BREATHE FOR ME

Chapter 14: The Rose Street Boys

Over the remaining few days of the week, things at school are very interesting. Before we parted ways on Wednesday night, Lorrie and I agreed to take things slowly in this situation until we knew exactly what we wanted from each other, and more importantly, until we knew that we were safe. Lorrie went over Enzo's and Thea's relationship with me, explaining to me all of the times that they were too clumsy with their relationship, mistaking comfortability with stupidity. He explains that they were too expressive in public, showing the world that they were incessantly in love with each other. He also explained that they were too stubborn sometimes. When they fell out, they would not talk or go near each other for days, putting Thea at risk of being abducted. Thea also refused to let The Rose Street boys protect her, declining their protection scheme for her pride, always telling them that it was unnecessary. I can't help but feel sorry for her, all she wanted was to be safe and normal with the boy she loved...

So, over the next few days, Lorrie and I don't interact with each other more than we usually would. Watching him make snarky comments at me in front of our friends, pretending to ignore me, dropping arrogant winks at me, and teasing me meticulously, any other person would think that we are still the awkward pair in the group; the pair that like to piss each other off too much. But only I can see the way that he secretly looks at me from the corner of his eye during our lessons, the way that he supresses a grin every time I get an answer right in our classes (which tends to be a lot), the way his hand accidently brushes mine in the common room, the mix of excitement and energy behind his eyes when we argue with each other, the subtle way he glares at other boys when they try to talk to me, and finally, the secret moments alone we get together in the corridor before lessons where he takes my hand and gazes at me with fondness, letting his guard drop for a few treasured moments. It makes me feel like we're playing some kind of game together, always running and trying not to be caught. It makes me feel alive.

On Friday afternoon, I practically push my way down the corridor, weaving with rapid speed between sweaty teenagers, desperate to get to history early for the final period of the day. When I finally get there and look through the window in the door, my heart flips twice at the sight of Lorrie making notes from an old textbook. He came early too. Without missing another beat, I push open the door and make my way towards him. On Wednesday, I took the exact same route that I am taking now but with anger and determination fuelling my stride. Now, two days later, I float in a cloud of eagerness past all of the empty desks. I notice Lorrie smile down at his textbook, obviously realising that it's me without looking up.

"You're-" checking his watch, he continues, "-two minutes late this time."

I scoff, throwing my bag onto my side of the desk in mock-annoyance.

"Am not." I reply.

Finally, he looks up with a devilish glimmer in his eyes, pushing the textbook to the side. Annoyingly, colour rises to my cheeks as he does his familiar assessment of what I'm wearing. Taking his time as he does so, I cross my arms over my chest and raise a brow.

"Looking for something?" I ask, cocking my head to the side. He tears his eyes away from my tight jeans and baggy hoodie combo, meeting my eyes with an amused expression that somehow makes all of his dark features look sharper. Don't be intimidated by him.

"You look cute today." he says, picking up a pen and placing it between his teeth. "But you're still two minutes late."

"Or are you just two minutes early?" I smile, manoeuvring myself around the desk to sit in my seat beside him. My body buzzes with warmth after his compliment. "It's a matter of perspective really."

This time, it's his turn to scoff.

"Pazza signora." He says, shaking his head. I give him an I don't speak Italian look and he chuckles, taking the pen from his mouth and placing it on the table. "Crazy lady." He translates.