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Chapter 42

I woke up when my body decided it was tired of sleeping. I sat up gingerly and pulled on the curtain, letting light flood into the room. My leg looked swollen and had a nasty bruise forming. I softly ran my fingers over my shin and felt a hard lump had formed. Well, at least it's not broken, I reminded myself. I slumped back on the headboard. I think I had left my phone downstairs, and I wasn't sure if Robbie was awake yet.

Darn.

I looked down and noticed there was a copy of The Great Gatsby strewn on the bed. It had a bookmark placed towards the end. I decided to re-read it to pass the time. I noticed that Robbie took a lot of notes in his book. I wondered if he did this because he was studying for a class or if it was just a way to keep track of his thoughts while he read. Around an hour later, I noticed a shadow pass by in the crack separating the door from the hardwood floor.

"Robbie?" I said out loud.

The shadow paused and then opened the door.

"Morning," He said. He looked as if he just finished showering. His hair was wet, and he was wearing a crisp white shirt that made his arms and broad shoulders look really nice.

"Morning. I didn't think you were up yet."

"Yeah, Coach has us on a schedule where we have to run five miles every morning."

"Oh, yeah, our coach makes us do the same thing."

"Yeah, our coach got the idea from yours. One of our midfielders is also in the track team, and he came back in way better shape than the rest of us." He frowned, "Are you reading my book?"

"Yeah. There was nothing else to do. Is it for class?"

"No."

"Oh, I thought with all the notes you made," I explained my voice sounding nervous.

His eyes widened for a split second, "Hey, don't read those," he said, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck; there was a slight warmth in his cheeks that was not there before.

"Sorry," I said, closing the book and handing it to him. "Want to start on our project?" I asked. I don't know why I felt so awkward around him this morning. I felt as if after last night Robbie and I were finally on decent terms, and now I didn't know what to say to him.

"Yeah definitely,"

"Hey, Robbie?"

"Mhm?"

"Thank you for yesterday. You were really a gentleman."

"Hey, what are polite...acquaintances for?" He said, grinning shyly.

I rolled my eyes and smiled, "Okay. Fine. I guess we're friends now."

"All it took was you almost breaking your leg." He joked.

"I know if it had been a real break, we would have been best friends, but..." I said and shrugged playfully.

"Well, if you want, you can trip down the stairs, and we can take our relationship to a whole new level," He said, chuckling and grabbing my hand.

"No, no, the moment has passed us," I said in fake solemnity, patting the hand holding mine.

"Fine. It's probably for the best. Maria would probably get really jealous if we got that close."

"Abigail would probably murder me in my sleep."

"Why?" He asked, and I looked at him as if he hit his head on something hard.

"Because she's in love with you..."

"No. She's seeing some guy from NYU?" He explained.

"No. She showed me a hickey like a week ago from you."

"Did she say it was from me? I haven't been like that with Abigail...since the dinner party, you came over for. Even then, it was never serious." He said, shaking his head.

"Also," He added, "I know how to kiss. I haven't given a girl a hickey since middle school."

I felt myself blush with that last addition.

"No, she didn't say it was from you, but she heavily implied it, and she also implied it the day we took the test."

He rubbed his face. "She gets a lot of pressure from her family for us to be together. I think she's classically conditioned to be territorial, It's not like that, though."

"Robbie. She obviously likes you." I said, giving him a knowing look.

"I mean a small crush—maybe; but it's a weird fantasy she has in her head that her parents keep pushing. She likes the idea of me. In reality, she's really different than me. We would never be happy together."

"For whatever reason she has it in her head that we did something. I'm pretty sure she has her friends shove me in the hallway when I walk by. It happens way too often to be a coincidence."

"She's not that bad. She's kind of uptight, but her family life is —messed up. I feel bad for her sometimes."

"I don't; she made me the school's whore."

"I really don't think she did that. She was with me all day. I would have noticed her writing graffiti on your locker. I don't think she's a monster, but I'm also not beholden to her. I wouldn't lie to protect her or anything like that."

"She spread that video of Lana. How can you say she isn't a monster?"

"She didn't take that video. Someone sent it to her, and she shared it with her friend, who sent it to the rest of the school. She and Lana were fighting over Damien, so they didn't even bother talking about it. To this day, she does not know who sent it to her. Two reputations were ruined with that video. Lana became the school's slut, and Abigail the vindictive cheerleader."

I pursed my lips.

"I'm not saying that you should be best friends with her, she's by no means a walk in the park, but I wouldn't hang around someone if they were that awful."

"If she didn't do it, then who did?"

"I don't know." He said, shrugging, "you're the pretty new girl, and a lot of guys have noticed. Maybe some jealous sophomore whose boyfriend thought you were cute decided to act out."

"I don't think so."

"You don't think guys are interested in you?"

I blushed, "Well I don't know about that part, but I was referring to the fact I know it was someone that knew about the day we hung out on the trampoline."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they left a note in my locker. I haven't told anyone about it. I didn't want to get Lana more upset with Abigail, but it had you, Jesse's, and Chris's name on it, and you and Chris were crossed out."

He looked taken aback when I said that and mouthed, what the fuck.

"Seriously?" He asked, his lip curling.

I nodded.

"Yeah. That's why I ask you again; you promise you haven't said anything?" I said, leaning back on my elbows. My back had started to ache from sitting up with no support.

"No. I promise." He said sternly.

I stared at him, considering his sincerity, and then shrugged. "Fine, I trust you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you've been an ass, but you've never lied to me. So, I have no reason not to trust you until you do something that makes me believe otherwise."

"Sounds reasonable," he said, then he added, "Is that why you also trust Liam?"

"I guess."

"He likes you," he said, his eyes burning into mine.

"I know."

He seemed taken aback by the casual way that I said it.

"You know? Why? Did you confess feelings to each other or something?"

"He tried to kiss me."

His teasing smile turned quickly into a frown, "He tried? But you didn't let him?"

"No. He's not really my type."

"What's your type?"

I shrugged. "It's not a physical thing; it's more of a personality thing."

"Explain," He said, mimicking me and leaning back on his elbows.

"Like, I can think a guy is attractive, but not necessarily boyfriend material, and I don't really want to be with someone in a sexual way unless I...you know...care for him as well."

"You don't care for Liam?" He said a smile was tugging on his lips.

"I care for him like a friend. Not like a boyfriend. He's too intense sometimes. He scares me."

"Good instincts."

I sighed. "I know you don't like him, but he's never actually done anything disrespectful aside from trying to kiss me, and he dropped it quickly when I wasn't interested."

He seemed to mull this information over for a few minutes.

"What about me?" He asked; I realized how close his face was, and I felt my mouth suddenly become dry.

"What about you?" I said, swallowing hard.

"Am I your type?"

His eyes burned into mine, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

I paused. Yes! a part of my brain screamed. The other part told it to calm down. Robbie can be sweet, but he's also been a huge snob. Can I really look past that side of him?

"While I definitely find you attractive. I don't think you're really my type either." When I said it, I felt like I was lying, maybe because I was. I didn't like how I couldn't think around him. It was terrifying. He felt like a drug.

"Why?" He said, and a strange sadness came over his eyes that made my heart tighten.

"Because we're different."

"How so?"

I started feeling uncomfortable. How do you tell someone you think they're rude?

I shrugged.

"Lia, I thought we were friends? Friends tell each other things," He coaxed.

"I don't know... I don't like the way you treat other people." I said, leveling my gaze with his.

He looked at me with a studying gaze.

"Is this about the restaurant?"

"And the car, and the party,"

"The party?"

"It's fine. It's the way you are."

He frowned.

"I apologized for the car, and I admitted I was rude at the restaurant."

"I know, that's why I want to be your friend. I don't think you're a horrible person. I just think we are from different worlds."

He nodded slowly and looked down at the floor.

"So, first impressions pretty much make or break someone for you, huh?"

I looked at him; he looked sad. A big part of me wanted to grab his face and kiss him. Another was terrified. Was he just upset because I said I wouldn't date him? Was he just used to never being told no? I asked myself. My heart was beating fast.

He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw.

"So, you're leaving this Friday?" I said looking for something to say. 

"Hmm, yeah. My grandfather is sending a plane."

"Like a private plane?"

"Yeah, he doesn't like for us to fly commercial."

"But you guys do, I remember you on my flight when I first moved here," I said moving my book off my lap.

"You were on the same flight as me?"

"Yeah, I tripped over you, actually."

"Really? Did we say anything to each other?"

"Uhm, you told me something along the lines of: 'Hey, you, watch where you're going,'" I said, making my voice sound deep to mock his and wagging my finger at him.

He winced. "Great first impression. Huh?"

"Well, the second one you made was even better," I said, my tone indicating I was not being sincere.

He put his head into my lap and groaned. My hand itched to touch his hair. "So what made you decide to be nice to me after I had been such a dick?"

"I don't know, your apology seemed sincere, plus you know your eyes," I said, giving in and running a hand through his waves. They were almost curls at some points.

"My eyes?" He said, turning over to look at me. The shift made my hand rest on his cheek. I swept my thumb on his cheekbones. He covered my hand with his.

"Yeah, they're nice. They're kind, you know. Sometimes, you can make them look so cold, but then I would see you look at your sister and your mom, and you had this like love in them. I don't know, I thought to myself, can he be that bad if he can love so much?"

"I wish I had been nicer to you," He said and placed a kiss on my palm.

"I mean, we're okay now. It doesn't matter. You should learn to be nice to everyone." I said, giving him a stern look.

"I know. I shot myself in the foot. Like that night on the trampoline."

"What about it?"

"Hmmm. Nothing."

"No, come on. What about that night."

"I'll tell you some other time. We should really be working." He said, changing the subject.

"Hey, can we be best friends?" He asked suddenly, still looking down at his book .

"I mean, I guess."

"Okay." He shrugged. "Then, we're best friends. Let's start the project." He said, looking up at me. I noticed the sadness in his eyes had been replaced by the playfulness that was usually there... 

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A/N

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