"What are you doing in this place?" Easton inquired. He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid into his car, mumbling thank you. He jogged to the driver's seat, inserted the keys into the ignition, and drove off down the street.

"I ate lunch," my statement sounded more like a question.

Easton's brows knitted together. "You skipped school? And what happened to your leg?" he asked, his gaze drawn to the blood stains on my jeans, which had been scraped by the wire in the school.

"Oh," I hesitated. I'm not sure if I should tell Easton the truth. Should I tell that I was with Ashton? Will he be upset if he finds out that I want to be friends with someone they despise?

They had no idea I knew Ashton other than through chance meetings, and I have no plans to tell them given that their groups of friends don't get along. Whether I tell him or not, I know the truth will come out and they will find out.

"It's nothing," I finally said after few seconds of thought.

I honestly want to tell the truth, but I don't have the courage to do so. Perhaps someday. Maybe another time.

"Does it hurt?" he inquired, peering down my leg. His face was filled with worry. I couldn't help but laugh. I haven't been asked about my conditions in a long time. So it surprises me when someone inquires about my well-being. Easton's concerns warm my heart. I gave him a grin and told him it was nothing.

"How about you? What exactly are you doing here?" I inquired. Easton jerked his head to the side. I suddenly noticed that his cheekbone was swollen. He has a cut on the corner of his lips and between his brows. My gaze was drawn to his swollen knuckles, and I gasped as I noticed the knife cut on his hand.

"You're hurt," I quipped. I'm pretty sure he didn't get these cuts from the three strangers with piercings we met a while ago. I touched his swollen cheek, and he winced.

"There was a fight, and the other school caused trouble, so we taught them a lesson to put them back in their place."

What about another school? Is he talking about Jeffty's school? I've heard that both schools have a great rivalry. Before , it was just an academic and curricular conflicts, but as the years passed, students became involved in the conflict, and the rivalry became physical. They made it a point to establish campus territories and rules that anyone who steps on or violates will result in street fights.

My brow furrowed and my frown deepened. "We? Who's with you?"

"Some guys from school," he explained. Was Ashton a part of it? I'm wondering if he was hurt as well. The ruckus happened to be nearby. That's why he insisted on my leaving because it was far too dangerous for me to stay here any longer.

"You skip school too?"

Easton hummed and shrugged like it was nothing.

"Classes still go on without us. No big deal." He said. I shook my head. "I shouldn't be around you. You're a BI." I accused and he laughed.

"Look who's talking, and you can't get away from me; you're stuck with me for the entire semester, remember?"

I didn't skip school on purpose. I was dragged, I wanted to say. I reached into my jeans pocket for a handkerchief and grabbed Easton's hand from the steering wheel. I cringed when I saw how deep cut is. This must be excruciatingly painful.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, perplexed.

"Don't move," I commanded as he was about to pull back his hand. Easton grimaced as I wrapped my handkerchief around his wounded hand and neatly tied it. "You should clean it when you get home," I suggested.

I looked up and found that he was looking at my face intently. The look on his face makes my heart beats erratically. A smile slowly appeared on his face, showing his perfect white-teeth.

"Thank you." He said.

Flustered, I sat upright. I feel like I have a sudden lump in my throat. I focused my attention on the road ahead of us. "Eyes on the road, East."

"My eyes are perfectly fine gazing at the west." He chuckled. "You're blushing again."

I immediately touch my cheeks. It felt warm, and I didn't need to look in the mirror to see that my cheeks were flushed. "I'm not!" I denied.

"Ah," he said knowingly. "Defensive."

"No, I am not!"

"Will you explain the blush?" he asked, poking my cheek. When I didn't respond for about a minute because I was too embarrassed to admit it, he looked amused.

Easton laughed once more. He swerved the car sharply and turned onto a street that leads to my village. Seriously? Is this guy mistaking me for a clown? He's been laughing quite a bit lately.

I rested my head against the window, watching the hazy trees pass us by. As twilight falls, the day begins to fade. When I looked up at the sky, the stars began to appear. It's been a long and exhausting day for me. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Easton cast me a glance before returning his attention to the road. I jammed my earphones and began listening to the songs on my playlist.

The car came to a halt after about five songs. Easton stopped in front of our house, and I unbuckled my seatbelt. "Thanks, East, for saving me and for the ride."

"It's my honor to be your knight, my damsel." He said in a low voice and made an awkward noble bow.

I chuckled. "I am far from being damsel." I said

"But thanks. Good night, Easton."

"Good night." He smiled. I got off his car and stepped onto our porch. Twisting the knob, I heard Easton horned behind me. "Dream of me, princess!" He said and playfully salutes at me and speeds off the street.

Smiling, I went inside. The dim and silent house greets me. Again. I sighed. Mom and dad have the same night shift at the hospital so it always leaves me and the house alone. I can only see and talk to them during breakfast and Saturdays, their day off.

Even though they're here, I feel as if I've been all alone since two years ago. I'm used to being left behind. Since we lost Lucia, I've felt as if I've lost not only a sister but also my parents. Nothing has been the same since that day. Everything changed. They spend far too much time working. They had forgotten that they still had me. There's a part of me that misses them and wishes they could be with me all the time. But the other half prefers to keep things as they are.

Yawning, I climbed the stairs to my room. Turning the light, I walked to the bathroom and take a warm shower. I took out my spongebob pajamas. I jumped onto my bed and stared up at the flat ceiling. I listened to the song '7x70' that was playing on the radio.

I felt my eyelids turn heavy.

I roll over my side and draw my dog close to me. "Good night, Scooty." I murmured.

My sleepiness drifts me off in my dreamland when suddenly my phone buzzes. I grope my phone from the night table; a message pop up from unknown. Squinting my eyes, the message reads, 'I didn't mean what I've said. Good night' Too tired to reply who s/he is, I shut my eyes and completely went to sleep.

~•~

"Anna, come on down; your father is waiting," Mom yelled from the living room.I puffed a deep breath and look in the mirror for one last time. I hope I look presentable. I braided my hair to the side, and my mother made me to wear a formal navy blue dress that reached a few inches above my knee. I put on my silver doll shoes because I don't like wearing heels and went down the stairs.

I went on the backseat and we made our way to David's house, dad's best friend.

Today is the day of the dinner my parents were discussing on Saturday morning. My parents looked thrilled to finally meet their long-time friend for a very long time. Mom smiled as she looked at me. Lines of wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes. "Are you excited?"

"Yes." Lie. "But nervous at the same time."

She reached my knee and patted it, saying, "You'll be fine."

My heart was beating so fast against my chest that I can almost hear it. I watched my fingers fidgeting on my lap. I feel uneasy. I have a bad feeling about this dinner. I have a feeling that it will not turn out good.

Or maybe it's because I despise getting together. As you can see, I am not a particularly sociable person. I'd rather stay in my room and sleep all day than go out and meet new people. An act by a complete introvert.

I sighed and turned my attention to the road ahead of us. I'd been trying to recall a boy from my childhood. I pursed my lips in frustration because all I could think of was a chubby boy with dimples whose name I couldn't remember no matter how hard I tried.

We came to a halt in front of a beige two-story house with a spacious lawn. We stepped outside, and when Mom pressed the doorbell, a girl in a long-sleeved dress with a ribbon on her head greeted us. She's about 13 years old, if I'm not mistaken. She smiled at us and beckoned us to follow her into the living room.

"Dad! The Samuels are here!" the girl hollered in the direction, I assumed, was connected to their kitchen. "What?" a man with a beard asked, peering over the wall. He's wearing an apron and holding a spatula. When he saw us, his eyes darted around and a broad smile spread across his face. He trotted over to us and stretched out his arms, which my father gladly accepted.

"My dear old friend," David began as they parted from the hug. He kissed Mom's hand and laughed as he realized he was still holding a spatula and an apron. "I'm sorry about that. I'm still adjusting to doing my wife's work," David explained, a glint of sadness in his eyes. He quickly dismissed any emotions he was feeling and joyfully introduced us to his daughter, Leila, the girl who had welcomed us. Dad did the same for me.

"Look how time changed you." David said, looking at me. "It seems like yesterday that you and my son were playing at the back of my garden." He chuckled. He extended his hand to me and I awkwardly shook it. I scanned the room in search for his son but failed when I found none.

"He's not here," said Leila, "Rejoice and hope that he'll not come home. To tell you, my brother is an ass."

"Why'd you say so?" I asked as we made our way to the kitchen. Leila rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. "He's mean to me. He likes to pick on me and some other girls in his school too. Especially this girl he once told me who doesn't remember him." Leila chatted.

"Really? That's awful."

Leila nodded. "Yeah. He's that mean because his love life sucks." She chuckled to herself. "Unluckily for him, he likes his friend's sister who happens to like someone else." She whispered to me as we sat down on their rounded wooden table.

There are delicious and delectable foods served at the table, including roasted chicken, pasta, vegetable salads, and chocolate mousse. Mr. David deserves an honor because he does an excellent job as both a father and a mother.

My brow furrowed. "Do you mind if I ask your brother's name?"

Leila shifted her weight so that she was facing me. She opened her mouth to speak, but a manly voice cut her off. "Hello, Dad."

Everyone's attention directed to the guy who came in.

I froze.

David nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Come sit with us," David said, motioning his son to take a seat. Leila scoffed and leaned to the side, her gaze fixed on the foods in front of her. The chair beside me made a scraping sound. I firmly shut my eyes.

Please say it's just a dream.

Please say it's just a dream.

Somebody wake me up from this gruesome nightmare I am experiencing. I pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I wish for a magical thing to happen and abduct me as their captive. But mostly, I wanted to bolt up and leave.

I want to be out of here, by all means. I watched my parents across from me talking happily. A deep sigh escaped my lips.

I can't just ruin their moments, can I?

From the corner of my eye, I saw him serving himself some food.

"Eat." He said.

"I don't have the heart to serve you and this is not a freaking resto." There's a trace of scorn in his voice. He realized I wasn't doing anything and not planning to move anytime soon he decided to face me; his jaw firm and his green-pea eyes boring on mine.

"You knew all along." I accused.

He smirked. "So?"

"Why didn't you tell me, Brett?" I asked. "You should have told me that we were friends before."

"What for? Eleven years had passed and everything change, Annathea." The way he says my name is like it is the most disgusting word he ever said. "And you know what the most infuriating part is? You left 11 years ago without saying goodbye."