Just the Beginning [Complete ✓]

Chapter 15

I never realized how unusual it was to go a day without seeing Sawyer until I do. Those days turned into approximately two weeks and while I should know I should be relieved, I'm not. I don't know why, but I choose to blame it on the fact that our assignment due date was creeping closer and we haven't finalized it.

I hadn't planned on telling Monique, but when she questioned me about my lack of awareness to whatever conversation we had been having, the words slipped out before I could stop them. I will, however, admit that it was actually a little relieving to have spoken about it rather than keep it on my chest. 

"So you haven't seen him since the night that he stayed over?" she asks, pursing her lips. She's got on a touch of mascara today which absolutely amazed me. We're in first period and on our way here, we passed by at least four teachers, none of which stopped us to make her take it off. The school really was odd, it wasn't just me.

"The next morning, technically."

"Right, but you said after that you haven't seen him. Usually it's a full day of avoiding him so one morning doesn't count," she points out. I hate to admit it, but she's right. Her one arm is resting on the desk while her other hand brushes a coat of baby blue nail polish over each nail. She does it swiftly and yet with so much ease that I'm amazed. I certainly couldn't do it without screwing up at least one of mine. "And what about Adrian?" she follows up, blue gaze flickering to me for a nano second before they're back to her nails.

"He hasn't mentioned him once." Which is a whole other thing. While we spoke and he seemed to be acting normally around him, something always felt off. I made a note not to ever ask about Saywer either, because then it would appear as if I cared—which I don't. Absolutely not. Not even remotely. I just cared about this assignment and this mark. "I don't want to ask either," I admit. 

"That seems like a good idea." The murmuring of the other students start to lower, which has our conversation involuntarily softening as it progressed. Monique, having finished her nails, holds out her hand to take one of mine in hers. She presses it flat against the desk, pulls out a pretty turquoise colour and starts by the thumb. Her tongue sticks out at the corner as she pushes herself into concentration mode. With a murmur, she assures that she's still listening.

"What do I do?" I groan softly only for her to tsk and tell me not to move my hand—anything else is fine.

"You find him," she states in a 'duh' tone. When she looks up again, she gives me a pointed look. "Or he'll just find you. Either way, it'll work itself out before you know it."

"I don't want to fail," I say. It's not what I want to say, but it's what I say nonetheless.

She shakes her head. "You won't. He cares about getting out of here as much as you care about your grade. He'll show up." She tugs at my other hand to finish the job.

When the bell rings, she asks if we can stop by the locker (she forgot the textbook for our next class and we were doing an activity to practice for our test.) Her head is in the locker as she digs through when a soft breeze whirs behind me. I whip around so fast, I have to steady myself against the lockers.

Which only amuses Sawyer whose lips curl into a smirk. "Turning head over heels for me, I see."

As my gaze shifts back into focus, I look up at him and it takes everything in me not to hit him. I stand still against the locker, ignoring the warning bell as we stare at each other. I don't know if he's expecting a response, but he sure as hell won't be getting one. It didn't need a response anyhow. When he still doesn't say anything and I feel the hurried tug at my sleeve, I groan.

"What do you need?"

"We need to finalize our assignment," he states. "Are you free after school?"

"Yeah," I reply. Glancing over at Monique briefly, I nod. "Let's meet up at the library again," I add when I look back at him and, seeming satisfied with this arrangement, he nods. 

"See you then," he says, turning around and walking off. Call me weird, but until then, I never noticed how similarly he walked to Cooper which only has me tensing up. He had the same little hop in his step that Cooper had; not the excited sort of hop in their step, but a more natural one. However, the difference with Sawyer's was the fact that you wouldn't notice unless you were really trying to get a good look. I would have ended up standing there all day had it not been for Monique tugging me along. We fall into a sprint, dashing down the halls until we've reached our class.

Only for both of us to groan.

"He's coming late," one of the students in the front says when we step into the class. 

"Thanks, Miriam," Monique says, leading us to our desks near the back. 

"You know her?" I query as I slide into my seat, watching Monique whose eyebrows quirk in question.

"I've gone here the last few years," she states simply. "It would be wrong of me not to know at least half of the class." She tugs at my hand and pulls the nail polish out of her blazer pocket, starting a second coat. For the most part it's quiet and I'm looking around at the rest of the class because she's not wrong. It would have been wrong of her to not know half the class, whether they changed classes or not. For me, I'm not so sure. I didn't have any real interest in making friends with everyone else; hell,  I hadn't been expecting to be friends with anybody since I got here so late, yet here was Monique, in all her glory. Though I do suppose I could be nicer to them, it's just that, I didn't see the point.

It's our last year.  I may never see them again. 

"What did I tell you," she says abruptly, the moment of silence shattering cleanly as though it never existed. She looks up briefly with a quirked smile. "I said he'd come through and what happened?" It sounds like a rhetorical question, though I still find myself responding.

"He came through."