He came to me in my dreams last night.
Like he used to be back at St. Patrick’s. As I tossed and turned on the bed, in a state of half-wakefulness, I realized I’ve seen Zach grow up.
I’ve seen him as a smart-ass middle schooler with spiky hair and a wrinkled and dirty uniform who always ended up in detention. Even though at that age he was shorter than all the teachers, he’d still tower over them with his fuck you attitude.
And then, he grew taller. He literally shot up overnight and got bigger than everyone else. Practically everyone had to tilt their neck up to look at him and meanwhile, he barely spared them a glance.
I saw him as he was in the school hallways. Large and careless. Rulebreaker with his tie flipped over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his uniform shirt loosened. He never had his books with him. He’d be empty-handed, always. Like his memo got lost in the mail that it was supposed to be a school and you were supposed to carry textbooks.
And then, I saw him watching me.
He’d watch me get humiliated with a blank face. Sometimes when I fought back and called out insults, his lips would twitch. Sometimes they’d stretch and he’d smirk. Like I was put on this earth to be his amusement.
I saw him on his bike. His hair and tie flying in the wind and the smoke coming out of his mouth courtesy of his cigarette. The revving of his bike is engraved in my brain.
So yeah, last night, I saw flashes of his life, entwined with mine.
I was glad when the morning came and I had to wake up.
As I run to work, I’m actually looking forward to a day filled with menial tasks. Just so I don’t think about him and that he’s back.
He’s really, really back. And he knows that I’m here.
I’m so inside my head that I don’t watch where I’m going and right at the entrance of the staff room, I bump into someone.
“Hey, you okay?”
It’s Ryan. He’s from my old neighborhood, and I’ve known him all my life. He’s worked at The Pleiades as a chauffeur for about two years now.
I clutch the fabric of his suit jacket on his bicep. “Whoops.” I chuckle. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t see where I was going.”
He smiles. He’s only a couple of years older than me and I’ve always thought that his presence is comforting.
“It’s okay.” He steadies me. “Are you feeling okay? You know, after what happened last night.”
At his reminder, the cut on my palm pulses like someone is sticking their finger right in the center of the wound.
I fist my injured palm at my side and shoot Ryan a bright smile. “No, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened last night. Stress, maybe. But I’m feeling awesome right now.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, smiling warmly.
“Okay, I’m gonna go. Can’t piss off Mrs. S twice in a row.”
I’m already moving past him when he stops me.
“Cleo, I, uh.” He scratches his forehead. “I was wondering if you’d like to, uh, go on a date with me.”
“What?” I squeak.
“Date. With me? If you’d like to go?”
Did he just ask me out on a date?
Me?
Cleopatra Paige? The blue-haired, weird, goth girl.
It’s happened only one other time, with Neal, and I was the one who asked him out on a date. And well, we all know how that turned out.