Chapter XVII: Liberation Library

He stared at me for what felt like forever, his eyes reflecting his disbelief. Then, in one last move of animosity, he reached out to seize my shoulders in his hands as he bit back, "I do hate you, Charmaine Eilerts. I've hated you since the seventh grade!"

My vision blurred involuntarily, and when I blinked, I felt the hot tears roll from the corners of my eyes. I didn't want him to see me cry, but while I was trapped in his rough grip, my face mere inches from his, it was unavoidable. I couldn't seem to stop the tears from falling.

They ran without restraints, trailing down my cheeks and blinding my eyes. When I tried to blink to clear my vision, Ashton's face would appear before me again, and a new onslaught of tears would spill out in response. I was a mess.

Finally, when I couldn't take it any longer, I dropped my face against Ashton's chest, my tears mingling with the blood on his shirt. I could feel his furious heartbeat against my forehead, and I found it to be just as rocky as mine, if not more so.

We stood there for a few painful seconds, neither of us budging. When all of ten seconds had played their course, I felt the pressure on my shoulders lessen. Then Ash released me fully, stepping past me and pushing the garage door open.

Still shaken up, I spun around to see what he'd do this time. In a matter of seconds, he was swinging his leg over his motorcycle seat and shoving the key back into the ignition. Before I had time to properly react, he was revving the engine to life.

My eyes widening in dismay, I started to step toward him, but he was already pulling out of the garage and tearing down the driveway. I doubted he could even hear me as I shouted after him. "Ash!"

Letting out another scream of frustration when his motorcycle disappeared from sight, I kicked at the gravel on the driveway and covered my face in my hands.

I knew I had messed up again. I had just been so furious when I'd seen what Rowlett had done to him. I hadn't known how to react, so I'd taken my anger out on Ashton himself.

As the tears seeped through my fingers, I realized that I was doing just what I'd promised Ashton I wouldn't. I'd sworn I didn't care about him enough to cry over him. And yet, here I was. Crying over Ashton stupid Savvonski.

I never fully recovered that grim Sunday, but I did stop the waterworks eventually. Ash never returned home that day, and when Jacob and Pam returned at the end of my shift, I admitted to them that I had no idea where he was. They seemed to be quite understanding of my situation, and I didn't get in trouble for anything I'd done.

I still felt horrible as I drove home that night, and I avoided my parents like the plague. I locked myself in my room almost immediately, but sleep refused to come to me until well after midnight.

When I awoke Monday morning, I felt groggy from the previous day, but I managed to roll out of bed and pull on some clothes anyway. I did everything as mindlessly as I could, in order to alleviate my already mounting anxiety. As I began my walk to school, I finally allowed my mind to travel to what lay ahead.

I was going to see Ashton today. It was not something I was looking forward to, but it was a reality that I had to deal with. Today was the day that would determine the rest of my week. I was going to have to take responsibility for both my behavior and my resolutions from the previous day.

Whether it was completely intentional or not, I had resolved yesterday that I would not hate Ashton. Now I had to own up to that. In doing so, I knew that I would have to approach him today. I had to set things straight this time—preferably without the tears.

The only problem with my plan of direct approach was Ashton himself. After everything I'd learned on Sunday morning, I was in doubts whether he'd even talk to me. I could still hardly believe what he'd said about hating me since the seventh grade, and the fact that he knew my full name had me spinning.

Seventh grade itself seemed like forever ago, but the last time I had used the name Charmaine was in elementary school. Elementary school! How in the world did Ashton know that name? And to think that he had had feelings of any sort—much less, hatred—toward me in seventh grade was more than I could comprehend.

I was nobody. I always had been. How had Ashton known who I was?

These thoughts gnawed at me for the duration of my walk to the park, and I was so consumed by them that when Britt appeared before me, I nearly jumped.

"Maine!" she exclaimed, looping her arm through mine.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear my head as I returned the greeting somewhat less enthusiastically. "Hey."

It didn't take long to know where her mind was. "You hung up on me yesterday," she pointed out, not unkindly.

Wincing at what might come next, I apologized hastily. "Sorry about that…I was just worried about Ash."

She lifted her hand to ruffle my hair before tilting her head closer to mine. When I looked at her face, I saw that she was quirking an eyebrow. Then she opened her mouth to comment, "I thought you two were fighting."

"We were—I mean, we are," I replied, frowning slightly.

"Then why did you care so much about what happened to him?"

"I don't know," I sighed, my frustration evident in my tone.

Britt got a mischievous twinkle in her eye then. "You may not know, but I think I do."

I furrowed my brow skeptically, but she just smiled. Leaning close, she whispered in my ear, "You like him."

"No, I—do not!" I countered a bit too emphatically.

"Then why are you blushing?" she practically squealed, pointing at my face in accusation.

Staring at her with my mouth hanging open like a fool, all I could do was stutter, "I—I—"

"See?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

She was laughing by now, completely ignoring my attempts to vindicate myself. Then, in a sing-song voice she began chanting, "Maine likes Ashton! Maine likes Ashton! Maine likes—"

I slapped my hand over her mouth, looking around frantically. I was relieved to discover that the only person in our vicinity was an old lady walking her dog. Even so, it was with great reluctance that I removed my hand from Britt's pie hole. She looked as if she were ready to break into song again, so I cut in almost immediately. "If you dare say a word of this to anyone, I will lock you in the creepy third floor bathroom with the bats. Okay?"

Her eyes widened, but I soon learned it not because of my threat. "So you do like him? I knew it!"

My jaw fell slack in disbelief. "No, I do not."

She gave me a dead-pan expression before questioning drily, "Then why are you so upset about it?"

"Because—because I don't want false rumors spreading all over the school!" I exclaimed, scrambling for any excuse I could think of. "Don't you know how many girls are in love with Ashton? I'd turn into a walking target!" I already was one at this point.

"What about me?" Britt said suddenly, detouring from her teasing. I looked at her in surprise, but she looked straight ahead as she went on. "I've liked Josh since the ninth grade, and he's had like fifteen girlfriends since then. All the girls at school like him. That doesn't mean I can't like him."

I dropped my gaze, opting to say nothing. It seemed that I wouldn't be able to help Britt anyway, so I didn't bother trying. She hated it when I talked about Josh, and I was not in the mood for another fight. I'd been fighting since last Monday, and it was really starting to be a bother.

Instead of saying anything, I put my arm around Britt's shoulders in what I hoped was a supportive gesture. She seemed grateful enough, and when we reached the school, she smiled at me before heading off to class.

A few hours later, I found myself strolling through the school library in search of the thesaurus. I had to use a variety of reference books for an assignment in English, so I was planning to spend my study hour in the library. The last time I had actually used a thesaurus felt like ages ago, and I had completely forgotten where they were located.

Picking at my lip, I absentmindedly made my way down one aisle after another. I knew I could have asked the woman at the desk for help, but she was scary, so I figured looking for it myself was the safer option.

I had probably gone down about fifteen rows in our disproportionately large library before I realized just how far I had gone. I rarely ever used the school library, and even when I did, I never went past the seventh aisle.

Aware that I was probably searching the wrong place entirely, I was about to turn around and go back the way I'd come, when something stopped me. I wasn't sure what it was, but something told to keep on in the same direction.

Confused, but placid, I slowly began walking forward. After about ten or so paces, I heard the sound of a page turning. What? My curiosity mounting—for practically no one hung out this far back in the library—I subconsciously quieted my movements as I approached the source of the sound.

Just who was hiding in the far reaches of the library? Was it a loner? A self-conscious cheerleader? A creep? The librarian herself?

My heart pounding in my chest for unknown reasons, I cautiously moved toward the last aisle. I knew from the nearness of the sound that the person was behind the last row of books, so I took extra care to be subtle as I neared that row. Then, in as sensitive movements as possible, I peeked around the corner of the last book shelf.

What I saw caused me to instantly freeze. It was Ashton. He was sitting on the floor, his eyes trained on the page of a book, his scarred hand poised to flip to the next. Just the sight of him caused my heart to leap to my throat.

I wanted nothing more than to turn back the way I'd come, and run for my dear life, but I knew I could do no such thing. I hadn't even seen Ash during lunch, and the chances of running into him now were just too slim. This was my opportunity. It was now or never.

And yet, I stalled, hiding behind the protection of the book shelf. I couldn't seem to collect the courage to move. And even if I were to move, what would I say? How in the world was I supposed to approach someone who had made it clear he hated me?

I didn't have to make the move in the end. A book made it for me. I must have been leaning into the book shelf a bit too heavily, for, just as I was considering giving up and leaving, a book on my side of the shelf pushed against one on Ashton's side, causing it to tip forward and suddenly fall to the ground on the other side.

My eyes widening in dismay, I wished for anything that I could disappear, but the damage had already been done. There would be no escaping—not when Ashton leapt to his feet the second the book hit the floor. He looked so shocked that I almost wanted to laugh, but I was far too horrified to do so.

Instead, I forced myself to step out then and cover my face in shame as I stooped down to pick the book up. Rising, I stood with my back facing Ash as I placed the book back on the shelf. All the while, I could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of my head. My cheeks felt as if they were on fire, but they were nothing compared to the turmoil that was going on inside of me.

It took a moment after I had returned the book to its proper place before I had the will to turn around and actually face Ashton. Just as I had imagined, he was staring into my soul with his penetrating brown eyes.

To my great frustration, I could not decipher from his stare whether he was angry or not. I did know immediately though that I would have to be the first to speak. There was no way Ash was going to say the first thing—if anything at all. Which was simply fantastic. I'd be talking to a wall. I'd be babbling like an idiot to a wall of ice. But I had to do it.

"Sorry." That was the first word I said. Somehow it came out right. "About the book, I mean. Sorry if I scared you." Well, that sounded dumb, Charmaine. You shouldn't have—

"You didn't."

I stared at him. He glared back. "Good."

"What do you want, Maine?" He did not sound very happy.

Swallowing hard, I felt my apprehension rise as I tried to think of what to say. Upon realizing that there was no perfect approach, I gave up trying and just blurted, "Why do you hate me?"

I saw a muscle in his cheek tense, but for the most part he kept his expression under control. "Does it matter?"

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. "Yes!" I said, my frustration seeping through. Since he obviously wasn't in the mood to divulge, I rambled on. "Of course it matters! You said you hated me since the seventh grade, Ash. Is that not supposed to matter to me? Am I not allowed to care? I—I don't even—how did you know I existed in the seventh grade?"

He narrowed his dark eyes at me before saying in a mocking voice, "You think I'm going to tell you? Really? You think I'd do that?"

Clenching my fists, I closed my eyes a moment before composing myself enough to open them and say with a certain air of calmness, "I don't want to do this anymore, Ash."

"Then why did you come back here?" He said it with such a cruel tone that I had to seriously resist the urge to slap him.

"Because I want—I want us to be friends!" The second it had left my mouth, I felt like taking it back. It was far too humiliating to say to someone like him.

The shock on his face told me he hadn't been expecting it at all, but I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. His shocked expression soon molded into a hard one. "Have you not been listening to a word I've said? How can we be friends when I've already made it clear that I hate you?"

"Well, I—���

"I just said I hate you, Maine! Can't you take the hint?"

That was it. He had drawn the last straw. "No!" I said in as loud a voice as I could without revealing our location to the others in the library. "No, I cannot take the hint! Do you know why, Ash? Because I don't believe you." He stared at me incredulously, but I just went on. "How could I believe you? Really. Yeah, you're a jerk half the time, but what about the other half? You've joked with me, laughed with me, gotten me out of detention—the list goes on. If that's what hating me looks like, then you're doing a pretty awful job of it!"

"You don't know what you're talking about. You're just—"

"I know exactly what I'm talking about, Ashton," I interrupted him, fed up with his excuses. He couldn't possibly expect me to believe him anymore. Why would he have spoken to me in the first place if he hated me so much? Then, all in one breath, I said something I never thought I would. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you liked me!"

His eyes widened. Mine did too. What had I just said? Had I really just—I couldn't have. But I had, and his expression said it all.

"Maine, I—I don't—"

"I know!" I cut him off, horrified at the idea of actually listening to his refutation. "Of course you don't like me. But that's beside the point. The point is—" I paused then, trying to figure out what my point actually was. Ash beat me to it.

With a loud exhale, he filled in. "The point is you want us to be friends."

I stared at his bruised face for a long moment before admitting, "Yeah. That's what I want."

My answer did not seem to anger him this time, but he did appear slightly baffled. He shook his head at me before saying with a hint of disbelief, "You're crazy, Charmaine."

So maybe he was dissing me. Maybe this was all wrong. But this was the first time I had heard someone say my full name in such a way that made me want to hear it over and over again. There was obviously something wrong with me.

"Maybe I am crazy," I told him, bringing a hand to my head.

"At least you admit it," he muttered, seeming to relax somewhat.

I felt myself relax as well, but then I reminded myself that I needed to make some ground today. Now shouldn't be the time to relax. "Ash, I—" I started my next appeal, but he interrupted me.

"Fine," he said in a resigned tone. "I'm tired of fighting you anyway."

I stared at him, hardly daring to believe it. Had he really just given in? Had the fight really ended? To test the waters, I tentatively asked, "So…friends?"

It seemed to take him forever to respond, and I was inwardly praying the whole time that he would not go back on his words. Somehow, miraculously, he did not. "Yeah," he finally said. "Friends."

I didn't even bother to hide my relief. Slumping back against the book shelf, I let out a breath, and my eyes fluttered shut. Now that the fight was over, I felt as if I could breathe for the first time in days. It didn't matter that Ash and I were still in an awkward position. All that mattered was that he had agreed to be my friend. That was the best news I'd heard in weeks.

It was a bit of a different story for Ashton, being that he had been the one to start the fight and the one to give in at the end. I figured that he still wasn't all that happy, but it was better this way than it had been before. At least we weren't yelling at each other. I'd take awkward over yelling any day.

I was just standing there with my eyes shut, reveling in the freedom that came with the end of our fight, when Ash spoke up finally. He seemed somewhat hesitant, but he said it anyway. "You look like you just gave birth."

That was the first snidely humorous comment he'd made in what felt like ages, and it sounded like heaven—which was ridiculous, I knew, but I didn't care. I opened my eyes and straightened myself somewhat. After a quick survey of his face, I commented, "And you look like you just got mugged."

He almost smiled—almost. I took that as a good sign. "It's nothing."

"Yeah. Right." I shook my head at him. "Did you even try to clean your face up? You look horrible. Sorry."

Again, a smile seemed to be tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're not sorry."

I smiled at him momentarily before wondering aloud. "Where did you go last night?" When he didn't look like he was in the mood to respond, I filled. "Dave's? Josh's?"

"Dave's."

Nodding my head slowly, I tried to think of a response that would not turn him away. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, after you kicked me out yesterday."

My jaw fell slack. "What—I didn't kick you out! You kicked yourself out!"

He watched me for a few seconds before letting out a chuckle. "I know. I'm just giving you a hard time."

"A hard time? You call that a hard time?" I felt like laughing at the notion. "Have you not been aware of what you've been doing for the past week?"

He sobered somewhat at that. "I'm aware. I just…"

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hear his explanation. In fact, I was practically dying to know. For his sake, I didn't force it out of him. Instead, I brushed it aside. "It's okay."

His eyes narrowed for a second, and he seemed to size me up. I could hardly blame him. What in the world was I thinking? Was I really going to just pretend nothing had happened? Was I going to forgive him so easily?

Apparently I was.

Uncomfortable under Ashton's gaze, I took the silence as my chance to change the subject. "So how is Rowlett doing?"

Ash raised one eyebrow, before commenting, "You must have an informant."

"Britt."

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. She was there." After a pause, he looked at me curiously and asked, "Did she tell you?" When I tilted my head, he elaborated. "About her and Josh?"

That was enough to make my heart drop. "Josh? She—what about them?" I prayed that it wouldn't be what I thought it was.

After seeing my reaction, Ashton appeared somewhat hesitant to answer, but he did so anyway. "They're dating now."

A frustrated sigh slipped from my lips at that. Then, despite the fact that I knew Ash and Josh were friends, I didn't stop myself from wondering aloud, "What is that girl thinking?" After saying it, I glanced at Ashton apprehensively, but he did not appear fazed at all.

Letting out a breath, he agreed, "That's what I was wondering."

His response had me both relieved and worried. I was relieved that he was not upset at my indirect accusation, but I was worried about the fact that even Ashton had concerns about Britt's relationship with Josh. Apparently I wasn't the only one who didn't trust Josh when it came to girls.

Just to make sure that Ash and I were on the same page, I asked him, "Do you think Josh would be a good boyfriend for her—or anyone?"

After a moment's hesitation, Ash shook his head slowly. "He's my friend and all, but if I were a girl, I'd stay away. He's a good guy, but with girls—" He laughed slightly then. "I guess I sound pretty crazy."

"No," I responded quickly. "You really don't." Not after the rumors I've been hearing lately.

Ash stared at me for a long moment before quirking an eyebrow in what appeared to be curiosity. "You didn't fall for his charms?"

I almost laughed at the notion. "No. Why would I?"

He frowned slightly. "Most girls do."

"Come on, he's not that great." I said it with a smile, but inwardly, I was growing somewhat confused. Ashton had a point—even if he hadn't said it out loud. Most girls fell for Josh, so why hadn't I?