I Was Abducted

Chapter 7 Jackson

"I don't know. You don't seem like the type to stick around to watch the assembly." She admits.

"Because I'm not," I inform her. "But I thought just this one time I'd stop by to see what the fuss is about."

"Well you saw the fuss," she says laughing. "God, that was so embarrassing," I smirk and turn my focus to the teacher at the front as he claps his hands together to get everyone's attention.
~
The bell rings and I quickly dart out of the class, down the hallway, and through the nearest exit. I make my way across the small grass patches and behind the seminary building.

I know I shouldn't be ditching on the second day, but I'm not Mr. Perfect. And I really need a smoke so, why not take a little break.

I lean against the brick building and pull out my pack of cigarettes, sparking one up. I inhale and release a cloud. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the blonde approaching.

"So, you're a smoker?" She asks scooting down the brick wall and sitting beside me. Did she follow me out here?

She quickly pulls down her dress to cover her thighs.  "Problem?" I question raising a brow. If she thinks I'm going to stop smoking because she doesn't like it she's damn wrong.

"No, Fred smokes all the time," she wraps her arms around her legs. I sigh and sit down next to her.

"Fred?" I question taking a peek at her. Does Fred go to this school? Is he her boyfriend? She acts like I know anyone here.

"Oh, that's my dad's friend," she explains. I nod in response. "You're not much of a talker in class, huh?" She asks.

I shrug and take another hit. "Why did you pass out?" I ask looking in the direction of the street. I hate asking people questions because it shows that I care in some way.

"I have Tachycardia," she says sighing. I know a little about Tachycardia because my cousin Mark has it. I don't talk to him anymore, but I'd hear my mom and my aunt talking about it all the time.

"Then why are you a cheerleader, it doesn't make sense." That's probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

"My mom was a cheerleader and she practically forced me to," she explains and I furrow my brows. Parents are clueless.

"My mom tries to force me to do a lot of shit, like throwing away my smokes and going to all my classes, but here I am cutting class and smoking." She tries to hold in her giggle but fails. My lips twitch wanting to smile.

"My moms different though," she says composing herself.

"How?" I question puffing some more on my cigarette. Her electric blue eyes switch up to look at mine and I notice her shutter under my stare.

"She just is, trust me it gets ugly if I don't do what she says," she explains wrapping her arms arm her bent legs.

I nod knowing exactly what she means. Not because I know what she's implying, but because I lived like that for 3 years. It gets ugly.

"So, where are you from?" She asks curiously.

I roll my eyes but answer. "Idaho," I inform her and shrug.

Her eyes light up. "Oh, what part? I have a friend that moved there," she coos.

"Boise," I sigh. I don't really miss it, nothing was holding me there anyway. But I knew the area well. And here everything is new. And I hate change.

"Oh, fun!" She shouts, way too excited. I get shivers from how annoying she is. Kinda. She quickly pulls herself together. "Why'd you move?"

Ugh, what is this, 21 questions? "New start," I huff. I mean I asked her questions too, but she followed me out here so that gives me free rein to ask whatever.

"I understand." She says. No, you don't.

"Class," is all I say rubbing my eye with my free hand.

"Huh?" She questions.

"Is where you should be," I finish, blowing the smoke away from her direction.

"You should be too, but here we are," she says pointing all around us with an open hand. I shrug my heavy shoulders.

"Why do you keep your hair this long?" She questions pointing to my curls.

"It's not that long," I roll my eyes.

"I like it," she tells me. Her tiny pale hand reaches out to touch it. I quickly grab a hold of her wrist stopping her. Her blue eyes widen and she retracts from me. "Sorry," she whispers.

Damn, she just made me feel bad. Usually, I couldn't give a fuck, but here she is looking so fragile and small.

"Fine," I sigh gripping her hand again and sticking it in my head of curls. A slight smile appears on her face as she lightly runs her fingers through it. I roll my eyes. I can't believe I'm letting this shit happen.

Whenever I do the nasty with a girl I don't let them touch my face or, head. It annoys the fuck out of me when they try. But here am I letting his girl runs her hand through my shit.

"I guess it's not as long as I thought," she says continuing tugging on a curl. I nod and she retracts her hand. "Sorry, that was probably weird for you."

I shrug and twist my cigarette butt out against the brick wall of the seminary building. This is going to be a long-ass hour.