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never liked the time ranging from dawn to evening. Too much happened. But his love for the night was immediately squashed as he pulled on the school doors.

They wouldn't budge open.

Staying late to read was a regret as of that moment. He was stuck in school, with no way out unless someone decided to come back. Looking around, he sighed before slumping down against the doors. Everything was silent, you could hear a pin drop if you wanted to.

Or maybe the skidding of shoes.

His head shot up as he took notice of Evelyn running down the hallway.

Reaching him, she stopped to take a couple of deep breaths before speaking, "What are you doing here?"

His response was quick and concise. "Library."

She nodded her head in understanding. He was a man of few words and she was thankful she understood his way of speech.

"Dance studio," she replied.

He turned his head away from her, also attempting to do the same with his slouched form. "I didn't ask," he spat.

She looked away, taking another deep breath. "How's the nose? Didn't really get a chance to ask the other day." She was attempting to make conversation. The quietness that surrounded them was awkward and rather uncomfortable. She felt it best to fill it in, but he didn't reply.

"So you like to read huh? Same. I love romances and mysteries. Thrillers are also in my interest. Have you read The Girl on the Train? That was fantastic! How about And Then There Were None? Agatha Christie truly is an icon. I don't really do historical novels at all. Fiction or not. But there's this one book that I found so beautiful. Salt to the Sea? It took place during the Holocaust and focused on these four characters. It was a good read. I'd definitely recomme—"

His sharp response cut her off.

"Shut up."

She was at loss for words. "I—I'm sorry wh—-what?"

Groaning, he whipped his head towards her direction. "We may be stuck together, but don't take that as an invitation to talk. I didn't sign up for this so I don't need your babbling."

She blindly nodded before sitting down against a wall some feet away from him. He looked back outside, watching tiny raindrops hit the ground. Hit the windows. Hit anything it could get its grip on.

Rain was a dangerous phenomenon.

No one thought it to be a killer, everyone worried over tornadoes and earthquakes. People worried over lightning and extreme winds.

But no one really bothered caring about the intentions of rain.

Rain surely was a common occurrence. It was a menacing event. It could be light and calm, but in a second, it could become harsh and jarring. Rain was never thought to be unsafe until it painfully hit any solid it landed on.

Just like people.

Sighing, he glanced towards a quiet Evelyn.

Looking down, he mumbled, "How about John Grisham?"

Her head snapped up upon hearing his voice. It was deep and hoarse.

She threw a small smile towards him, a gesture of reassurance, "His books are good. I find his writing extremely interpretive."

He nodded his head making eye contact with her.

"Why are you never home?" His statement was meant to be a question, but it came out a demanding statement.

She shrugged. "The night is nice. Why not explore it? How about you?"

"Same."

His responses were rather short and vague. She wanted him to talk more, but she also didn't want to push it. As the sound of thunder boomed through the night, she jumped and let out a quiet yell.

Maddox looked over at her stiff frame. She was frozen in fear. Eyes wide and body still. Her breathing practically seized. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but as another round of thunder made sound, he realized why she tensed up.

"Scared of thunder?"

She looked up at him trying to calm herself down before speaking.

"You could say that," she mumbled.

He snorted. "I'm almost positive you're terrified."

"And how would you know?" she countered.

He looked at her, burning her with his accusing gaze. As the thunder made another appearance, he smirked as she jumped once more.

"My point exactly," he uttered.

She frowned looking down. This was one fear no one knew of. She hoped to keep it that way, otherwise who knows how people would use it against her.

Realizing he was mocking her fear, he sighed. Everyone had irrational fears. You comfort them instead of teasing them about it.

"Why thunder?"

His voice was softer than usual and she relaxed slightly.

Shrugging she mumbled out an incoherent answer.

"What?" he asked.

She looked at him before biting her lip and letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know."

But she did. She knew exactly why the sound of thunder scared her. Would she ever reveal her reason to him?

Most likely not.

"I just am," she continued.

Thunder was a loud noise.

It was mightier than the stomp of an elephant and resembled so many everyday occurrences.

Plates crashing. Bottle breaking. Lamps falling. Books being thrown.

When her parents had no time to harm her by themselves, they resulted in throwing things at her.

And all those noises?

Scared her shitless.

As Maddox called her name, she snapped out of the memories.

"Yeah?" she questioned looking at him curiously.

"Thunder doesn't hurt," he said. His voice was more serene and it calmed her down more than she would've thought.

As the words left his mouth, he saw her expression change from one of curiosity to surprise.

"What?" she whispered.

She whimpered as another round of thunder made its appearance.

"Thunder doesn't hurt," he cautiously continued. "It's a frightening sound, but that's it. Lightning is dangerous, thunder is merely just an opening act."

He looked for her reaction, hoping what he said would calm her down. Relax her heightened senses.

Calm her paranoia.

"Thank you," he heard her whisper.

A soft smile graced her lips, pulling her out of the parallel world her mind was stuck in.

Thunder doesn't hurt.

Clearing her throat, she spoke more loudly.

"Thank you Maddox." She smiled at him, a lighter aura gathered around her.

"There's nothing to worry about," he spoke.

Nodding her head, she traced the scars lining her forearms.

Thunder doesn't hurt. Objects do.

He looked back out the window, watching as lightning lit the dark night up. Everything was so bothered, but nothing seemed out of place.

A phrase that could be used for their little town.

On the outside, the town was a place for the rich and wealthy. A place where everyone was friends.

But on the inside, the town hid secrets.

Most had to do with the girl sitting opposite him.

"Maddox?"

He cocked his head to the side in response for her to continue.

"Why don't you let people see the good in you?"

Her heedful gaze on him wasn't gone unnoticed. She was obviously a little worried about saying the wrong words.

"There's no good in me," he murmured.

Shaking her head, she willfully disagreed. She was stubborn like that. "Yes there is. You may not like me, but you go out of your way to make sure I'm not uncomfortable."

Shrugging, he didn't say anything.

"Why don't you let people see the good in you?" she repeated, her voice more gentle and curious.

"When people see good, they expect good."

"Not always," she tried to counter.

"Don't," he harshly replied. "People want good, they see good, so they expect good. They expect people to stay good. One good act puts you on a higher pedestal than before. Because now people know you are capable of good. And then they're even more disappointed when you can't be what they want you to be. You can't be generous or kind or thoughtful. Because if that's not your everyday personality, then people want it to be."

His words were bitter and his tone icy.

"No," she mumbled, shaking her head.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep his annoyance under ropes.

"When people put you on high standards now, they expect you to keep it that way. And then they're disappointed. You set yourself up for disappointment and then feel incompetent later on," he said shrugging. "What's the point of being good when people won't allow you to be selfish? How will you ever feel like you're being good or helping someone if all you ever do is be selfless?"

Taking a deep breath, he finally finished his last words. Closing his eyes, he rest his head against the doors.

Evelyn's quiet voice drifted through the air.

"There's always two ways to think."

"What do you mean?" he snapped.

"Not everyone is like that," she mumbled.

Rolling his eyes, he stared at her.

"Tell me this, were you shocked when I said I didn't want to associate myself with you after I helped take care of your panic attack and wounds?"

She stared back at him before letting her eyes flicker downwards not wanting to answer his question.

Because the truth is, she was.

"Exactly," he scoffed. "You were disappointed. My actions were not up to par with your expectations."

"No," she insisted.

"Yes," he vehemently spat.

"Stop it," she softly said, "Just because I was disappointed that one time doesn't mean I'll always be. Not everyone is like that."

Maddox opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off before he could even speak.

"No Maddox. Just because I expected good once doesn't mean that it will always be in my mind. Not everyone thinks how you think they do," she whispered so softly he had to strain his ears to hear her voice. "All it means for me is I know you are capable of good. And when it matters, you'll be good. I won't expect you to always be good, I won't expect anything. You're reserved and rude, but you are good when you think you should be."

She let her eyes find his as he gazed back.

Shaking his head, the corner of his lips curved upwards into what could only be a tiny smile. She was overjoyed in knowing she cracked him this once.

"Never thought of it that way," he mumbled.

"Well," she started, "People don't all have the same minds."

"I guess not," he mused.

He was surprised at her argument. And how much sense it actually made. Just because you display good, doesn't mean people will expect it all the time. It just means they know you have a streak of kindness in you.

He glanced over at Evelyn and then looked away before she could realize he was staring at her.

A force to be reckoned with, he thought.

She just didn't know her full potential yet.

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