Chapter 223

"Do you want to talk about it with me?" she asks me and I consider it for a moment.

If I actually discuss this sort of a topic with Oakley, it would end up taking another turn. She would either get angry at what we were saying, or simply not care.

She wouldn't get angry in the way that she was angry at what I was implying by my words, but she will get angry at the world in total, and I don't think Oakley being angry at the world is anything that it needs right now. If anything the world simply needs someone to pick it up and fix it and I don't think me making Oakley angry at it is any better for the future of any person here.

"I'd rather we move to another subject" I say and she nods her head happily.

"Okay, what to talk about, what you talk about, what to talk about....?".

She's muttering to herself like this, thinking of a million topics to talk about and I simply focus on eating my bowl of meatballs and spaghetti. I'm almost done and dusted with it and I simply take the rest of the smoothies dowm my throat. I sit up straight to see that my stomach hasn't even bummed out in the slightest.

It hasn't even come out in the least bit and I seem disappointed at this for a weird reason. I'm guessing that guys wouldn't like a girl with a robust stomach, why can't mine just seem to become a beer belly so that I would stop the asaualt of attention that I was getting whenever I walked by.

Even as I am sitting now, I still feel some stares being trained on me. I simply lean back into my chair releasing a satisfied groan as Oakley continues rambling on and on to her self, agreeing and disagreeing at whatever topic she picks.

I lean my head back onto the top of the chair that I am sitting down on, immediately before I feel a hand finding it's way through my hair.

I almost snapback as something of a scared feeling is rushing through my bones. I had thought it was a male that was behind me, even if it was a female I don't think that would feel really comfortable with someone unknowingly passing their hands through my hair, but when I turned back, I saw it was only Scott.

His hands were dragging my hair out of some iron fittings that were constructed into the chair, iron fittings that would have practically hurt me if I had decided to stand up any moment from now. He drags them out of the chair and he carries a ribbon out of his pocket to style my hair up in a little ponytail.

He shoots me a glare as he takes a seat across from me, grabbing Oakley's smoothie and sipping it slightly. It earns him a look of displeasure across her face and a feeling of anxiousness from me.

Whenever Scott is silent like this you know he has something on his mind to say.