How We Were

by Reuben deFlash

Prequel to Like We Used To. A trip to Washington evokes memories and eventually, Andie asks the question: how did Blake Collins, uptight loner and king of the school, end up with Alexandra Hale, MSA's wild card in the first place? R&R please.

20. Run, Alex, Run!

Chapter Twenty – Run Alex Run!

Despite his words to his mother, Blake had no idea how he was going to go about smoothing things over with Alex. If he'd had hopes that she would have had chance to cool off before school on Monday, they were all shattered as his eyes met hers across the classroom in first period, and he saw how much contempt was behind them. She didn't acknowledge him beyond that, and he didn't see her for the rest of the day, and he was starting to wonder if she was even going to turn up to rehearsal. He needed to talk to her, to make things right, but how could he do that if she refused to speak to him?

He walked towards the studio after lessons, feeling more anxious than he had done in a long time, hoping silently that she was in there warming up, even though in his heart he expected her not to be. What he would do if that was the case, he didn't know. He rounded the corner, and took a look inside before going in. He exhaled deeply; she was in there, not dressed for rehearsing, but at least she was there. Her back was to the door, and her gaze on her feet, so she didn't see him come in.

"Hey." She looked up sharply at his voice, and scanned him up and down, but she didn't say anything at first.

"You're late," Alex said blankly after a few moments, looking at the clock on the wall, and then to her Casio on her wrist.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," he managed. He'd been working up courage in the men's bathrooms, giving himself a mental pep talk in the mirror, not that he could tell her that. "Look, can we talk about the weekend because-"

"I haven't got time to talk, I have to leave early. I just stuck around to let you know that I'll be looking for another partner," she said. Her voice was so even and careful it took Blake by surprise. He was used to her anger, but for her to be measured threw him off balance.

"What are you talking about?"

She sighed, a little more agitatedly this time, and folded her arms. "I'm going to look for another partner."

"Why?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," she retorted sharply.

"Well maybe I'm just being a little slow today – so indulge me, and tell me why."

She paused. "I don't think we work well together anymore."

Blake snorted. "That's stupid. There are a lot of things we don't do well together – dancing is not one of them."

She shrugged, and the corner of her mouth tugged upwards into a kind of sneer. "Well, maybe I don't want to distract you any longer. Since I'm so obviously dragging you down with me," she added in a low voice.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as her words came out; even though she still kept fairly quiet, the vitriol behind each word hit him just as hard as if she'd actually punched him.

"About what my Mom said-" Blake started

"Save it. Don't try and say that she didn't mean it, or that she's sorry. Your Mom isn't the kind of person who back-tracks on her opinions," Alex interrupted, sounding cold and hard. "You know what? I get it, as far as she's concerned. I understand her, and in her own twisted brain, everything she said and did is because she wants the best for you. She has a weird way of going about it, but she just wants to see you succeed."

Blake briefly felt a trickle of relief, but it disappeared quickly when he realised that she still looked and sounded furious.

"What I don't get, is you Blake," she finished. He frowned at her and crossed his arms.

"What do you mean?"

Alex stared at him. "What do I mean? I'm supposed to be your friend. Your Mom tore me to shreds on that baseball field. She said some awful things and you...you just stood there and let it happen. You didn't say a word. You didn't contradict her, you didn't defend me. Hell, the guys from my old team did more to stick up for me than you did, and I haven't seen half of them in months!" Finally she raised her voice, but instead of feeling like this was his cue to jump in and start biting back, he felt as if he was shrinking, disarmed by her and by the brief flash of tears he thought he saw building up her eyes, only to be blinked away.

"Not to mention you didn't tell her you about coming to see me, and lied to her, and snuck around like I was some dirty little secret," she continued. "Why on earth did you lie? For a start, how does that make me look? Your mom thinks I'm some kind of rebel trying to ruin your life and career. I thought she knew we were hanging out, and then I find out you haven't said a word? It makes me feel like I'm nothing – like you're using me to make a point with your parents-"

"That's not true!" Blake said, finally finding his voice.

"Then why lie Blake? Why lie about it?"

He faltered, trying to word it, and it gave her time to jump in again. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"What? No! Why would I be?"

"Let's face it – I'm not exactly the kind of person you or your family would normally associate with."

"You're making it sound like we think we're royalty or something," Blake shot at her.

"You do!"

"I don't!" he shouted, his voice ringing through the studio, making her flinch. "I don't think that way, and if you'd been any sort of friend to me, you'd know that."

"I thought I did know you, but you just did a complete one-eighty over the weekend went back to being a total jerk!"

He wasn't able to control his own temper now. "For your information, I told my mother exactly what I thought over what had happened. I didn't like it any more than you! And she IS sorry!"

She threw her arms in the air. "It's too late Blake! I've already been embarrassed and put down in front of all my friends, but the simple fact of the matter is, you're ashamed of our friendship and you didn't have the guts to defend me."

"I'm not ashamed of you Alex!"

"Then why would you lie?" she cried at him, not hiding her tears very well this time. She quickly wiped them away, looking down at the floor as if they had spelled defeat for her. Her heard her sniff and sighed heavily. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her he'd fallen for her. It was just too honest at this moment in time. But a little honesty wouldn't hurt, not if he wanted this girl to stick around.

"I guess I liked having something that was...untouched by my life. A friend who liked me regardless of whether I could dance or not," he said finally. "It had nothing to do with rebelling or acting out or being ashamed. I just wanted something that...was my own. I didn't mean to make you a secret but my Mom would never actually approve of me doing the kind of things we get up to. She said as much to me one time when she was here in the studio," he admitted, and Alex's face lost a little of its fury, obviously remembering. "And, no, honestly, you're not like my family or the people we 'associate' with-"

"What?" she jumped in, narrowing her eyes a little.

"But that's what makes you better than them! I like that you're different. And not because I was on some kind of wild rebellious cavort and I was using you. Because you're the first person who didn't attach me to my parents – you know, 'he's really his parent's son' or 'the Collins' kid' – but as Blake. A person," he added, feeling a little nauseous. "Someone I could do….normal things with…something as simple as watching a game, or go for ice cream. Things I can't do with my family. Someone who treated me like a person, and apparently liked me for who I was. If that's using you," he sighed, "enjoying myself with you, then I guess I used you."

She looked at him, face devoid of any distinguishable emotions. "I can understand that, but you made me feel like I wasn't good enough to be your partner, or even your friend."

"I know that now, and I'm really sorry."

She paused again, and nodded at his apology. "But I still think it's best if we discontinue our partnership."

"Don't be ridiculous," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "You won't find another partner now. And we work well together."

"I really don't care," she snapped. "I can barely look at you, let alone dance with you. Don't you understand? I can't do it. I don't think you realise how much you've hurt me."

"I think I do," he said quietly. And he did, because he was about to lose her over that hurt, and it was affecting him just as much. "Alex, I am sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."

She looked at him and pursed her lips for a moment, deep in thought. It seemed forever before finally, Alex sighed deeply. "Fine."

Blake looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"I forgive you, at least for not saying anything to your Mom," she said calmly, grabbing her bag. He stared at her, waiting for a change in her countenance but she looked as blank as she did before. "I'll see you tomorrow in class."

"Wait a second," Blake commanded. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"You don't have anything else to say to me?"

Alex's eyes narrowed to slits and she folded her arms again. "I hope you don't want me to apologise?"

Blake gritted his teeth. "No, but I just spent the last," he glanced at the clock, "six minutes being brutally honest with you – so much so my ego's been a little dented – and nothing feels different."

"It's not going to go back to normal overnight Blake," she snapped. "I still kind of hate you right now. I'm not even sure I want to be friends with you after this weekend. I listened to what you said and I'm stuck with you partner-wise, but I still think to stop either of us from suffering in the future that we should maintain a healthy, professional relationship that isn't rife with emotions. We don't have to be best friends to dance."

Blake stared at her as she tucked some hair behind her ears, and let out a disbelieving laugh that echoed around the studio.

She frowned. "What's so funny?"

"You sound like my mother," he replied coolly. The studio filled with another silence, with Alex staring past him at something on the other side of the room.

"Isn't that what you want?" she said eventually. Blake didn't reply. Of course that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Alex, and he wanted things to go back to the way they were, before he'd screwed everything up. And he wanted - most of all - to find the courage to tell her how he felt. Instead, he looked at his feet and changed the subject.

"Where do we go from here then?" He heard the bitter tone in his voice, and was struggling to hide it, though he doubted she picked up on it.

"Rehearsal on Monday. Three times a week as normal. And we'll see what happens," she said simply. and turned on her heels to walk out of the door, leaving him in the studio alone.

XXXXX

Maintaining that healthy, professional relationship was a lot harder than Alex had anticipated. She had been determined that they could do it, if only to prove Mrs. Collins wrong, but it was just too hard. Not because she found it too easy to get along with Blake, and to be natural in his presence, but because she was just so mad at him over the whole thing, despite her saying she'd forgiven him. She hadn't really; although she understood the reasons behind his actions, that didn't mean she liked or condoned them, and her unforgiveness was filtering into the way she spoke to him and looked at him. When they weren't working in a frosty silence, they were screaming blue murder at one another.

Mind you, he wasn't making it easy. When she said she wanted it to go back to them being professional, he obviously took that as his cue to go back to being the focused slave driver he had been before. He'd been snappy and critical, reverting back to his original self, and prompting nothing but a furious stupor from his partner. She couldn't get a break, and it was making things worse than tense.

"You're sickling," Blake sighed during one rehearsal, straightening up from where he had been crouching. Alex snapped out of the position she was in and crossed her arms.

"I was not sickling," she said through her teeth. "I don't sickle. Any more than you do."

Blake sighed impatiently and put his hands on his hips. "Get into the tendu again."

"You're not correcting me on my warm up!" she hissed. "You should even be watching. You should be...doing your own!" Alex inhaled deeply through her nose. "Just...stop talking to me."

"Well, it's hard to concentrate when I can see someone out of the corner of my eye sickling!" Blake bit back with a clenched jaw.

She shook her head and begrudgingly pointed out her leg to prove her point. "Satisfied?"

"Well, you're not doing it now," Blake snapped as if it were obvious. "But you were."

"I am so close," Alex said in a low, threatening tone as she abandoned her position again and stepped over to him, "to murdering you, it is unbelievable!" She jammed her finger into his chest as if to make her point clearer. He didn't even flinch, much to her annoyance. "All you have done since I came in is nitpick at everything and anything, and I've only just started warming up! If this is how it's going to be," she laughed in a disbelieving tone, "then I will leave now. I'm not in the mood for your games today Blake Collins."

Blake stared at her, keeping his stance. "Have you finished?" he asked, condescendingly. She narrowed her eyes.

"Have you?"

"Are we going to do this all afternoon?" Blake sighed.

"No," Alex cried, clenching her fists besides her body. "Because if this carries on, I'll make good of my threat and throttle you!"

The door to the studio swung open on them standing face to face, Blake just above her looking down with a face full of thunder, and Alex's just about matching it. They turned to look to see their principal – Director Franklin – with two board members and a young girl, probably a few years younger than them, and a man who they couldn't place, staring at them. The Director, seemingly oblivious to the tense air and arguing that had just occurred, beamed at them. He was a tall wiry man, who had once danced but injured his knee young and so turned to teaching what he loved instead as many dancers did when the active side of their profession grew out of reach. His hair was a dark black, with traces of steely gray and he had a rugged Italian look to him behind his round wire glasses. He wore the most obscure of ties, and today he wore a yellow one, with Vincent Van Gogh's sunflowers on it.

"Ah," their teacher said with a quaint smile. "I was hoping it was you two rehearsing. I was just showing Miss Martinez and her father round the school. Pia will be joining us next fall, from Mexico."

Alex and Blake nodded respectfully. A flash of recognition passed between Blake and the board members; everyone who was remotely connected to the school had been vetoed and was there on approval by his parents – most of them were old friends of the family that Francis and Clive had worked with at some point in their dancing past. He gave them a polite smile and stood up a little straighter.

"Well, this is one of our studios Pia," Director Franklin said warmly. "This is one of the largest as well, frequently used for rehearsal space, which is exactly what Blake and Alex are doing. These are two of our brightest and most promising students," he added, addressing Mr. Martinez – who was as tall as he was, but not as thin, and with olive skin and oily hair slicked back into a short, ponytail. "Blake's parents founded the school."

"Is that so?" Mr. Martinez said smoothly with a strong accent.

"Yes. Blake and Alex will both be seniors but the time you start Pia, so be sure to seek them out should you need any advice. I know they'd be happy to give it, wouldn't you?" Franklin asked the pair.

"Of course," they murmured in unison. Alex smiled widely at Pia.

"How long have you been a dancer?" she asked kindly.

"Since I was five years old," the girl replied in clear English, with a slight accent, not as heavily laden as her fathers.

"Well, MSA is a really great school," Alex assured her, and then fell back into silence.

"Would you mind showing us something you've been working on?" the female board member asked, directing the question at Alex but glancing at them both. Alex swallowed hard and looked to Blake, whose facial expression was unreadable. They were used to being asked to dance – especially improvisation, which their teachers had decided was the best way to spend a lesson these days – but they were fighting, and although she couldn't speak for the both of them, Alex really didn't want to be touched by him at the moment in time. Never mind the fact that if they did a lift, he'd probably let her fall and break her neck, just to spite her.

"Well, I don't know..." she started.

"Sure," Blake answered, over the top of her, pulling the remote from his pocket. Alex took a deep breath, and paced away to her position, knowing there was no arguing. They didn't have much of a choice anyway; she knew that three of the four adults watching were close friends of his parents, and if he was insolent then the report would get back to them. But she still couldn't help but feel like he'd thrown her to the wolves.

"The first quarter?" Blake asked her from where he stood. "That's only just past a minute on the track."

"Should be fine," she replied with a forced smile. The girl across the room was watching her intently as if in some kind of awe, and it made Alex feel nervous. She didn't normally get nervous, but having another person watch you with such naive fascination was flattering, and a lot of pressure. She had to put her rift with Blake aside and concentrate on her steps.

But that seemed a little difficult, when no more than five metres away stood Blake, in all his thunderous glory, with arms and body waiting to catch her in the first lift. It was Alex's technique to focus wholly on whomever she was dancing with, or entirely on herself – to completely disregard anybody else in the room, and to let those like Pia and her father, and the faculty members by the door just slip away, letting dance and the motions cloud over. It was impossible to block out Blake from her thoughts, when she was going to have to focus on him in order to dance.

What was wrong with him anyway, she asked herself as the music started and she moved quickly into position. He was acting as angry as she was, and he had no right to. It was as if he thought she'd overreacted over the whole thing! That was men all over as far as Alex was concerned – it was never going to be his fault was it? And he seemed to like the rise he was getting out of her, the pretentious ass.

So nothing had changed then over the course of these past few months, she thought as she did a series of chaînés turns into Blake's chest. They hadn't made the progression from – let's be frank about it – bitter enemies to friends at all. There were back at square one with King Collins biting at her and treating her like she just put on her first pair of demi's.

No, no, no. She hadn't come into this relationship caring about what Blake Collins thought about her, so why did his opinion matter so much now? Why did it hurt so much that he had seemed ashamed of her? Alex had of course ranted to Jayne, and to her father about how angry she was, but the reply had been unanimous – why was it bothering her so much? And though she could explain the situation, the words as to why just wouldn't formulate in the way she wanted.

What she wanted to say was 'because he can't treat people like that' and what would have fallen out would have been 'because I realised I care about him, and I thought...maybe he liked me too."

Because that was what it boiled down to wasn't it? She'd figured out that she had a stupid crush on Blake Collins. When it started, she wasn't sure – it could have been any point over the past few months, during which time they'd gotten so comfortable with one another she hadn't noticed how close they'd grown, or how attracted she'd become to him. She was supposed to hate him right now (and to some degree she did) but she couldn't shake the hurt she felt over the rejection behind it all.

And now, with his hands on her as he guided her through the steps, she was starting to feel like a mess; because each touch was like a trail of fire, and she was torn between leaving and never wanting to feel the burn again, and letting it consume her.

XXXXX

Attitude a la seconde...

Pirouette...

Blake watched her face as they danced; she seemed to be concentrating hard on something, so deeply in fact that her eyebrows had knit in some kind of tormented frown and she was barely meeting his eyes, which was discouraging to say the least. She was really more stubborn than he had realised. Perhaps he should apologise again, he thought, looking at her confused expression once more. No, absolutely not. She was being ludicrous over the whole thing; he wasn't going to take the flack for her insecurities. Besides, he'd apologised and he wasn't going to keep doing so.

Grande jete...

But weren't they a little his fault, he thought they began to echappe in unison. At the end of the day, how difficult would it have been to stand up to his Mom, and tell her the truth from the outset? And look what his concern had cost him; Alex wasn't speaking to him, he certainly had no shot as far as romance was concerned, and he realised in the whole school, she really was his only friend.

Not to mention the fact that he wanted her so badly it was killing him. Why was it that when you couldn't have something, you wanted it more? The tension between them had been mounting for days now, and he was sure that it would break soon and he would either kill her or kiss her.

They finished abruptly as Blake halted Alex in her pirouettes at the waist and her torso fell into his with an immediate closeness that neither of them knew how to act in. For a moment, their faces were too close and they paused. Alex's lips parted as if she were going to say something, but applause from the outer rim of the room brought their focus sharply back from their own thoughts to their duties. They stepped apart, breathing heavily and crossing their arms.

"Splendid, really, the both of you. Emotive, and impressive technical work too," the female board member smiled. "I'll be sure to pass this on to your mother and father Blake. They'll be so proud."

Blake nodded, but didn't speak.

"And you...Miss..."

"Hale," Alex responded, breathlessly. The woman frowned.

"It's a long shot, but you wouldn't be William Hale's daughter would you?"

Alex's mouth opened with surprise. "Yes...yes...I am," she stammered. No one ever asked after her father.

The woman nodded knowingly. "I thought so. My husband works at Porter Logan Advertising too, and I've met your father on a few occasions at functions. Very amusing man. He's always talking about his daughter and her dancing – that's how I wondered if you were her, not to mention you have his eyes."

Alex nodded, smiling and colouring a little.

"Your father is proud no doubt?"

"He is," Alex replied quietly. Pia was staring at them with a face full of admiration, her smile looking as if it would burst her face, and she muttered something in Mexican to her father who only replied with a deep 'Si, Pia.'

"This is a more independent style of learning; though Blake and Alex learnt the basics in the classroom, you can see they added their own ingenuity to a choreographed routine," Franklin explained.

Pia nodded. "That was wonderful. You're amazing dancers. I just felt like your dance told a story. That's what I want to do when I dance."

Both Alex and Blake nodded, hugely embarrassed, and unsure how to answer.

"Excellent," Director Franklin interjected with a happy expression and a clap of his hands. "Well, Gloria, if you'd like to take the Martinez's on to the music department, we'll show them the next leg of the tour," the Director suggested to the strawberry blonde board member. The woman nodded and led the guests away, followed by the other board member, leaving Director Franklin.

"Thank you," Franklin smiled. "I knew I could trust you two to deliver something that would not only impress our guests but the board too." He paused with a deep breath. "I'm glad I decided to feature you both at more functions – that was truly breathtaking to watch. If that was anything to go by, the Christmas Fundraiser should be very exciting."

And he left the room with a smile.

The partners stood in a crisp silence for a moment, still catching their breath from the dance though they were unsure as to whether it was the pace of their routine that was making them breathless, or the emotion behind it.

"So," Alex began, swinging her arms a little. "That was an unexpected ego boost."

Blake smiled weakly. "The girl seemed nice."

"She's obviously very enthusiastic about dance."

"Hmmm."

They fell into another silence, with both of them thinking about how it seemed they could not interact in the same way, and could only discuss other people when really the burning issue was each other. Blake pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed; the atmosphere wasn't going to get any lighter, and Alex looked tired despite her strong stance and heavy frown.

"Do you want to call it a day?" Blake asked quietly. "Or just have a break?"

"We'll just break," Alex replied slowly, and a little coolly. "I want to finish the last part of this routine," she added blankly, pacing over to her bag and fixing her ribbons.

"Can we talk please?" Blake asked suddenly, frowning and turning towards her with his hands on his hips. "Or are we just going to carry on like this?"

Alex glanced up from where she was crouched with a clear expression, devoid of any emotion. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want both of us to talk to each other, normally, and to stop fighting. It's ridiculous. One of us will end up dead at the other one's hands if we're not careful," he said with an incredulous laugh.

Alex straightened up slowly, barefooted and holding a drinks bottle in her hand, playing with the cap before twisting it off and taking a drink from it. "Well, talk then."

"This is what I mean – you're hostile and confrontational. Don't you want to try and sort things out? You know, for the sake of our partnership?" he said coldly, gesturing to where they had been dancing though simply because it gave him an excuse to look away from her.

"Well," Alex said quietly. "I think it's safe to say that our dancing won't suffer because we're not talking. Like that woman said, we were pretty good," she said with another forced smile. "Isn't that what you want? And if Mom and Dad saw that, they'd have no concerns." She waved a hand. "Shucks, they'd be proud."

Blake glared at her. "You're not being fair Alex."

"No?"

"No," he repeated, a little louder. She didn't say anything at first, but when he tried to go on she opened her mouth.

"Let's just get on shall we? We've got half an hour left, and we should use it well." Blake bit back the words he'd been about to say and sighed heavily. How the hell was he going to fix this?

XXXXX

How the hell was she going to fix this?

They'd gone back to dancing, but that didn't seem to make things better as it usually did. In fact she was pretty sure it was making everything worse. With the awareness of her new feelings, each touch was like a punch to the stomach now, and she was feeling nauseous. How was she supposed to stay strong and stay mad when he made her feel like this?

"Hang on," he said frowning, "get into the fifth step again." He started to go about adjusting her, and she couldn't muster the strength to come up with some witty quip. Instead, she let him do his work in silence, wondering why the minutes on the clock seemed to be ticking by so slowly. She needed to get out of here.

Then, in an unexpected movement, his hand brushed over her collarbone as he corrected her; a subtle, gentle touch that was completely accidental but it was too much. The dull ache in her stomach intensified and multiplied into a supernova of heat. She knew her skin was flushing wildly, so she tried to keep her features blank. His hands innocently set her arms to rights, and he carried on muttering to her, not realising what he was doing her body.

"Just...stop a second," she managed to breathe. Blake faltered, looking mildly irritated and dropped his hands from where he had been adjusting her.

"What?"

"I...need a drink - I'm thirsty."

He scanned her expression. "Are you feeling ok?" he asked. "You look...unwell."

"Of course," she snapped, ignoring his concern. It only made the starburst do somersaults, and she was trying to calm it down. She barged past him and stormed over to where her bag was. "I just need some water."

"Fine," retorted Blake, obviously irritated at her tone. "Hurry up."

Alex spun on her heels, bottle in hand. "I'm thirsty, Blake. You know, just because you've bypassed all human functions and emotions, doesn't mean I have." She was picking a fight – she knew it – but it was easier to be angry than give in to anything else she might be feeling.

"Very mature," Blake simpered. "Look, can you just grow up so we can get on with this?"

Alex paused for a moment and threw her water bottle down into her bag without a word. "Where are you going?" he asked, realising she was packing away.

"Home," spat Alex. "I can't listen to you anymore. I can't stand to look at you!" she yelled and slammed the door of the studio open before storming through it without a glance back at him.

XXXXX

Fine, he thought to himself. Good riddance.

But his emotions didn't quite match up to that of his thoughts; the revelation that she couldn't stand to be near him anymore stung more than he would have liked it to. And while he knew the Collins in him would have brushed that aside and continued dancing, the Blake in him was exhausted and felt like driving his fist into a wall.

Grabbing his own bag and heading for the door, he turned the lights off and began to walk in the direction of the car park. Hopefully, Alex would have got inside her truck and been long gone by now. He frowned as he unlocked his car - no, the truck was broken again wasn't it? She'd mentioned it on the day of the baseball game. William would have come to get her.

What did he care anyway? Why was he still thinking about her? He supposed it was because no matter how much he wanted to hate her with the evident fervour that she so clearly felt for him, he couldn't. Even though he was hoping to get over it quickly. She didn't show any signs of relenting in her crusade against him, so it would be best if he could just get on with his life, and forget that he ever felt anything more than indifference to Alexandra Hale.

He paused again as he started the engine. It was Wednesday - William wouldn't have come to collect her. Even if she'd have rung her father, he worked late on Wednesdays.

So she was walking home.

Not that it made any difference to him, Blake reminded himself as he reversed out and headed home.

It took him less than ten minutes to reach his house but when he pulled up, he didn't get out right away. Angry or not, he was worried. He hadn't seen her walking home, and there were only two routes back to their neighbourhood. The one he'd followed, and the one that cut across the Green.

XXXXX

She knew she'd promised her father that she wouldn't go this way again, but Alex was too tired to pay heed to his warnings. She wanted her own home and bed as soon as possible, so she could cry unseen. The Green was the quickest way, and luckily for her it was a nice day, albeit very cold. She'd be through in no time.

That didn't mean she'd forgone the can of mace. No, no - she was gripping it tightly same always.

How long had she been walking? Nearly half an hour? Less than that? As she looked around at the beat down basketball courts and the graffiti, she quickened her pace a little. She was regretting her rash decision now, but at the time, she'd been too mad to stop herself from storming across the asphalt. She could only hope she looked so angry, no one would touch her.

The wind was picking up, as if attuned to her mood. Alex had seen red, and it was easier to be furious with Blake than it was to admit that despite how much of a jerk he could be, she still felt something for him. That she still wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Alex shook her head as if to shake away the thoughts. It wasn't going to happen! And the sooner she got over Blake Collins the better. Perhaps she should call it quits completely - partner a freshman, even though they'd be technically behind. Find someone else to practice with. Anyone, she didn't care. She needed to escape Blake; his face, his voice, his touch.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples - why him? And why now? She'd gone this long without having any major crushes and Alex knew she'd fallen and fallen hard for Blake. She didn't like this feeling - as if all her hopes and dreams and emotions were bound up in one person. At the moment, he felt like the wrong person.

How could you hate and love someone at the same time?

Alex heard the footsteps behind her somewhere amongst her internal battle and turned her head to see a young boy, not much older than her, following her. He was looking around - checking to see if they were alone - about forty feet away. When he caught her eye, he grinned. The panic rose in Alex's chest; it wouldn't take him long to bridge that gap and reach her. She quickly worked through the logistics. She wasn't far from the main road. Her bag was slung across her and so he couldn't take it easily without a fight.

If it was the bag he wanted.

She swallowed down her fear and the thoughts of how very, very stupid she was, and started to run. He picked up almost immediately, realising she was on to him, but he hadn't expected her to be so fast. Alex silently thanked God she'd played baseball.

That's all this is, she tried to tell herself as she shot across the concrete, her assailant in hot pursuit. Baseball. And you need to make that home run, Hale.

She darted over some makeshift bike jumps - where was everyone? Would anyone help her if they saw? Alex knew she wasn't far from a stretch of parkland that would take her back to the main road, but she was tired and she could feel the boy hot on her heels.

She turned a corner, down an alleyway, and then another left - knowing that this was even more dangerous but it was the only way she knew. She heard the boy colliding with the walls in an effort to turn the corners faster but she ran straight down, whipping past gates to people's yards, under wires, and then out onto more tarmac which lead to the woodland.

He was still trying to reach her, and Alex glanced back to see he was close as she went towards the dense trees. They might be thick and she'd be easier to catch, like an animal caught in a thicket. But she might just be able to lose him in them. Her breath was catching as she shot towards the trees, a stitch forming in her side. She could see the main road, hear cars and sirens. If she could just-

The boy had her and was wrestling with her bag, trying to get it off her back. The can of mace flew out of her hand, and she felt angry that she'd forgotten it was there in the first place. He pulled her to the ground easily, but she swung out her arms, trying to catch him with her fist if she could. She must have done, because she felt her knuckles connect with flesh and the boy grunted angrily, pushing her with enough force to graze her head on the tarmac.

"Hey! Get off her!" someone yelled from far away, and she was flinching too much to see. Alex felt a weight lift off her, some indistinguishable noise and then the sound of feet running quickly.

A pair of hands grasped her quite suddenly, making her find her feet quickly as she tried to get away again, but the hands had a strong hold. Alex struggled, writhing against their grip until they said her name loudly, and yet soothingly at the same time.

"Alex, stop. Alex, it's me, Blake. It's ok. It's alright. Calm down."

She'd never been more pleased to see him, but she couldn't speak, she was so breathless.

"Are you alright?" he asked a little frantically, looking around them to see if they were alone.

She nodded.

"You didn't break anything?"

Alex shook her head; the only pain she had was the stitch in her side and the burn in her throat. Her head stung a little where it had hit the ground, but apart from that, she seemed ok. He held her closely to him, practically supporting her weak, shaking legs and his cool eyes fell to her grazed skin but he didn't make any movement to touch it. Instead, Blake let her go, satisfied she was calmer, and looked down on her with a strange expression - a mix of concern and anger.

"Come on," he commanded, though a little more softly than she expected. "Let's get you home."

The Mustang was parked on the road, in a lay-by and he walked her round to the passenger side before getting in himself. He didn't start the car immediately and instead sat there for a few moments.

"What the hell do you think you were playing at?" he started, not yelling but still talking in a raised voice.

"T-t-trying to get home," she managed, stammering a little, and cursing herself for her weak voice.

"Across the Green? How many times do you have to be told that it's not safe?" he asked, frowning hard at her.

"I wanted to get home quickly..."

"You might not have got home at all!" he yelled, making her flinch into her seat. "You came this close to being mugged as it was, and you were lucky to come away with that scratch! But he could have raped you Alex, or killed you!" Blake let out a loud cry and thumped the steering wheel. "I don't care how mad you are at me, or how much we're fighting, don't ever put yourself in that position again, do you hear? You come to me and ask me to take you home. Because I'd rather sit in a car with you hating my guts than I would...than I would..."

He paused, breathing deeply, and rubbed his forehead. The words wouldn't come and Alex didn't offer any.

"Just promise me," he said finally, meeting her eyes and hoping that she'd see how earnest he was being. "Just promise me you'll never go that way home again."

She nodded. Relief coursed through his body - he trusted she'd do what she said this time. She'd had a scare - they both had - and Alex was the sort of person who learnt from her mistakes.

"Are you ok?" he asked her blankly after a while.

"What do you think?" Her voice was still hoarse from running and laced with some asperity.

He ignored her jibe. "Your head isn't bleeding, but it'll need cleaning when you get home."

"Ok," she whispered.

"Are you going to tell William what happened?" he asked carefully.

She cast a reproachful look in his direction. "No, and neither are you."

"If that's what you want."

"It is."

He started the engine silently and pulled away.

"Thank you," she said with some effort. Blake glanced at her to see she was staring out of the window, but she turned when she felt his eyes on her. "For what you did."

He just gave her a nod. He wasn't sure what to say.

"I suppose you think what happened is my own fault," she said, when they stopped at some lights. His head turned sharply towards her and he frowned at her.

"I think what you did was incredibly stupid," he admitted in a low voice, turning his attention back to the road. Her voice was part confrontational, part pitiful as if she wanted to start a fight to make herself feel better, and yet she believed her own words. "But I don't think you deserved it."

She didn't answer at first but sat back in her seat and stared out at the passing scenery. "What were you doing there?" asked Alex after a while, still sounding unusually subdued. He cast a worried glance in her direction - perhaps she was in shock.

"I didn't pass you on the way home, so I knew you must be taking the shortcut," Blake explained, turning right. "I headed back that way across the Green to try and meet you, and that's when I saw you running hell for leather from that boy, and him grab you." He gripped the steering wheel at the vivid memory - fear had made him shout at the boy, and luckily he wasn't armed otherwise Blake and Alex would have stood very little chance. Did she realise, he wondered, that they both could have come off a lot worse. That she could have...she looked too stunned to have had it sink in yet.

"No," Alex asked quietly. "What we you doing there? Why bother to see if I was ok?"

He faltered and pulled up outside her house. A question he'd asked himself on the way back to the Green, but one he couldn't ask now. It was simple. "Because," he answered after a moment, "you've been a good friend to me and...I still care what happens to you however much you hate me."

His words seemed to shock her because she bowed her head and fell silent. "I don't hate you," she muttered quietly after a few moments, her voice sounding shaky and broken. When she looked up, it took him a few seconds to realise - with some horror - that she was fighting tears. And not doing a good job since they were flowing freely down her cheeks. Before he could say anything, she opened the door and got out quickly, sprinting towards her door and going inside without looking back.