I Don't Want to Fall in Love... With You

The shrill shriek of my daily reminder of school woke me up and then so did the thump of Emily's fist on the door. She opened it not a second later, make-up already applied and slipping on boots to go with her outfit.

        She rolled her eyes.

        "Here you thought I'd be the one with hangover." She chucked me a collection of clothes I had stored in the drawer. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast.”

        "You're far too chipper in the morning."

        "And you're too grouchy." She stuck her tongue out at me as she closed the door, loudly, might I add. The noise reverberated in my ears, making me wince.

        Knowing she'd go off on me if I didn't do as she said, I got out of bed. I'd slept in yesterday's clothes, so I felt kind of gross and took the clean ones with me to the restroom. The consisted of a smiley kitten-covered sweater and rainbow leggings. So immature, I know, but there was no disputing they were comfy.

        I eyed myself in the mirror, consciously patting down my hair. Surprisingly, it was being complacent today, the golden strands falling into place as soon as I roughed it up a bit.

        As I dabbed on a little face powder and winged eyeliner, I briefly pondered why I bothered.

        I mean, Emily could never be upstaged, not that it was an idea I had. No, I just... people never noticed me when I stood next to her, if you know what I mean. She was perfect.

        Nothing really stood out about me. I was pretty, I wasn't completely oblivious, with plump kissable lips and a button nose – but other than that, I didn't offer much. I guess my personality had to be stellar.

        Sighing, I collected my stuff and made a beeline for the door. As soon as I was out, I crashed into a muscular body.

        "Oops, sorry! I'm in such a rush, I..." I trailed off, as I met the gaze of Mr Quinn.

        Which was hard to do, believe me. As much as I knew it was the smartest thing to do, I was still inexplicably drawn to his chest. Going by how hard I hit, I was certain it was still in good shape under that shirt, despite him no longer being a massive gym rat.

        Blushing noticeably, I traced a line on the floor with the tip of my shoe.

        "Mr Quinn, I..." I began, but his smile stopped me short.

        "No need to apologize to me, Anya. I think I heard my daughter cursing your name downstairs so it's best you join her, yes?"

        I was agape. "Y-yeah, I guess."

        Blinking fast, I used the next few seconds to push past and head for the stairs. Yet, as I landed on the third, my mind was yelling at me to turn and address him some more.

        In spite of my wishes, I hadn't forgotten last night – had he?

        Some things were better off left in the past, cast aside. I didn't know which category he came under. I was clueless too, mind you, but I wasn't going to pretend we didn't have to talk about it.

        "Elijah?"

        "Hmm?"

        He was hovering by the bannister, eyeing me go down. He was taking in the scenery, imagining me there, in the place only he could enter. I wasn't a mind reader, but I'd be a fool not I know he wasn't thinking about something. I guess it just mattered what it was about.

        Only fools would linger on dead memories... and the foolish was all that remained here.

        Elijah had never been an open window, but when he was standing above me, eyes scattering; the curtains were pulled back.

        I smiled softly and shook my head.

        "Not important. Have a good day at work." Turning, I descended the rest of the steps. I had to put him out of my mind by the time I greeted Emily in the kitchen.

        She piqued an eyebrow.

        "You took your time, drunky. Here, eggs-over-easy, as you like them." Grinning, she placed the sandwich in my hands and kissed the top of my head. She said she would be waiting for me in the car.

        I wolfed it down, thanking my best friend for her awesome cooking skills. I almost moaned when the yolk burst into liquid joy.

        Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I dashed for the front door. However, before I tugged the handle down, I reasoned with myself that I was only looking back so I could gain some form of closure.

        When I did, I guess I was only slightly delighted when I immediately locked on Elijah's body, still draped over the wood. Although he had his mobile in hand and spoke clear and authoritively, his eyes of the purest abyss were trained on me, unable to focus on one area in particular.

        Things were different, I told myself, as I slammed the door behind me. By the time I was buckling myself into my best friend's car, my mind was telling me everything I wanted to hear.

        Elijah didn't want to remember last night... but I knew it wasn't for the right reasons, either.