As always sorry for both the delay and the length of this part, annnd of course, thank you for all so much the feedback - it's good to know that people are actually reading what I write. And bear with the fic and all will be revealed.

The lyrics at the beginning are from the Alexisonfire song "Boiled Frogs"

Chapter 4

So wait up, I'm not sleeping alone again tonight.
There's so much to dream about, there must be more to my life
Poor little tin man, still swinging his axe,
Even though his joints are clogged with rust.

I nervously fiddle with my backpack, my left hand tugging at the strap on my right shoulder, as my watch snakes past my eyes I clock the time, 4:06pm. She's late.

I can feel my pulse start to race a little, my face scrunching up in a wince; she's not going to show up, that's why she said my house. Oh no, oh dear. I don't want this.

As my mind starts to run away with this train of thought, I start to picture Ashley and Madison hiding by a line of lockers point and laughing at me. My breath hitches, my heart still beating faster than usual. I duck my head and slam my eyes shut trying to calm myself down, wordlessly telling myself to relax.

"Spencer." I inwardly sigh, wondering how long it's been since I last heard Ashley say my name, her perfectly husky voice making my knees weak.

Lifting my head up to meet her eye line I mentally shake myself, gotta stay calm.

"Um, hi. Ashley." She nods at me, "Um, I guess we should go. Er, get, um, get going." I smile nervously.

Her reply is short as ever, her voice laced with apathy, "Whatever" she adjusts her sunglasses, moving them from the top of her head to rest on her nose, her eyes disappearing behind the large aviators she now sported, as she speaks.

Ashley has her bag slung over her right shoulder like me, however instead of a rucksack she has a canvas book back, her handbag straps peeking out at the top of the flimsy container. I wonder what books she has in the bag, and if she's failing anymore subjects, and….

"…Going?"

Huh? Damnit! She was speaking. She shoots me a bored look and I guess that she was talking about us leaving the school campus, I try to mentally shake myself as I gesture to my right as I start to walk, hoping that she follows. I hear her heels clacking against the concrete and I know she's walking half a step behind me.

As we past the school gates the wind picks up and thrust the scent of her perfume towards my nostrils, the sweet fragrance making me dizzy. I listen to the sound our shoes make as we get further away from King High, the soft padding sound of my rubber soled trainers and the rhythmic clicking of her high heels. We stop at a pedestrian crossing, the little man on the display a static red, I question whether or not Ashley remembers the route to my house, I almost want to turn off at an incorrect street to see if she says anything, I know I wont though. At one time we'd have been waiting and walking hand-in-hand in the innocent walk children do, blissfully skipping along, from A to B.

The journey from King to my house is silent, bar the noisy bustle of rush hour LA traffic, Ashley never once opening her mouth to speak, she walks silently to my right, my mind racing with memories, I'm as muted as her. Part of me is dreading what's to come, the other part nervously anticipating our impending tutoring session.