Calamity

The school day seems to last for ages. Usually I can manage to forget the time and focus well-enough, but today everything is droning on in a torturous way. When the final bell does ring, I nearly throw myself out with the students, but manage to catch myself before I make too much of a spectacle.

I gather the papers I still hadn’t manage to get graded, a book almost completely void of lesson plans, and my bag before starting the trek out to my car. My eyes feel heavy as I walk and I contemplate forgoing marking up papers tonight so I could spend the whole time lying in bed. It sounds sad, but that’s how I’ve felt lately: sad. The energy to do something I’ve never really minded isn’t there right now.

Like before, when I’d been corned in Dr. Deaton’s backroom, there are too many emotions swarming around in my system. It’s hard for me to distinguish between what’s real and rational, and what’s supposed to be there. They all press down on my chest till all their fingers are pushing through the cage of my ribs and clutching my heart. I think I feel when they squeeze.

A loud honk and the sound of squealing tires startles me out of my thoughts. Wide eyed, I snap my head to the left and just manage to jump out of the way of a sleek black car. My brain doesn’t even register that it’s quite familiar at that time; I’m trying to push away the fingers now gripping my heart much too hard and attempting to remember how to breathe normally.

I grip a fistful of my shirt while stumbling back a few paces. Someone gets out of the car and slams the door, but I don’t see who it is. My eyes are bleary as they stare down at the concrete now.

“Why the hell didn’t you get out of the way?”

Fingertips trail all over me as the voice pricks my hearing. Then one places itself underneath my chin and tilts my head up. My eyes are met with the green gaze of Derek Hale. I almost frown.

“Are you alright?” He asks, expression a little frantic. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I need to sit down,” I manage out.

I’m surprised when Derek helps me down onto the steps of the school and eases my things out of my hands. However, I don’t ask him about his courteous behavior. I’m trying to taking deeper breaths so my head will stop spinning, but it’s not working and it makes me sick to have my eyes open.

“Is this a panic attack?” comes his deep voice.

My fingers thread themselves into my hair, gripping the roots tightly as I lurch forward and press my forehead to my knees. Everything is spinning, even with my orbs shut, and my breaths are just becoming more labored. Images of all kinds are reeling through my mind like a never-ending slideshow. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

A gargled sob pushes out from somewhere inside me, followed by several short gasps that fail at helping me get some more oxygen into my system. I clutch harder at my hair while pressing my chest farther into my thighs. I don’t know what else to do.

Then, suddenly, arms are encasing me. They pull me into a warm chest as a big hand comes up to untangle my fingers from my strands and cradle the back of my head. I am held tightly, so I can’t do any more damage to myself, and am allowed to hide my face away.

I know it’s Derek who is holding me so strongly, but I don’t think about that now. I just clutch onto him for dear life because it seems like all that will keep me sane.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs lowly. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

I grip him tighter and shove myself farther into his sturdy body. He holds me just as tightly as I am doing him and it feels nice. I think he might be forcing the pieces that had been at risk of falling off back together, but I’m not sure. I still feel like I’m on the brink of tumbling off a cliff.

Minutes pass, I think, before I am able to think properly again. That’s when I fully grasp who is holding me and how I am really feeling. Underneath the chaos is something even scarier: a deep affection that makes my fingertips burn and my stomach bubble with a low ache.

When I pull my head back, Derek peers down at me with furrowed brows. His jade eyes study me for a few seconds and I think he’s going to wipe away a piece of hair that had blown into my gaze, but he pulls away before I can feel his skin against mine anymore.

I remember his threat, the promise of my death should I seek him out again, and it chills me with a quick shudder down my spine. Quickly, I wipe at my eyes and try to fix my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, unable to look at him.

Bending down, I gather my things again and fix the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I manage to make it all the way around Derek before a big hand is gently gripping my elbow.

“Rosalie,” he calls softly. “I came here to talk to you.”

Turning, I frown at him. “Why?”

“Because I… What you did for me… I think I at least owe you an explanation,” he explains.

For a second I wonder if this is a trick—if he’s using this new polite and caring attitude as a rouse that would lure me into a false security, keeping me relaxed just before he sunk his teeth into my jugular. Again, that tingle trickles its way down my spine. I frown once more.

Taking a step back, I shift the strap of my bag on my shoulder again and peer up at him. He stares down at me with an expression that I think is a mix of concern and hope. I furrow my brows as I try to look harder.

Derek sighs.

“It’s just a conversation, Rosalie.”

“Yea, but you said—“

“Things were different then,” he interrupts.

I don’t know what to do. The idea of talking to Derek finally makes adrenaline surge through my body, resulting in my brain whipping up close to a thousand questions that I’ve managed to gather in the span of time since everything has happened. But is it smart? Should I go with Derek? We’d be alone, probably, and if he did want to harm me, there would be no way that I could fight against the big brute of a man impatiently waiting before me.

Finally, I decide I’m too scared. This Derek is different from the one who I grew up with. He’s angrier, meaner and calloused when it comes to feeling things. People like that are unpredictable. I want so badly to get answers—I think it will help me rest better and calm my nerves—but I don’t think getting them from Derek is a good idea.

“I can’t,” I murmur, taking a few steps back. “I’ve got papers to grade.”

“You want to know what happened, don’t you? To Laura?”

My head snaps up from where my gaze had wandered down to the tips of my shoes. Derek has his eyebrows raised and his green eyes wide. But I know this look. He’d used it many times to win me over when I was on the edge about giving him something that he wanted (usually something reckless and dangerous and probably illegal). I wasn’t immune to it now, but the trust that pushed me over that cliff isn’t here anymore. It’s in pieces between us, some under his foot and some bleeding in my hand as I scramble to hold onto them.

“I don’t trust you,” I whisper.

“I don’t trust you either,” he sighs.

“Then why are we even talking?”

It doesn’t make sense. My brain can’t work out how either one of us can even consider being in the same vicinity as the other. Trust was everything to both of us and without it, our relationship was nothing.

“I…” he scrambles for a second, flicking his gaze here and there. “You saved my life. I don’t like being in debt to anyone.”

My heart scales up a few notches in beating when I lock my eyes with his. I think I’m searching for a sign that I’ll be safe with him in their depths, but I end up finding what I need in the way my body warms at being near him. While my thoughts are the farthest thing from telling me to go with my old friend, the slow ache growing in the pit of my stomach is practically pushing me into his arms.

So I nod and let him open the passenger door for me.