A week seems like a long time compared to my usual updating schedule and if I manage to get chores and homework (most of it) done today, I'll try getting a head start on the next chapter.

To the readers and reviewers: You're fantastic, and while I'm pretty sure you already knew that, I wanted to remind you :)

Walking down the hall Monday morning, I tried to push away the irrational anxiety, as I had done all weekend, though it was futile. In the past two days, whenever my mind had time to wander—which was regrettably frequently—my thoughts went immediately to Chloe, and I couldn't help but worry about her, about her safety and general well-being—I had even gotten to a point of being so absurd that I intensely disliked the fact that I had absolutely had no way of reaching her. It wasn't until I turned a corner and saw her blonde hair and small frame that my worry subsided, that I was able to breathe properly again after what felt like two days of intense anxiety. Aside from looking slightly tired, she appeared to be fine. Fine and extremely disinterested.

Opening my line of vision, I saw that there was a boy leaning against the locker beside hers, talking animatedly, completely ignorant of the fact that Chloe was obviously not listening.

He liked her, liked her liked her—I could see it. The abruptness of the thought surprised me, though what surprised me even more was the fact that I just as suddenly did not like him.

While it would have been more rational to just continue walking, leaving them be, it hadn't been my original intention. I had wanted—still wanted—to check up on Chloe, and I intended to do that. I also wanted to interrupt their one sided discussion, and the possibility of doing so was too tantalizing to pass up.

His eyes—whoever he was—met mine for a second and I recognized the familiar disdain and judgment, barely even consciously registered it. As opposed to returning the narrowed gaze he had shot me, my eyes slid to Chloe and focused on her. I could feel his eyes still on me, certain that he was now glaring, but I ignored him. Chloe turned around then, and when she registered that it was me standing in front of her, her eyes widened in surprise. After moment, she spoke.

"Hi," she said, sounding as if she didn't quite believe that I was standing in front of her.

"Hey," I said back gruffly. Her friend's unabashed staring was beginning to irritate me.

She looked at me with her big blue eyes, gaze filled with questions. Obviously she wanted to know why I had approached her, but this guy was also obviously very curious, and who was I to assume that she had told him about Friday night's altercation? That she even wanted anyone else to know?

I shot her friend a look, hoping to convey that this was a private conversation, but he simply met my gaze defiantly. I internally scoffed at his inflated courage that was brought on by the fact that he clearly thought I was threat to his quest for Chloe.

"Are you o-" I wanted to know—needed to know if she was alright. But I also couldn't bring myself to ask her in front of this oblivious, jealous bother. It seemed wrong. Shooting him one last annoyed glared, I continued, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Are you free today after school?"

"Yes. Why," she asked. While her answer came without hesitation, I could still see the confusion in her eyes. Unlike her comrade, Chloe was perceptive enough to know that that hadn't been my original question.

"Can we do today instead of tomorrow? In the library? I have some football thing and wouldn't be able to make it." It was such bullshit, but I couldn't think of anything else. Liam was having another one of his 'get-togerthers' tomorrow and I'd honestly prefer to be anywhere else on this earth than at his hours. But Chloe didn't know that.

"For sure. So I guess I'll see you then," she said, sounding slightly disappointed. What reasons could she have for sounding like that?

I nodded, shot the petulant child beside her a final look, and turned to go. Without thought however, I called, "Yeah, see you then," over my shoulder, wanting to assert my relationship with her in front of him for some reason—not to mention that I quite enjoyed the look of jealousy that had established dominance over his features. It wasn't until later that I realized, strangely disappointed, that he had nothing to be jealous about.


Walking into the library, I quickly scanned the room for Chloe but couldn't find her. Depositing my bag on a nearby table—the library was practically unused; nobody would take it—I began to amble through the aisles, thinking that maybe if I started reading more, I wouldn't be so consumed by thoughts of Chloe. I headed for the classics section, assuming that if I needed diverting literature, it should logically be there, and what I saw so comical, I couldn't help but smirk.

Chloe was standing on the second shelf, after having climbed up, I presumed, and was now reaching with all she had for a book that was still out of reach. As funny as it was though, it also worried me, vexed me. What if the shelf fell? And why the hell was she being so irresponsible?

Coming up behind her, I reached for the book easily, causing her to jump a good foot in the air. It was either grab the book or grab Chloe, and you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out which was exponentially more important.

I caught her, bridal style, and looked down at her disapprovingly, only to be met by her firmly shut eyes.

Slowly opening them, she looked up at me and said, a little breathlessly, "God Derek, do you think you could have warned me that you were there?"

"Do you think you're an orangutan," I asked sarcastically. "Honestly, Chloe, when are you going to start being more careful? What if I hadn't been here and you had fallen?" What would she have done then? It was like she had some sign advertising her susceptibility to ludicrous, unsafe situations.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed exasperatedly. "The only reason I fell was because you took me off guard. The shelf is steady. I would have been up and down, no problem," she reasoned, sounding rather proud.

I narrowed my eyes contrarily and she glared back at me. "It was still stu—"

"Don't say stupid," she warned, cutting me off.

"It was," I countered.

She looked at me indignantly and I sighed, relenting. "Safe. That still didn't make it safe." Which was all I really wanted it seemed—for her to be safe.

Her eyes softened, it seemed almost unconsciously, and I opened my mouth, wanting to change the subject, wanting to do something that would expel the sudden dryness in my throat, the increased beating of my heart.

The sound of a clearing throat caught us both off guard and our heads snapped simultaneously towards the end of the aisle, where the librarian stood solidly, glaring at us reproachfully. I swiftly yet carefully set Chloe down, hoping to diffuse at least some of the tension and make the scene seem less inappropriate.

Mrs. Mackenzie hated me. I could see it her eyes, in the looks she gave me whenever I walked in. She, like every other teacher, knew about the accident, and she assumed that I was the definition of a ticking time bomb, on the verge of destroying her library in the blink of an eye. With a final pointed glower to each of us, she turned and marched away.

"What was that about," Chloe asked, as soon as she was out of hearing range. While her perception differentiated her, it was also something to watch out for. She had also seen the darker look saved solely for me.

"I think she's afraid I'm going to steal the books," I said, shrugging.

She barked out a laugh before rapidly throwing her hand over her mouth, eyes widening.

She looked so shocked, so surprised, that I couldn't help but smile. She seemed to, even unconsciously, be able to make me feel normal.

"C'mon," I said. "We need to start working if you're going to pass."

I began heading for the table I had put my things on and it was a few moments before I heard her seemingly hesitant footsteps behind me.


The heavy library doors thudded shut and Chloe and I looked towards them. There stood Tori, in all her lofty glory, haughtily scanning the room. Spotting us, she walked over and I quickly picked up on her determination, on the victoriousness she seemed to be emanating. Knowing Tori, I had reason to be apprehensive.

Not one to approach a situation delicately, she said, "I need your car keys."

I snorted. "Not going to happen," I said certainly before returning my eyes to the book in front of me.

"Why not?" she demanded.

Without looking up, I said disinterestedly, "Road rage and irresponsibility do not make someone I would trust with my car."

"I'm a great driver!" she snapped. This was untrue. Tori was a terrible driver. She thought she owned the road and drove with the mentality that it was up to other drivers to keep an eye out of her. Not to mention she sounded like a sailor when anyone dare honk at her.

Exhaling loudly in frustration and pinching my nose with my thumb and forefinger, I asked, while trying to keep the irritation to a minimum, "What do you want, Tori?"

"Your car."

"And I've already told you it's not going to happen. So, really, you no longer have a reason to be here." Tori knew—enjoyed even—pushing my buttons, and now was nor the time or the place to cause a scene.

Eyes flaring up in anger, she said tersely, "Dad said that you have to give it to me. I need to get somewhere."

"I'm sure the mall can wait." She practically lived there—sometimes I wished she did.

Eyes narrowed, her chin jutted out in defiance and she tensely took her phone out of her bag, hitting a key and passing it to me.

I took it and the dial tone barely had time to start when dad picked up.

"Tor," he said, sounding stressed.

"Derek, dad. Why does she need my car," I asked, not in the mood for formality.

I listened as he explained that he needed her to go to his office—forty-five minutes away—to install some new software for his computer and then help him open some file that a client had sent him and that he couldn't open. Unless I wanted to drive her there—which I didn't—I'd have to hand over the keys.

"She'll be careful," he reassured. It wasn't as if I had some nice car—it was black Jeep. But it was my car, my source of transportation since I was the only one out of Tori, Simon and I that was responsible enough to drive, and I didn't want Tori jeopardizing that.

"That's like saying Simon won't have a girlfriend," I grumbled before hanging up on his chuckling.

Snapping the phone, shut, I reached into my pocket for my keys and dropped them both into her outstretched hand.

"How am I supposed to get home," I questioned.

"Not my problem," she said, unashamedly smug, before turning and leaving us in peace.

After a few minutes of silence, and worrying more about my car and cursing Tori, I realized that she must have made an impression on Chloe, most likely negative. And while it was difficult, I was still grudgingly loyal towards her—she had earned it over the years—and I felt that I should vouch for her.

"She's not terrible when you get to know her," I admitted reluctantly. "She-she has her reasons." That was all the explanation Chloe needed and I knew she'd be satisfied—she wasn't one to pry. And it's not like I had the right or the desire to discuss Tori's personal issues, which could mildly be called less than garden variety.

She nodded a bit doubtfully before we fell into silence once again, taking a bit of time for me to realize that I now had no way of getting home.

"Shit," I muttered. Meeting Chloe's curious gaze, I explained, "I still don't know how I'm going to get home."

"I could give you a ride," she suggested, eyes never leaving mine.

Did I want a ride from her? The better, less obviously answerable question was whether or not I could handle a ride from her. Time alone with Chloe in a small space seemed terrifying and exciting at the same time. It threatened to bring us closer together, and I didn't know whether I wanted that or not.

But the pros outweighed the cons, the curiousness trumped the wariness, and I nodded, grabbing her bag—it seemed like the polite thing to do—and headed for the door, holding it open as she passed under me. Ignoring the feeling of her arm gently brushing against my chest, I followed her out.

R&R please :)