When we finish eating, our laughter finally diminishing into quiet chuckles, Caleb's eyes start wandering across the cafeteria.
He freezes in place when he notices someone in a nearby booth. I follow his gaze until my eyes fall on Mr Belk, sitting with a cheerful-looking woman with dimples.
"Is that..."
"Mr Belk?"
"Mr Belk, the teacher whose lesson we ditched?"
I nod, while both of us slowly move out of the booth, Caleb leaving twenty dollars on the table and not waiting for change.
As to not attract his attention, we gradually step out of the diner, and run to the car.
When we get inside, Caleb turning up the heater, I turn to him, gaping. "So, on the day that Belk isn't at school, we aren't either?"
Caleb shrugs it off. "The world works in mysterious ways."
"No kidding."
"Where to next, ma'am?" he asks, a smile hinting at his lips.
"Your house?"
The smile diminishes and he looks away. He deliberates it, carefully, but then he remembers something, and turns back to me. "Okay."
The drive to his house is short, short enough that we don't need to speak. When we get there, the car making its way down the long drive, my jaw drops.
His house it huge. And beautiful. But then the odd feeling I felt this morning returns, making me feel slightly dizzy.
Probably just the milkshake and fries I had ten minutes ago.
"It's beautiful," I murmur, but he doesn't say anything in response. He parks inside the garage, and as we jump out the car and walk out the garage, the large door closes behind us.
I follow him to the front door at the top of the steps. It's oddly dark inside, and I notice how most of, if not all of, the drapes are drawn.
He notices my puzzled gaze, and explains, "Michael likes the dark."
He doesn't say any more.
I shadow him up the staircase, and across the dim landing. He makes it to a door that looks a lot like the rest, but when he opens it, I'm blinded by light.
We advance, and I realise that this must be Caleb's room. The drapes are pulled open, letting bright natural light flood through.
His large bed is in the centre of the back wall, with white sheets and pillows. His walls are a gentle navy colour, and he has a desk underneath the wide window. There is a closet near the bed, and another door beside that must lead to the bathroom. Above his bed are posters of bands and artists- Tame Impala, Bombay Bicycle Club, EDEN, The War On Drugs...
"I like your room," I say, looking around me.
He grins and plonks himself onto the end of his bed. There is a bedside table beside it, which holds a music speaker.
He notices my stare, and motions towards it. "Put something on, if you want."
I walk over to it, scanning through the list of songs on the control screen. Seeing one that I recognise out of the thousands of songs there, I click it.
A song by Blackbear - one of my favourites - comes on.
He grins slightly, as I begin to wander further around the room. The view from the windows is breathtaking, with trees stretching for miles, as well as occasional houses nearly the same size as this one dotted here and there.
When I turn back to Caleb, he's watching me closely. I move to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, and his gaze falls onto me as I stare up at him.
When the song comes to an end, we both stand up, and he asks smoothly, "You want something to drink?"
I nod, happily, and we begin to wander down the stairs.
But as we make it into the foyer, we hear a car pull into the driveway, tyres brushing against the gravel.
"Shit," Caleb mutters, peaking through the window beside the door.
He pulls back, looking genuinely anxious. "Michael's back, if he sees us, he'll kill us both."
His eyes fall on a briefcase sitting on the sofa in the living room. "He forgot his briefcase."
Appearing frantically panicked, I put my hands on either side of his face to calm him. He looks down at me, pressing his lips together.
"It'll be fine, we just need to hide."
He nods, as the sound of Michael's footsteps up the concrete steps makes us both jump slightly.
He notices a cupboard nearby, just beside the stairs, and bolts towards it, pulling me along with him.
He swings it open and we slide in, shutting it behind us just as the front door creaks open.
The cupboard is very narrow, cluttered with shoes and jackets and scarves. Since space is minimal, Caleb and I are pressed right up against each other. My hands are on his chest, and his are wrapped around me.
Caleb places his finger to his lips, and I nod quickly.
His quick breathing warms the top of my head, as I can feel the speedy thump thump thump of his heart against mine. I take a peak through a crack in the side of the door.
Michael has dark grey hair, like a storm cloud, and the fierceness of his features makes me tense. He wanders into the living room, seeming to take hours doing so.
When he comes out with his briefcase in hand, he looks around him for a second, as if knowing that someone else is here.
But then he swings open the door and slithers through, leaving the house as eerily silent as it was before.
Neither of us move, even when we hear his car drive away. We breathe quickly, urgently trying to steady our racing hearts.
When we have finally calmed, I stare up at him, and he gazes down at me.
Our faces are so close to each other that I can feel his soft breath on the tip of my nose, warming my face.
Before I can say anything about what had just happened, he mumbles, "Are you afraid?"
"No," I murmur, voice still low.
"Your heart...it's beating really quickly," he remarks in a hushed voice.
"I think that has more to do with you than it does your dad," I reply, glancing at our close proximity.
He smiles gently, looking down at my hands on his chest.
I break the shared gaze and we both file out of the cupboard.
"You're afraid of your dad," I state once we're both stood in the foyer.
He doesn't move, doesn't even flinch.
I move closer to him, and towards the sleeve of his hoodie.
But this time, he doesn't resist. Instead, he lets me lift his sleeve, and stare at the scars. I trace my finger along the thick red lines, as he watches me intently.
"Michael did this, didn't he?" I mumble, brushing my fingers along his skin.
Hesitantly, he nods. Checking the other arm, I see the marks there too. I look away from his scars, and up to his green eyes.
"Why is he hurting you?" I ask in a small voice.
"I said something he didn't want me to," he replies, avoiding my gaze.
I put my hands on either side of his neck, just below his jaw, and ease his attention to me. "Parents shouldn't hurt their kids, Caleb."
He moves away from me, and my hands fall to my sides. Without meeting my curious eyes, he mumbles so quietly I barely catch it, "He's not even my dad, genetically speaking, anyway."
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he gradually turns around.
"Caleb, you're adopted?"