Not in That Way

20: not in that way

Toby's face is etched into a wolfish grin and his thick eyebrows are knitted together. His green eyes traipse around my face several times before he speaks up. "Long time no see! What're you doing here?"

I weakly lift up the list in my hand. "Shopping," I say grimly.

Toby stretches his dark arm and looks at the list, nodding to himself. "Cool," he says, even though he doesn't really mean it. "Where have you been?"

I knew this was coming. "Australia," I answer after a few beats of silence, gripping the handles of the cart tightly.

"Australia, huh?" Toby murmurs with a hint of jealousy to his voice as he crumbles the list in his hand.

A spark of annoyance flares within me. You're seriously telling me that no one has an idea of where I've been for the past few months? "Yeah, and I even have a boyfriend," I feel the need to boast to him as I jut my chin upward.

Toby chuckles lowly, his wide lips stretching back to reveal his teeth covered by braces. "Damn, so everything working out for you, huh?" he murmurs.

If only he knew. If only he knew that I don't actually have a boyfriend. If only he knew I'm crushing on a guy who'd never give me the time of day. If only he knew how I'm practically friendless. Instead of saying all that, I shrug and say, "Yeah, I guess."

"You know what, though?" Toby's deep voice cuts through my thoughts as he tilts his head down to meet my gaze. He reaches out and tugs at a limp strand of my light hair. "You still look miserable. Miserable than ever." And then he walks off.

I frown after the tall figure of him as he saunters off with his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants, and then I puff out a breath. I slam the door of Sabrina's car shut and slide into the drivers seat. I pull the seatbelt over my chest and press down on the gas pedal. Toby couldn't be more accurate.

His voice plays like a broken record in my head. I fly over the speed limit mostly because I've forgotten what it feels like to drive, and to try and evade the sound of Toby's words running in my head.

I arrive home a few minutes later and park the car on the side walk. My boots trudge through the thin layer of snow covering the ground and I feel a snowflake glide against my cheek as I swing the bag of groceries in my hand.

I enter the silent house and start to take off my boots. "Mom, I'm home!"

I don't get a response. I don't think too much of it and enter the kitchen. My heart sinks to my stomach when I spot my father sitting at the table and reading over a newspaper. What is he doing here? Usually he'd be out getting a drink with a couple of his friends.

My wobbly legs carry me to the table and I feel my father's beady eyes trace my every movement as I set the plastic bag down in front of him.

He gets up from his seat on the table and I hold my breath as I take a feeble step backward. He snatches the plastic bag away from me and begins to rummage through the items with a disgruntled expression on his face. Finally, he picks out the Mars bar I bought for me and unwraps it. I don't dare to react as he shoves it into his mouth and strides out of the kitchen.

My shoulders deflate and I release the breath I was holding in, feeling a little queasy. I unwrap the wooly scarf around my neck that my mother had knitted for me and then begin to tremulously unpack the items.