Living With Boys

Chapter Forty-Three: Well, This Is Awkward

Chapter Forty-Three: "Well, This Is Awkward."

CHEMISTRY was a little difficult. Sitting beside Atticus was weird as hell and what didn't help was seeing the whiteboard. I was able to see, but not crystal. I might need to skip last period, since I sit at the very back.

I wait impatiently for the bell, itching to get out so I can wash my face. It's itchy and irritated, so I think some fumes got on my skin and inflamed it. It's all red and blotchy, a telltale sign that it's reacting to the compounds used to nearly blind me.

When it finally rings, I fly out of my seat and rush to the door, binder and books in my arms and a steady speed in my step. Annabelle never returned to class, thank God, because if I were to see her again, she'll be damned if she thinks she'll get away with it. Two can play at her game, and if she wants to play, I'll play harder.

"Blue!"

"Not now," I say hurriedly. "My face is desperate for a cleanse."

"Well slow down, would you?" He demands. "You've already stressed the stitches enough as it is."

I spin myself around and glare at Landon, and point to my face. "Does this really look like I want to slow down?"

His eyes widen as they take in my face, and he shakes his head and drags me to the bathrooms, but not before taking the load off my hands. He brings us into the multi-gender bathrooms and pushes me against the counter. I turn around and oh my holy hell, I look like a tomato! My eyes are red and puffy, like I've been crying for hours, and my cheeks and nose have rashes.

Something tells me that whatever those chemicals were, were not skin-friendly.

"Okay," Landon whispers to himself, wetting paper towel with hot water and soap and applies it gently to my face. "Still want to stay?" He asks in an amused tone.

Any normal person would go home after that. I, however, am stubborn and as long as I'm not dying, then pfft, I couldn't care less about my injuries.

"Yes." I mutter, and hiss once he rubs under my eyelids.

"Sorry." He whispers. He spends a few minutes rubbing gently, all the while I stare at his face. He looks so focused, so kind and caring, I smile softly.

This boy. . . for the reputation he has, he sure is an angel.

Landon finishes up a few minutes later, and stops stroking the rashes and instead strokes me with his thumb. His thumb trails from the bottom of my eyes to my cheekbones, to eventually my lips. I grin against them, making him return it and lean in, connecting our mouths.

It's a short, sweet kiss, still as fiery as the one Saturday night. He pulls away from me, and kisses my nose. "I'm sorry. If I was there sooner I could have prevented this."

I shake my head. "This is just the beginning, though. We're just getting started."

"We'll protect you, Blue." He tells me sternly.

"I can protect myself, Landon." I say. "Just. . . be there for me."

"Okay." He agrees. "Okay. I can do that–we can do that."

I smile. "Okay, cool. Now, I'm hungry. What's the café serving?"

"Burgers." He says with a snort.

"Oh, I'll pass for that." I scrunch up my nose in disgust. I hate burgers. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fast food burgers, all of them.

"Don't like burgers?"

"Nope." I say.

He laughs and leads us into the cafeteria, and all eyes fall to us as we enter the café nearly five minutes after lunch started. The whole room goes silent as they watch us, and Landon brings us to the table beside Annabelle's, and sits me furthest away from them, but I have a clear view of where Carly and them sit. Everyone is sitting there. They're even looking at me, including Atticus.