It's been three days. Three days since I last saw James, three days since he returned, three days since our eyes met. I've barely been able to eat or sleep.
James is out there, the man I fell for, and maybe still have feelings for. He's back. He missed me. But is it genuine? Or is it all a charade? Did he truly love me? Or was that just another act?
This is so frustrating! Ashley has been keeping a close eye on me for the past two days. The day after I saw James.
During lunch and in the few classes we share, she's always watching me, her expression unreadable. It's a bit unnerving, being under her intense scrutiny.
Nancy is back to her usual self, but she's still cautious. She's keeping a low profile too, and never leaves without me or someone else by her side.
Tonight is my last match before the fights are put on hold until spring. Montana winters are brutal, so all fights are postponed until March.
So, I have to wait three long months until my next match. Three months, ninety days, pure agony!
I inwardly groan at the thought of not being able to fight for that long. Boxing is like an addiction to me. I love the thrill and excitement it brings.
The adrenaline rush and the nerves I get when I'm in the ring are exhilarating. I love a challenge, not that many people can challenge me, but still.
Right now, I'm in fourth period. Mrs. Jones is giving us a lecture on a book called ~The Giver.~ It's boring, since I've read the book countless times. I even own a copy.
She explained that we'll soon be assigned to read the book and write a report on it. I'll probably finish it in a few hours when I have the time.
At least now I can focus on my schoolwork rather than boxing and fighting. I'll still hit the gymâ but only when I have the time.
I still need to stay in shape and come up with new strategies. My grades are mostly As and Bs, but I want straight As. The better my grades, the brighter my future, right?
As soon as the bell rings, I'm the first one out of my seat. ~Next, is lunch, ~I think, relieved.
Blake and Nick have been giving me strange and wary looks. The more I see them, the more on edge I feel.
It's like they know something I don't. And I don't like it. I hate surprises, and I absolutely hate being kept in the dark.
I haven't been talking much to Blake. Just a casual hi and hello every now and then. I share the last three classes with Blake, and I can feel his gaze on me.
It's like he's studying me, and the more I feel his eyes on me, the more suspicious I become.
All these thoughts rush into my mind: ~Does he know? Did he figure it out? What's he thinking? Will he confront me about it if he finds out? Does he suspect it's me?~
I hate thinking about all these questions but I can't help it. I've become extra paranoid.
I always make sure to keep my head down, lock all windows and doors, and quickly scan my surroundings.
I haven't seen Logan yet. Now that I think about it, I don't think anyone's seen him since the day I shot him and his gang.
I just hope they're still alive. I couldn't live with myself if I found out I'd killed a man. The guilt would weigh heavily on me forever.
Not paying attention to where I was going because my head was down, I bumped into something, or rather ~someone.~
I barely stumble back and keep my head down. âSorry,â I mumble quickly before hurrying off.
I've been keeping my head down all day because yesterday a guy gave me a nasty bruise under my right eye. A hideous black and purple mark now mars my face.
I tried to cover it up, but the bruise is still visible, even with foundation. If Blake saw, it would definitely raise questions.
Questions I can't answer. Besides, I can't tell him, or even James for that matter. They'd be a liability. Even Ashley would be a liability.
As I've said before, many people want me dead, and I couldn't bear the guilt of knowing I could've saved someone but didn't because I was selfish.
Hurting someone who deserves it is one thing, but causing pain or killing an innocent person is a whole different matter.
As soon as I step outside, I decide to take a quick walk in the woods. I'm not really hungryâ I mean, ~even prisons serve better food than schools.~
I pull out my iPhone and check my messages.
I freeze when I see the message and who it's from!
~Inbox: 1 new message: From: James <3~
~Hi, I understand what you meant, and Iâm willing to try and fight for you. Please meet me at the corner from the Mayberry Diner tonight at 6pm. If not, Iâll understand.~
I'm stunned, to say the least. I always kept his number stored because I thought that one day, I'd gather the courage to call him, but that day never came.
Eventually, I just forgot about it and left it stored in my iPhone.
I sigh heavily as I read the message over and over. He wants to meet me tonight because he's willing to fight for me.
As much as I want to say no and blow him off, I can't. I told him that actions speak louder than words.
If he's willing to try, then I'm willing to watch. But that doesn't mean I'm getting back together with him tonight. No, James will have to earn my trust, respect, and ~love~ back.
Love. The word feels so foreign to me. I used to feel nauseous just hearing about it, then I met James.
But after James left, I became more assertive and confident. I became cold and stubborn. And, as most guys say: Stubborn.
I've become more stubborn and fiery. I couldn't care less about what they have to say though, because I don't care what others think of me. Why should I?
The only ones I care about are Nancy, Molly, and my parents. As far as my parents know, I'm their little angel with good grades and honesty.
My mom loves to boast about her job, my straight-A grades, and how Iâm her little angel. If only they knew the real storyâ¦
***
It felt like an eternity before I finally made it home. The stench of smoke and beer hit me as soon as I opened the door, almost making me gag.
The house was empty. Dad was probably out 'restocking' his beer supply, and Mom was likely at work.
I dropped my bag onto my cluttered bed with a sigh. In the bathroom, I lowered my hood, revealing the ugly bruise on my right eye.
I gingerly touched it, wincing as a sharp pain shot through the bruise.
A hiss of pain slipped out. That guy had landed a good punch.
But he didnât get away unscathed. He left with a minor concussion and a broken wrist. I wouldâve done more damage if he hadnât passed out.
I wiped off the little makeup that was covering my bruise and studied my reflection. My skin was pale, almost sickly, and my eyes were dull.
Dark circles under my eyes showed my lack of sleep. My hair was a mess, sticking up in places because I hadnât had time to straighten it this morning.
Feeling a headache coming on, I sighed. It was 2:50 p.m. and I was torn between wanting a nap and needing a hot bath.
I turned on the hot water and plugged the tub, letting it fill. The steam rising from the water promised a scalding bath, but I knew Iâd adjust.
I picked out a pair of black and grey skinny jeans, a dark maroon and white striped shirt, and black ankle boots.
I took my clothes into the bathroom, locked the door, and stripped off my dayâs clothes, tossing them into the hamper.
The cool air made me shiver as I stepped into the hot bath. The water was burning hot, but soon my skin adjusted and I sank deeper into the tub, sighing in contentment as I added some bubbles.
I hadnât had a relaxing bath in ages. So, I let myself enjoy the moment, sinking into the bubbles and letting the tension melt away.
***
After my bath, I wrapped myself in a warm, fluffy towel. For once, I felt content.
I was blissfully relaxed. For a little while, I didnât have to worry about being followed, or killed, or discovered, or even about James. I was at peace.
I dressed and brushed my hair, then blow-dried it. I spent the next half hour straightening it, making sure it wasnât staticky.
Once my hair was smooth, I applied foundation to cover the bruise on my eye. With more time on my hands, I was able to hide the ugly mark.
I decided to meet James at seven p.m. Iâd leave for my match then.
I checked the time: 5:36 p.m. Time had flown by.
I shrugged, grabbed my gym bag, and pulled on a light blue hoodie with darker blue shades around the torso.
As I walked downstairs, the smell of smoke hit me again. My dad was sitting with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. I shook my head sadly.
Heâd soon pass out and wake up with a massive hangover. I poured a glass of water and grabbed two Advil pills.
I opened the fridge and smiled when I saw the leftover steak from last night. I made a plate for him with steak, mashed potatoes, and peas. Heâd be hungry when he woke up.
I put his food in the microwave and made another plate for Mom. Sheâd be tired and hungry when she got home.
I left a note for Dad next to his water and pills.
~Dad,~
~
~Thereâs a glass of water and two Advil pills on the coffee table. Your food and Momâs are in the microwave. Please heat them up. Iâll be back later.~
~
~Take the pills and drink your water.~
~
~Love, Claire~
~
I looked up and saw that Dad was already asleep. I dumped his beer down the sink and threw away his cigarette and ashes.
I cleaned the ashtray and set it next to the sink, then wrote a note for Mom.
~Mom, ~
~
~I know youâre tired and hungry, so I made you dinner. Itâs in the microwave with Dadâs. If his isnât there, it means heâs already eaten. He fell asleep earlier and probably wonât wake up for a while. I love you and Iâll be back later.~
~
~Claire.~
~
I left the note on Momâs pillow, then kissed Dadâs forehead before heading out.
Today had been a long day. Too long for my liking. ~Letâs just get this over with,~ I thought as I walked to Mayberryâs Diner.
The Diner was one of my favorite places, second only to Mollyâs Diner. They had the best cheesecake and it was a friendly place where everyone knew everyone. It was a small diner with a few tables and booths.
The walls were painted a soft shade of gray, adorned with photographs of the Diner from its early days and the elderly couple who had first opened it back in 1962.
Sadly, the couple didn't live long after that, but their children took up the mantle. The Diner was, in essence, a family legacy.
At six oâclock in the evening, I rounded a corner and found myself face-to-face with James. But it wasnât ~just~ James.
I gasped, stepping back as my face turned pale and my hands started to tremble.
James jerked his head in my direction, swallowing hard. The men he was with also turned to look at me, smirking at my reaction.
âJames, I was starting to think you were bluffing,â Logan chuckled, his gaze fixed on me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James shrug. âWhy? I told you sheâs still in love with me,â he retorted, a smug grin on his face as he casually shoved his hands into his pockets.
And all I could think was one thing.
~Oh, shit!~
~