As I gaze down the corridor, I notice him making his way towards the library, his long legs taking wide strides as if he's in a hurry to get to some sort of sale.
I can't help but wonder if the school is finally offering its collection of novels for a low price—a thought that fills me with a proper sense of excitement. The prospect of getting my hands on any book by one of my favourite authors and adding them to my collection of paperback editions is nothing short of a dream come true. I would not have the time to read them but they would look good on display.
Would the pages be crisp and smooth to the touch, with no creases or folds in the corners? Or would they feel rough and tattered, with frayed edges and dog-eared pages? Additionally, would the covers be unblemished and glossy, or would they display signs of wear and tear such as scratches or scuffs?
"We have a problem," I rush out after catching up with Dominic.
"What?" he muses monotonously, not even taking the courtesy to slow down for me, causing me to still jog a bit to keep up with his hard stride and again I curse the fact that he has such long legs and I have such short ones.
"Taylor… um… mate, could you slow down a bit?" I muse, dashing to a stop as I force some breaths into my mouth.
I can feel my body struggling to keep up after chasing after him. It's clear to me that I'm not as fit as I was in my younger days. The short jog has already left me feeling lazy, unfit, and utterly exhausted. Slowing down to an immediate halt, I rest my hands on my knees and gasp for air.
When I look up, I surprisingly see him standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting for me. Despite my physical limitations, I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment from his actions. After all, progress is still progress.
"Hurry up with your breathing," he finally snaps impatiently, narrowing his dark gaze on my slouched figure.
I spoke too soon.
Standing up painstakingly slowly, I start to smile nervously, now needing to inhale to calm my anxiety. "Hi."
He remains quiet for a few seconds and when I think that he's not going to respond, he surprises me by saying, "Hello."
"Uh… I have to tell you something. You won't believe this. It's actually quite a funny story," I stall, but the daggers that he is throwing at me with his eyes make me stop beating around the bush and come out with it. "Taylor might've, probably, definitely, but it could still be a maybe… thinks we're dating."
As I speak, he intently processes my words, his brows furrowing and dipping down into his eyelids. The confusion on his face is so palpable that it seems to stain his features visibly.
I realise that he has become a lot more expressive than he used to be. Gone are the days when he would stare at me dully and walk away without even acknowledging my presence. Nowadays, he responds to my enquiries and greetings, and I can see that he's gradually starting to warm up to me. Although he may consider himself the puppeteer and me as little Pinocchio hanging on the strings he's pulling, ever so noticeably he's starting to warm up to this little puppet of his.
Why am I referring to myself as Pinocchio?
"And why would she think that?" he questions, thinning his suspicious gaze on me. "You didn't tell her that we are, did you?"
My eyes bulge out of their sockets from shock. "What? No, why would I do that?"
"Why would she think that?"
"Well, we have been spending an awful lot of time together, so there's that," I point out to him.
"So what?"
"Edward also saw us at the park on Sunday and he also saw us at the diner yesterday, apparently on a date. Whatever she's assuming has absolutely nothing to do with me saying anything to her."
"Okay, so what if that Edward guy saw us doing all those things? That doesn't mean we're dating. You should tell your little lover that he should go and get his eyes checked along with you."
"Still being a racist prick, I see."
"Your friend thinks you're dating this racist prick so," he lets that hang in the air with a shrug.
"While we're on that," I drawl out awkwardly and look around the hallway to see if people are lingering around, "I think we should stop spending so much time together. I don't wanna give people the wrong impression."
"What impression?" he muses, pressing his crossed arms over his chest and regarding me under his dull yet still questioning gaze. "I don't like you and I'd never date someone like you."
Ouch, much.
"What do you mean someone like me?" I ask, throwing venomous daggers at him as I mimic his actions.
"I mean, for starters your voice is always so whiny that I can never catch a break. Every single time you open your mouth, I know you're about to say some stupid shit which is gonna give me a headache. And you always have that dopey smile on your face like you're the happiest thing in the world and it just annoys the living daylights out of me."
As I listen to the words coming out of his mouth, my face drops and a sense of despair washes over me.
What's wrong with being happy?
The words sting like a slap in the face and I purse my lips tightly and blink once, trying to hide my emotions and not let him see the impact of his hurtful words. However, it's a futile attempt as involuntary tears start to gather in my eyes. But, he doesn't seem to care or even realise the gravity of his words. Instead, he just stares at me blankly, devoid of any remorse or sympathy.
Talking to Dominic is like talking to a lifeless, ungrateful person who doesn't value the impact of his actions on others.
"Okay, well," I hold onto the straps of my bag and swallow past the lump in my throat as I glare into his dark, brown eyes, "I'll take my whiny voice and my dopey smile elsewhere where it won't bother you, your highness."
With a sense of contempt, I perform a mocking bow along with a fake smile to indicate my displeasure. As I turn around to leave, he suddenly grabs my arm with a rough force, causing me to lose my footing and stumble awkwardly.
"Why would I let you do that? I need to know the next step of the plan."
I yank my arm out of his hold and nurse the slight throb in it. For a fleeting nanosecond, I see some guilt in his eyes, but that only stays for so long.
"Jodie invited me to some party this Friday and I don't know what to do or what to wear. Should I pick her up or should I tell her that we'll be meeting at the party?"
"Alright, stop," I cut him off on his panicking spree, shaking my head in disapproval. "This is good. It means that we're moving in the right direction. I don't think you should pick her up, 'cause we're saving that for the date that's about to come."
"How do you know there's a date—"
I place my index finger on his lips in a firm manner, signalling him to be quiet.
He recoils in disgust and takes a giant step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His face twists into an expression of repugnance, and he narrows his dark eyes at me, clearly unhappy with my actions.
Ignoring his exaggerated reaction, I take a moment to contemplate, gazing upwards as I stroke my chin, searching for inspiration. Unfortunately, this gesture only makes me look more foolish than I already am.
"Yeah, I have never been to a party before so I don't know what we should do. Maybe… stay confident or something."
He frowns, eyes flattening. "That's your advice?"
"It's better than nothing."
"I have a better idea," he replies, throwing my suggestion away. "You need to come with me to the party to keep an eye on us, slide in when I'm not doing something correctly."
Silence answers his suggestion as I give him a look of incredulity. With a scoff, I muse, "Are you insane? I'm not going to a party."
"You have to."
As I daydream about attending a party without my parent's knowledge, I can feel my heart racing with excitement. The thought of just walking out of my home, telling my parents that I have a party to attend and throwing them the peace sign seems thrilling.
But as soon as I start to imagine the consequences of my actions, a wave of fear washes over me. I can feel my eyes bulging out of their sockets at the mere thought of it. The idea of being caught by my mum and facing her wrath is enough to make me shiver. The fear of getting grounded or even worse, being punished severely, makes me think twice about my plan.
Yeah, that's probably going to end with me six feet underground if I'm not careful.
Shaking myself out of the absurd thought, I focus on him again. "One, no. Two, how will I get out of the house? Three, no."
"One, yes. Two, you have to sneak out. Three, yes."