To the One Who Has My Back
"Mmm," I yawned, rubbing my eyes. It was still dark outside, I noticed. Another yawn escaped me and my eyes fell on her.
Well then. She was still here. She was selfless, giving up her whole weekend just to look out for me. In reality, though, a girl like Rachel Grayson should have nothing to do with me. I was one of those kids who fathers pray their daughters won't look at, one of those "Troubled kids."
But then again, Rachel didn't have her father. Just an overprotective adoptive grandfather also known as Bruce Wayne.
Rachel wasn't like any other girl I knew, though, I had to hand her that one. She was smart and funny, but also fiercely protective, loyal and dedicated to what we do. Thugs and criminals knew better than to mess with her. Bruce says she got this from her parents. And the greatest thing about Rachel, though, was you never had to pretend to be someone you weren't. She didn't judge anyone, except maybe my now ex-girlfriend Dana.
What I didn't get, though, was why she cared so much. Sure, we were friends; it was necessary we trust each other. But how many girls do you know who will give up their whole weekend to take care of you? It was very sweet and all, but the way we teased each other…it didn't add up. We were like brother and sister. I knew my reasoning…but was hers the same?
My reason for being the annoying, yet protective brother was…well, I'm in love with her. No other explanation. But like I said, I'm one of those "Troubled kids." She shouldn't look twice at me. And yet she risked just as much as I did, and I really don't know why. She saw her parents die, like Bruce, but she's never done anything against the law like I have. Bruce, too, for that matter. I know the stories…how he disappeared and came back Batman.
I realized it was her I was in love with, not Dana, a couple months back. Dana and I were in the library, pretending to study, and Rachel was sitting at the next table over, working on her English essay. She was bent over in concentration, that silky obsidian hair falling into her face. Rachel must have known someone was watching her and she glanced up. Those beautiful jade eyes looked into mine…they were mesmerizing. Rachel was special…unique. I could never quite figure her out, and at the same time I knew everything about her. Silly things, like her favorite color (green), and important things, like how she wanted to be a journalist. 'Why am I sitting with Dana?' I wondered. 'I should be with Rachel.'
She was my best friend, that girl sitting in my chair with my old blanket. And for a good reason, too: She had my back. Night after night, day after day. She was the one who would patch me up when we got in to Bruce's…she was always so tender about it, as if she was afraid of causing me more pain. She was the one who would rescue me when I was in too deep, whether I liked it at the time or not. She was the one I laid awake thinking about. And she was adorable, walking around in her non-fashion trend clothes, never putting her hair down like the other girls, always applying thin layers of raspberry lip gloss. (Hey, I can smell it, OK?) I wanted nothing more than to hold her until time stopped.
Rachel stirred slightly, her head lolling onto her shoulder. The blanket slipped, bunching up behind her back.
I smiled slightly as I got out of bed. I gently scooped her up in my arms (She was feather-light) and placed her in my bed, pulling the covers up to her chest.
I still couldn't figure out why she teased me so much, and yet truly cared at the same time. Dwelling on it, I recalled the conversation she'd had with Dana that I wasn't supposed to hear. Dana had accused Rachel of stealing me from her…which she had, though not knowing. Could Rachel really feel that way about me? She didn't deny feelings for me, only that she hadn't taken me from Dana.
I promised myself I'd find out tomorrow. Both too tired and too lazy to go sleep on the couch, I crawled in next to her. I could tell the shampoo she used was strawberry-scented, I was so close. I could never tell what Dana's hair smelled like; it was too full of volumizers and hairspray. Rachel was…real. I loved her, I really did…
Though she never did bring me the cookies she said she was making.
OK, peeps, this just came to me…
And it is a one-shot, which means one chapter. Please no reviews asking for a quick update.
Peace,
The Queen of Duckies ;)