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Stumbling over twigs and tree roots, I raced back to the gate opening I'd entered from. I could feel my heart rate increase and my breathing intensify; my entire body went into hysteria as I ran for my life. I heard him coming right behind me, snapping at my ankles. Before I knew it, my knees slammed against the cold, wet ground.

Tucking myself into a fetal position, I rushed my hands up around myself, blocking my face. If I was going to get attacked for the second time today, I wanted to at least be prepare for the impact. I braced myself for the bite, but it never came.

A moment of strained silence drifted into the air. I moved my body out of its protective position and glanced at the monstrosity of a dog. A few feet away, I'd dropped Dakota's backpack inside the never-ending weeds that stretched out toward the woods. The dog's head was stuck inside the bag, seconds later he retrieved a sandwich.

In the far distance, Dakota was making his way back to the front of the gate where the dog and I were. "Did he bite you?" he rushed to ask, taking my hand and bringing me back to my feet.

"No, he didn't bite me," I shook my head and wiped my muddy hands on my wet jeans, finally taking note of my dirty attire. I was a mess. Great, how was I supposed to explain this to Beth and Pierson? I sighed. "I'm fine."

Dakota lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Are you sure you are?" Something-deep inside of my foolish heart-told me he was asking me something entirely different from the way he was holding my face in his hand. His opposite hand was still in my other hand, intertwining our fingers together. It felt right. I'd never felt anything else in my life that felt this right.

"Yes, I'm okay." I didn't rush to tell him to stop touching me. I knew my heart would only exhale in disappoint if he ever dropped his hold on me.

His crystal blue eyes dropped down to my mud stained jeans and wet shirt. The rain that was pouring down wasn't as hard as it was earlier at school, but it still caused water to start collecting around my shoulders and in my hair.

"You're a mess." He quirked his full lips into a smile. "If you want me to, I can go back inside and get you a towel."

"No, really it's okay. I have to go anyway. There's a try-out today-"

His hand dropped from my face and my heart did exactly what I knew it would do. "Soccer try outs, yeah I know." He finished for me and took an extra step back, releasing the hand he was holding. My world faded out of focus and all reasons to breathe were forgotten in that small second.

He drifted further away from me. Everything we'd said during the car drive over here seem to have been thrown out the window. The same armored exterior was facing out at me, threatening me to not come close to the broken boy, trapped inside. If I ever planned on figuring out why he hated my family so much, beyond the court case, I needed to disarm his harsh exterior. I could sense there was something else.

Saying I had to go to the soccer try-outs had visibly ticked him off. Or simply the fact that I was leaving to see Pierson was what brought forth this displeased expression.

"I'm going to get back instead now."

I leaped forward, grabbing his wrist. "Actually, I'd like to take you up for that offer for a towel."

He hardened his glare. "Aren't you worried that you'll be late to your boyfriend's try-outs?"

"It probably already started by now. I'm late." I matched his glare. "And like I said earlier, he's not my boyfriend."

"You want him to be your boyfriend," he pressed on, saying it like it was a statement. As if he already knew where Pierson and I stood at this point. "I know you do, doll."

"Look. I want a lot of things, Dakota. And right now, that is not one of the things on my list. I've got a lot of other things to worry about in my life. Pierson is not one of those things at the moment and I want to keep it that way."

A playful, amused smirk founds its way on his lips. "Does your boyfriend know that you feel that way about him? I'm sure he'd be heartbroken if he knew."

I threw my hands in the air, nearly flinging them at him. "Can you drop it with that!? I nearly got killed by your dog and I even drove you to your damn house. The least you can do is not annoy me for the next forty-eight hours."

"Forty-eight hours is a lot for me," he mused. "But I'll try."

...

Dakota put his demon dog on a leash and walked him into the house, wrapping it around the curling black staircase. I didn't get beyond the foyer of the home, and no one could pay me to creep in any further. It was dead silent. Nothing was moving. Every two minutes or so, a small wheezing noise would shake into the house, scaring me like crazy. It was like the house was breathing.

For the most part, the home was pretty well put together--if you ignored all the dust around the place. I was expecting a run-down interior, but it was nothing like that. The couches were covered in plastic like at my grandmother's house and the drapes were drawn-in, not letting a ray of sunlight sneak in.

Dakota had disappeared into a room upstairs. There were a few soft spoken words, but I didn't catch much of it. A moment later, Dakota returned, emerging from up the stairs and holding a towel and some clothes in his hands.

"Here is the towel you requested." He flung it over to me and I grabbed it with one hand, shoving my hair into the fabric the second it hit my hands. He brought forth a faded black sweater with a band name across the front. I'd seen him wear it at school once before. He handed me the sweater. I just knew it smelled like him.

He's giving me a sweater. He's giving me his sweater. I must never give it back to him. It is mine. I must claim it as my own. My thoughts went on overdrive, having a little freak out as I took the sweater from him.

"Your shirt's dirty with mud and it's drenching wet," he went on to explain, rubbing the back of his neck and not making direct eye contact with me. "Just give it back to me...whenever."

. . .

Driving back to school wasn't something I particularly wanted to do. But we must do the things we dislike sometimes, I learned that the hard way. During the drive back, I tried to conjure up a lie to explain why I had Dakota's sweater and had mud on my knees if they asked.

Thankfully, when I got back to Beth and the guys, they only raised a brow at my outfit and kept their thoughts to themselves. A few other people around us looked at me funny, whispering to themselves but I didn't give them much attention. Beth had asked why I had been gone for so long, but I had a lie I could feed her without an issue.

It was at home where I got a problem.

Tension polluted the air during dinner time, and I could tell by the way Evelyn shot me long, narrowed glances my way, murmuring something under her breath in between bites. Maven was being his typical self and ate his dinner with his eyes centered at his food, chewing like a madman. It was my father who broke the silence.

He flattened his napkin on the mahogany table, patting it down. "How was your day, Silvia?"

I slowed my chewing. "It was alright. I didn't do anything interesting."

"How did you like driving in Evelyn's car? It's nice driving, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"Let me ask you this one last question." He leered forward, heaving a deep breath. "I want to hear the truth, and I do mean the complete truth. Did you let anyone drive with you in that car with you?"

I gulped. "No, dad. I didn't."

Maven's head bobbed up. "Bullshit."

"Don't use that language," Evelyn warned. "I don't like you using those kinds of words in my house."

"What? It's the honest to God truth." He said with a mouth full of food. He swallowed it all down-I was hoping he'd choke on it and die, but sadly, the world doesn't like me getting what I want so he lived and went on to explain. "A friend of mine said they saw you drive that freak-show home."

"He's not that bad of a person," I defended. "Stop calling him a freak-show."

"You're so damn naïve," Maven sneered. "He is a freak-show. There's something wrong with the guy."

"What else did your friend tell you?" My dad asked.

"They said you came back to school wearing his clothes. I bet they were screwing in your car, mom."

"Language!" Evelyn warned him again. "Why must you be so vulgar?"

"It's true though, mom," Maven said.

"No, it's not." I yelled. "It's not true at all. I didn't do anything like that. He needed a ride to his place because it was raining; I was just giving him a ride home. Is that illegal or something? I just felt bad for him since Maven and his friends are the reason he doesn't have a car anymore."

I wasn't a hundred percent sure if Maven was behind it, but Dakota had hinted that I knew the people who did the damage to his classic black mustang.

After I'd said that, the anger and attention shifted to Maven. Dad was fuming a lot more now. "Why would you do that? After everything I've told you?"

Maven shrugged it off. "He deserved it."

"The boy has gone through enough," Evelyn sighed. "The last thing he needs is you and your pals tormenting him."

"It's not like I did anything he didn't deserve," Maven further explained.

"Can you just drop the barbaric tendencies and stop acting with anger and start acting with that brain of yours?" Hunter finally spoke, silencing both sides of the table. "I mean if you even have a brain."

"It's debatable if he does," I grumbled.

Hunter and I exchanged grins, which only infuriated Maven. He flipped over his drink while trying to rush to get out of his seat and to his twin brother, he already had his fist up in the air. But my father stepped in between them at breakneck speed, creating a barrier.

"It's time you excused yourself to your room, mister." Evelyn said calmly. It was all it took to get Maven to leave the dining room and upstairs.

After dinner, I decided to help Evelyn wash the dishes. It was usually Hunter who helped out, but he was preoccupied with the football game on TV. Or was it basketball? I wasn't sure; and frankly, I didn't care.

My dad didn't bring up Dakota after Maven had stormed off, so I automatically assumed that was the end of the discussion. Once all of the dishes were cleaned, I went up to my room and fell backwards into the mattress.

Just as my eyelids began to grow heavy, my phone began to ring. I checked the time. It was nearly nine o'clock. I read the number and saw that it was a Maine area code. That meant at least three hours ahead my own time. Who was calling at this late hour?

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Comment your thoughts and please vote :)

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Song: Naïve by the Kooks

Lyrics:

❝Oh, you're so naïve.❞

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