Cold Coffee and Stale Cigarettes *on hold*

Chapter 28

I wanted to scream. Frustration burned my fingertips, making my knee bob uncontrollably as I waited for the bell to signal lunch was started. My embarrassment had faded over the past two hours, morphing into a maddening sense of antagonization. Was this all a joke to Dalton? Did he think that after everything that had happened –the drunk nights, the sarcastic jokes, the anger, the resentment- he could kiss me and it would be ok? I wasn’t a sniveling, whiny bitch groveling for male attention. I was flustered and confused and terrified. The thought that maybe, maybe, it wasn’t a joke, maybe he had done it because he wanted to, petrified me. My heart was racing, lungs leaden, sinking into the pit of my shrunken, twisted stomach, every nerve screaming for me to run away. The shriek of the bell caused me to start, stalling the pounding of my foot against the tile floor. What should I do? Ignore him? Pretend he didn’t exist? Pretend I didn’t exist? Pretend it had never happened? I could do that, right? Could he? The closer I got to our lunch table, the slower I walked, joints rubbery at the knees, unable to support my trembling frame. I was scared. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hope another human being had the desire to pull my book from the shelf and carefully examine the pages . I didn’t want them to drink in the faded ink paired with the burn of salt and dust. I didn’t want him to sneer at what he found or rip the pages from the fragile spine or use the ashes of his cigarettes to set the book aflame. Most of all, I didn’t want him to want to re-read it. I didn’t want him to stoke the delicate bindings or marvel at the pale ink or brush away the salt stains from the dog-eared corners.

It was a B day, when we sat alone, and I had never been more grateful in my life to see Gabe sitting there across from Dalton, in Dalton’s seat, with Dalton in my own. Trying to regulate the sputter of my heart, I slid onto the stool next to Dalton, dropping my bag to the floor, before tilting my head in greeting to Gabe and a friend of his I didn’t know.

“Hey, Sammy.” Gabe grinned, waving mockingly. “How’ve you been?” I didn’t respond, starting mutely at his over-friendly demeanor, an uneasy knot twisting my tongue. He rolled his eyes at my silence, sighing. “It’s rude not to say hello.” he said flatly, causing his friend to scoff. “My guidance counselor told me I have to apologize for all the mean things I said and after weeks of rehearsing I think I can finally do it.”

“Then get it the fuck over with and go.” Dalton muttered, slumping his cheek against his fist.

“Ok, here.” Gabe cleared his throat. “I’m sorry you’re a fucking psychopath and that my nose had to pay for it.” Dalton’s spine stiffened and I clenched my teeth, chewing on my inner lip, the resentment and anger I had tried suppressing all weekend bubbling beneath my skin. What the fuck?

“I’m sorry too.” I spat back, flexing my fingers beneath the table as I remembered the satisfying feel of his nose cracking against my knuckles. Gabe’s friend snorted, glancing up from where he had been typing something into his phone to look at me. Sorry you’re a stoned asshole with the intelligence of a three-year old and a list of STD’s that put most whores to shame you fu-

The pressure of Dalton’s hand on me knee, stilling the bobbing limb,

subdued my line of thought as I glanced over at him, resisting the urge to let the rise of my blood-pressure show. He didn’t look at me, but squeezed my leg in reassurance, even though it only frayed my nerves.

“Well, when you’re ready to accept and forget, there’s a party at my place… pretty much whenever.” Gabe shrugged, standing up. “Don’t let your girlfriend make you forget about your actual friends, man.” He bared his teeth in a snarky smirk. “See you around.” He stood and left, friend following with annoyed, narrowed eyes.

“What the hell?” I whispered, running my hands through my hair.

“You ok?” Dalton asked. I glanced at his hand still resting on my knee, flushed, pissed off, and stood, trying to keep the emotion from my face. “Sam?” I pulled out my phone, dialing a number as I escaped the cafeteria into the emptier air of the hallway.