Chapter 22: Twenty Two

What about Selma.”

“She was becoming clingy.”

“She loves you... I think.”

“I could never love a human.”

And yet here he was acting like my friend. I had to wonder what he wanted with me. I didn’t know what to say.

He smiled but his eyes remained decisively bitter “Be careful Beth.” He said. It wasn’t just a warning it was a threat.

He was telling me the exact thing Bradley had. I was not safe with Bradley in my life. But that had to be wrong.

When I was in his arms I felt safe, as though nothing could ever hurt me.

“I’m sorry.” I said both for his loss and for the fact that I couldn’t stay away from Bradley. I wasn’t strong enough to do so.

He smiled sadly. Of course he understood.

“I should get going.” He announced.

My eyes automatically wondered to the clock on the wall. I nodded.

“Later.” He called as he left the room.

“Later.” I whispered.

‐--------------

For the next three days Bradley was not at school, still I waited for him to glide through my science class, but he never did. It didn’t matter that he’d told me that he wasn’t coming, a wave of disappointment still clung to me when a streak of black hair didn’t walk past my desk.

By Thursday I thought I’d go crazy with anxiousness I wanted to see his glorious face, to smell the alluring fragrance of his tan skin. The decision wasn’t mine to make, I could never stay away from Bradley; I was already in too deep.

I told Benjamin I had assignments to weave through that extremely hot morning when I arrived at school. I was trying to avoid him. He was going to the museum with some of his friends, an invite I politely declined, so he didn’t notice anything unusual about my apprehensive face and edgy voice.

Once I was sure I was alone, I dug through my bag and recovered my phone that uncle Miles gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I hardly ever used it, it still looked brand new. He’d spent almost all of his pay check on that gift alone, when I tried to give it back he refused to take it. It was the most expensive item I owned.

I pressed the only button on the phone; a green screen greeted me and then a picture I took with my uncle when I was six years old. My red hair was a frightening mess and four of my front teeth were missing. I had on a bright pink dress. I cringed. I looked tedious.

“Wow.” A velvety voice gasped.

My eyes narrowed. The irritating, egoistic Ferrari owner was back.

“School hasn’t started yet.” I said. “What are you doing here?” I should’ve locked the door.

He smiled crookedly. “If I’d known I was breaking the school rules by coming early to class… I would’ve stayed at home.”

I sighed irritated. I couldn’t believe the rush of emotions I felt.

He laughed. “Now I have to go back outside.” He said, dropping his backpack on his desk. “I need to rid my head off the image I just saw.” He shuddered.

I sighed angrily. Ignoring him.

He dropped his keys in his black leather jacket and looked up smiling. “But I do think you looked better when you were a young girl than now.”

I picked up the first thing my hand touched and threw it at him. It was my sandwich. He easily caught it and took a bite.

“Mhm.” He moaned. “This is delicious. At least there’s no salt.” He went on. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Give it back.” I cried, my stomach easily backing me up with a growl. “You don’t eat salt? Are you diabetic or something?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I never get sick.” He said, “I’d have to show you why I shy away from salt.”

We were silent for a long moment.

He sat down at the edge of his desk. “Peanut butter sandwich, I haven’t had this in a long time.”

I pinned him with my gaze.

He smirked and took the last bite. “That was delicious.” He frowned. He walked over to my desk and took my soda. Before I could complain he’d opened it, downed it and threw the empty can in the bin.

“Bradley Carter. I’m going to kill you.”

“Many tried, none succeeded.” He taunted walking out of the room, leaving me fuming.

I switched off my phone. Christopher was standing hunched over my desk, Bradley stood tall behind him. I blinked more than necessary, overwhelmed.

“Elizabeth.” Christopher greeted formally.

“Mr. Carter.” I stifled a yawn – a product of lack of sleep.

Christopher smiled, as though he was enjoying some private joke.

“Mr. Mason was in a car accident this morning.” Christopher said, his voice lacking emotion. “I want you to work with Bradley and get a programme ready for Saturday’s memorial service.”

Mr. Mason, I hardly knew the elderly man who sometimes wore glasses. Apparently he was the best mathematics teacher the school has ever had. He’d offered me a slice of his home made carrot cake last week. I didn’t know it was the last time I’d get to see his wrinkled face smile.

My heart ached.

Bradley dragged a chair and sat across me when Christopher left.

I tried not to yawn for the thousandth time in two hours. I wasn’t successful.

“I’m going out for some cappuccino.” He announced. “I won’t be long, I promise. Would you like some?”

I nodded.

“Try not to swallow flies while I’m gone.” He was back to teasing me.

He backed out of the room.

“Bradley?”

He looked up at me.

“You always wear gloves even when it's hot”

“I don’t want to hurt you again.” When he spoke his eyes twitched, and his face rearranged itself into a mask of torture.

I stared at him wide eyed. I’m sure my confusion was written all over my tired face.

He smirked. “I’ll be back.”

I nodded, too tired to argue. When he was gone, I leaned back against my seat and closed my eyes, promising myself not to fall asleep. I tried hard not to think about dark eyes that sent a shiver down my spine every time they looked at me.

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of a phone ringing. I opened my eyes in surprise, realising that it was dark out and I had fallen asleep. I looked up, flabbergasted, I lay on my side on the table, with three textbooks one on top of the other as pillows under my head and a black leather jacket covered my upper body.

I frowned. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

His gaze turned scorching and his voice lowered a tone. “You looked so peaceful in your sleep."

Muffled I sighed.

“Let’s go home.” He said.

I leaped up, ridiculously nervous, and gathered the jacket, before I could grab the first book; a long tan hand was picking up the last book. I wasn’t fast enough withdrawing my hand, my fingers brushed against the back of his hand and a spasm of pain shot through my arm. I flinched.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have taken my gloves off.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“You’re apologising for hurting?”

“I guess so.” I said, my fingers tingling with electric current. What happened to his glove?

Examining my hand, bee sized blisters formed where his fingers had touched me.

I frowned. “How do you do that?”

“I guess you have some allergic reaction towards me.”

“Really?” I scoffed. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

He smiled sadly, and shrugged. “You have a better theory, do you?”

“I’m weird.” I was strangely scared of myself. “There’s something wrong with me.”

He looked at my hands. “It’s not your fault, believe me.”

“But…”