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Chapter 16- Christine and Kisses

Christine Scott was the girl that nobody at Oaken Ridge High School seemed to want to approach. Nobody except one had cared to try, that was until that one brought another to their little hideaway beyond the bushes and greenery of the school grounds. Christine Scott had experienced the company of more than just the boy she'd regularly rant and rave to during their short breaks from classes, asking advice and not once offering a thank you, her only response being a simple, 'yeah, I'll try.' She had decided to remain as isolated as possible, finding some happiness in purely the thought of surviving the rest of the school year in this duo. After all, she didn't seem to need anybody else anymore.
The girl was impulsive and snappy, easily angered and hard to get along with. It surprised her when she found her hatred and anger towards Jonah Lane for gate crashing their own time began to melt away. That Saturday in the coffee shop seemed to have had the effect that Connor hoped for; both the new boy and the one who'd previously been the new girl seemed to be getting along. Though, the ginger student couldn't push away the thought that somebody else was going to be joining them from then on; somebody had already joined them. She was so unsure on what and how to think, but as she stood in her small bedroom that Monday morning, still in her pyjamas having had a lazy day, leaning out of her window with her phone pressed to her ear, she found herself growing quite irritated as the lack of response she received from her classmate. She glared down at her phone, her stare so piercing that anyone would wonder how the screen didn't shatter.
Only recently did she try to talk to Connor out of school, since 'the new boy' had talked her into trying to check on him when he had fallen ill some time ago, and it seemed to bring a brighter side to her life. Their conversations never lasted too long and only seemed to occur when the redhead was in need of either advice or someone to ramble to, but still, being able to hear his voice or read his texts gave her confidence that, whatever she needed, he could give her.
Today, he didn't answer. She'd called in hopes of changing their regular conversations, thinking that, on this day off, they would speak about something much more personal. But, no. She'd only received an automatic message from him. Christine Scott pondered whether or not she had the right to be angry, considering everything else that she thought her friend could be spending his time doing that day, her list ending up being quite short, leading to the realisation that she still didn't know what exactly he was likely to do in his spare time.
With a deep sigh, the redhead girl reached to the tall-standing dresser at her side, her palm hitting the top as she searched blindly for the box of cigarettes that she'd had to keep hidden for the past week due to the presence of her father's girlfriend. One thought back to the woman brought her anger to the surface, her desire for her friend's attention increasing and becoming much more intense as she felt for the lighter, taking both it and the box into a tight grip as her arm returned to her side. Her dark eyes remained glued on the road underneath her bedroom window, only tearing her gaze away to light the fag that she now had between her fingers, taking a puff as soon as she saw the end light with the orange glow she's gotten used to seeing, then watching disappear as the paper began to burn away. She flicked ashes from her window down to the pathway below, exhaling puffs of grey as she did, watching the snow-covered world in frustration. Her mind was torn away from the step-mother that she could never seem to get close enough to for her to care, back to the phone that she threw onto her bed, somewhat out of frustration of her friend not answering her call.
He was the only person who gave her a chance, and even after she found herself in trouble and stirred up drama, he was still there to lend a listening ear. Connor didn't know her biggest secret; the reason she didn't want anybody else to join their time spent together. She didn't treasure the moments, but she held onto them. The young lady had never been popular, so when a friend finally made himself known to her, helped her and lent her everything she needed, she felt as though she had no choice but to develop feelings for the boy, which she did without complaint. But Connor had never had a girlfriend. That's what he'd told her, and he definitely wasn't lying. As the thought of this crossed her mind, she recalled the events that had occurred over the last few weeks. This included an unwelcome memory, a pang of jealousy shooting through her and allowing itself to burrow deep in the pit of her stomach, remembering for no reason at all a certain look that was exchanged between the boys the week before. Connor wore a smile that Christine Scott had never seen before, his eyes wide and shining in a way that made her heart skip a beat. He looked so happy as they'd sat eating lunch, just the three of them, however, the ginger student had only lingered on the thought of his happiness for a short period of time before another thought sunk in; he wasn't smiling at or for her. One look at Jonah's face confirmed that they had grown so close over the past month, his eyes squinting and his smile wide as they looked at each other.
Just get over it, she thought to herself. She convinced herself that what she had was just a crush, and so, tried to forget. After all, it was probably unfair of her to become jealous just because her friend gave somebody else a smile, right?
She didn't care. Christine Scott took a deep breath, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as her chapped lips parted, letting herself forget. That's what she did; she forgot or neglected the things that she couldn't speak of, even to her dad, who was much less interested in her love life than she was in his.
Throwing her cigarette butt out the window, watching it land on the footprint-ridden ground below, she moved away from her window, closing it roughly and forced her troubled thoughts to the back of her mind. Christine Scott picked up a sweater and pair of jeans from a pile on the floor, quickly got changed, picked her phone back up and, without saying a word, left the house.