Fourteen by C.M. Smith (english novels to read .txt) 📗

apparently talking about how Evan was so sick or just trying to get a good grade or feeling sorry for me after all these years. I was ready to jump out of my skin. Everything I had forewarned him about was happening, and though even the littlest comments stung, at least I was semi-used to them. Evan wasn’t, and I was worried how he would handle this particular brand of attention.

He had more to lose than I did, and he was losing it at an alarmingly rapid pace.

I picked at my bottom lip, staring at the end of the bench as I waited for Christina and Vince to show up while trying to calm the nerves I felt when I thought of Evan sitting with us.

Would Christina and Vince be okay with it him sitting here? Would they be mad that I hadn’t asked them if it was okay? Would it matter?

I moaned and buried my head in my hands, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths as I listened to the normal clatter around the cafeteria.

“You going to make it, Anna?”

I looked up when I heard Vince’s voice. I dropped my arms onto my knees and forced a smile as I dropped my feet to the floor.

Looking between the two of them, I said, “Uh, Evan’s going to sit with us today.”

“I figured.” Vince shrugged, plopping down onto the bench and immediately tearing open the top of his bagged lunch. “He’s been getting hell all day.”

I groaned again and dramatically flung my arms onto the tabletop, burying my face in the crook of my elbow.

“What? Something I said?” he asked around the food in his mouth.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Christina said with sarcasm.

“You know it.”

“You’re both sickening,” I said with a huff, lifting my head and resting my chin on my forearm.

“You love us.” Christina grinned as she pulled open her own bagged lunch. “Otherwise you wouldn’t put up with us.”

I furrowed my brow and watched the two of them eat their lunches.

“Can I ask a question?” I asked, sitting up straight and looking at the doorway.

Where the hell was Evan?

“Always.”

“You two are always hanging out with me, yet you’re still considered popular.” I tapped my fingertips against the tabletop. “Why do you think it’s such a big deal with Evan?”

“Evan’s been the golden boy,” Vince said, shoving a potato chip into his mouth and pointing at me with his greasy finger. “He’s never stepped out of their comfort zone.”

“Ugh. Could you finish chewing before you speak?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

He scowled at me and grabbed another chip, jamming it into his mouth. Christina rolled her eyes and gently bumped her shoulder against his. “We never really participated in their stupid shit,” she said with a wave of her hand over her shoulder. “We’ve always done whatever we wanted and never bothered with whatever they were doing when it didn’t have to deal the squad or the team.” She flicked a crumb off the table and smiled at me. “We’ve always been just on the outskirts and never got involved with their personal lives. Evan did.”

It made sense; Evan had been with the in-crowd for a very long time. Christina and Vince had always been on the outskirts—popular because Vince was a football player and Christina was a cheerleader—but had never really participated in the crap that came with it. They were genuinely nice people that kept to themselves and associated with the others when they had to, nothing more, nothing less.

I looked down at my hands and then jumped when a tray slammed down on the table next to me as Evan climbed onto the bench and sat down in much the same fashion as he had that morning in human physiology.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing his fork and stabbing at what was supposed to be coleslaw.

“Hey, dude.” Vince smacked Evan on the arm. “How’s it going?”

“Ouch, Anna!” Vince jerked back and winced, reaching down to rub his leg.

I glared at him, silently telling him to shut up.

“Peachy,” Evan grumbled. “Fucking peachy.”

I looked over at him briefly before placing my hands in my lap and looking over at Christina.

“Don’t you eat?” Evan asked me.

“Not school food.”

He grunted, going back to poking his food with his fork. “Smart. Tastes like ass, anyway.”

“You want to do dinner or something later this week?” Christina asked.

I smiled gratefully at her as we filled the awkward silence with dinner plans. Christina, Vince, and I did most of the talking. Evan grunted and said a few things here and there, but for the most part, he kept stabbing his food. I wanted to touch him, put my hand on his back, or grab his hand under the table and squeeze it just to reassure him, but I wasn’t sure of the reaction I’d get, and God knew I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath ever again.

We all stood up when the bell rang and walked over to the garbage cans. They threw their things away before Vince and Christina said their goodbyes, joined hands, and walked out of the room.

Smiling awkwardly I said, “I’ll see you later.”

“Anna.”

“Yeah?”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him, leaning in and brushing his lips against my forehead. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the small amount of contact we had drowned out the immediate rise in voices in the room.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, gently squeezing my hand before dropping it and shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped back.

I opened my eyes.

“Okay.”

“I uh . . . I just . . . ,” he stuttered, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I need . . .”

“Stop,” I said. “Just walk me to my locker, Evan.”

I turned on my heel, starting out of the room and doing my best to ignore everyone else.

Why had he done that? It didn’t make any sense. Not that I minded, really. I just