Sour Sweet Love

Chapter Nineteen

                "WHERE were you yesterday?"

"Nowhere."

"Why weren't you answering my calls?"

"I don't know. I was busy."

"Oh my god! Why wasn't Declan answering my calls?"

I sighed, eyeing Molly as she widened her eyes dramatically. I almost felt bad for her. Her infatuation had transformed into an obsession. With more time Declan spent away from her—which he was doing increasingly more of—the more insane she became. 

We were in the cafeteria, eating lunch.

Molly twirled her hair around her finger, her eyes not leaving mine. "I called him a couple of times yesterday. Called you too, Avery. No answers. Nada. No text replies, either."

I ate in silence.

"...Ho-lee cow!" she shrieked ."Could he be cheating on me?"

"Molly," I snapped, rolling my eyes. "Stop this drama. You're better than this."

"I know you were with him," she deadpanned, her jealousy radiating off her as ultraviolet waves do from the sun. Her aura was vengeful, laced with a toxic undertone. "And what do you know about anything, Avery? Just because you're his chemistry partner you think you know him."

"Art, partner," I mumbled, correcting her.

Molly and I bickered back and forth. She was bright red with anger and embarrassment by the end of our transaction and Joey—poor Joey—was caught in the middle, helplessly acting as a mediator between the two of us.

"Avery. I know this is sudden," Molly began, "but do you like my boyfriend?"

I choked on my food, coughing violently for a moment's worth before glancing at her. "What the fuck? Like, for the record, we're talking about Declan here, right?"

"I've been studying you lately," she murmured. "You seem into him."

"Well, no, I am not into him," I replied nervously. Every bone in my body shivered with unease. "Actually, I think I'm getting feelings for Liam again," I lied innocuously. 

"Good," Molly asserted. All she wanted was to affirm her territorial claim on Declan. "Liam deserves you and you deserve him." 

At that, I bit my tongue to suppress unleashing a string of angry words. I deserved more than Liam. How could she even suggest that knowing what I had been through with him? Liam and I didn't deserve each other—not in the faintest.

"Speak of the devil," Joey muttered, motioning behind me.

"Hey guys," a familiar voice said. It was Liam. "Mind if Razor and I grab a seat here?"

"Sure," Molly mumbled with a dismissive flick of her wrist. Her mind was clearly elsewhere. Of course not for long—Razor and Liam managed to get giggles from her. Her mind was eventually diverted from Declan, the origin of conflict, and she was a free spirit again. As the four—Razor, Joey, Molly and Liam—began immersing in a conversation about something I cared very little about, I got up and left.

The hallways were vacant. I led myself to the exit. When I left the building, I found myself encountering the girls—Valarie and Allen—from months ago. The day I had met Declan. The day everything changed. That very day when a chapter of my life ended and another began without my knowing. I wondered if today was another one of those important days in hindsight.

The winds were crisp, but the warmth of the incoming spring prevailed. I seated myself beside a fountain and began caressing the water, counting the pennies that had been dropped within.

"Wilson?"

I continued stroking the water, letting its coldness send shivers down my spine.

"Wilson?"

I raised my head, turning it around. "What do you want, Andrews?"

"Why sitting alone?"

"No specific reason," I answered with a shrug.

Unconvinced, Declan occupied the seat next to me. "You sure."

"Estoy seguro," I told him in the little Spanish that I knew.

"Declaring your undying love for me in a different language?" he jested.

I hate that I like you so much, I thought. I said nothing. "Sod off," I told him eventually.

He leaned in and rubbed my chin with the tip of his thumb: a brave move. "Touch me again and I'll—I'll punch you," I threatened. If he did, I may disintegrate. 

He chuckled, accepting the challenge by exploring my face: beginning with the birthmark beside my eyes to my cheeks, and then my lips, and then me jaw—I shoved his hands away. "Stop this, Declan."

"So, you were saying?" he taunted. "You're going to punch my face in?"

"I would, but I don't want to see you hurt," I retorted.

Declan smirked. "Try me."

So I did—I punched him as hard as I could on his chest. A jarring impact. Declan didn't wince. He didn't even budge. He was enjoying this, taking pride in my embarrassment.

"Avery, what the hell was that?"

"A punch."

He chuckled fleetingly. "Somebody needs to teach you how to throw a good punch."

"Are you volunteering?"

"Maybe I am."

"So teach me," I told him. "Teach me to throw a good punch, Andrews. It'll come to good use when I can finally use it on you."

He laughed once again. Then silence overcame us.

"Hey Avery?" he said at last, his fingers toying with the edge of my dress.

I looked up. "Yeah?"

"I think I'm starting to like you," he confessed haphazardly.

Taken aback, I gawked at him, wondering if I had heard him right. "What?"

"I like you," he repeated. "And in a way I'm not supposed to."

I forgot how to breathe.