Mr. Popular and I

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Apologies

"Lea...?" He says. However, his tone of voice makes my name sound more like a question.

Carefully, I watch him, keeping full eye contact. Part of me wants him to know that Georgia hit me. The other part says that there's no point – it'll just be more of a hassle.

Searching my eyes, his fill with the utmost concern. He looks apprehensive and anxious like he's lost for words too. I know that he knows that I've been crying; it's blatant. My eyes brim with fresh tears and are already swollen from my previous ones. My face is pale, my nose is red, and my lips are cracked. 

Surveying the rest of my face, his eyes widen at the sight of the left-hand side. When he sees the bruise - that I've failed miserably in trying to conceal with my hair - I can feel his body tense. His hold on my wrist tightens as he pulls me nearer to him. There are only a few students typing away at computers on the other far side of the sixth form common room, but there's no one here near River and me. So, I don't mind it when he steps a little closer to me, or when he raises his hand to move a few strands of my hair behind my ear to get a closer look at the bruise.

As he does this, his face turns livid. He is angry.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" He whispers sternly, the venom of anger seeps in his voice.

"River, not now and definitely not here," I whisper back, glancing around at the students who are too engrossed in their studying to realise what is going on between the two of us.

"Fine, then I'm taking you home." He finishes, before giving me one last look, filled with discomfort. He starts to pull me along with him towards the exit.

"I need to get my books first," I say, tugging back my wrist from his grip.

Warily, he unwinds his fingers from my wrist and lowers his hand down to his side. After a moment, he nods his head, before I turn on my heel in the direction of the lockers. I can sense him closely following after me, his eyes digging into the back of my head.

Eventually, after pushing several doors open, we reach the empty sixth form corridor, which holds all of our lockers. I pace towards mine, situated in the middle of the corridor and enter the combination lock to open it.

Quickly, I pile in all the books I need for tonight into my backpack, very aware of River's hard stare as he leans against the lockers beside mine.

I close my locker door, making a quiet 'bam' noise, turning towards him. He meets my eyes immediately – he was initially staring at the massive bruise on the side of my cheek.

"Give me your bag." He orders, holding his hand out for my backpack.

"Don't worry; I can carry it," I reply.

"Lea..." He says, his voice now a little less aggressive, and more delicate. He takes a step closer to me, reaching his hand up to stroke my injured cheek.

Gently, his fingers graze my bruised skin, leaving a trail of tingles behind them. The touch, as simple as it is, dulls the pain shooting from my injury and the guilt that's building inside of me. All my stresses dampen when his fingers brush lightly against my cheek. 

"Tell me who did this to you, please." River pleads, his eyes are begging, full of concern. 

I shift my head away from his hand, and he instantly drops his fingers to his side. "Please River, I don't want to talk about it right now."

He exhales forcefully, annoyed. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I sense him lift his hand in mid-air. Forthwith, my eyes dart towards his palm, which is facing upwards towards the ceiling. His fingers are spread wide open, welcoming my hand to join his.