Pencils & Polaroids

22: drowning bracelet

"Hey," Asher muttered, leaning over the chair he set aligned. "I don't mean to be rude but what the hell is that language?" I roll my eyes. "So much anger, so much hatred--what happened to the Park Mellon I knew? The fun, smart, and cute girl with a controlled temper and on-point sarcasm?" 

I gulp, "She died with vampire blood in her system."

"Park," Asher's tone tells me he's being serious. 

"Don't worry, she's a survivor," I say in a poor imitation of Katherine Pierce. I rotate my finger to the table I'm sitting at. "She survived all of this, you should be proud." I peek at my lunch tray that Jayden's left untouched. He still seems to be registering Asher's presence so I shoot my shot. "Since you took care of the charity case, I guess I'll resume eating my lunch." 

Asher's eyes shadow the movement of my hand reaching out to the tray and pulling it back to my possession. I don't mind doing this all day as long as I get to eat my food. The table is silent for a brief moment and the only sound I hear is the sound of my chewing. When everyone's accepted that I won't sacrifice my lunch for anyone, they get on with their lives by greeting Asher and finding his reason for being here. 

The dimwits of Cross Academy gave Asher Reed, the reigning flag bearer of narcissism a red carpet invite to narrate why he was here today. And boy did he grab the opportunity well. But putting a very long story in very simple words, he was here to collect a recommendation letter from Eleanor Barcross for his master's degree in Hamilton—a school for tech-savvies, business aspirants, and world science. 

"I still have about thirty minutes due," Asher confirms after checking his phone. "Mind bunking a class for me?" 

There's pin-drop silence at the table. I double-check who it's being uttered to but blink through a wave of shock when I deduce it's directed at me. I quickly run through the timetable in my head. We have Chemistry and I'm certain they'll take us to the lab. I hate practicals because they always pair us up with partners. Unless my partner is Sam, I hate lab classes. Now that Sam's not there today, I could bunk a class. 

"Depends on what you have in mind?" I garner a knowing smirk from Asher. 

My scowl is enough indication for him to wipe off whatever cocky thought surpassed his mind. I'm about to refuse his offer when he interrupts saying, "No, I'm joking. I was thinking diet coke on football bleachers?"  

With a shrug, I add, "sounds peaceful." 

I don't wait, especially when a school-fame alumni student is inundated by my classmates because they want to bid him goodbye. The farewell makes it look like Asher Reed is leaving for military training and will most likely die fighting in a war. It's been thirteen minutes since I've been waiting on the bleachers with a diet coke popped in my hand. My legs are outstretched over the chairs in the bottom row, partially tanning, while my upper body covets under shade. 

I swallow slow gulps of the chilled coke and a croon surges down my tongue. I'm going to damage my stomach with the amount of soda I've consumed in my less than quarter-life. 

"When I asked you out on a bunk, I presumed we'd go together," 

Asher spoke as he walked through the stands and plopped in the chair beside mine. He grabbed his can from under my chair and unlike me, popped it open without spilling a drop of fizz. 

"You were saying really long goodbyes to people I really don't like," I clink my can with his before he takes a sip. 

He steadies his hand as he carefully finished his gulp before outbursting with laughter. "I saw the memes on the Instagram school page. The funniest one was the poster of the civil war being edited with the faces of Cross's and yours."