04

The first few seconds were awkward. "Hello," Chloe said slowly, her mouth feeling dry as she reached down for her backpack and pulled out her water bottle. "Where's Simon?"

"He doesn't run. He gets enough exercise during soccer matches."

There was an awkward silence as she drank her fill of water. She tilted the lid to him. "Want some?" she found herself asking.

Bad Chloe, don't antagonize him.

I'm not.

"Nah," he said, wiping his forehead off with his arm. He smelled strongly of sweat but not bad like BO, just musky sweat.

She shifted, her knee throbbing from the tumble she'd taken.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, leaning close. His green eyes shimmered.

"Running."

"Don't you have asthma?" His voice wasn't curious or condescending; it was politely closed off, bored.

"Yeah but my asthma doesn't act up when I run." She was sweating profusely, sweat running down her chest, her back, her thighs were sticky. Her hair was sticking to her face and skin, no doubt damp from the light drizzle.

He looked down at her, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'll see you later?" she tried quietly, feeling extremely self-conscious of her sweaty body and skinned knee.

There was a sharp jerk of his head as he stretched out his hamstrings. "Run with me," he said, surprising her.

"What?" She stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise.

"Run with me," he repeated with an air that made her pulse pick up.

He might try something.

He might not.

What if he's just like Royce?

Didn't he defend you against Royce?

Chloe took a deep breath to calm the voices bouncing back and forth in her head, staring into his toxic eyes. "A-a-ar-re you sure I-I won't bother you?"

He shrugged. "If you can keep up with me, we'll be golden." He scooped up her backpack and hoisted it over one of his shoulders, looking at her.

"Stay gold like Ponyboy." Was that a miniscule tilt of his lips she saw? Why did she have to be such a dork and quote The Outsiders? She stretched out her quads and hamstring, taking deep breaths. She could feel his eyes on her, hot and unreadable as ever, but chose to ignore it; he was probably staring at the sweat on her t-shirt.

"Here." He handed her a bottle of peroxide and a large bandage. "Take care of that knee." He was staring at her as she poured the liquid on, hissing when it fizzed.

She waited for the bubbling to die down before applying the bandage, trying her best to ignore his eyes. "Ready."

He turned and, without warning, started running.

It took her a few seconds to fall back into the pattern but eventually she did, her muscles aching sweetly, her body moving, sweat dripping on her skin, soaking her clothes, the light rain cooling down her hot body. She was too focused on breathing to pay attention to Derek or what he was saying.

This is what running is like when you really get into it, her mother had told her the year she began running. Her mother had sat in her porch chair, watching Bluejays and Robins swoop all over the place, sipping lukewarm ice tea that had been sitting in the sun the entire Chloe was gone for. She was dressed in a pretty shirt and a pair of shorts, the veins in her legs very visible, her skin translucent. She still smiled as Chloe wiped the sweat from her forehead and kissed her mother's cheek. Her skin tasted like death. Her life was slipping away and Chloe could see it taking a toll on her father each day; he hardly came home during those last few days. She could hear him crying at night; afraid to lose the woman he loved.

Chloe's feet hit something and she lurched forward, hitting the forest ground. Her hands stung and her face was burning with sweat and heat. Blinking dazedly, she looked up and found Derek above her, sweat dripping from his pores, his hair soaked and his shorts clinging to his muscular thighs.

"You really need to watch where you're going when you run," he said as she wiped off her face, hoping he didn't notice she'd been crying.

She did that sometimes, crying without realizing it as she ran, her brain looping an old memory of her mother, that same memory mostly, her mother smiling, her cheek tasting like death, musky and cold and earthy.

"We should get back. It's getting dark," he suggested as she got to her feet.

She groaned as she realized her legs felt like jelly and there was an ache in her back that told her she really was out of shape, despite running everyday. "Y-yeah." She brushed back her hair and began to backtrack.

"Wait, Chloe."

She paused and that's when she heard it: laughter, loud, boisterous female laughter. She froze as one laugh rose above the rest, a familiar laugh at that. She screwed her eyes shut.

"My, my, what do we have here?" asked a once friendly voice now filled with malice and hate.

She could feel the heat of Derek behind her, against her back and she told herself to breathe calmly, act like everything was fine. "J-j-ju-just a qu-quick ru-u-un," she squeaked out, hating herself for the stutter as Rae's cold, rust-colored eyes met hers.

Rachelle Rodgers's copper curls were arranged in a high ponytail, sleeked back with hair gel and held up by a big, Lyle High School bow. She wore a halter that was daring even for her, an extremely tight pencil skirt and impossible high heels, teetering on sky high. Her skin had gotten darker since the last time they spoke and her face was hidden behind false lashes and red lipstick. "Who's this?" asked Rae with an evil sparkle in her eye, adjusting her posture in a way more appealing to the male eye, if the catcalls behind her were any indication.

"De-De-De-ee—"

"Shut up," snapped one of Rae's minions, a gorgeous girl with red hair named Phoebe.

Chloe shrank back but Derek put his hands on her arms and griped her tightly, not hard like Royce would but firmly, enough to tell her to stand her ground.

"Not interested," Derek said in a short grunt.

Rae's eyes flared with anger. "What?" she asked in a deadly tone that promised unspeakable pain and humiliation for Chloe, no doubt.

"I said I'm not interested in you or your friends," he said again, clearer and slower this time, pronouncing each word as though he were sounding them out for the first time. Anger twisted Rae's face.

"D-D-De-erek!" Chloe whispered, horrified, turning to face with fear and horror in her eyes.

His face gave away nothing; his eyes flickered for a second and then it was gone, too fast for her to figure out.

"You better watch your back, Blondie," hissed Rae.

"Was that a threat or a promise, Rodgers?" asked Derek.

"Shut up,you-you psycho!" shrieked Phoebe.

His face darkened, angered with something inhuman, and Chloe's heart seized in her chest as she felt his muscles tighten, hard and heavy and hot against her hands. "D-D-De-erek!"

Her fear was overwhelming but her fear for the girls' well-being (despite them being total and utter evil assholes to her) was more so.

He turned abruptly, causing Chloe to fall to the floor, and he walked away, not an ounce of anger in his presence, just calm, cold blankness. Not wanting to be alone with the evil girl, Chloe scrambled to her feet and hurried after his retreating back, hearing Rae yell after her: "WATCH YOUR BACK, CHLOE!"

The two of them walked in silence, Derek's more brooding, Chloe's worried and freaking out.

Her tangled hair was dripping cold water down her back from the rain and she was trembling from the encounter with Rae. How could things have went from best friends forever to the mean "I hate you, go kill yourself"s she got when Rae spotted her in the hallways? "I-I-I'm so-so-orry about that," she whispered, her voice hoarse and too soft.

He didn't say anything so she figured he was thinking how weird she was and how right Rae was and how he could stop talking to Chloe without looking like a jerk.

"Th-th-hank y-you f-fo-or st-sta-and-anding up f-for m-me."

"You need to learn to stand up for yourself," he told her, not looking at her but up at the sky, rain washing down gently, lightly, splattering off his handsome face.

She looked at him.

He was soaked with rain and sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes closed, eyelashes long and thick, his chest rising and falling.

Her backpack was resting at his feet and she quickly picked it up, praying it didn't get ruined. She quickly unzipped it and sighed in relief; the picture she kept was still safe, dry and untainted by the elements. She stroked her mother's smiling face and smiled back weakly; she missed her dearly.

"And, as for standing up for you, well, someone's got to." He turned to her then, brushing back his hair and he looked so different, his face wide and pale and pick-marked with acne scars that she hadn't noticed before.

"S-sa-same t-ti-time to-tomor-orrow?" she squeaked.

He gave her a look that she couldn't decipher and that's when her porch light flickered on; her father wasn't home and the housekeeper was gone so that left—

"CHLOE JENNIFER SAUNDERS!" shrieked her aunt and Chloe wanted to sink to the ground in a puddle of embarrassment.

"Bye, Chloe." He turned and jogged away and she stayed there, her heart pounding.

"D-Derek! Wait!"

His form paused, did a U turn and doubled back.

She scrambled for a pen and tore off a sheet of paper. "Here!" She was surprised at how bold she was being as she scribbled the numbers down.

"This is?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"M-My number…" she said softly, feeling her cheeks heat up.

He shook his head, spraying water everywhere, before he turned and jogged off again, his back soaked with sweat and water.

"Who was that?" Aunt Lauren demanded as Chloe stumbled up the steps, kicked off her shoes and wringing out her hair on the porch.

Suddenly, she was very tired and very scared. He'd ultimately endowed Rae's wrath and set Chloe up for more humiliation. Her legs ached and her body was cold from the rain. "Nobody, Aunt Lauren, nobody. He was just giving me back something I dropped," Chloe lied, shivering.

Lauren rolled her eyes but didn't press. The one thing Lauren never did anymore was press for details if she was tired.

"Are going to stay up?" Chloe asked, squeezing the water out of her wet hair.

"Yeah. Don't forget to close your blinds."

Halfway up the stairs, the blonde yelled, "Night, Aunt Lauren!"

"Night, Chloe," came her aunt's reply.

After along, hot shower and attempts of not thinking about how nice Derek's eyes were, Chloe tossed on an oversized shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. Laying on top of her blankets because it was too hot inside, Chloe let her mind wonder to him, figuring it was useless to try and stop.

Burying her face in her pillow, she slowly sank into sleep to the memory of his body against her back filling her head, along with his intense eyes.