Boys Will Be Boys

Chapter Ten

Author's Note:

Okay, I know I'm posting so much quicker than I normally do, which is weird for me, obviously, but I'm just so excited about it. Anyways, vote, fan, comment, etc! <3

xoxo,

Q.

I don’t like the way Alana is looking at me. 

Her smile is too wide and her eyes are twinkling mischievously. I just know she’s up to something.

The past few days haven’t been easy.

Being stuck in the hospital, I didn’t really have anything to distract me, so I was forced to think, which I didn’t like, because my mind was just crowded with images of Emery all day.

Which was fucking annoying.

The worst part about it is that I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind that every waking minute of my day was filled with thoughts of Emery Scott. Not only that; I dreamt about him too. Now that I was sleeping again—due to my decrease in stubbornness and the sleeping pills my doctor was giving me—my nights were consumed with hazy dreams of the silver-eyed boy.

And it was exhausting.

It was exhausting trying to convince myself that it wasn’t important, so I gave up. I stopped fighting and let myself realize that for some strange and unforeseen reason, Emery was causing a reaction inside of me that I was definitely not used to. Not that I was going to admit it to anybody.

But Alana is still looking at me with that terrifyingly playful expression on her face, and it’s scaring me.

It’s my first day back at school after the embarrassing event of me passing out in the gym the other day. I got here early because my mother insisted on driving us. She’s been just as crazy with me as she’s been with Gabe since he was diagnosed. So for the next week, she’s insisting on driving both Gabe and me to school and back every day. Kill me now.

So I’m at my locker and Alana is next to me, staring at me as I try to avoid eye contact with her.

“Alana, could you stop?” I exclaim, slamming my locker shut.

“Stop what?” she asks innocently, and I, exasperatedly, finally turn to face her. She’s in another one of her hipster outfits, with brown feather earrings and a flowy beige skirt, Doc Martens and a woolly sweater with a Native American print on it. It makes me want to scream. Because now I’m seeing how weird it is that I notice girls’ clothes. Fuuuuck.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I say, starting to walk down the hall. She hastens to follow me, her eyes never leaving my face.

“But you figured it out, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie, not meeting her eyes. She knows I’m lying. Alana knows everything there is to know about me.

Despite the fact that I call Nate my best friend, Alana is the one who really deserves that title; she is the one that deals with me when no one else wants to, the one who can read me like an open book, and, unfortunately for me, the one who can tell in an instant whether or not I’m lying.

“Oh, come on. Denial is so 1980s.” She says, waving me off. I shake my head, incredulously.

To make matters worse, right at that moment, Toby Wallace walks by. He meets my eyes and smiles tiredly. I read pain in his eyes, pain that comes from all the bullying he’s been put through recently; bullying that he takes willingly to protect Drew.