Broken Girls And Broken Boys

Chapter Eighteen: It's not like I'm the world's clumsiest person or anything.

"Kendall," someone calls after me and I turn back towards the classroom to see Kent trying to shove his books into his bag and half-run after me. I roll my eyes and stifle a laugh as he hobbles over with a flushed face and loose paper in his golden curls. When he reaches me, he's panting heavily despite the fact he was less than a yard away. I pull the sheet of paper out of his tangled hair and hand it to him; he blushes and laughs it off awkwardly though I catch a glimmer of embarrassment in his eyes.

"Hey Kent," I smile, realising I haven't really seen him much today- he sat with his new friends again and left me with the girls at the back of the class again. His smile in return is tight, so similar to the one he gave me when I entered the class, and he looks nervous for some reason.

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab some coffee?" he offers, falling into step with me as we move through the school.

"Sure," I reply though I'd much rather go home and snuggle up with my blankets.

Just because its two in the afternoon, doesn't mean I can't get comfy.

"Great," relief flood through his features and I throw a smile in his direction. I try to suppress a yawn as he begins to talk endlessly about a new computer game he's obsessed with, but I can't help but let it slip through my hand.

Kent turns to me with a frown as we exit the university grounds. "Am I boring you?" he asks, rubbing his hands together. I feel the familiar prickle of cold tickle my skin and I begin to sift through my coat pockets to find my gloves. Pulling them onto my frozen fingers, I turn to face Kent.

"No no! It's not that; I had a bit of a late night last night," I explain, shoving my hands into my pockets. Kent nods.

"Why didn't you go to bed earlier?" he asks, cocking his head to the side; a wave of blonde curls topples into his eyes. He pushes it out of the way and pushes his glasses onto his nose.

"I couldn't get to sleep." I'm not exactly lying. I couldn't get to sleep- though it was less to do with my shitty sleeping pattern and more to do with the fact that I was up half the night chatting to Grant.

He was- unfortunately- being serious about extending the bet and acting like a real couple.

It's becoming detrimental.

He's destroying my only long-lasting relationship: my bed and I- we've been going strong for seventeen years now. And I'm determined not to let Grant Mitchell get in the way of that.

"Oh," Kent mutters, nodding slightly. As I'm about to open my mouth to speak again, I step onto a patch of ice and slide across the pavement into a gutter. My ankle twists painfully and try as I might to escape from the drains clutches, I can't seem to get my foot free.

"Kendall!" Kent shouts, racing over to me as quickly as he can through the ice. He's completely composed, but I can see that he's trying not to laugh at my current position. I'm sprawled out in a drain, my ankle twisted and he thinks it's a good time to laugh.

I'm so angry, I don't even swoon when he begins to chuckle to himself. Kent's hand slips into mine and he lifts me back into the pavement in one swift movement. "Are you OK?" he asks, though there is still a remainder of laughter hidden in the bright blue of his eyes.

I manage to grit out a 'yes' through the throbbing of my ankle and I mentally curse myself for wearing my cutest pair of boots today.

Then I curse England's weather because if the ice wasn't there, I wouldn't have fallen in the first place.

It's not like I'm the world's clumsiest person or anything.

Oh wait...

I manage to make it to the coffee shop in one piece, though my ankle is still throbbing angrily. Kent held my hand tight in his for the rest of the way, to make sure I didn't fall over again- not that it would've been much help (if I'd fallen, he would've gone down with me).