Entry #525221, added on 08-22-07 @ 4:36 pm EDT
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| Chapter Seven | Entry #525221 |
"So, where did he take you?" Drake asked Violet as they walked to their first period class, anatomy.
"He took me to get ice cream," Violet answered, the adoration clear in her voice.
"Ice cream?" Drake echoed dryly. "The guy comes from one of the richest families in Colorado Springs and he took you to get ice cream?"
Violet sent him an incredulous look. "It's not like it was an anniversary dinner. We just hung out."
They stepped into class and took their seats. Anatomy was one of the top Senior-blow-off classess; Violet and Drake were no exception. They took their seats in the back and Drake put his feet up on the desk in front of him, clasping his hands behind his head.
"It's a first date," he explained to her while she looked on in amusement. The class was beginning to fill and people rushed to their seats as the bell rang.
Drake continued over the chatter. "You're supposed to try to impress the girl into agreeing to go on a second date, therefore you have to take her some place memorable."
"It was memorable," Violet argued, her voice dropping as the teacher pleaded with the class to settle down. "And I'm not even sure it was official date."
"Wait." Drake strightened, putting his feet on the floor. "It was memorable?" he asked, ignoring the second part of Violet's arguement.
"Yes." Violet dropped her eyes to her desk. "We had ice cream on the roof of his Jeep," she said.
Drake rolled his eyes. "Oh, how sweet," he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Violet's eyes shot to him. "What would you even know about impressing a girl into a second date? You date girl after girl. I've never seen a second date."
Drake look embarassed at Violet's announcement, at the truth of it. "I could have a second date if I wanted one," he said, his confidence strained.
Violet narrowed her eyes and looked forward. "Okay, I believe you." But she didn't. For some reason, as long as she'd known Drake, he'd never been the second date kinf guy. It was almost as if he just dates girls to be nice and wasn't actually interested in having anything resembling a permanent relationship.
She looked over at him. His eyelids were already drooping. How late had he stayed out the night before, she wondered. Her mother had said he came in before her, which she found surprising. Drake was wild as an independent, maybe that was why he continued to be one. He would go where he wanted and do what he wanted. She knew this, yet she was curious.
"Where did you go last night?" she asked.
His eyelids didn't raise any higher when he looked over at her, his cheek resting in his palm, causing the left half of his face to scruntch upward. "Huh? Oh. Nowhere," he answered before turning his attention back to the front of the classroom.
There was something in his expression besides exhaustion. Sadness? No, that was impossible.
Maggie turned over in bed to watch her husband emerge from the bathroom, a white-cotton towel around his waist. Sse looked on as he rumaged through the closet for something to wear to work and sighed when he turned around to reveal his tones body.
Maggie had long ago accepted the fact that her husband was a hunk. She had once been such a beuaty as to be his match, but although she was still pretty and attractive, she looked positively dull next to Thomas. She would occassionally acompany him to office parties, where women would flirt with him without even glancing at Maggie.
Talk about shooting someone down.
Thomas sat down on the egde of the bed to put his shoes on, and Maggie took the opportunity to try once again to get her husband to look at her as something other than a person to yell at.
She sat up, pulling the covers around her and scooting to the edge of the bed where she wrapped her long, thin arms around her husband's shoulders.
He didn't look up at her, didn't even stop tying his shoes, and when she bent her head to kiss his neck, he only pulled away and said, "not now." He wriggled out of her hold on him and headed for the door.
She got there first, leaping from the bed and jumping in front of the bedroom door wearing nothing but her underwear.
Thomas sighed as if he'd known this was coming.
"Why not now?" Maggie demanded as she threw her arms out to baracade the door. "You've been ignoring me for weeks. It's like I'm not even here unless you need something to eat."
Thomas wouldn't meet his wife's eye and it angered her, but she tried not to let it show. Instead, she put both of her hands on his chest. "What's happening to us, Thomas?"
For a second, it seemed that he would give in. His hands moved in such a way that Maggie was sure he would put his hands on her waist and give her an explanation, any explanation.
He didn't. He looked at her and said, "Mags, not now, okay? I'm gonna be late for work."
So she didn't stop him as he walked around her, opened the door, and left.
She dropped her head back on the door, letting her arms sag to her side. Something was wrong here. Why couldn't she get through to her husband? Why wouldn't he talk to her?
She had two options: she could try her hardest to get him to confront her, or she could destract herself with her recent project with Violet.
She went with the latter. |
© Copyright 2007 GryffindorGurl (UN: magicfreak11 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
GryffindorGurl has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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