Aphrodite

The week that Anabel missed school was almost refreshing. I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into with her, but she drained every bit of energy from me, so I was almost happy that she was gone. We didn't have the type of relationship that most would consider normal, we didn't talk for long periods of time and when we did, it was a quick text to let each other know we were still alive and that was that.

“That's pretty messed up,” Christian said, the cold air hitting us as we walked home. It was Friday, officially marking a week since I'd last seen Anabel, and Christian seemed to be concerned about the fact that I, well, wasn't.

“She'll be fine, weren't you the one that told me to stop obsessing over her?” I asked, stopping as the light in front of us turned from a little man to a hand. He pushed me with one hand and rolled his eyes as I lost my balance, almost tumbling onto the road.

“That was before you started dating her,” he said, the tone of his voice telling reflecting the look on his face, both telling me that I'm an idiot.

“We're not dating,” I said, trying to mask the slight disappointment laced into my words. We should be dating, we would by any normal person's standards, but Anabel didn't like to label things and I didn't like to argue with Anabel.

“Go talk to her,” he said as we started crossing the street, parting ways once we reached the other side. I stopped, contemplating whether to go to her house or not, but my brain's logic overtook my heart's concern and I walked back to my house, not looking back.