Six

I sit next to Avery in English class, everyone else already in their pair of partners', expecting the new project to begin. I quickly explain the project to Avery before the teacher enters.

"So, we're partners?" she asks, biting her lip. I can tell she is nervous just by that gesture, something she does often when she's scared or hesitant.

"You and I are the only ones left, you weren't here when they assigned partners', so I offered to be yours," I say sheepishly, realizing how idiotic I sound when I say it out loud.

But it makes a small smile appear on her face, washing that feeling away. We're interrupted when the teacher begins the class, starting off with explaining the project in more detail.

"For this project, you are each going to pick a form of literature, short-form preferably. The point of the assignment is to get to know your partner, even if you already know them well, and write a piece on them, describing how you see them. It can be any kind of poem, or short story; for those of you who choose to do a short story, come see me about the word limit. You will have two weeks to complete this."

I glance at Avery from the corner of my eye, gauging her reaction. I already have a ton of ideas for what I want to do, and I know I want to do a poem, another little trick I picked up from time to time in juvie.

But Avery looks hesitant, and I can tell she is struggling with the idea already. I can't imagine I'm an easy person to read, though I have always felt like I can be more open around Avery, more like my true self.

"So, what are you thinking?" I ask her.

She bites her lip and shrugs. "I'm not a strong writer, I can barely write a haiku poem."

I suddenly get a brilliant idea. "Well, since this is school related, your parents have no choice but to let you out after school. Why don't you come over to my place tonight, and we can look up some different poems or short stories, so you can get a better idea?" I ask and wait anxiously for her answer, hoping to god it isn't a no.

"I guess it doesn't hurt to ask, but I'm going to need to get a slip signed from school, saying it's for a project," she says. Is she serious?

Part of my is blown away that she is considering it, but the other part is just as equally blown away, at the lengths she has to go through, before even asking.

I don't want to argue, however. If it's the best chance of having her come over, then I'll take it.

We walk up to the teacher and she briefly explains her situation and how she needs proof from the school that we will be working on a school project after hours. The teacher gives her an odd look as well, saying he doesn't have any kind of form like that, since this isn't a usual request.

He slides over to his computer and types up his own from, printing out in the printer behind the desk and signing the bottom, even adding his work number under it in case they had questioned.

I see a wave of relief wash over her face when she grips the paper, carefully tucking it into her bag. There are so many questions eating at me, but I clench my hands and remain quiet, hoping for the best.

For the rest of the day, Avery seems like she is in a better mood than before, still keeping her hood up and head down to hide her bruise, but she smiles a bit more during lunch when Tammy rails her about not going to her party.

They don't seem to notice how much she is hiding her face, which relieves me, and her it looks. I'm mainly relieved because I don't want her bombarded with questions, then Tammy to accidentally open her mouth to the wrong person, and the entire school is making up even more rumors about her than there already is.

We wait together at the bus stop at the end of the day, talking about the first gym class both of us have gone too in the past few school days.

"I don't understand, if you wanted to switch into the class, why don't you show up then?" she asks.

I scratch the back of my head, thinking if I should tell her the truth or not. I want her to trust me, to be able to tell me anything.

I suppose I have to be the one to start that, and this is as good a place as any. "To be honest, I really only switched to gym because I didn't like my other elective, and because you were in it. So, I assumed it couldn't be all that bad."

Her eyes widen and I wait for her to start freaking out, and maybe call me clingy again. I'm already starting to doubt that, too.

Instead, her mouth curves into a smile, and she actually starts giggling a little. "As if, you really took gym for me. I have to say, that's probably the sweetest thing any guy has done for me," she says, her giggles increasing.

"Wow, you must have dated some dumpy guys," I tease back, but regret it when the smile is wiped from her face.

Me and my big mouth.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," I muttered, looking down at the shoe kicking dirt into the air.

She shakes her head. "No, it's not that I've dated dumpy guys or had any bad relationships. If we're being honest, I've never been in a real relationship."

I feel my mouth pop open a little.

She can't be serious...

By the look on her face, she is however. It still doesn't make me believe it.

"How can you have never had a relationship? You're fucking beautiful." The words slip out and disperse into the air for all to hear. I want to take them back so badly, grasp at the air like a lunatic, but I can't.

"Y-you think I'm beautiful?" she whispers and I start cursing myself, squeezing my eyes shut so I don't see the terrified look on her face.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why the hell can't I ever keep my mouth shut? That is probably the last thing she wants to hear from someone like me. I probably seem like a creep now.

"I mean, well–" I can't process a single response, I'm a babbling idiot.

She lets out another giggle before her bus arrives. "I'll text you if I can come over," she says over her shoulder, giving me a little wave before she gets on. I wave back until the bus disappears, hoping mine is close behind.

When I get home, I text my father that I'm having Avery over, and he texts back that he will be out for the night with some buddies from work, giving me the place to myself. I'm not sure if he planned that, or if he meant to leave us alone.

Either way, it's perfect. I already have the idea to do something nice for when Avery comes over, other than just study and work on the project, which will be the main focus. But I also want to do something fun, since it doesn't seem like she gets out very often.

This project also requires us to get to know each other, and what better way than in a relaxed and fun environment? I doubt I will get her to open up if she's constantly on edge and tense. After our first period class today, she seemed like she was in a happier mood, and a small part of me hoped it was because I invited her over.

The other part scolded myself for thinking that. I just want to help her out, and put a little fun in her life.

I practically jump off my bed when my phone goes off, and I do a little cheer inside, thankful no one is around to see it, when I see a message from Avery saying she is on her way over, just has some things to take care of at home.

That gives me some time to quickly shower and put on clean clothes, clean up the living room and kitchen a little, and put in an order for pizza. I went over to the TV and set up Netflix, thinking later I could propose we watch a short movie before she has to make her curfew.

I glance at the kitchen clock and see it's only 4 o'clock, giving us at least 3 hours. Not much, but if we do an hour of work, we can watch an hour and a half movie and she still has time to bus home. There is a bus that goes by my house that can take her straight home, but it doesn't pass by the school, so from there we always have to take separate buses.

I finish setting up the living room with a bunch of pillows and blankets, just as I hear the doorbell. I fly to the door, stopping just before opening it to make sure I don't look like a mess after running around cleaning.

"Welcome, make yourself comfortable," I say and shuffle into the living room, never having felt so awkward in my own house before.

Avery slowly makes her way through the house, her eyes scanning the embarrassing family photos my father hangs. I study her while she's distracted, taking note of any differences from the last time I saw her today.

The bruise is still very noticeable on the side of her face, and everything else is covered up, but she otherwise seems to appear the same.

She takes her backpack off and takes out some papers. "Do you have a computer we can use?" she asks, turning and smiling at me. My stomach leaps into my throat, my mouth going dry.

"Uh, yeah, it's in my room," I say, regretting the words. That makes it sound so bad. "I'll, uh, go get it," I quickly add and dash up the stairs, my heart hammering as hard as my feet pounding on the steps.

When I return, she has already set up a little work station in the kitchen on the counter, a few more papers and even a book.

"What's this?" I ask, picking up the book that reads The Art of Poetry.

"Just a few things I've taken notes on in class, and a book that I saw in the library that I thought would be useful," she says, absentmindedly digging around in her bag.

That suddenly makes me think. The library.

Is that where she goes now when she doesn't come to lunch or gym?

I had never thought to check the library; except the one time I went there of my own free will. It was such an obvious place, as obvious as the practice rooms, but I still never thought of it, quickly remembering back to our time in the used book store.

I open my laptop and we get off to a slow start, learning what we each know of poetry or short stories, though that idea seems to be off the table before we really talk about it. I have never been a strong writer, not having the creativity for it, let alone the patience. It's so much easier to verbally tell a story.

Poetry is something different. You can tell an entire story in just a few short verses, if you use the right words and flow of literature. It is the one piece of literature I have always admired, but still never bothered with.

About an hour in, we can both feel it's time for a break.

"I think that's a pretty good start for the first day," I say, pushing my laptop away and stretching. Avery nods and starts piling her papers together.

Now is my chance to ask her to hangout, really get to know her, maybe make a chip in those walls she is constantly keeping up.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" I ask, looking down at my fidgeting fingers.

Why am I so nervous? It's just Avery.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," she says and I can hear the smile in her voice. I don't dare meet her eyes completely, my heart already starting to race at the image of her smiling at me; the small dimple in the corner of her mouth, that only appears when she is genuinely smiling, lighting up her beautiful eyes–

Whoa! Stop right there, thoughts. I mentally shake my head, willing the image away and distract myself by helping her clean up the table.

Our hands brush briefly when we try and reach for the same paper, and I pull away like my hand is on fire. It certainly felt like it, when my skin touched hers.

Suddenly needing to calm myself again, I take my laptop and excuse myself back upstairs, setting it down on my desk and taking a deep breath.

"Geez, Aiden. Get it together," I whisper a pep talk to myself, feeling like an idiot the second I start talking to myself.

I really am losing it. Why the hell am I acting like this? I never get nervous around girls, not ones I'm trying to sleep with and especially not ones like Avery, who I've seen as nothing but a good friend, maybe even a best friend at this point.

Is that really true, though? Why else would I be feeling like this, over the simple fact that we're alone in my house, for the first time. When we were out and walking around, it was easier to distract myself from tempting thoughts.

Like throwing my arms around Avery, and holding her close on the couch while we watched the movie. Smelling her intoxicating smell of strawberries and a hint of vanilla, feel her silky hair brush my skin–

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

I physically shake my head this time, hitting the side of my face a little to shake away the hot feeling seeping through my body at the thought of having Avery close. I can't be thinking like this, she's a friend. Nothing more.

I doubt she views me as anything more than that, either. She hasn't given me any hint that she sees me any other way, she barely even trusts me as a friend to know what's going on in her life.

If I'm not careful, I'm going to screw everything up, and do something worse than lose her.

Like hurt her.

***

I return downstairs a few minutes later, hoping Avery didn't think I was trying to waste time so I don't have to spend time with her. I find her sitting on the couch, playing on her phone, already settled into the mountain of pillows and blankets I made.

She smiles when I enter, making my heart start up again.

"Nice set-up," she says, and runs a hand over one of the fuzzy pillows I grabbed from the closet, neither me father or I a fan of them, but at times like this they can be comfortable.

I get a slight pang of jealousy, suddenly wanting that pillow to be me; have Avery run her hand down my chest, feel her gentle fingers through my hair.

Damn, why can't I keep it together tonight? It's like my hormones are on overdrive. Maybe it's because I haven't had sex in a while, and even before I left, I hadn't experienced the activity as much as I would have liked too, or as much as my classmates probably have by now.

Another thing I missed out on, slightly.

I join Avery on the couch and flip Netflix on, wondering just how experienced Avery is. I can almost 99% assume, she hasn't hooked up or dated anyone at our school, or possibly in Athens. But that doesn't say anything for before she moved here.

I know I'm not the only one who experimented with things I shouldn't have at an early age. How many people has she dated? Has she slept with anyone yet? Has she ever kissed anyone?

My stomach starts to churn at the thoughts, and I'm not sure if it's because of jealousy or awkwardness, for having these thoughts about her.

Why should it matter to me who she's dated or if she's ever kissed anyone? It's none of my business, and even if she has, it shouldn't affect me.

So, why does it? Why does it bother me so much thinking she has been with someone else? Had someone else know the feeling of holding her delicate body in their arms, feel her soft skin against theirs.

Maybe it makes me angry, knowing that if she has in the past, then that means there's a chance they did something to hurt her, or break her heart.

I clench my fists at the thought of someone hurting Avery, mentally or physically. I glance at her from the corner of my eye, looking at the bruise on her cheek. That just makes the anger flare in my stomach, coursing through my veins.

As if Avery can sense my discomfort and the tension most likely seeping off me, she scoots a little closer, so her knee and leg are touching mine. The heat radiating off her body is too enticing, calling me to pull her closer, like I fantasized about upstairs.

I can feel the urge in my fingertips, like an annoying itch I can't scratch or ignore no matter how hard I try to focus on the movie. I lean one elbow on the arm rest of the couch, putting my head against my hand and leaving my other arm motionless next to me, inches away from Avery's.

I peek at her again, noticing then how exhausted she looks, the dark circles showing more under her eyes with the light of the TV. Even looking like she only had 4 hours of sleep, she still looks amazing, enough to make my heart stutter just looking at her.

Without thinking, I let my urges take over, and raise my arm over the couch behind her. She gives me a curious look.

"I won't bite, it will be more comfortable," I mutter, throwing out whatever lame excuse that pops into my head. She bites her lip and smiles, making the back of my neck hot. Of course, she can probably see right through that.

None the less, she scoots a bit closer and leans into me, lifting her legs onto the couch and laying her head on my chest, cuddling into the crook of my arm. My heart is racing now, and I know she can hear it and probably feel it under her hand, now firmly resting just below it.

I try and act normal, throwing my arm around her and discreetly pulling her closer. This is exactly what I imagined, and what I had been trying to avoid. But it seems my urges are stronger this time, but I can't let it go any further than this.

I have no doubt these sexual urges are only because I need to get laid, not because I have a sexual attraction to Avery. I mean – I can at least admit to myself there is an attraction, even I can't lie and say she isn't beautiful, and if we had possibly met one night at a club or bar in the near future, things might have been different.

But they aren't.

She doesn't see me like that, either. Maybe there is a small attraction on her part as well, but nothing she has shown me tells me it's anything more. I don't want to make a move out of pure selfish lust, and make a huge mistake.

I get a sinking feeling in my chest, but I quickly shake it off and put my focus back on the movie, trying to also ignore the intoxicating smell of her hair swirling around me, and how warm and soft her skin is under my palm.

Without knowing it, I find myself lifting the hand around her and softly run my fingers through her hair, my insides melting at the touch of her hair, as silky as I imagined it would be. My fingers get lost in her dark locks, my mind getting lost with them.

I'm slightly startled out of it when I hear slight snoring, and look down to see she is fast asleep. A small smile stretches across my face, and I take the opportunity to stare at her as long as I want.

For the first time, I notice the small details in her face. Like how she has a faint sprinkle of freckles on the bride of her nose, how her nose has a small slope at the end, and she has a slight beauty mark underneath her right eye.

Noticing all these small things just adds to her beauty, and I find myself wandering into dark areas, places I know I shouldn't go.

I end up falling asleep myself before the movie is over, never having felt so comfortable than right now, holding Avery in my arms.

I wake up to the feeling of my phone going off in my pocket. I groggily fish it out, trying not to move Avery too much, and see if missed a call from my father. My eyes instantly flash open when I also see – it's 8:30.

"Avery, wake up," I whisper in her ear, not wanting to startle her.

She groans and blinks her eyes. "What time is it?" she asks, and I can already hear the slight panic in her voice.

I chew my lip. "It's, uh, 8:30..."

She shoots up off the couch and flies into the kitchen.

"Oh, no! I'm late, I can't be late," she cries and lunges for her bag off the counter. "I'm sorry, I need to go, I have no time to catch the bus."

"Avery, wait, I can call my dad and he can pay for a taxi home, you can't walk home alone, it's too far," I try and reason with her, but she pulls away from me and runs for the door.

"I can't wait, I need to get home."

"At least let me walk you home then," I say and move to put my shoes back on, but her hand is already on the handle, opening the door.

"Don't worry, I'll see you tomorrow." She flashes me a tense smile and turns away.

"Avery, wait!"

She stops and turns just at the end of the driveway, giving me a hesitant look. "Please at least text me when you're home safe?" I ask, relieved when she nods and gives me another smile, then runs off.

Everything in me is telling me to run after her, not only worried about what might happen to her along the way, but what also might happen when she gets home.

I slowly pick up the mess in the living room, returning all the blankets and pillows, keeping my phones sound on high and with me at all times. Just as I reach the stairs to slump up to bed, my phone dings.

I'm got home okay. Thanks for tonight.

I feel the relief wash over me, but there is still a nagging feeling left after re-reading her text. There seems something off with it.

Like she's saying good-bye.