Chapter Two - The Reject

The Reject

Two days earlier...

My hands grip the side of the sink, my knuckles turning white. I suck in gulps of air, trying to force it down into my tight lungs. My mouth gapes open with each hard breath, like a fish under water.

Can not breathe.

I try so hard, fighting against my own body, but the air wont flow. I grow lightheaded, a horrible numbness sweeping through me. Fear that I might pass out intensifies my panic.

That can't happen here.

With shaking hands, I hastily turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face and hoping it will shock me out of it. When it doesn't help I nearly cry out in frustration.

Leaning over the sink, I clench my jaw painfully.

I hate this.

I begin to cry, tears streaming down my face. I have no control over it. No control over my own body.

Dying.

The tiny voice of my conscience is a reflection of my inner fear. Sliding to the floor I bury my head in my knees. Wrapping my arms around myself I sob uncontrollably. There's no stopping it.

I hear the door open, the laughing chatter of female voices filling the tiny school bathroom.

No. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

"Ew, what are you doing?" a familiar voice sneers.

Peeking up I stare into cold grey eyes.

Sarah Young. The bane of my life. She's the queen of Maplewood High and everyone in it. Ruthless and cruel, she's always surrounded by her entourage of girls with perfect hair and perfect skin.

Flicking a lock of straight blonde hair over her shoulder Sarah gives me a look of disgust. "What is wrong with you?"

One of the other girl's peeks from behind the queen's shoulder. Amber Tyler. Everything about her screams timid. Her dark eyes look me over with worry, her brow furrowing. "Sarah, I think she's having a panic attack," she whispers loudly.

"Panic attacks are bullshit," Sarah scoffs. Reaching down she tugs roughly on my arm. "Get up, you reject."

I don't move. I can't. My body is stiff, rooted to the floor. I start to shake, tremors racking through me as a cold chill sets into my bones.

"Maybe we should get help," Amber whispers.

"She's fine." Turning to the mirror Sarah opens a small silver case, dabbing the tip of her finger into a fine white power and raising it to her nose. She inhales sharply, brushing away the remains and running a finger over the corner of her lipsticked mouth. "It's all in her head."

Dropping her gaze Amber mumbles, "But..."

Glaring at Amber in the mirror Sarah demands, "Amber, what did I tell you about your hair?"

Amber tentatively runs her palm over her thick bouncy curls. "I didn't have time to straighten it this morning."

Rolling her eyes Sarah snaps, "Well, make time. We aren't living in the seventies. No one wants to see your hideous fro."

The other girls snicker, giving each other amused looks.

A part of me wants to tell Amber that her hair is beautiful, with light brown curls that danced when she walks. But I can't speak, still in the throes of panic.

Flinching, Amber nods. "Sorry." Her gaze turns back to me. "I think I should get the nurse."

"Don't be stupid," Sarah dismisses. Kneeling down she asks me sweetly, "Do you need help?"

I stare at her, unable to respond.

Smirking, Sarah mocks, "Don't worry. I'll help you." Standing, she pulls a water bottle out of her purse and unscrews the cap. Staring me straight in the eye she slowly turns the bottle over, pouring water over the top of my head.

From behind her Amber gasps. The other girls laugh in delight.

"See, all better," Sarah proclaims happily. "Let's go. This reject is killing my high."

Shaking their heads, the girls leave, still laughing among themselves.

Amber pauses at the door, giving me a look of pity. "Sorry, Abby," she murmurs.

I watch the door close behind her.

Water drips down my face, mixing in with my tears. I can't stay here.

Overwhelmed, I struggle to my feet and stumble out of the bathroom. Staggering down the hall I fight to ignore the stares of my fellow students. My wet hair hangs in my eyes and I can only imagine what they are thinking. Reaching the doors, I shove them open, the brisk autumn air invading my deprived lungs.

Wiping at my face with my sleeves I hit the ground running. I don't stop until I reach the woods behind the school, going deep into the forest of looming trees where no one can find me.

Alone.

Rain clouds fill the sky, the cold air biting through my wet clothes. My teeth chatter, but I don't care. Leaning against a tree I sink to the ground, resting my head on my knees. The anxiety is still there, still gripping my chest. I could run for miles more and it wouldn't help.

Nothing ever did.

Squeezing my eyes shut I let it ride over me, too tired to fight it anymore. At least if I pass out there's no one to see me.

Wet droplets begin to pelt me from above as the sky opens up and starts to rain. I ignore it. What did it matter? I'm already soaking wet.

Weak.

The sounds of footfalls in the fallen leaves reach my ears.

No. Not again.

I feel someone looming over me. I stiffen, opening my eyes and peeking upward from under my hair. My breath catches, my stomach fluttering wildly.

A gruff looking male is standing just a few feet away. I've never seen him before and he looks too old for high school. His wavy brown hair is pushed back from his face, wet and dark from the rain. He's undeniably handsome, his chiseled jaw darkened by scruff. His high cheekbones give him a harsh look, intensified by the firm set of his lips.

He's wild and intense in a way I don't understand.

He looks down at me with dark blue eyes that almost seem to burn with their intensity. Royal blue. I've never seen eyes that color. There's something about those blue orbs, a shadow, as if they've seen too much in one lifetime.

Ancient.

Raising a cigarette to his mouth he takes a slow drag, blowing out the smoke before asking, "What is wrong with you, girl."

I'm still hyperventilating, my voice lodge in my throat. After a few short gasps I manage to plead, "Leave me alone, please."

He doesn't move, his eyes narrowing down at me.

Was he going to torment me too?

After a moment he asks, "Are you having a panic attack?"

I shake my head in denial, dropping my head back down. This is embarrassing and I just want this gorgeous man to leave.

Sighing loudly, he kneels down in front of me. I hear rustling, then a warm jacket is draped over my head and shoulders, shielding me from the rain. A large hand presses against the back of my head, caging me against a strong chest.

Safe.

My eyes widen in surprise. Strong emotions I've never known slam into me all at once. My breathing shallows further, making me feel lightheaded and weak.

"Just breathe," he orders. His tone is gentle but strange, there's a power behind it.

With those two simple words my airway opens up and I take a deep breath. And then another. Until I'm filling my lungs with precious air.

His scent envelops me, worn leather and smoke intermixed with pine trees and fresh air. It's a deep and masculine scent. Closing my eyes once more I bury my nose in his shirt, breathing him in.

A big warm hand pats the back of my head soothingly. "Good girl."

His behavior is shocking to me. I feel...cherished.

The emotions he's evoking overwhelm me and everything inside me bursts open. My hands fist into his shirt and I start to cry. Really cry. Hard sobs laced with pain and loneliness. I can feel him tense against me, but he doesn't pull away. He lets me cry in silence until my pitiful sobs slowly turn to mewling whimpers. Taking a few more deep breaths I feel my body calm, my tense muscles relaxing.

"That's it," he murmurs.

I like his voice, smokey and low. Closing my eyes, I commit it to memory. For some strange reason I never want to forget his voice. Or his scent. Or how good it feels to have him hold me.

It's profound, this moment.

As I calm further he gently pries me away, big warm hands cupping my cold cheeks. "Better?"

I nod, unable to find my voice yet.

His eyes scrutinize my face. "Why are you out here?"

"I was at school..." I trail to a stop, unwilling to share what happened in the bathroom.

"School?" he repeats. His brows furrow slightly. "How old are you?"

Flushing, I brush at the wet strands of hair in my eyes. "Seventeen."

He stares at me for a moment, his gaze flickering over my features once more. Then his face shifts to a cold mask. Standing, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he barks.

Perplexed by his sudden change in attitude I watch him from my place on the ground.

"Get up," he orders. The authority in his tone surprises me. I practically jump to my feet, standing awkwardly while I wait for him to say something more. He doesn't acknowledge me, fishing around in his other pocket.

I can't help but admire him. His stance is strong, as if he controls the space around him. He's completely unconcerned with the rain or cold. His black shirt is soaking wet, clinging to strong shoulders and a hard chest. He's not overly broad, but there's undeniable strength to his body.

Heat flushes my face, embarrassed by my own thoughts. Licking my lips, I continue to stare at him like a moron.

After a moment he gives me an annoyed look and snaps his fingers. "You have my lighter."

"Oh?" I stick my hands in the jacket pockets, my left wrapping around a slim object. I pull it free and hand it to him.

Taking it he grates, "Why are you just standing there?"

"I don't know," I answer truthfully, equally confused by my actions.

He gives me a hard look. "Do you know who I am?"

I shake my head.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers?"

I almost blurt that my parents are dead, but keep quiet. Instead, I nod.

His eyes take on a dangerous gleam. "Pretty girls shouldn't be wandering around the woods by themselves."

"Pretty?" I repeat. My heart picks up tempo. This handsome intense man thinks I'm pretty?

He smirks, those blue eyes traveling over my disheveled figure. His gaze lingers on my hips, my waist, my breasts, slowly sliding upward until our eyes meet.

A strange sensation sparks up my spine and tightens my stomach. The air feels charged, electric.

My breath catches.

That's never happened to me before but I've read enough romance novels to know what it is.

Attraction.

Lust.

Want.

Scowling, he takes a step towards me, then seems to change his mind and backs off. His eyes glaze over for a moment, a deep frown furrowing his brow. Then he shakes his head, as if reaching a decision.

Pursing his lips, he turns away from me and starts to walk away without another word.

"Wait...your jacket," I croak.

Stopping to light another cigarette he glances at me sideways. "Keep it. It suits you." His cigarette hanging from his mouth he slips his hands in his jean pockets, walking further into the woods and disappearing from sight.

Gone. Like a ghost.

I stare after him, my mind fighting to process what just happened. I feel strange, warm and excited all at once.

Wrapping the jacket tighter around me I bury my nose into the collar. It smells like him. My eyes grow heavy, exhaustion seeping into my bones. My body feels like it's gone to war and I don't want to go back to school.

Instead, I zip my new coat up to my chin and head for the town library, a rare smile tugging at my lips.