No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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HE WASN'T HERE.
City Park was devoid of any noise if it weren't for the crickets and the occasional fallen leaves I stepped on. The air grew still and chilly, the coldness wrapping itself around my frame. Tonight had become the night my escape from the house was a necessity—and it truly was no one else's fault if it wasn't mine.
Despite my mind wandering off to the past, it tiptoed around Evan Parker, and all his glory of sinful little smiles and occasional remarks which made me do a double take. Even if his presence were not needed at the moment, I couldn't shake onto the need of wanting to see him here.
The tables had turned, indeed—and it was funny how I would've traded my life for not being alone with him, and I almost wanted to see him right now. The reason still remained his absence from school and the tenseness among the guys, but I could use a little reassurance, too.
I walked a little across the cobblestones before the air had gotten too cold to be stayed in. Tiredness seemed to catch up, too, and my shoulders hunched and eyes felt droopy when I took a final turn to examine the swings which stood many feet away. I could picture Liz and I on the swings, much like how we were at the age of seven—and the thought was enough for me to sprint right out of the park.
I collided with someone instead.
My reflex was to tumble a good number of steps away. A hand gently tugged at my wrist to stop me from crashing on the floor, but I shook out of the grasp. Panic ceased my features and restrained my limbs before I could raise my eyes from the floor.
Evan stood in front of me, attire beyond dressy and eyes fixated on mine. Even in the propelling darkness, his frame of dark locks was vividly evident, and so was the brightness in the pair of eyes looking right back. By the time I had fully recognized him, he stood several steps away—hands crossed and poise all-too intimidating. I waited for him to start talking, but that was a bit too much to ever ask for.
"Hey," I began, voice faltering before I even came to point. "Why weren't you at school today?"
He didn't utter a word, and I just stared at him like my life depended on it. "Evan."
After a while, I reckoned that I was, indeed, getting the silent treatment. I mocked a laugh, pursing my lips. He was closer, somehow—or maybe it was my brain conjuring up things—but I was hurt when he refused to speak anything to me. His face was morphed with conflict, eyes still holding onto the stare which could break ice.
"I don't have to answer you."
I looked back up to see if he was joking. If he was, there would've been the smallest smile running along his lips, eyes playful, and posture friendly. None of that happened. I barely knew him, and boundaries were to forever be respected—yet, I knew the coldness in his tone hurt.
I pretended to be so aloof that it came off satirically.
