The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart

A N N A B E T H

I liked wearing dresses. They made me feel very pretty.

There used to be a time I was insecure about wearing them because the guy that I had liked at the time, had made some jabs that had me doubting it.

Maybe you should change out of the dress?

You don't think it's too revealing?

All the guys are staring, you should cover-up.

I had let those comments get to me. I wasn't strong enough then.

I was pretty sure that I would still cry if someone said something mean about what I was wearing, but maybe I wouldn't feel as bad now.

Now, I'd wipe my tears and flick them at anyone rude at the end of my sobbing session. That'll show them.

But back to the whole insecurity thing- that was the thing about him. Sometimes, he could make the strongest people feel insecure about themselves. You could say he had some prime skills in manipulation- and not in the girl boss, gatekeep, gaslight way.

The best way to describe him would be...think Nate Jacobs, but blonde. No, I haven't watched Euphoria because of the trigger warnings- but I'd trust Elliot's judgment on it.

It had been a couple of weeks since I had worn one, and so, I decided that I would wear one because fortunately, there weren't very strict dress code rules in place at Lakeview.

Also, by principle, wearing a dress meant that you absolutely had to ready yourself a tiny bit more than you would usually do. It was a must. I didn't make the rules.

"You're all dolled up today," Bethany commented, looking me up and down, "Nice dress."

Elliot punctuated her sentence with an impressed nod.

"Thank you!" I gave them both a little twirl, "It's new, I got it while I was thrifting- for five dollars only, can you believe it? Five dollars."

Call me Businesswoman Betty. Getting cheap deals on clothes like it's my job.

I was the coolest on the block with my special rack of thrift clothes, and you'd have to fight me to get that title.

Although, it would be best not to pick a fight with me. I threw a weak punch and I'd probably cry after that either because I hurt my own hand or because I'd be afraid I hurt you.

Call me an empath too, while you're at it. Me, an empath, sensing that deep, deep, deep down- that my punch hurt you somewhere.

"I could totally be an empath, right, Beth?"

"Sure," she humored me the way a mother would humor a little child who said the wildest of things.

"And a businesswoman?'

"Mhm."

If I annoyed Beth by talking her ear off on the way to school, she didn't comment on it. She just nodded absentmindedly, throwing in one of her sarcastic comments here and there, while Elliot obnoxiously slurped on his milkshake the whole way.

The three of us split in opposite directions when we finally stepped into school. If I wasn't wearing slightly heeled shoes or a dress, I would've skipped my way to James' locker- where I knew he'd be waiting every morning with Tyler- but since my clothing kinda prevented it, I just chose to walk briskly instead.

And guess what? I didn't trip, even once. Even though I was wearing heeled shoes. Ha. Take that, floor.

When I finally reached his locker and their heads turned in my direction, the less grumpy of the two wolf-whistled.

"God damn," Tyler grinned real big at me, "I thought you couldn't get prettier, but you just had to pop out with a dress, didn't you?"

I gave him a very happy smile. "I got it at the thrift store. For just five dollars."

"For real?" Tyler raised an impressed eyebrow, "Take me with you."

"Sure," I grinned at him, but when my eyes moved over to James, the smile faltered slightly.

Of course, his face was super blank, as usual- but his eyes followed a slow trail, down my figure and then back up.

His eyes met mine for a second longer than necessary before he averted his gaze, swallowing, while a muscle in his jaw flexed.

Okay. I didn't know what to feel about that.

"What?" I said, a little self-consciously.

His jaw ticked again. "Nothing."

I looked down at my dress, before looking back up at him as he straightened- pushing himself off the locker. Even with these heels on, he was taller than I was.

I didn't know if I was expecting to suddenly tower over him with 2-inch heeled shoes, but it's something that you can't help but notice.

He was tall and built enough- that he looked like he could step on me.

And I'd thank him for it.

I did not know where that thought came from.

"How tall are you?" I asked him before I could help it, as my fingers wrapped around his arm.

He glanced down at my hand, his nostrils flaring- but he didn't complain like I expected him to. He just answered the question directly.

"Six three."

"Wow," I looked him up and down, "You're one tall dude, y'know?"

He glared.

Surprisingly, not at me though- he was glaring at someone else.

A whole lot of someone elses.

I realized that when I dragged my eyes away from his side profile to see several guys in the corridor looking our way.

"Oh," I leaned a tad bit closer to him, "They're all staring, I think."

"I know," he gritted back.

"Are they looking at you or me?"

His jaw ticked again. "You."

I was uncomfortable, but only slightly. Maybe it was just me being self-conscious and overthinking it. "Do I wave at them or something?"

"N-"

"I think I'll wave," I nodded to myself, putting my friendliest smile on, but as I went to lift my hand to wave, his arm wrapped around me from behind and tugged it back down.

Whatever that was, pulled me a lot closer to him- so much that my side was pressed against it.

"Don't wave at them, idiot," he hissed at me, as his hand tightened over my arm and pressed against my hip. I could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric, and it made my eyes go wide for a moment.

"Aha," I laughed nervously, "This is a compromising position, my friend-"

His fingers flexed against my hip, but he didn't pull away- surprising me by leaning closer.

"If you didn't already know," he hissed again, "Waving at people who are staring at you is not ideal, dumbass."

Oh.

Well, meh. 

I couldn't just glare at every single thing in the corridor as he did.

My glare wasn't even scary. It looked like a pout more than anything.

"Don't call me dumb," I poked his chest, completely glossing over the point and making him give me an exasperated look, "And okay, I won't wave at them- you can quit looking at me like I'm dumb."

"But you are dumb."

My jaw dropped. "Am not!"

He glared down at me. "Are too."

"Am not-"

"Are t-" he stopped himself abruptly, closing his eyes with a sharp inhale like he was regretting even engaging in the squabble.

"You," he said slowly, "are the most annoying little shit I have ever met."

The first couple of times he called me that, I had almost felt hurt. That was before I realized that he didn't have a single nice thing to say about anyone, anyway.

"You've called me that more than ten times this week," I told him, leaning into his hold and putting a hand over my chest- to which he narrowed his eyes, "I've grown on you, haven't I? Look at you, already have a little nickname for me, huh?"

"I will throw you out of that window."

I patted his cheek fondly, to which he gave me another irritated look.

"No, you won't."

*****

"So, we have an assignment due," I told him, as we walked to lunch.

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's a little exercise called getting to know your partner," I told him happily, "Which means, you have to talk to me about yourself."

I sensed an eye roll coming, and what do you know? I was right. He rolled his eyes like I was the biggest inconvenience on planet earth.

"I hate this."

"You hate everything," I smiled at him, and he scoffed again. I was on the verge of saying something else, but a shove from somewhere behind me made me pause.

Even if it was a weak push, it made me stumble. This girl right here, me, had chosen to wear heels- and even the wind could knock me off balance.

Heels + a clumsy person = not the best option, even for the aesthetic. I hadn't tripped all day, and just my luck, it was finally catching up to me.

My time had come. Goodbye, dear worl-

An arm wrapped around me before I could fall smack on my face.

But what's more embarrassing, is that I could feel my dress riding up.

Oh no. I was wearing cycling shorts underneath but oh no. Oh no no no no no.

Another hand held onto the bottom of my dress, tugging it back down. Warm fingers brushed against the back of my thighs as that happened, and it made me suck in a breath.

"Are you fucking blind?" I heard James snarl before I even had time to react.

My hand had automatically braced against his chest when I nearly fell, and as I straightened- looking over my shoulder, my face automatically contorted into a grimace.

Oh. This guy.

He was the one who tried to make a pass at Beth, Melissa, and I on our first day here. At the same time, mind you. After that, he nearly smacked my butt.

Beth put him in an arm lock after that, and nearly dislocated his shoulder from what I heard- but that clearly hadn't been enough.

"I didn't see you there," he drawled, with a smirk.

"The fuck you didn't," James gritted out, his hold around me tightening, "Apologize, right fucking now."

I nearly winced at the number of F-bombs this man dropped in a single go. Good Lord, he had a dirty mouth.

"Sorry," he said, with the same smirk, not sounding the slightest apologetic as he gave me a once over that made me uncomfortable, "Can't believe I missed someone as pret-"

"It's fine," I cut him off before he could finish, turning back to James and patting his chest, "Shall we?"

James didn't even look back down at me, narrowing his eyes at the dude. "I told you to apologize, not fucking undress her with your eyes, dickhead. Apologize like you fucking mean it."

"James," I said a little more insistently, tugging at his hold, "It doesn't matter. Can we go?"

He glanced down at me. 

There must have been something in my expression because a few seconds later I can see him concede, as he gave the other guy another glare before he pulled away from me.

The guy calls after me again, something along the lines of, 'hey angel, wanna tell me your name?' and James nearly turns around again, but I push at his arm.

There was a very awkward silence that descended between us as we continued walking. And the thing about me? I couldn't handle awkward silences. 

They made me squirm, so bad. After about ten seconds, I couldn't help but open my mouth.

"So," I said pointedly, "About that assignment-"

He scoffed, turning to me. "Does it seriously not bother you? What that guy did?"

I stopped, slightly taken aback by his outburst. "Well, yeah-"

"Then why aren't you letting me do anything about it?" he snapped, glaring at me.

I paused, not sure how to answer the question. "A....lot of guys do that," I said slowly. "I can't snap at all of them, can I? Its best to just... ignore them and leave it alone, I guess."

"That is bullshit," he glares at me, "you shouldn't have to feel obligated to shut up and ignore it when you aren't at fault for it. Things like this will only get worse if you chose to ignore it, rather than calling people out for their shit."

I blinked.

He had told me to get used to it. 

"Guys tend to act like that around pretty girls," he had told me, though he had glared at the catcallers, tightening his hold around me, "You just have to get used to it. You know you're gorgeous, don't you? They can't help it."

I remember being stunned. The arm that had been around my waist felt grimy and weird then.

And to top it off, what he had said next was definitely worse. 

"They... they shouldn't be saying that though," I had mumbled meekly, hoping he'd agree. 

Instead, he only gave me a once-over, his jaw clenching and his nostrils flaring in the slightest. 

"I don't know, Anna," he had muttered, running a hand through his hair, "When a guy sees something he likes, he'll try to take it. That's how it works. Maybe you shouldn't wear something that revealing."

It was like someone struck me across my face. I remember looking down at the summer dress I had been wearing. I had made sure that my arms and my back were covered before picking the dress. Maybe the neckline was slightly deep, and maybe it was a couple of inches above my knees. 

But I didn't think it was bad. Not until he told me that day. 

Come to think of it, there were things that he said and did that made me uncomfortable too. Funny how you start to remember and notice things when you no longer like a person. 

It didn't help that he had left behind a mark though, because suddenly I found myself looking down at the summer dress I was wearing today. 

It was half sleeved. Maybe two inches above my knees. The neckline was decent too, in my eyes. But the way that guy looked at me, was suddenly making me doubt it. 

"It's not because of what I'm wearing, is it?" I asked quietly, looking back up at James.

"What?" he narrowed his eyes at me, his expression almost disbelieving. "Who the hell made you feel that way? You can wear whatever you want to- what do your clothes have to do with it?"

I blinked at him, surprised.

Maybe there's something in my astonished expression, because after a few seconds of us just looking at each other, his eyes contort into a glare as he stares at the other end of the corridor. 

"He made you that uncomfortable?" he murmured lowly- his tone icier than it had been seconds ago, "Oh, I'm going to fucking-"

"Oh, nooo," I stepped into his path just in time, before he could charge down the corridor- because it looked like he was going to. "It's okay- really, I'm overthinking it-"

"Evans," he narrowed his eyes at me, almost glaring, "Shut up. You're not overthinking it. Anyone makes you uncomfortable- you tell me, and I'll break their jaw. Okay?"

I can only stare at him, stunned again.

"What?" he sneered, looking at my expression, "You think I won't do it?"

"Um," I chose to say, not letting my expression slip, "No, no- I- you totally would, I know. I would prefer if you didn't fight anyone, though. You might hurt yourself."

He raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Me?" he deadpanned, "Get hurt?"

"Totally," I nodded, very sincerely, "That was when I would step in to protect you because I could totally break someone's jaw too."

I almost thought I saw his lips quirk up for a moment like he was either amused or in disbelief by the mere thought of it. "You? Protect me?"

"Of course," I gave him another serious look, "See?"

I held one of my fists up.

He stared down at it with a 'Really?' look.

"You'll break your thumb if you hold it like that, dumbass," he told me finally, with an exasperated sigh as if he couldn't quite believe that he was even choosing to tell me this.

One of his big hands wrapped around my wrist, unintentionally tugging me closer while his other hand pulled my thumb out of my fist.

I hadn't realized how big his hands were until I saw them in comparison with mine. They practically dwarfed mine, in all their warm glory. I could also see fading scars on his knuckles which meant he was most likely well versed in breaking jaws.

"There," he gave me an unimpressed look as I stare up at him, "Do yourself a favor and never try punching anyone."

I pressed my fist against the center of his chest, in a very, very gentle punch that definitely had his bones rattling.

"Why would I?" I smiled up at him, "I have you."

The blank look on his face shuttered for a moment.

I'm unsure myself, of why exactly I even chose to say that to someone who barely tolerates me. It feels like an almost intimately fond thing to say.

He stared at me for a second too long, with that same slightly taken aback expression before he cleared his throat and stepped back.

"I won't even need you to punch them," I told him, nudging him with my elbow and pretending like that little moment never happened, "All I would need to do is get you to glare at them. That, or I could learn how to glare like you."

"You do that," he told me dryly.

"Mhm, we should switch personalities for a day," I said, thinking about it, "Imagine me, dressed in all dark clothing- scaring everyone away. And imagine you- saying more than ten whole sentences in two hours!"

"You talk a lot," he told me snippily. 

"Like a lot a lot? Or just a lot? Because sometimes-"

I was cut off by the pointed look he gave me.

"How about this," I proposed even though I'd probably end up blabbering again in T-minus 2.3457 seconds, "I won't say a single word until the end of lunch, just to prove to you that I can be quiet."

"You do that."

"You say that very often, you know?"

"Evans, shut up."

"Right okay, sorry."

thank you for reading, don't forget to vote and comment ! :)

I'm also going to be updating the next part shortly (if it isn't already out)- be sure to check it out too! x

Cassie's bucket list #08: Get into an elevator, and when few people walk in- say, "I've been expecting you." (Try this out in a public bathroom as well.)