The next day passed in a heavy fog, very similar to the weather outside the Spenser building. At lunch, Ry made the first move of our rekindled friendship by sitting next to me instead of Cole and Donovan. I smiled when I found him sitting in my usual seat.

"Wow," I exclaimed. "This is new."

"I see you guys finally made up," Lily perked from behind me, her heels clacking in their wake. "Change of seats?"

"I thought I'd have lunch with Cassandra today," Ry blushed as he looked down at his folded hands.

"Donny's not gonna be happy about that," Lily teased. "Cole will make due. About time we act like we're together."

This time, I blushed.

I sat in the chair next to Ry and tried not to look for Brianna in the crowd of people filling the lunch room. She wouldn't like the new seating arrangements. I knew her enough to know this. But she wouldn't say a word about it, and that hurt me - because I knew it embarrassed her. Ryan may or may not have a crush on me, but I knew he talked to me more than he did her and I wrongly hated both of us for it.

When Brianna sat in her usual seat, she made no comments about anything. We ate and chatted about our usual randomness, and somehow this only made me feel worse.

Stupid boys. Stupid me for wanting this friendship.

Brianna eventually ended up at another table, leaning over Amanda Miller's shoulder to look at some pictures from summer vacation, and Cole and Lily were heating things up at their end of the table, whispering what couldn't have been for anyone else's ears. Donovan and another boy I knew to be Carter Smith were chatting up a girl that ended up at our table, Penelope Martinez. That left Ry and I sitting side by side rather awkwardly.

"I can't believe that after being here for over a month I still haven't been around town," I sighed, spinning my water bottle cap.

"Seriously?" He looked surprised. "Why not?"

"Well, I don't have a car," I pointed out. "And I'm too lazy for public transportation."

"So, take mine," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't mind."

"Or you could take me?" I didn't know my way around Ipswich, embarrassingly enough.

"Depends when," he shrugged. "I usually have a lot going on during the week. I only get out on the weekends, if that. It sucks."

I nodded and found my eyes drifting lazily over the cafeteria. Everyone was engaged in conversation with someone else. I dared to look at Reid's table and found Sarah and Caleb facing each other rather disgustingly. Pogue was scarfing down fries and talking to Tyler with no real enthusiasm. Two girls sat across from Reid, flirting in a stupid giggly kind of way, and Kate was digging her fork in Pogue's fry basket. She looked sad, which was weird. The Kate I knew didn't look sad, ever. Suddenly, her eyes lifted and looked right at me. I was startled for only a second before remembering to smile - we were friendly, right? She smiled back, but it was strained. I saw her eyes quickly dart toward Ry and then look away instantly, turning toward Pogue and laying a kiss right on his neck.

I didn't even think anything of it until I realized that Ry was looking in her direction, too.

I immediately looked down at the bottle cap in my hands, not liking what I'd just seen and the feeling it gave me.

Ry and Kate.

Ry.

And Kate.

Ugh, I needed to get a hold of myself. Seriously. Kate probably saw us sitting together and thought it unusual since that wasn't our usual arrangement. Ry caught me smiling at someone and turned to see that it was Kate. I'd turned to see him looking at Kate as she canoodled with her boytoy.

One big happy misunderstanding.

And just to prove I was right, I looked back at the VIP lunch table and found everything as it was - Sarah and Caleb, Tyler and Pogue with Kate still hugging his side, Reid and two girls making a public mockery of me and a few stragglers stopping to chat with the Sons. Everything as it was.

Just to be sure, I turned to find Ry digging in his backpack. He looked up at me and I smiled. That felt better.

Something inside told me it was very wrong to get that jealous.

Ryan is a friend, the little voice reminded me. Remember?

"Everything OK?" Ry looked confused.

No. Everything isn't OK. I'm a jealous broad, and you're just a friend. Most certainly, everything is not OK.

"Yes," was what I said.

"Good." He went back to digging in his backback and I turned away. I bit my lip so hard it probably bruised.

I looked back at Kate's table, just to be sure. She wasn't paying us any more attention than before.

Reid was, however. Looking at me as if seeing me for the first time, oddly enough. But it was fleeting, and when the giggle twins pulled on his blazer he returned to being his usual, fickle self.

I wasn't surprised when lunch gave me indigestion for the rest of the day.

Classes passed by like little blips in time. Even Criminal Law was mind-blowingly boring, despite Reid's presence. He slept through the whole lecture.

Brianna and I went and got dinner around 5:30 at the cafeteria. We brought it back to our room and, much to my delight, watched Grey's Anatomy re-runs. I'd missed a whole season the year I spent in juvie. Turns out we both have a thing for McSteamy (Patrick Dempsey has nothing on Eric Dane). Brianna was out cold by the second episode of the disc, but I was so engaged in the likes of Derek and Meredith that the sky could've fell and I wouldn't have noticed.

I certainly didn't notice the door-knocking until it became so heavy I nearly jumped out of my skivvies.

"I'll get it," I said, even though Brianna was beginning to snore.

I certainly was surprised by who stood on the other side of the door frame.

"Reid!"

In that one second, I did a quick mini-mental of what I was wearing: jersey shorts that hadn't fit me right since ninth grade and a t-shirt that read 'WELL IT AIN'T GONNA LICK ITSELF!' Brianna thought it was hilarious, so I'd had no qualms with wearing it in private. And actually, it belonged to Deirdre - I'd borrowed it years ago and never gave it back. Somehow it always ended up right back in my laundry.

"It's seven-thirty, Dean," Reid announced.

"You're late," I quickly crossed my arms over the big, bold letters tattered on my chest.

"And you forgot," he countered, smirking and making his way past me. I closed the door and switched on the lamp by my bed. It was dim enough to keep Brianna quiet but light enough for me to see him wholly. He was wearing faded black jeans and Chucks, with a white t-shirt. No gloves, no hat. Very different.

I had the urge to pull my shorts down. I might have been paranoid but I knew they didn't cover my cheeks right.

What I did was dig into my bookbag and pull out Othello, the book I hadn't touched since Powell handed them out in class.

"I'm going to guess you didn't read it," Reid flopped onto my bed, shoes and all, arms folded under his head. Hmm.. from this position I could see the band of his boxers very well. They were dark blue.

"Nope," I muffled as I went over to Brianna's side and yanked the remote from her hand. She sighed and buried herself so far under the covers, all you could see was patches of red hair splayed on her pink pillow.

I looked over to see him watching me. It was devestatingly uncomfortable to think of what he saw when my back faced him.

"Care to give me a run-down?" I tried to pretend I didn't care about exposing enough skin to make Flesh Hunters proud.

"Didn't you watch the movie?"

"You're not the only one who falls asleep in class," I raised my brow at him. "Move over."

He moved his legs to the side but made no effort to distance himself. I plopped opposite him, feeling rather uncomfortable in this new position. Why couldn't I wear the baggy sweats I usually opt for?

Calm down!, the little voice in my head yelled. It's no big deal.

Yeah, no big deal until he grabbed my bare ankle and yanked it toward him.

"Reid," I yelped. "What-"

"You have a tattoo?" He sounded sort-of surprised. Humbled, even.

I sat as still as I could as his hand wrapped completely around my ankle, bringing it to his chest for further inspection. As he read the inscription I balanced myself by holding onto the foot-board of the bed, remembering to breath as he fingered the symbols wrapping completely around my bony ankle.

"Must've hurt," he spoke lowly.

"Imagine getting it done twice," I almost laughed. I brought my other leg up onto the bed and displayed even more ink. What must have been strange symbols to him were actually Hebrew. I had the quote I'd written translated into another language - it was just too personal for anyone else's eyes.

"What language is it?"

I felt a chill run down my spine as his deft fingers found my ankle again and gently placed it by my other leg.

"Hebrew."

He didn't ask what it said.

He did, however, ask how many tattoos I sported.

"Seven," I mentally counted. "And don't even ask to see them all."

"I'm not going to ask," he smirked. "You're just going to show me."

"Reid, I can't."

"Why not?" He frowned.

"Because when I was getting them done I didn't think I'd have someone asking me to display my body like an art exhibit," I growled. "So I put some in...difficult places."

"Hmm," Reid's eyes roamed my body and I could have beat him with a pillow for it. "Kind of contradictory, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"You 'displayed' yourself to the tattoo artist, as you put it," he spoke logically. "Just think of me in that way."

I laughed, mentally congratulating him for being such a bastard.

"Reid, this isn't your job," I spoke lowly, smirking before getting up from the bed. "And I didn't think of the tattoo artist in a professional way."

"Oh?" He folded his arms, looking rather smug at the sight of tattoo number three - a small phoenix - on my hip bone.

"Nope," I chirped as I slowly lifted my shirt further, exposing a rather extensive quote on my ribcage while making sure to keep the twins safely under the fabric. Reid's eyes looked...hungry. The kind of eyes my mom would have covered if she were here. "The tattoo artist was my boyfriend."

Silence. No comments from him. And when I met his gaze, I instantly felt off.

Did I say hungry? No...not these eyes. The look shifted from pleased to...something else completely. It shocked me, gave me butterflies and knots in my stomach all at once. I didn't know what to call it.

"Ex-boyfriend," I finished.

Ex-boyfriend? What the hell was that all about?

We were both completely still for a second - not breathing, not blinking. I suddenly felt ashamed for exposing myself to Reid this way. I quickly turned my back on him and lifted the hem to let him see the artwork there. A long arabic prayer trailed down my spine; my best friend Remya had shown it to me when I was going through a dark time, and even though I wasn't religious it helped to calm me.

"The sixth is on the back of my neck," I lifted my hair to reveal an ankh, the symbol of eternal life. "And the seventh is on my wrist." I turned, not daring to meet his eyes again. I slid the braided bracelets up my arm to reveal tiny numbers - the date of my dad's birth followed by his death. I sat back on the bed, still avoiding his gaze. God, did he have to be so awkward? Couldn't he say something?

"Let's start," I pulled on the hem of my shorts, as if it mattered what Reid saw anymore. He saw enough of me tonight, didn't he?

His staring lasted only a second longer and then he sighed and grabbed the book next to him. He began to flip through it.

"We have to pick a scene," Reid said, strumming through the pages. "Act five, scene two is pretty easy."

I scooted closer to him, trying not to audibly inhale as I caught a whiff of his scent. It made my head spin.

"What is it about?"

His eyes lifted to meet mine.

"Othello accuses Desdemona of being a whore and then kills her." A playful smile danced across his face.

"You're kidding."

"It's an easy act," he shrugs.

"I'm not doing a scene like that, Reid."

"You'll hardly have any lines," he spoke, exhasperated. "And I've done it before, so I can help you better."

"So less lines coming from me would make a better scene?" I felt my cheeks redden as my temper flared.

"Not for nothing, Dean," he spoke slowly. "But unless you're a stellar actress, then yes. It would make a better scene."

I resisted the urge to yell at him. I clenched my fists instead.

"Whatever," I sighed. "Let's do the scene, then."

Reid tossed me the book and I glanced at the folded page. The death of Desdemona.

"So let me get this straight, " I crossed my legs as I spoke. "Othello is accusing her of what, exactly?"

"He thinks Desdemona's been sleeping around with their best friend behind his back," Reid tells me with a straight face. "Desdemona denies everything but Othello doesn't want to hear it."

"That's horrible."

"He strangles her to death," Reid lifts an eyebrow at me, his handsome face glowing in the soft light of my lamp.

"And creepy," I shudder, though I'm not sure if it's the play or Reid that makes me say it. "So I'm being choked out, basically?"

"Basically," Reid laughs lowly, and I try to hide the smile that threatens to show. "I'll let you in on a secret, though."

"What?"

Reid's face turns serious and he leans in close - too close for my liking - his lips far too near mine. I mean, come on - I can feel his breath! Reid's eyes fix on my bottom lip and I feel myself go stone cold.

"Powell's gonna make the class re-enact their scene in a modern-times version," Reid's breath tickles my face. "So, if you want, we can practice that before we get to the hard stuff. I know you need a good grade in this class."

I draw back instantly.

"And you don't?" Why did he have to make me feel so indifferent from everyone in this lousy, snot-faced rich-kid school?

"Of course I do," Reid reasoned. "But I've acted on stage before."

"Oh, right," I spoke sarcastically. "You've been given this job to help the poor little problem-child who can't get a good grade."

"Dean," Reid exhaled loudly. Brianna stirred in her bed. "That's not what I meant."

"You want to give me an easy scene?" I stood up, "fine. You want to give me less lines? OK. But don't assume I can't get a decent grade, Reid. And I definitely don't need your help."

"Or you won't accept it, you mean," Reid corrected, folding his arms.

"I wouldn't, even if I did need it."

"I know," Reid stood up then, not fast or erratic but rather laid-back like. "That's why I like you."

"Well, I don't like you."

"Why is that?" Reid's question wasn't meant to be answered. I knew this because he came as close to me as possible, nearly cheek-to-cheek. His lips lowered to my ear in secrecy, and I was just happy to hide from his penetrating eyes.

"I don't trust you," my voice cracked. I wanted to yell it right in his face but didn't have the balls to.

"But you trust Winstead," Reid's voice hardened. I could feel his hands heavy on my hips. One of them found the curve of my spine and tickled the base of my back. His fingertip traced its way up my spine, making me to shiver. When he got to my shoulder blades, I all but collapsed at his feet.

"Yes."

His left hand squeezed my hip so tightly I was sure it would bruise, but the gesture wasn't cruel. My breath hitched and his vise-like grip relaxed instantly; his fingertip found the base of my neck and made a funny sort of movement. He was tracing my ankh tattoo, I realized.

"Reid..."

He pressed my lower body into his with so much pressure, I felt an actual stab of pain. Then I realized what was causing the stab and blushed furiously.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I could hardly form the sentence coherently as I distanced myself from him.

"Doing what?" He dipped his head and looked at me so strangely I almost forgot my reason for pushing him away.

I knew that look, I realized. That strange look in his eyes. I'd seen it before.

Chuck looked at me that way, when I broke up with him. He was confused and hurt and above all, determined to be angry at me. He couldn't fathom why I was breaking up with him. But deep down inside I knew the reason. He deserved more than some messed up kid who'd been raped, drugged up and jailed before her eighteenth birthday.

Eventually he understood that we could only be friends. And Reid would have to understand too.

"I don't know what you think you're getting with me," I looked him in the eye, watching his blue ones rake my face. "But I'm not like the other girls here and I wish you'd stop wasting your time."

Reid stepped back, creating a world of space between us. His hands found his pockets and dug into them deeply. I merely crossed my arms and tried not to break my stance.

"I know you're not like the other girls, Dean," Reid's voice deepened. "The other girls don't run away from me."

"I don't run away from anyone," I replied curtly.

"Most girls like the attention, but you don't," he ignored my comment. "You don't like it because it makes you feel powerless."

"Powerless?" I laughed. "To you?"

"No," Reid shook his head. "To you."

I couldn't help but scowl, not liking the direction of this conversation.

"You like the way you feel when I touch you, kiss you even," Reid took a step closer to me. "You have no control over yourself. It scares you."

"Reid."

He stepped close enough to take my clenched fists in his own.

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

I had the impulse to rip my hands away. His fingers worked their way into mine and spread them open. Not clenched. Not tense.

Open.

To him.

"You couldn't hurt me." My voice was deadpanned, even to me. The truth of those words cut me more deeply than anything. I was unbreakable, but not because of my inner strength or sense of self-ownership.

I was simply already broken.

Brianna shifted in her bed and yawned loudly. I pulled my hands from his and crossed my arms.

"We'll practice tomorrow," I spoke curtly. There was no way in Hades I would look him in the eye.

He crossed my path without another word. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I heard the door shut behind him.

Brianna shuffled in her bedsheets and lifted her head lazily.

"Who was here?"

"No one."

"Hmph," she grunted. "I missed the whole Karev and Isabel hook-up, can't believe I fell asleep..."

I turned away from her and succumbed to my bedcovers. Loneliness was creeping its way up my spine, but I refused to cry. Truth was, I couldn't really accept myself or the things I've done in life. I couldn't accept what happened to me all those years ago. It made me bitter, resentful and most of all angry. So angry that I hated the girl in the mirror. How could someone want an angry, bitter, resentful person like me?

Too bad, a voice in my head whispered. If you can't stand yourself now, the rest of your lonely existence sure is gonna suck.

A lonely existence.

Some how I knew it would end up that way.