our own complexity

XV

     The next morning, as promised, Polly drove me back to my house safe and sound. Her mom had made breakfast and the three of us sat together at the table, but she didn't ask any questions. That was one of the reasons I liked Polly's mom so much: she knows when to not try and dig. I had been expecting my mom to come out to yell at me in the most embarrassing way in public. I still had no phone, so there was no way for her to contact me while I was missing. She could only wait for me to come home... or not. Either way, she would have been beyond angry at me for sneaking out yet again. And I would've let her again because I didn't want to fight back. Because she would have been right. 

     But she was not home when I got there. She had left for work and she hadn't noticed I wasn't in my room. She probably didn't want to see my face ever again because of the argument we had just hours before. Not that I wanted to see hers either. I was glad when the driveway had been empty. It was a Sunday, so when the house felt too silent and the floor's creaking too loud, I assumed my grandma had taken Cody to church. She used to do that when I was younger too. She had to take me everywhere to not leave me alone at the house because of my mom working. Now Cody could stay home with me but I guessed she just wanted to give me space.

     I went inside my room and full-on threw myself on the bed, whining softly because of the impact. My body felt sore from walking and burned from the scratches made the night before. The bandages still covered some parts of my arms and thighs. My puffer jacket was torn, dirty, and ruined, and I didn't know how I was supposed to explain to my grandma what happened to it if she ever did my laundry for me. I struggled to get myself under my covers and stared at the white popcorn ceiling. My window had been left open and the room smelled like morning and hot asphalt. For a second, everything felt durable.

Unavoidably, my mind drifted to the memory of Julian Dorian and me fighting in the school parking lot. My light brown hair chaotic from running, smelling like grassland, and my face flushed in anger. His grass-stained baby blue sweatshirt. And the way I talked to him after probably having one of the best afternoons of my life. 

My heart sank to my stomach, and I frowned, covering my face with my hands. 

I'm such an asshole.

And then I was cursing at the universe because maybe if I had a phone I could call him and apologize. I could make it better. And then I was cursing the universe because, when talking about love, they don't tell you about the feeling of your conscience gnawing at your chest. Because sometimes it's not the other person but it's you who is not perfect. And it's your own fault. Did he even want my apologies?

I wanted to run to him at that moment, but all I could do was wait.

As if I was being punished, Saturday went on extremely slow. Slow with voices outside my room that made me swallow the hunger that I got about five hours after Polly dropped me off because I couldn't face anyone. Sunday was a bad day. The only thing that I could hold unto was Polly and the fact that she wasn't mad at me. If it wasn't for that, it would've been hell.

Monday came and some would say that it was the day to do the impossible. The sun was high yet gentle and there was a soft breeze, welcoming everyone to a new week. But I was still dreading going to school. I didn't want to see Julian because as much as I had tried practicing what I was going to say when I got the chance, I'd rather turn around and walk away than to see his angered face. Or maybe he'd ignore me. Or maybe he'd laugh at me because I had been foolish enough to think that he cared about some little fight. That was my biggest fear: that I was imagining everything that kept happening between us.

     With all the things that are not welcome, time goes by quickly, opposing the weekend. And that seemed what was happening that morning as time felt like it was passing in the blink of an eye and, suddenly, I found myself in my English class. 

     I had burst into the room in a hurry, wanting to be seated, attracting unwanted stares. I sighed relieved as I sat, feeling a little safer like I didn't need to talk to anyone. Julian wasn't there. I wouldn't exchange glances with him when I unavoidably searched for him in the room if he happened to be looking at me too. And then, May's laugh echoed in the hallway as she seemed to be having a conversation with Neels about whatever May and Neels talked about. I heard as he sat, a couple of desks behind, and how her steps kept getting closer until she was right beside my desk. I was waiting for Mrs. Lawrence to start the class, notebook open, and pencil in hand. I looked up and she had a desperate look.

     "Rosalie! Me and my group need help with our writing assignment. We don't know what to write about!" She said. "How did your group start?"

     My face crumbled as I remembered the assignment and a small squeak left my mouth. Now, I was the one pleading, "May, you have let me join your group." She smirked.

     "You don't even have to ask." I let out a breath, thankful enough to kiss her. 

     "Thank you so much. Who's in our group?"

     "Oh, you know. Me, obviously Neels." She eyed him before looking back at me. "And Julian Dorian."

     I heard myself almost choking on my own saliva, releasing a cough. In that moment, he entered the room. Pretty uniform, nice hair and all. He caught me looking, his eyes unreadable. We stayed like that for a while and I heard May speaking to me again. "We are meeting tomorrow at Julian's house," she said while walking away to her seat in one of the front corners of the room. I broke contact with Julian's hazel eyes as I looked at May and she winked. I smiled weakly and sank in my chair, letting my head take a rest on my desk.

     I must either have the best or worst luck in the world.