Setting the book I was reading aside, I pick up my phone from its location on the table. It has been almost two hours since Ace went to wherever he goes after school. He should be here soon. I smile, place the book back on the shelf, and exit the library.
Out in the school's hall, I sit down with my backpack between my legs. My head rests against the wall, and my eyes close on their own, sleep weighing on them. I'll only close them for a second. That is my last thought before consciousness departs me.
The darkness cloaks me, as I walk down the cracked sidewalk. It appears that I'm alone. No one is in sight. No sound can be heard except the barking of dogs in the distance. The air is thick and humid. Warmth clings to my skin in a suffocating hold, but there are foreboding chills crawling along my arms and neck.
My head is bent down, eyes never straying from the path that leads back to my house. I rarely walk home; normally, one of my parents pick me up. Tonight, however, both are busy with their jobs and won't be home until late. So, I walk. I don't bother to run. In this small town, the worst crime we've seen in years was when a student vandalized the wall of the school with some graffiti.
I had spent most of my day with my friends, Alicia and Nicole. We've been friends since Kindergarten and had spent the day at the mall and movie theater. They had to go home, though, around 4:30, so I went to our town's library. It is the summer, after all. I didn't want to go home, yet.
However, being out alone in the dark now makes me regret not walking when it was lighter out, but I can't change the decision I made. I hum a tune that is stuck in my head, clapping my hands to my thighs as I do. It fills the silence of the night air, calming my imaginative mind. No one is out here, I think to myself. You're just being paranoid.
My nerves relax the closer I get to my home, recognition of the area and its proximity to my house filtering into my mind. The buildings on this side of town are mostly vacant, rundown shells from a past life. They used to be filled, each and every one. Now, the majority have "For Sale" signs in the windows. The outskirts of our town all look like this; it's how you know you're about to cross into farm and woodland. A lot of people think it's an unsightly welcome to the town. I love it's abandoned feel, though.
I'm still humming and clapping to the tune, the sounds echoing back from the alleys. The noise that it makes travels through the fresh, night air to me. I see up ahead to where the buildings start to thin out and the road changes from asphalt to gravel.
As I'm about to fully pass the second to last alleyway, a hand materializes out of the shadows and grasps my arm. My mind registers the danger immediately and responds with a scream, but the high-pitched sound is cut off as another hand covers my mouth tightly.
I struggle as the hands drag me further into the darkness. The light from the only street lamp that still functions starts to fade from view, and shadows overtake the spot on my face where the light once illuminated my horror-struck expression. I feel pain reverberate through my spine, as I'm slammed to - I wake up to see Ace shaking me from my nightmare.
As my chest heaves for air, I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was a dream. Breathe, Lucilia. Breathe. Ace's mouth is turned down in a concerned frown, a rare expression for him. His misty green eyes sweep over my shivering form, and his lips sink even more. There's curiosity intwined with the concern in his eyes when he stares at my face, but I don't want him to worry further, so I shakily choke out, "I'm okay, Ace. It was just a bad dream." The words I want to say never leave the expanse of my mind, instead taking residence in the crevices created by the pain.
He is not convinced by my words. Perceptive boy.
Despite the disbelief, concern, and distrust emanating from him, Ace doesn't pressure me to speak. Grabbing my hands, he lifts me to my feet, picks my backpack up, and swings it over his shoulder. Then, the raven-haired man before me gently grasps my right hand in his left, with long fingers proceeding to spin the ring on my middle finger. The rhythmic motion is distracting.
He's distracting.
As we pass through the school's exit, I'm hit by fresh air carrying the promise of an approaching autumn. It's mostly warm, but when the breeze blows, there's a cool undercurrent that smells of fall. It's my favorite season. The leaves in colorful chaos as they flutter and dance with the wind in a sporadic path, free from the pressures that bound them. I wish I was like the leaves in fall: free. Free from the hurt, the sorrow, and the loneliness.
As my imagination starts to drift, a tug on my hand yanks me from my reverie. I look at Ace, his signature blank expression facing me. "What's up?" I question.
He grabs the pocket-sized notebook that I gave him not long after we met and writes on it. "You're looking distracted. What's wrong? And don't give me some crap answer." As I read this, Ace graces me with a stern stare, daring me to lie.
I can't tell you, Ace. It's not your burden. "It's nothing. I was just thinking about how it's almost fall." Technically, that's not a lie. It's also not the complete truth, but I can't tell him. I won't.
Ace frowns at my answer, green eyes clouding and darkening more with his growing frustration. Instead of pressing for more, he faces forward, jaw tight. I know this expression. He does it when he is angry. I don't understand how my answer could cause this reaction, but it clearly upset him.
"Ace, are you o-" I'm interrupted by clanging noises drifting from a side street. "What's that?"
At my insistent tugging, we veer from our usual course. Ace sighs but follows dutifully. His feet drag slightly, slowing us, so I turn and yank on his arm. His balance wavers, shoes catch, and he collapses forwards. I would've considered this justice for him tickling me earlier and mocking my painting, but with his fast reflexes, he clings and drags me down to the cracked sidewalk with him.
"Ahh!" My shout echoes. We're both laying side-by-side on the ground, and I start to laugh as I imagine what we must look like to bystanders. Normally, Ace joins in when I laugh at our mistakes, but he's strangely silent.
My laughter dies when I see Ace's clenched jaw and shut eyes. Worry shoots through me, and I jump into a kneeling position beside my only friend. "Ace! Ace, what's wrong? Did you hit your head? Do I need to call an ambulance? How many fingers do you see? Do you have a concussion? Can you mo-" A hand abruptly slams over my mouth, silencing my panic-induced rant.
A solitary, green eye focuses on me, and I see the humor in it. He closes his eye, and a half-smile that sends me into a daze forms on his face. After retrieving a pen and notebook, he writes out with a cocky smirk on his face, "Worried about me, sweetheart? That's adorable."
I blush at the nickname, but recognize the teasing for what it is. "I wasn't worried. I just didn't want to have to drag your gigantic body all the way home."
He scribbles some more, then shows me the note. "Gigantic, huh? You could've used the word muscular, Lucilia. I don't mind." My jaw drops at his audacity. Idiot. How dare he think I was talking about his muscles. Though...those are some large biceps. Bad, Lucilia. Focus.
Ace's conceited smile causes me to glare at him, which results in the widening of his self-absorbed smirk even more. "Listen here, Lancaster. You and I both know that I was not talking about whatever fictitious muscles you've conjured in your mind to nurse your ego. Got it?" I growled. "And stop trying to change the subject. You looked like you were in pain."
The smile drops from his face, and he writes, "I'm fine, Lucilia."
I don't push for answers, but rise up back onto my feet. Ace follows and begins to walk again. I start to mimic his actions, until I remember why we went down this street anyway. "Ace, wait! We need to figure out what that noise was."
Ace squints over his shoulder at me and shakes his head. "What do you mean 'no'? C'mon, Ace! Don't be so boring." He ignores me and continues on the journey home.
I groan at his stubborn attitude. Sometimes I want to strangle him.
"Fine then. I'll just go and face whatever was making that noise alone and unprotected. The perfect ambush victim with no one to keep me safe." He freezes on the spot, and I hear an annoyed grunt. Ace turns with an unamused glare on his face, and I return it with a cheeky smile.
Stomping over to me, Ace motions to me with one hand in the direction of the banging. I pause and listen for the sound. It's coming from the alley. I gather my courage -courtesy of Ace - and lightly tread to the alleyway corners. My head leans around it, and my eyes try to adjust to the light difference. I feel air hit in a deep rhythm on my neck. It's Ace. Dear goodness! He can't be this oblivious to what he's doing to me.
I turn to glare at him, but stop when the noise makes a reappearance. "It's further in the alley," I whisper. "But I can't see it from here, so we need to go check it out."
Ace's breath quits its job of making my neck tingle, and he stands protectively in front of me. His right hand raises, palm facing me, and I recognize the "wait here" gesture. I pout defiantly, but nod when I'm shot a stern look.
Ace slowly creeps into the shadows, his black jacket camouflaging him further. Soon, he vanishes entirely, and the only noise that can be heard is his receding footsteps. I squint to try and see better, but it's to no avail. So, I wait. Loud footsteps approach, and a large form comes into view. Ace exits the alley. Instead of wearing his jacket, he has it bundled up.
Face showing exasperation, Ace strolls towards me and lowers his arms for me to see something. I look into the jacket bundle and gasp at what I see.
"Aww! A puppy!" I exclaim gleefully. A small German Shepherd puppy gazes back at me fearfully, whimpering slightly. His fur is tangled and caked with dry mud. Part of his left ear is torn off.
"You poor baby! What are you doing out here all alone? Where's your mommy, sweetie?" I coo.
Ace snorts and rolls his eyes. Grabbing his notepad, he scribbles, "It's just some mutt. Can we leave now?"
I glare at him. "Fine. But the puppy is coming, too."
He responds bored, "It's just a dog. Are you planning on keeping it?"
"Yep," I smile. "But we need to name him or her."
"We?" He writes, with his left eyebrow lifted slightly. Then he lifts the puppy. "And it's a boy."
"Yep," I repeat. "You helped save him, so you have to help name him."
Ace huffs out a breath and scribbles, "It can't be a girly name, got it?"
"Of course not! Our little man needs something masculine. Don't you? Yes, you do." I scratch the puppy's head. "So, what do we name him?"
Ace shrugs and walks back to our usual path, carrying the puppy all the while. His nonchalant and uncaring attitude to the pup aggravates me slightly, but that disappears when I jog to catch up and see him absentmindedly stroking the puppy's dirty fur. Aw! The bad boy has a soft spot.
I skip all the way to where Ace and I separate normally and question, "Do we take him to my house or yours?"
Ace raises his head and looks at the darkened sky, clouds blocking the little moonlight there is. He writes, "I have to get home and can't keep him. So, he needs to go with you."
I nod. "Okay, we'll think up a name tomorrow. And we need to take him to the vet."
Ace hands the bundles to me and jots quickly, "You can give me the jacket back tomorrow, but you might want to wash it. And the dog. Wash it, too. He stinks." I gasp at him insulting the poor baby, but he just smirks, winks, and slowly disappears down the road.
A lick on my chin draws my attention, and I giggle slightly. "Ace has some problems, but he likes you. I can tell." With that statement, the puppy and I go home.