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“I…” He took a deep breath before saying, “I was wondering if… you were… doing drugs.”