First Impressions

Chapter XVII: Liberation Library

He stared at me for what felt like forever, his eyes reflecting his disbelief. Then, in one last move of animosity, he reached out to seize my shoulders in his hands as he bit back, "I do hate you, Charmaine Eilerts. I've hated you since the seventh grade!"

My vision blurred involuntarily, and when I blinked, I felt the hot tears roll from the corners of my eyes. I didn't want him to see me cry, but while I was trapped in his rough grip, my face mere inches from his, it was unavoidable. I couldn't seem to stop the tears from falling.

They ran without restraints, trailing down my cheeks and blinding my eyes. When I tried to blink to clear my vision, Ashton's face would appear before me again, and a new onslaught of tears would spill out in response. I was a mess.

Finally, when I couldn't take it any longer, I dropped my face against Ashton's chest, my tears mingling with the blood on his shirt. I could feel his furious heartbeat against my forehead, and I found it to be just as rocky as mine, if not more so.

We stood there for a few painful seconds, neither of us budging. However, when all of ten seconds had played their course, I felt the pressure on my shoulders lessen. Then Ash released me fully, stepping past me and pushing the garage door open.

Still shaken up, I spun around to see what he'd do this time. In a matter of seconds, he was swinging his leg over his motorcycle seat and shoving the key back into the ignition. Before I had time to properly react, he was revving the engine to life.

My eyes widening in dismay, I started to step toward him, but he was already pulling out of the garage and tearing down the driveway. I doubted he could even hear me as I shouted after him. "Ash!"

Letting out another scream of frustration when his motorcycle disappeared from sight, I kicked at the gravel on the driveway and covered my face in my hands.

I knew I had messed up again. I had just been so furious when I'd seen what Rowlett had done to him. I hadn't known how to react, so I'd taken my anger out on Ashton himself.

As the tears seeped through my fingers, I realized that I was doing just what I'd promised Ashton I wouldn't. I'd sworn I didn't care about him enough to cry over him. And yet, here I was. Crying over Ashton stupid Savvonski.

I never fully recovered that grim Sunday, but I did stop the waterworks eventually. Ash never returned home that day, and when Jacob and Pam returned at the end of my shift, I admitted to them that I had no idea where he was. They seemed to be quite understanding of my situation, and I didn't get in trouble for anything I'd done.

I still felt horrible as I drove home that night, and I avoided my parents like the plague. I locked myself in my room almost immediately, but sleep refused to come to me until well after midnight.

When I awoke Monday morning, I felt groggy from the previous day, but I managed to roll out of bed and pull on some clothes anyway. I did everything as mindlessly as I could, in order to alleviate my already mounting anxiety. As I began my walk to school, I finally allowed my mind to travel to what lay ahead.

I was going to see Ashton today. It was not something I was looking forward to, but it was a reality that I had to deal with. Today was the day that would determine the rest of my week. I was going to have to take responsibility for both my behavior and my resolutions from the previous day.

Whether it was completely intentional or not, I had resolved yesterday that I would not hate Ashton. Now I had to own up to that. In doing so, I knew that I would have to approach him today. I had to set things straight this time—preferably without the tears.