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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2194627
by Loaf
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Romance/Love · #2194627
Life isn't about the big accomplishments, it's the baby steps you take to get there.
Chapter Eight

By the time Tuesday rolled around, it felt like weeks had passed since I'd last seen Blake. I'd only managed to see him once on the weekend for a couple of hours, but that seems like nothing now. He hasn't been in school, which is a usual thing for him.

I know it's dramatic and even silly to feel unsettled without an appearance or glimpse of someone, but it was Blake Pierce and my feelings and attachments to him were growing like crazy green vines to an abandoned house. Things felt lonely without him.

Every time I turned a corner or looked around the halls or classroom, I was expecting, or rather hoping, to see his face or catch a glimpse of the deep sound of his melodic voice. I'm just weird, obsessed and slightly crazed. But I missed seeing him, and especially in drama class.

The way he stood in front of everyone, with his shoulders slumped, head down and mumbled tone of embarrassment as he tried to force the right order of words out of his mouth. Drama class wasn't the same without our prince, Blake Pierce.

"Are you even listening to me?" Kyle calls out. He shoves a hand onto the top section of my arm. The force pushes me to the side, making me stumble slightly.

To anyone just watching, he'd probably appear like the abusive kind of guy that preys on young females. But we'd been friends for years, which made this behavior in public almost acceptable. We often joked and pushed each other around as a natural instinct.

"Uh, yes," I mumble.

"So it's a yes?" he asks.

"For what?" I frown.

"So you weren't listening?" He laughs. "Thought so."

"Sorry, I promise I'm listening now." I smile up at him.

Kyle takes a side step closer to me and wraps his arm over my shoulder, pulling me in closer. Our sides slam together and I almost lose my balance as my footing is thrown off.

"I'm having a party at my house this weekend and I was wondering if you're planning on coming," he explains. "Need to know numbers so that I can organize everything." He winks.

When Kyle's mother goes away on weekends, it was common for Kyle's father to give in and let him have a party with some friends. It was never a huge thing where the house gets trashed or the cops call, it's just something smallish in the backyard with good music and drinks.

I wasn't much of a party-all-night girl, but I enjoyed attending Kyle's weekend gatherings. Everyone was usually chilled out and ready for a good time.

"Party sounds fun." I nod my head, "Can I bring a friend?"

"Blake?" He asks a cheeky grin slipping onto his face.

I blush and nod my head, "Blake," I confirm.

"So, what are you two?" he asks, "like a thing ?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I look at Kyle and frown, "I don't know what we are." And I honestly had no clue. I don't want to start assuming things or putting any labels on what we have. It's a unique thing and I wasn't ready to be categorized as such.

Categorizing things made it final, it gave you a cut straight definition of what it is and how it works. Labeling things took away their uniqueness and endless possibilities. It makes things serious within seconds and fatal within minutes. Some things weren't meant to be categorized, but most people thought they needed too.

"Human?" He chuckles at his own joke. I jab my elbow into his side and walk ahead, allowing his arm to fall off my shoulders and return to his side. Kyle, on the other hand, labels seemed appropriate there.

"I'll see you later," I call over my shoulder.

I see Kyle cup his hand around his mouth as he yells out, "See you this weekend, sweet cheeks. "

Turning my head forwards, I raise my hand to my shoulder and discreetly flip him off as I walk down the hallway quicker. I run my fingers through my hair and flick it back over my shoulder to finish my arm movement.

As I walk around the corner, Kyle's words ring through my mind and it makes me silently laugh. It's been a while since he's called me a name during school - friends, what can you do with them?

"Ava, wait up!" I hear someone call out.

I stop walking and move near the side of the lockers so that I'm out of the main section of the walkway. I'd hate to get in people's way, that wouldn't be good! I swivel around to face the direction my name was called. My eyes immediately catch the unusual sight of Blake running down the hallway, ducking and dashing as he weaves in-between people clustered around the hallway.

"What do you want?" I ask with a smile.

Walk you to drama class," he smoothly replies.

"Okay?" I frown, "but thanks."

"So you don't want me to walk with you?" he teases.

"You've never wanted to walk with me before." I shrug my shoulders.

"Well," he starts to say, "and who said I didn't?" The thought of Blake mulling over something like wanting to walk with me to class makes my heart flutter in rapid beats per second. That was adorable. Here I thought it was just something girls did, I guess I was wrong. Blake didn't seem like the type to be nervous, he never looked nervous unless it came to drama class.

"-things are different now, I want to walk you to class." Those words are like a blast from the past. The image of Blake hovering over me on the couch comes to mind and I have to look at the old cracked flooring by my feet to stop the bright blush from appearing on my cheeks. Such an intimate position and the fact I was so close to kissing him.

Blake likes me - at least I hope he still does. We didn't share our first kiss that night, just means I have something to look forward to.

"I like whatever we have going on," I whisper.

"I like it too," he agrees.

He grabs my hand and laces his fingers in-between mine, and then squeezes it. Blake takes a step forward and tugs on my arm, I start following him down the hall to our drama class. As we walk down the hallway, people move out of the way and gawk at us.

I take deep breaths and try to keep my eyes straight ahead by looking at the walls ahead. If I stare back at the other people, I might lose my cool and just turn bright red like a tomato.

The walk to drama class is short and sweet. When we get inside the room, Blake and I sit at the back in our usual spot. He takes out his script and starts looking over the lines for the next scene we're practicing today.

"I'm so worried about today's class," Blake says.

"How come?" I frown - nothing's changed, we're still going over the same script lines like before.

"I'm worried the teacher is getting annoyed and that she might re-cast me for my understudy," Blake explains. He leans closer to whisper in my ear, "Have you heard him? He's smooth with those lines."

"Why would she do that?"

"So the play actually runs without a hitch." Blake laughs, "I'm horrible at acting, but I need this grade to help me pass the class."

"We'll just have to keep practicing together." I lightly punch the side of his shoulder with encouragement.

"Practice makes perfect, right?" Blake asks.

"For your sake, I hope so." Blake picks up the script and with the ends of the pages, taps me on the head with it.

"Hey Blake," Megan casually says as she approaches us.

"Hi, Megan." He waves back.

"Are you ready to start practicing?" She eyes the open script in his lap.

"Sort of." He closes the book.

"Let's go then," she encourages.

"Okay, let's go, Ava." For a moment, I thought Blake was going to leave me by myself to revise the lines. I'm happy he's taken me into his thoughts and considered me before taking Megan's offer.

Megan frowns, and Blakes dives in to start explaining.

"She's the maid, that's an important role that should practice with us, and she's also your understudy Megan," Blake explains.

"Thank you, Blake, I would love that."

Blake stands up an offers me his hand. We grab our belongings and follow Megan over to her group of friends situated across the side of the room. I feel slightly out of place, but the small glances we steal from each other makes standing in the group bearable.

"Let's do a different scene." She grabs her script and picks a page, and then directs everyone to the same one. I briefly look over the lines and notice this is the scene my character helps the princess get ready for her ball.

This scenario draws my attention back to Tori. While Blake could be deciding to move forwards, Tori felt like the upper class - she was the princess in the scenario. She had Blake at her disposal and a baby together. I was just the help, easily moved and tossed around like dirt.

If Tori was to come back into the picture, she would chase down London and I don't know if she'd go after Blake too.

Blake Pierce would never be mine until Tori played her move.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2194627