Chapter Four

"Don't worry about it," I told him.

"Worry about what?" emerged Jacob's voice. He looked across his food and over at me. Tyler studied me, too. 

I paused, wondering if I should explain what Mason asked me. Instead, I waved them off. "Nothing important," I stated. 

Jacob didn't believe me. Neither did Tyler. Mason was perplexed but didn't raise a question. The four of us continued our meals as if nothing happened. When we finished, we headed back to our cars. I came with Jacob. So, I followed him to his car. On the way there, Jacob lowered his head to my ear. "What did Mason say to you?" he probed. 

I repeated what I said earlier. "Nothing important."

"Kyle."

I exasperated a sigh. "Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop," I snapped. "I won't crack. I just want to forget."

A painful look crossed Jacob's face, but it rapidly diminished. He backed off but didn't say anything to defend himself. The same feeling troubled me. I didn't mean to bark at Jacob. I know he cared. But it wasn't as if Ethan and I were lifetime lovers. We were high school sweethearts. Nothing else. Those relationships don't always last the way stories and movies make them.

The drive back to campus was heavy with silence. It was deafening. Our gazes drifted to the other then darted else, avoiding contact. I could tell Jacob wanted to say something, anything. But I didn't know how I would respond. As soon as Jacob pulled into the lot near our building, I hopped out faster than a rabbit into its hole.

Jacob shot me a look. I didn't head upstairs. Instead, I walked off to wherever. "Where are you going?" he asked. 

"I need to clear my head," I mumbled. I knew Jacob didn't hear me. 

My hands dug into my pockets, fishing out a pack of smokes and a lighter. When I lit it, guilt stained me. It did every time the smoke filled my lungs. Jacob and Tiffany hated it. Jacob didn't want to have to take care of his best friend one day. Tiffany, on the other hand, called me stupid. Cruddy enough, I did it whenever they pissed me off. I did it to Dad. And to Mom. And to Ethan. That's where the guilt originated.

I remembered when Ethan found out. 

The two of us walked out of Denny's, where we had our first-anniversary date. I had turned 15 a month ago from then, and Ethan was well into 16. The snow melted on our coats as we pressed our backs against his all-white Prius. My face turned away from his as anger boiled my cheeks. Ethan ruined our night with his usual snide remarks to the point I lost it and walked out. Thoughts buzzed around my head: some tried easing my anger, but most encouraged it. I couldn't take the voices. So, my hand slipped into my pockets as it did a hundred times before. I reached for my smokes to ease my mind my way.

"Stop it!" Ethan snatched the cigarette from hand before I could take a drag. I daggered eyes at him and punch his arm. "Ow!" he howled. "I'm trying to help!"

"You're pissing me off even more!" I barked back. Defiantly, I grabbed another. That time, he swatted it from my hand before I could light it.

"What is wrong with you?" Ethan argued. "Do you know how stupid that is!"

His comment sparked the biggest argument. Despite his flaws, Ethan cared. That memory alone made me wish he was here. When I was damn near breaking down, Ethan knew how to wipe my tears away and make me feel like everything was okay. But those moments were also toxic because Ethan slipped his way into soft spots. He knew how to make me hate him for it.

Just as I defiantly smoked that cigarette that day, I did so with the one I have now—this time channeling my anger back to him.

"Hey?"

My neck snapped back as my eyes followed the direction of the embodied voice. I locked gaze with the same blue eyes I saw earlier. A curious smile danced on his lips. His face read an expression of concern. I had the sudden urge to pull away and pretend I didn't hear him. Instead, I faced him.

"Hi," I said, my lips trying their best to lift a smile.

"You were at the ice earlier," he pointed out. "I remember you, though. I think we met before."

I did too.

I remembered that damn long hair and how its shade of blonde blended so well with the olive accent of skin.

The familiar warmth enclosed around me like a blanket, drawing me nearer to him. "I think we did," I confessed.

He nodded at my hand. "You alright?" he inquired.

I glanced down at the cigarette in my hand. Then I realized I was sitting down. I was on a bench in the quadrangle of campus that acted as a bridge between the resident side and the academic side. The sky was a deep tinge of indigo. The air abruptly felt colder as it skimmed sharply against my cheeks.

I perked up at the blue-eyed mystery and said, "I'm fine. I just went for a walk."

He walked over to me but lowered himself in the spot, particularly close to mine. "You have something on your mind," he stated. "When my dad had a lot on his mind, he would go out for a smoke. The man was stressed all the time. Then I remembered my mom explained that if you spark a conversation with someone who's overthinking, they will eventually forget why they were pissed in the first place.

So, I picked up the habit of talking to my dad when he went for a smoke," he continued. "Eventually, he got too distracted by our conversation to think about the cigarette in his hand."

I couldn't stop myself from grinning like an idiot. Every word he spoke was indulging. He had a way of captivating me. "I guess I forgot what I was doing," I said. I meant it as a jab, but there was a tone in my voice that shook me a bit.

The smirk on his face impelled a shock through my nerves and snaked up my spine. "What's your name again?" he asked me.

"Kyle," I said without thinking.

He nodded. "I thought so," he said. "I recognized those eyes anywhere."