Beautifully Designed

Chapter 11-A Nasty Habit

Running from your problems is futile, that I learned the hard way. Facing them with courage, and even a bit of luck, is the right way to do it. Almost like overcoming a fear or phobia. So that's what I did. I confronted my problem with a great amount of determination, and the help of the small voice in the back of my head. But that part is irrelevant.

Finding Jason was a lot easier than I originally anticipated. All that had to be done was to ask the right person. So the day after my little motorcycle 'stunt', I approached Terri Weisz with an unexplainable amount of terror swirling around my insides.

I tapped the shoulder of the short, brown curly haired girl in front of me, "Hey, Terri."

"Don't touch me!" She spun around abruptly with a finger in the air and nose snubbed up.

"I-I was just wondering where Jason is?" I asked while leaning away from her.

"Oh, yeah, he's in the library." She breezily answered before turning to speak to the girl on her side.

I was out of the restraining desk in a heartbeat approaching my homeroom teacher, Mr. Hanely. His eyes snapped up as I approached but kept his head tilted down.

"Mr. Hanely, can I go to the library?"

"At this age I would hope so." Mr. Hanely quirked a brow as I gritted my teeth.

"May I go to the library?" I tried once more and received a curt nod.

One thing that drove me more crazy than mismatched socks was a smart-aleck teacher.

I made it to the library in record time, but the accomplished smile that covered my face was soon brushed away. Not many people were in the library, only a girl searching for a book and an unidentified human with their black hoodie pulled over their head.

The library in our school was quite large. There was hundreds of rows of books that covered the walls, and small cases that rested on the floor. It was easily as big as five classrooms combined, and contained a few small alcoves to read in during free periods.

The sound of a book crashing to the floor on my right caused me to turn and look.

Jason stood with his back towards me, dressed in a maroon long sleeve shirt that showed off his shoulder blades. His short dark hair came to an end pointing down the nape of his neck like an arrow.

"Why are you avoiding me?" I demanded to his spine as he had not turned to face me. He didn't have to.

"Spencer go away." Jason said lowly, hurt laced discreetly in his words.

That small sentence crushed my determination in ways I didn't even think imaginable. Especially coming from Jason.

I took a breath to steady my voice, but the tremor was evident, "No, talk to me. What did I do?"

"Nothing, it is not you." He turned to face me, green eyes shining with something. Anger? Pain? Pity?

"Don't give me that, 'It's not you, it's me' excuse. Tell me." I stepped closer to him in a bold attempt.

"Listen to me, I am not what you think I am." Jason looked down at me as I finally realized the emotion in his eyes. Frustration.

"Then tell me. Talk to me. Stop running away." I looked up at him, confused by his words. He was more complicating to understand than solving a rubrics cube.

Silence filled the air as Jason continued staring down at me, and his face almost struck me dead. He looked so torn I wanted to come to his rescue by filling the silence, but no words came to the tip of my tongue.