Page 150 of Satan's Spawn
“Crayton, is everything okay?” I ask after he helps me down from a rock.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?” he huffs.
Great.Weareback to playing the asshole.
“Just asking.”
“You want the Uber to take you to your Mom’s or Riverside?” He swipes through his phone.
“Mom’s.” Is all the will I have left to respond.
So that’s exactly what happens. By the time we leave the park there’s a car waiting for me, and the second I step foot in it Crayton closes the door without even a good-bye.
I peer up at him through the window as the driver pulls out of the spot, and he holds my gaze as we start moving down the street. Crayton’s got his hands in his pockets, and stays that way until we’re turning a corner and he’s out of sight.
26
BEX
Icould barely sleep when I got home Saturday night, my mind spinning with thoughts about Crayton and where we stand.
I’ve been contemplating my next move the rest of the weekend, during dinner at some fancy restaurant with Mom and Roman, to the nail salon where Mom and I got pedicures, even while showering I had Crayton running rampant through my thoughts.
Will he return to school?
Will he be a dick if he does?
How will the rest of the guys treat me if their leader returns? Will Crayton be upset to know I’ve gotten closer to his friends?
Hey, maybewecan actually become friends.
My heart squeezes in my chest with the idea…not only because he would likely relinquish me from the pansy duties and give me my medicine back, but we could actually start building a real relationship.
Whatever that might look like.
I mean, how can we go back to enemies after he laid himself bare the way he did?
It wasn’t much for most people, but for a troubled person like Crayton, it was a lot. He indirectly told me he has feelings for me, albeit complicated ones.
That’s got to stand for something.
The first and most important question I’ve been asking myself all weekend is answered during third period as I sit in the back, waiting for Mr. Beckett to begin his lecture.
I’m going over what I have written so far in my poem when a very loud classroom falls silent.
As usual, I feel Crayton before I see him.
The chills I once felt have officially turned into flutters with his presence.
“Welcome back, Mr. Shaw.” Beckett greets him with an arm directed to Crayton’s desk. “We’re about to begin so please find a seat.”
Crayton’s jaw is locked tight as he signs the tardy sheet on the teachers desk, and I can’t help the smile spreading to my lips.
It’s a visceral reaction, likely because of all the pent up anticipation, and honest excitement to see him.
“Sorry we’re late!” Alexis enters the room a few seconds after, popping gum and running lip gloss over her annoyingly perfect lips. She’s staring into a compact mirror as she adds, “Crayton and I had to get caught up on some school work.”
My smile falls, along with the organ in my chest when she runs one of her acrylic nails down Crayton’s back.
