Wingspan(Paranormal, Young Adult) MAJOR EDITING**

thirty

I was the first to give in and break eye contact once I put my water bottle down on the table. I couldn't bare to see him grin; I was ashamed enough. I decided it was best to just let it go and forget about Toby and his pudding fetish.

I looked away and took my earlier position before I'd noticed Toby and sat silently, hoping nobody caught on to what I just did.

Thankfully, Mya and the gang were too busy to care.

Tasha made it to the lunchroom, books in hand and walked over to her side of the table with Mya and sits down next to her boyfriend, Josh, who wraps his bulky arm around her slim fitted shoulders.

"So? how'd it go?" He kisses her on the cheek.

I finally understood what made them good together as a couple; Tasha brought out a different, more interesting Josh and the same could be said if in reverse.

Tasha smiles shyly and moves a strand of blonde hair behind her pierced ear, exposing a pair of pink earrings that matched her cardigan/camisole ensemble.

"Oh, you know, I got it done," she tells him un-enthusiastically as she casually picked at the lettuce from his meat free burger.

Mya catches Tasha's attention with a flick to the head. "There you are! I was just going to text you."

Tasha raises a forkful of lettuce to her daisy pink lips. "About?" Tasha really liked pink.

Mya glances at me then at Tasha with a dour face. "Aislin can't make it this weekend. So it's just us girls."

"Next time then," Tasha says to me. Wow. She had a pretty smile. All white pearls and everything.

Not wanting to watch the happy couple display how badly they had the hots for the other, I look away once Tasha whispers something in Josh's ear.

It wasn't out of the ordinary if they did a quickie in the bathroom, made a fast hand grab under the table if they were astute enough to get one table in the back for the very purpose that would allow them an extra undershirt grope and maybe a familiar unclasp of a bra if they went at it fast enough.

Teenagers will be teenagers, I suppose. It didn't phase me that even some place distinguished as Starkhouse had the same problems every other institution had when it came to curious, horny something year olds. In this aspect Starkhouse was very much similar to my old school where I had one best friend who didn't push me into talking until I was good and ready.

Thanks to a constant state of nervous behavior, I had a difficult time adjusting with new people. I wasn't uncomfortable, more like careful and observant. Chanel was the lively one who never turned a conversation unpleasant or awkward like I excelled at.

We were extremely different from each other when it came to being sociable and existed in two distinct domains, and yet I called her my best friend. I had let her braid my hair and put gypsy bands on me because she confessed that I pulled off the bohemian flower child look better than she had ever could.

Life happened and since action was key, Chanel was my kaleidoscope that gave me a motley of normalcy that I needed. Maybe if I'd forced her to cut back on the partying I would not be at Starkhouse and I would have my old friend back. Maybe I if told her what I saw that night none of this would have happened. Maybe if I'd been a better friend she would still be alive. Maybe...