You Are Most Welcome Alpha

ll੧੦ll I Can Breathe

"Mani, lunch," my father grunted from by the sink as a way of greeting in the morning, placing the latest rinsed plate on the stand to dry.

"Shukriyaa," Was my only reply, slipping the Iphone bursting with messages into my hoodies enormous pocket, grabbing the container and shoving my glasses back on the bridge of my nose.

[Thank you.]

Another low grunt as he wiped his hands and headed to the staircase to amplify his voice upwards to scream at my lazily sleeping sister. Knowing her, she was probably still somewhere on the edge of her bed, a list of complaints ready on the tip of her tongue she didn't dare to ever say to mom.

I sigh, grimacing afterwards from how cold the tiles of the front entrance were in the morning. My darkened jeans instantly clung to the skin of my legs, feeling uncomfortably stiff.

I wore the converses I've had since the age of 15, the pants rolled a little by the pants hem to allow the high tops to show, allowing some faded scars to have the slightest peek. It wouldn't be visible for anyone who chose to not see it. Slipping the bags strap over a shoulders, I bellow, "Ma jarao hou."

[I'm going.]

"Okay! Okay!" A voice dismissed, not bothering to cover the annoyance in his tone.

That was enough for me to clink the door shut, and head out onto the driveway, lingering a couple of moments to gaze in the direction of the forest moss shaded house, an ache ripping from me. I cursed and headed out the same path I took with my girls to the Vasiakhi parade, passing and nearly halting by the condensed trees to remember how it felt to feel him so close to myself.

Something chimed in my head when my feet moved to its own movement, leading us away down the fog ghosting path.

Almost 5 minutes later I was through the doors to the local high school, sighing again when realize I wasn't as ready for this. Though I didn't have Punjabi anymore, being a senior was lame, being a senior with friends was manageable, the thought of that next year at this time we'd all be somewhere else entirely, creating our own futures somewhere, apart, heartbreaking.

My locker was on the other side of the school by the hall near the language classes sadly, so forgetting my tragic past wasn't an option. It was a constant effort to breathe here, the air warm and taunt.

This school wasn't as old as one would suspected, the grad class pictures dating back to the 60's and some old trophies of the 70's were its leftover living testimonies of its true age, besides them it was a pretty average school. One that many thought that had been here for ages.

I was crossing the hall that passed the front glass entrance and head office when a sweetly sickle scent was wafted in my direction. Like the homemade jam we once made in Food and Nutrition class a few years ago. Attempting the best face I could muster I passed the cafeteria where he and his new crew and his cousin sat on the single curved bench before the office doors.

Greysan saw me before I did. He was in a plain shirt with matching grey sweats and a black leather jacket over his bulging muscles. His hair was a mess, a good sexy mess I wouldn't mind admiring in a class if he were to sit in front of me. His eyes widened suddenly, lingering his glaze on my darkened eyes. I had then suddenly recalled he has never saw me with my geeky glasses for school;had he even known I was blind without them, that I couldn't see his face the first time in the driveway of his house, was beyond me.

"Manpreet," I cringe from the voice. I didn't need to turn to know who beckoned me to turn from behind.

"Jasbir," I acknowledged with a mere nod, shuffling my eyes away from Greysan watching carefully to Jasbir -a friend and something more once.