Hopeless

smiles, then leans up against the locker next to mine.
    “You clean up nice,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “Although, the sweaty version of you isn’t so bad, either.”
    He cleans up nice, too, but I’m not about to tell him that.
    “Are you here stalking me or did you actually re-enroll?”
    He grins mischievously and drums his fingers against the locker. “Both.”
    I really need to cut it out with the stalking jokes. It would be funnier if I didn’t think he was actually capable.
    I look around at the hallway clearing out. “Well, I need to get to class,” I say. “Welcome back.”
    He narrows his eyes at me, almost as if he can sense my discomfort. “You’re being weird.”
    I roll my eyes at his assessment. How can he know how I’m being? He doesn’t even know me. I look back into my locker and try to mask the real thoughts on why I’m being “weird.” Thoughts like, why does his past not scare me more than it does? Why does he have a temper so bad that he would do what he did to that poor kid last year? Why does he want to go out of his way to run with me? Why was he asking around about me? Instead of verbally admitting to the questions inside my head, I just shrug and go with, “I’m just surprised to see you here.”
    He leans his shoulder against the locker next to mine and shakes his head. “Nope. It’s something else. What’s wrong?”
    I sigh and lean against my locker. “You want me to be honest?”
    “That’s all I ever want you to be.”
    I pull my lips into a tight line and nod. “Fine,” I say. I roll my shoulder against the locker and face him. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. You flirt and say things like you have intentions with me that I’m not willing to reciprocate. And you’re…” I pause, searching for the right word.
    “I’m what?” he says, watching me intently.
    “You’re… intense . Too intense. And moody. And a little bit scary. And there’s the other thing,” I say, without saying it. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”
    “What other thing?” He says it like he knows exactly what other thing I’m referring to, but he’s daring me to say it.
    I let out a breath and press my back against the locker, staring down at my feet. “You know,” I say, not wanting to bring up his past any more than he probably does.
    Holder steps in front of me and places his hand on the locker beside my head, then leans in toward me. I look up at him and he’s staring down at me, less than six inches from my face.
    “I don’t know, because you’re skirting around whatever issue it is you have with me like you’re too afraid to say it. Just say it.”
    Looking up at him right now, feeling trapped like I’m feeling, the same panic returns to my chest that he left there after our first encounter.
    “I heard about what you did,” I say abruptly. “I know about the guy you beat up. I know about you being sent to juvi. I know that in the two days I’ve known you, you’ve scared the shit out of me at least three times. And since we’re being honest, I also know that if you’ve been asking around about me, then you’ve probably heard about my reputation, which is more than likely the only reason you’re even making an effort with me. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not screwing you. I don’t want you thinking anything will happen between us besides what’s already happening. We run together. That’s it.”
    His jaw tightens, but his expression never changes. He lowers his arm and takes a step back, allowing me room to breathe again. I don’t understand why anytime he steps within a foot of my personal space, it sucks the breath out of me. I especially don’t understand why I like that feeling.
    I tuck my books to my chest and begin to shove past him when an arm goes around my waist and I’m pulled away from Holder. I glance next to me to see Grayson eyeing Holder up and down, his grip tightening around my waist.
    “Holder,” Grayson says coldly. “Didn’t know you were coming back.”
    Holder doesn’t even acknowledge Grayson. He continues to stare at me for several seconds, only breaking his gaze from mine to look down at Grayson’s hand that’s gripping my waist. He nods his head slightly and smiles, as if he’s come to some sort of realization, then brings his eyes back to mine.
    “Well, I’m back,” he says bluntly, without looking directly at Grayson.
    What the hell is this? Where did Grayson come