"I've watched you for the last few years, and you always have the same look on your face."
"How do you know I'm not like that actress they're always mocking, the one whose expressions they claim never change? What's her name? Kristen Stewart. Besides, what are you like some crazy stalker dude? Is this where you bind and gag me and drag me off to the woods to murder me?" I asked, indicating the woods that boarded the school property behind us.
"There you go again. Man, do you have an imagination. Let me ask you, would you be here if you thought I was crazy like that?" he asked with sudden seriousness.
"Probably," I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Shouldn't we be studying?" I added, holding up the paper.
"Do you have some kind of death wish?" he asked, ignoring the study guide. "Or do you just like the attention?"
"God, you're an asshole," I said, scrambling to my feet as my anger boiled over. "Here's the deal, Jockstrap. Unlike you and your cronies, I don't feel the constant need for attention. If I did, you'd know it," I said, striding away. Who did he think he was? He didn't know me, and if he did, he wouldn't be so keen to spend time with me. The rumors that surrounded me were just the tip of the iceberg.
"Hey, wait," he said, jogging up behind me and snagging my wrist in his hand.
I stopped dead in my tracks at his touch. Panic clawed its way up through me as I looked down at his hand that encircled my slender wrist. Four years. It had been four years since anyone touched me. Gasping for air, I somehow forgot how to breathe. Darkness crept in slowly, obscuring my vision as I started to hyperventilate.
"Madison?" Dean said in a voice that sounded like it was traveling through a cave. I swayed as the darkness closed in, completely obscuring Dean's panicked expression from view. I felt his arms wrap around me as my legs liquefied beneath me. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I'd gone from being touched for the first time in forever to being wrapped in someone's arms in the blink of an eye. The world faded away and I welcomed it. I'd broken my one rule.
***
I awakened slowly as my body swayed back and forth. "What are you doing?" I gasped, suddenly realizing where I was as Dean repositioned me in his arms.
"Carrying you to the nurse's office. In case you missed it, you passed out back there," he answered, looking at me like I had suddenly sprouted an extra head.
"Put me down," I demanded, squirming in his arms. "I don't need to go to the clinic. I just forgot to breathe. It's not the first time," I added, increasing my squirming until he was forced to set me down. Much to my dismay, he kept a hand firmly on my arm, making sure I had my footing.
"Does that happen often?" he asked, still looking stressed.
"No," I answered shortly, looking at his hand that still held me in place.
"Are you pregnant?"
"Pregnant? God no, that would require touching," I said pointedly, jerking my arm from his grasp. "I don't do touching," I said, turning away from him. My sudden movement made my already foggy head start spinning. I took a staggering step forward, trying to keep my balance.
Dean reached out and grasped my elbow to steady me.
"What part of 'I don't do touching' do you not understand?" I asked sarcastically, trying to regain a shred of my dignity.
He dropped his hand like it had been burned. "Sorry," he said, cramming the offender into his pocket. "Let me drive you home," he added.
"Don't worry about me, I'm good. I don't need you."
"Madison, please. I promise I won't touch you again. It's my fault you're not feeling good. It's the least I can do."
"It was bound to happen. You're off the hook. No harm, no foul, right?" I said, walking away. I was ready to put distance between us so I could process and categorize everything. Much to my dismay, Dean kept pace with me.
"Seriously, I'm good," I said, trying to get rid of him.
"Madison, come on," he pleaded.
"Fine," I caved, exasperated at his persistence.
I nearly groaned out loud when he smiled broadly at me. He looked like a puppy eagerly waiting for a treat.
The walk to the student parking lot was long, and although I wouldn't admit it to Dean, I was glad I'd accepted his offer. Passing out had made my head foggy, and left my legs shaky. It would have taken me forever to walk the two miles home.
Dean's jeep was parked next to an oversized muddy pickup truck with wheels twice as big as normal. I knew without even looking at the driver who the vehicle belonged to. Our school had no shortage of good old country boy, beer-guzzling, cow-tipping, loudmouthed rednecks. Needless to say, being a silent, pale-skinned, dark-haired freak made me stick out like a sore thumb.
I kept my eyes averted from the driver as he sneered down at me. "Dean? Dude, you slumming?" he asked, tossing an empty beer bottle into the bed of his truck. His drinking clarified my suspicions that half the student body would be starting their weekend early.