Chapter 25

I'm staring at the person across the class and my brain can't seem to still piece it together. How come he's acting so nice now, when just a few hours ago he had been the one to push me into a puddle of mud.

In case he hadn't noticed, I don't think there's any girl who appreciates being thrown into a mud puddle. I know, I know. It's very petty of me to still keep on referring to something like that, but I just can't seem to let go of it.

I was at an all time low this morning, and to cap it off some guy just had to have the nerve to throw me into a mud puddle after I had helped him out of it and sincerely appologised. I try to look even more closely at him, to see if he's still wearing the same white shirt under the jacket. He catches me staring and instead of acting abashed and looking away, I give him stink eyes.

Yes, he should be afraid of me, a broken hearted girl holds more fury than all of hell. He motions with his hand to something and my eyes follow where they are pointing to. I see Aron looking at both of us, and as he catches my line of sight he looks away. Coward.

I decide to go back to pretending I was reading and I still see the note. I groan, maybe if I pretend it's not there and simply ignore it, it'll go away. I don't like shit like this, secret notes and roundabout expressions, it gives me anxiety, the type that makes me itch to open it but also scared.

What exactly would he want to say to me that would warrant him sending me a note, and the way he snuck it onto the desk, like we were in cahoots or something. Ughhhhhhhh. Just open it Arya.

Just open the damned note and see what's inside. I grab the note as quickly as I can, and open it like if I did it any slower it would turn out to be a bomb and explode in my face. I'm met with the most beautiful handwriting ever. Goshhh, how can someone so brutish, write so beautifully. For a moment that's all I do.

I admire as a flowing and gliding script etches out the words "I'm sorry. I was totally out of line this morning and it was unfair for me to have done what I did. I'm really sorry, so if there's any way I could make up for it, feel free to tell me. And I'd gladly like my umbrella back please???" Umbrella???.

Then it hits me, the way I had recognized him vaguely, even when I knew I'd never met him before, but that was because I had met him already. He was the one that gave me the umbrella that night, he was the one that was asking all the stupid questions about why a girl is crying at night in a park. I look back at him and I can see his head is bent over studying. Who is this guy?????.