Chapter 3

Toby was already home by the time Leah dragged herself in the door. "I'm home!" She called, then laid her bag down on the flower printed couch, falling quickly after it.

Toby walked downstairs, looking at her with a small, pathetic grin. "Welcome home," he said.

Leah yawned. "Yeah yeah." She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking over at him. "How was your day?"

He shrugged, sitting down next to her, draping his arm around her shoulder. "It was pretty okay… Now, do I get my one on one time with my student advisor?"

She smirked, leaning towards him, then kissed him lightly. "My dad's gonna be home."

"Shhh… Don't worry about that…" He smiled and pulled her closer.

"Toby—We can't…Not here…Not now…"

"No protesting—you've been holding out on me since last year!" He smirked and pushed her down.

Leah sat down in her first period Math class, her best friend, Sharrie, looking at her.

"OMG, Leah," Sharrie gushed, looking down at her.

Leah yawned. "What now?"

"That smile—only one thing could have happened last night!" She suddenly got very serious. "So… How was he?"

"Sharrie—nothing happened."

"Don't you 'nothing happened' me, girlfriend! I know you far to well to know that something happened!" Sharrie pushed her bushy brown hair back, her dark sking blending in with it.

Toby walked over, inturrupting their discussion. "Hey Leah. Sharrie." He nodded slightly to both of the girls.

Sharrie smiled again and stood. "Bye Girlfriend. I'll catch up with you later."

"By Cher." Leah watched her friend walk away, then stood. "I have to go talk to Mr. S about this. Catch ya at lunch?"

Toby nodded slightly again. "Yeah…I guess. I gotta get to class."

Lunch was no better. Toby knew that Leah was avoiding him, but he couldn't tell why. They had had such a good relationship before he had come to England to be with her. Could it possibly be his fault that the girl he loved hated him? He had only wanted to be around her… He sighed and couldn't think of that possibility. Leah had ditched lunch to, again, go talk to Mr. S. about her homework. He sighed and stood, walking out of the cafeteria, going to her class. He looked in the window, seeing her sitting on a desk, her guitar on her lap, strumming lightly.

"You took my heart, crushed it in your hand," she sang, her own tune, he guessed, "Within a stroke you went and broke. How Could I love again?" She stopped and looked down at the floor, holding back tears. He took a step forward, about to go in, then stopped. If this song—if it was written about him… He couldn't face her. She was staying at her mom's house tonight, he could just go home and not have another wayward thought about her. And the next time he saw her, he would take her softly by the hand and tell her that he was going home. Back to Canada. The decision was a hard one, but one he knew he had to make.