Work In Progress by A. M. Bryker (if you liked this book TXT) 📕

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Just as Rick's lips reach my chin, an unseen force rips him away from me. I gasp, relieved. 

  I open my eyes. My relief quickly turns to surprise and anger when I see Rick punch Jack in the jaw. Jack stumbles back, but immediately retaliates with a fist in Rick's cheekbone. Rick falls backward, into the arms of the circle of students that had begun to form. 

  The two of them throw in a couple more blows and I suddenly feel the urge to protect Jack. I decide this has to stop. Now. 

  Just as Rick takes another step toward Jack with his fist raised, I step in between them, keeping Jack behind me. Rick stops, panting, a spark of fury in his eyes. He's a good seven inches taller than me, and I know he could move me out of the way without a problem. He's not a football player because of his looks. 

  He glares down at me, and I glare back, lifting my chin. The school bell rings, but only a few people leave the circle to get to class. 

  After a few moments, I take a shaky breath and say, "Rick, you're seventeen. Try to grow up and get a life."

  With that, I take Jack's arm - still feeling protective - and pull him along with me to our first class. 

Lunch time comes around, and I still get upset when I see Jack's split lip and bruised jaw. I wish that I'd been the one to hit Rick, but it all happened so fast. I'm actually still shocked that Jack had interfered. He'd taken a small beating to get Rick off of me. None of this has ever happened to me before Jack came along. 

  I'm thinking about these things as Jack and I sit together at lunch, when suddenly a tray is placed right next to mine. Surprised, I look up to see Trae sitting down next to me. Across the table, Finn settles down beside Jack. 

  "Hey, Trin," Trae says in her thick accent. "How are you?"

  A bit confused I reply, "Fine, I guess."

  "I heard about what happened this morning." Her elegant brows crease as she frowns. "What a git. If I had been there, I would've kicked his a--"

  "Yes, but since you weren't there, Jack was kind enough to do it for you," Finn cuts in, grinning. 

  "Why are you friends with that bastard?" Trae huffs at him. 

  He shrugs. "He's a respectable guy, until it comes to girls."

  "Are you going to get in trouble for sitting with us?" I ask, a hint of mockery in my voice. 

  "Pshh, no," he scoffs. "Who we associate with is our business, not his. If he has a problem with it, for all I care he can suck on his own--"

  "Lip," Trae finishes, and they both burst out laughing. Jack joins them, and I pick at my food.

  "Seriously though," Trae says, her laughter dying down. "The two of us are absolutely not happy with him. I'm thinking about skipping cheerleading practice if it means cheering for him." She wrinkles her freckled nose. 

  "What about me?" Finn exclaims, acting offended. 

  Trae pretends to think about it for a couple seconds, tapping her chin, and then replies, "Oh fine. I guess I can't leave you without backup."

  At that moment, a tall guy appears behind Trae and wraps his arms around her shoulders. His curly brown hair matches his brown eyes, and the smile on his boyish face is full of mischief. 

  "Hey, babe," he says, kissing her cheek. "I got a new car today."

  Trae turns her head to look at him in awe. "Really? How'd you convince your parents to let you? What kind is it?"

  The guy laughs, answering, "I'll tell you later, and you'll have to see for yourself after school."

  "What?" she whines. "That's forever away."

  "Fine." He smiles. "I'll tell you that it's red."

  Trae squeals in delight, and the guy gives her a swift kiss before he excuses himself.

  I glance around the table. Finn eats his food like nothing happened, while Jack looks the same way I feel.

  "Your boyfriend?" Jack inquires. 

  She nods enthusiastically, and replies, "Yeah, that's Brooks. He's like, the best guy ever."

  "Hey!" Finn protests, trying to seem hurt. 

  Trae laughs. "It's a tie between the two of you."

  "Oh okay," he says, sounding relieved. "I was worried for a moment."

  The two of them talk while Jack listens and I zone out until the bell rings.

  As I head to my next class, I try to figure out why Jack intervened this morning. Sure, he likes to stick around me like glue, but has it really come to the point where he'd take a beating for me? It's only been two days since I met him. He doesn't know me that well at all. Is he hoping to change that? Do I want him to know me? 

  And then there was me, intervening to keep him from getting more hurt. I felt like I needed to help him, to keep him safe from Rick. Why? Was it because I didn't want to be indebted to him? Or did I actually care about his well-being?

  During English, these thoughts run through my mind. I peek over to my left at Jack, who has taken up sitting next to me in every class. He's drawing a plethora of doodles on a blank sheet in his notebook. Nothing unusual about that. 

  Then his eyes find mine, and my heart beats faster. I feel my face redden, but I don't look away. The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. He's the first to break eye contact, and he continues to doodle in his notebook. 

  Of all the students he could have chosen to be around, why did he choose me? I'm nothing special. I am one of the most infamous people in school, with Beastie as a nickname. Not to mention I'm very rude and no one would dream of calling me kind. Who would want to subject themselves to that?

  Then I think about Trae and Finn. I'd seen them around before, and they hadn't once talked to me until last night. Now they're sticking up for me because of what Rick did this morning.  What changed?

  I feel like I'm going to explode with questions. They haunt me through the rest of English. When the bell rings, I decide to shove them all into a corner at the back of my mind. I'll think about them later. 

  The moment I stand up, someone pops up in front of me. I jump, startled. 

  "Question for you, Trin," Trae starts, oblivious to the fact that she just scared me witless. "When is your birthday?"

  Once again, I'm taken by surprise, and I hesitate before answering. "Um, next week."

  We walk out the door, Jack trailing behind us. 

  "What day?" She asks, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

  "The eighteenth," I reply slowly, unsure why I'm actually telling her. "Why?"

  She looks at me and smiles brightly. "Just wondering."

  With that, she races ahead of me and meets up with Finn further down the hall. 

  Jack comes up to walk beside me, and asks, "What was that all about?"

  Shaking my head, I respond. "I have no idea."

The rest of my classes go by in a blur. The last bell rings, and everybody - with the exception of Jack and me - hurries out the classroom door. 

  As I rise slowly from my seat, Jack comes to stand beside me.

  "Are you okay?" He asks, concerned. "You don't seem focused."

  Taking a shaky breath, I shake my head and answer, "I need to get home."

  Jack nods, and after I put some things in my locker, we follow the other students outside. Swollen rain clouds can be seen heading our way. 

  "Looks like it wouldn't have been a good beach day anyway," Jack declares, peering up at the sky. 

  The walk home is a silent one. We both walk quickly, not wanting to get caught in the rain. 

  We're almost to my house when my hands begin to shake. The stress has finally caught up to them. I fold my arms to hide my quivering hands. 

  Jack walks me to the front door. Once there, he leans over and embraces me. Caught off-guard, I merely stand there, not sure what to do. The smell of his leather jacket and cologne fills my nose. I have to admit: he smells nice.

  Then my fingers start to tap lightly against my side. Time to go. 

  I pull away and clear my throat. The fingers on my left hand tap a rhythm repeatedly on my ribs. This distracts me immensely, but I have one question burning in my mind.

  "Why did you do that today?" I inquire, determined to get an answer. "You know, in the hall." 

  He gives me a small smile as he answers simply, "Because I like you." 

  Winking, he turns away and strides down to his house. As I open the door and walk inside, I think about that for a moment and wonder what kind of 'like' he meant. I suppose it doesn't matter. I've kept my hands waiting long enough. Dropping my book bag, I hurry through a door on the left and quickly close it behind me. 

  Alone at last. 

  The room I'm in is fairly large, with creamy white walls and dark brown carpet. White curtains cover the windows but let in sunshine at the same time. Against one wall rests a white leather sofa. Covering another wall is a plethora of bookshelves, with all kinds of books to be read. 

  However, I ignore those, instead making a beeline for the sleek, black grand piano on the other side of the room. I lift the wooden cover, revealing the ivory keys underneath. Anxiously, I sit on the padded bench and hold my fingers over the keys. 

  As I begin to play, my previous thoughts are forgotten. The more I play, the easier it is to let all of my stress melt away. The melancholy notes reverberate through my mind, reflecting how I often feel.

  After a few minutes, the key changes from minor to major, and the tune I play doesn't sound as sad and haunting. Despite my puzzlement, I continue to allow my fingers to drift across the keys effortlessly. My body sways to the new rhythm.

  It take me a few moments to realize what is influencing the change of music. Laughing green eyes, dark messy hair.

  I stop playing abruptly, feeling more relaxed but disturbed. I'm confused that my thoughts would wander to a person I don't particularly like, and play more positive tones because of it. Shaking it off, I rise from the bench.

  "Until next time," I whisper, feeling the smooth surface of the piano with my hand. 

  Exiting the room, I grab my book bag and climb up the stairs to my room, where I kick off my shoes and lay flat on my bed. Immediately, I sit up again and pluck my iPod from my nightstand. I plug my headphones into my ears and start listening to Linkin Park's 'Numb'. I then lay back on my bed and close my eyes. 

  After Linkin Park is 'This Close' by Flyleaf. I completely lose myself in the music, not letting any other thoughts in my head. 

  Unfortunately, no one is perfect, including me. Once the fifth song ends, my mind wanders to the small piece of paper I found the other day. I ignore the desire to find it, stubbornly listening to two more songs before I finally give in. 

  Removing my headphones, I get up and open my nightstand drawer. When I find the paper, I sit on the floor and lean against my bed. 

  This is actually the first time I've looked at the paper since I found it. Thinking about his dinner invitation the other night, I feel a little bad, which surprises me. I should not be having so many thoughts and feelings (that aren't particularly negative) about a person that irritates me.

  And yet... There's something about him that intrigues me. I'm drawn to how positive he is - despite my jealousy - and how he doesn't ever seem fazed by my consistently horrible attitude. He can be a nuisance with his persistence, but at the same time it's almost charming. Would being friends with him result in such a bad ending? My life already