The next day was... chaotic. Mitchell caught my eye as I walked into class that morning and tried to call me over to talk.

I just mouthed a weak, 'Gotta go,' before darting away.

At lunch, I did the exact same thing, and quickly sped away, as fast as possible with my high heels on.

I knew my behavior would upset him, and I knew eventually I'd have to face him. I just hasn't cried in so long, and I didn't particularly want that to change. 

"You're going to have to talk to him at some point," Chantelle attempted to reason with me over lunch.

"Hmm," I put an over-exaggerated hand on my chin and began to stroke it, "Or perhaps I could change my name and move to Ireland!"

"Your fashion sense is too good to waste on Ireland," Stephen remarked, "And your accent's a bit off."

He rolled his eyes and began to file his nails, as I rested my head on the hard wood table in defeat.

I almost got through the entire day avoiding him by pretending I was up for an Olympic medal. However, as I Usain Bolted my way from class to the school gate, my heels clicked against the cracked and basically-falling-apart pavement. Bad idea to run on broken pavement in heels.

I heard a crack and a growl from the pavement, and the next thing I knew, my hands were catching the ground. A shadow tottered it's way over to me and loomed over my head as I watched the concrete.

'Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone,' my mind whispered.

"Need a hand?" That famously daft-sounding voice filled my head.

This was it. I'd lost.

"Probably," I grumbled and took the hand he was so generuously holding out.

He helped me up and our eyes met. It's easy to forget how short he is.

"Can we talk for a second?"

What a dreadful sentence to hear. Still, I nodded. He didn't let go of my hand as he began to lead me somewhere.

Eventually, he had dragged me to the school hall, where the lights were dimmed rose pink. I sighed. Yes, I loved him. And I wanted to be with him. But we would just get back together, then he would do something stupid, and we would break up again. I knew our pattern, and I understood his personality.

He opened his mouth to speak, so I quickly stopped him.

"Mitchell, I love you," I admitted to him, though I probably shouldn't have.

His face grew bright and he leant in to kiss me. I stepped back.

"But this isn't a movie. Some huge grand gesture isn't going to fix the past," I paused, "And it certainly won't solidify our future."

"I don even know what that means -" Mitchell stumbled over his words.

"Exactly," I turned around and walked away.

I was looking out for myself. He was too much trouble.

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