Ever since second period, no one really looked at me. Their vision stayed astray and I thought that was as equally pathetic as why their reasons to doing it. And I assumed that Dastan just went home because I hadn't seen him for the remainder of the day. I mean, he usually skips Precalculus, but even though he's a senior I see him during all passing periods. Unless, he was avoiding me.
I didn't know why Dastan was this rude to me. I hadn't quite figured him out. Sure, he was an ass to everyone here, but I had never seen him act like a jerk to another girl like me—with them, he only used his charm to get what he wanted. Let alone teachers and staff; he was just a perfect angel. So then why did he have a need to bully me if not even Hayden's ruined reputation did that?
"What's wrong?" Sebastian asked me as he started to walk me home with Cheyenne at our side.
"Nothing," I lied. He gave me a look that read "I'm here for you when you're ready to talk" but then it was shrugged off. I noticed something different about him.
"You seem awfully...happy," I noted in relief because he seemed more of himself.
"Yeah, that's because my afternoon classes didn't include Vega," he smiled genuinely.
"You have Angela to thank for that," Cheyenne said, still texting on her phone. Sebastian looked down to me.
"I may or may not have pissed him off and made him go home in second period," I confessed. Sebastian jumped in front of me and bent his knees. "Um?"
"I surely owe you a piggy-back ride at the least for being my savior," he humored. I placed my hands on his shoulders but didn't jump on.
"Trust me, as fun as it is to ensure my safety away from him, it's going to bite me in the butt one day," I admitted. He looked to me as Cheyenne continued down the sidewalk.
"What do you mean?" he asked, worried.
"He's my partner for Journalism," I informed, even though I was sure he knew by now. "He can honestly sabotage my grade in that class. Not to mention injure me...unless Mickie gets to me first."
"If he ever does anything to you, let me know," Sebastian advised with a frown. I knew he meant that he'd beat the living crap out of Dastan as soon as possible if he was to hurt me.
If you honestly think I'd hurt you, you're wrong, I remembered Dastan saying. It was the most serious tone I had ever heard him in, but the slight flutter of what must be fear couldn't trust his word.
Suddenly, my phone started to chirp from my pocket.
"This is Dastan. I'm assuming that neither of us want this Journalism project to extend into two weeks, so can you just meet me at the football game later so we can finish up?" he texted.
Wait. Was he actually being a productive partner? I called the callback number immediately.
"You could've texted back your answer," he said with a low voice.
"Well I don't exactly know what that entitles," I replied.
"We just need to finish the project. Can you please come tonight? I'm sorry it's last minute..." he said. I sort of questioned who I was talking to at that point. That did not, at all, sound anything like Dastan Vega. "Warden...you there?"
"Yeah, yeah," I answered, still a little dazed. Well if he was calmed down now, does that mean he would act this way tonight? I believed in second chances, so maybe this was his time to take it. But then again...he hadn't really gotten a first chance. "I'll be at the game. Where do you want me to be?"
"You decide. You'll probably get there before me so I'll just find you, alright?" he answered. That somehow sounded...friendly. I expected him to tell me specific coordinates and wait for me to get there at a specific military-set time. "Kickoff is at 7:30. I'll see you later...Bye."
He hung up before I could say bye, but there was a pause because I couldn't find it in myself to actually say bye.
"Was that Hayden?" Sebastian frowned.
"No..." I answered. Maybe I should've said yes because it seemed like he had less of a war with Hayden than Dastan...well from what I've seen. He questioned me with his eyes. "It was Dastan."
"Angela—"
"He's calmed down now!" I reasoned.
"I don't care," he said immediately. The happiness from earlier was completely gone. "I can't just trust you with him."
"Neither can I, but he said it himself; we both prefer to get this article done with so if that includes going to the game with him then fine," I shrugged. Sebastian sighed.
"Fine," he allowed. "But don't go to the party that's bound to be held afterwards."
"Why not?" I asked. He looked at me. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."
Dastan plus alcohol plus a strong hatred towards me wouldn't result well.
***
"Warden," Dastan called while I was sitting in the stands watching the game. We were winning 26-7. I looked down to see Dastan in a hoodie, waiting for me with his hands in his pocket. I left from Cheyenne and our friends and trotted down to him, who had started to walk to the ground level.
It was even colder and windier down here than in the stands (just my luck to be stuck in a cold front with just a sweater). I was chattering my butt off as I followed him somewhere.
"I found different groups to interview on why they come to football games and why they sit with certain people. I just need pictures," he informed, taking large strides that I tried to keep up with. I kept chattering and not responding and then he stopped at the entrance to another part of the bleachers. He turned to me and then was taken back—only slightly less than me at the fact that his eyes were lightened into a beautiful deep chocolate color. They were gorgeous.
"Oh shoot, you're cold," he noticed, his face starting to contort in the way as if caring as much as Sebastian would. I noticed that he was sort of close to me...and also, that I was holding my breath because he made me nervous, rather than scared at this point.
"It's fine, just let me get started with the pictures," I chattered, even though I knew by now that my nose was probably as red as Rudolph's. But he was just looking at me with the same worried expression as I reached for the camera around his neck. He moved it out of my grip. "If you just tell me who they are, I can go right up and take the pictures."
I don't know why he was looking at me this way. I couldn't be a pestering person if he was acting this friendly for once, but I mean come on? Why did he choose now to be silent and confusing? And suddenly, just like that, he touched my waist lightly and his eyes illuminated into golden rings.
"I'll be right back," he whispered, foggy breath leaving his lips. I stood underneath the bleachers, awkwardly because it was second quarter and no one was really down here, and waited for Dastan to return. After a few seconds I just assumed that he just left me here as his own sick joke, but I didn't know where he could've possibly gone because a few seconds later, he returned with a slight pink to his cheeks and something in his hands. Before I knew it, the golden-eyed-Dastan draped a jacket over my shoulders that created nothing but warmth.
I looked down to the left breast and saw my school's initial. Across the line of buttons, Dastan's name was spelled out in sewed cursive. I was wearing his letterman jacket.
"Thanks," I breathed, slipping my arms into the sleeves.
"No problem," he said, his lips twitching as if he was trying to hide some sort of true smile. He snapped himself out of it and placed the camera strap over my head. "Let's get to work."
Although Dastan pestered me about what angles to shoot and what to shoot, he still whispered funny comments during the interview portions of the last half of the game.
"Why do you come to the games?"
"To pick up some of the football players," one of the girls had answered.
"Too bad they don't actually look all the way up here," Dastan breathed from behind me. Then I had controlled my laugh as I took a picture of girls that could easily pass as well...easy.
And there were comments to nearly every student clique we could find all the way up to:
"Why do you come to games?"
"Because our physics class requires the use of Newton's laws and our instructor prefers a topic of football because he's a huge sports man and gives extra credit for athletic references and we need the extra credit—" a nerd rambled on.
"Maybe he gives them extra points as a bribe to not exaggerate their point," Dastan commented. That time, I had heard his comment and snapped a picture of the nerd herd, only to turn and leave from the stands. I had realized something about his humor. "Where are you going?"
I took the camera strap off from around my neck and held it back to him.
"Home," I answered in a huff. His eyebrows combed together as if he was taken aback by my one-word response.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"N—" I wanted to say 'no' and just go home, but since Dastan was showing me his true self without any of the douche bag side, I found it within myself to be honest. "I know that you're trying to be funny, but do you ever imagine how mean you really are behind peoples' backs?"
Normally, I'd wonder why I was complaining. For once, his rudeness wasn't being directed at me, but I was being my real self tonight. My real self wouldn't allow someone to step on someone else. In this, I realized how wrong I was to judge Dastan, myself, the first time we even met. Yet I still assumed that Dastan would deny what I said because he may switch personalities into the selfish guy I met at first. However, he sighed and paced in a two-foot radius. I waited for his explosive response and he only fled away from me, up to the stands. I started to walk away, just thinking that Dastan would reinstate his objective to ignore me.
Cheyenne: After party(: ?
I called her as I left the stadium.
"No," I told her.
"Why not? It's the seniors' last home game of the district season," she whined.
"We're juniors," I reminded. She let out a frustrated sigh and then I heard her pause. "Cheyenne?"
"Dastan Vega just flat out told the schools sluts to stop trying to pretend as if they know about football because none of the football players actually notice them," Cheyenne confessed. I immediately turned back around to the entrance and went to see the thirsty girls staring at Dastan in disbelief. Only he would actually confess about talking shit. Ugh.
"And even if they did look up here, they wouldn't want you because you're all—"
That's when I grabbed the back of his hoodie and pulled him back, all the way down the bleachers.
"Just because I said you can't bully people behind their back doesn't mean you extend it in front of their face," I told him, sort of angered.
"Why?" he asked, his eyes flicking to gold and then back to black. "They know that what they want isn't realistic here, so I might as well make that clear to them now."
Unbelievable. All I could do was hand him his camera and wonder if he pulled that stunt with all the other groups we had talked to tonight. I turned to walk away and then he hopped in front of me.
"Look, at least I'm being truthful," he hissed to me.
"To who? Not yourself!" I suddenly blurted. Shoot.
What I meant was that he was being fake. There's no way we could be friends like we were tonight—out of the public eye—and yet he was still being an asshole to those people. I walked away from him and I walked all the way home, ticked off at Dastan's sorry social status that somehow enables him to be a jerk. I was so annoyed when I stormed off that I forgot that I still had his coat.
"Hey, sweetie," Veronica greeted when I got home.
"Hi," I said, tiredly. "Where's Sebastian?"
"He left about an hour ago," she said. He left at ten at night? "Why do you need something?"
"No...I just wanted to talk to him," I replied.
"You can talk to me," she smiled.
"Nah. It was just about some stupid football thing," I lied and then trotted up the stairs. As soon as I got to my room, I threw down Dastan's jacket. I gazed over the red wool, white leather sleeves and golden writing. On his right sleeve, he had a red wildcat and his graduating year in numbers. I looked to the left breast to see the white school initial with four bars, meaning he had been varsity-something for all four years. He even had a little torch in the corner. That only made me question how he was in National Honor Society if his reputation didn't precede that IQ level. Curious as to why Dastan even had a varsity letterman, I looked to the left sleeve and it was covered from shoulder to wrist in patches.
#1 VARSITY FOOTBALL QB
VARSITY TRACK & FIELD STATE FINALIST
#1 VARSITY BASKETBALL
VARSITY CROSS COUNTRY REGIONAL FINALIST
VARSITY BASEBALL
Whoa. This kid actually played sports? He didn't normally strike me as a "team player" let alone on a varsity level. Dang.
Dastan: Are you going to the party?
I looked down at the text, wondering whether or not I should reply. Thirty minutes later without a response, he texted me again.
Dastan: Warden, I just got to the party and I hope you're not here.
Wow. What a jerk?
Dastan: I mean, I hope you're not here because there's a lot of trouble and you only seem to add to that.
That doesn't really make it better. He didn't think I could handle it. Damn it, where's Sebastian when I need him?
Suddenly, Dastan started to call me. I normally preferred calls over texts, but I didn't answer the phone. Not this time, or even the next time. Even at two in the morning.