She’s walking him out to his car, something he insists on but she never understands. He’s too busy for her today he’s told her. He has so much to do with studying for finals and finishing up his very important valedictorian speech. “You understand, don’t you Laura?” he asks before shaking his head condescendingly. “Well, of course you don’t, but trust me. I’m just swamped.” Laura simply nods and somewhere in the back of her head she wonders when his arm around her shoulders started feeling like a cage. Maybe it always had. Maybe she’s only just realizing it now.
“So what are you going to be doing without me, Sweetie?” he asks grip tightening and tone better suited for speaking to a toddler than a girlfriend.
“Nat’s coming over,” and that at least is reassuring. Laura can’t imagine life without her best friend now, but she does remember it being much less enjoyable. Nat doesn’t tell her how to act or what to do. She never tells her that she shouldn’t act so stupid. Being with Nat is like coming home and maybe that’s why she fits so well into the Mitchell’s life, like she was always meant to be family. She’s like another sister she used to think, but lately she’s been wondering if that’s an adequate way to describe her. Nat is more than a friend, more than a sister. Sometimes Laura wonders if the feeling in her chest when they’re together is the feeling you’re supposed to have when you meet your soulmate because she honestly can’t dream of a better feeling.
Mark groans and she can feel herself tense as if she’s done something wrong. Her boyfriend has never hurt her before but sometimes it feels like that’s only because he hasn’t yet had the chance.
“Please, Mark, not again.” This time her words sound more like a command than a beg and Laura is proud.
“Fine. Don’t be so touchy. It’s not my fault your friend’s a piece of work.”
She’s about to glare at him until he gives what he thinks counts as an apology but then they’re both distracted by the rumble of a truck’s engine. The look on Clint’s face as he drives by is distant and almost sad and she finds herself missing that smirk she usually hates. In fact, she finds herself missing him, period.
He makes her so self-conscious, but it’s almost in a good way. It’s like he reminds her that she shouldn’t take herself so seriously, but sometimes he takes it too far without even knowing. She’s touchy and slightly insecure and she hates how little it takes to take her breath away and make tears catch in her lashes. She’s so sure he doesn’t mean it, but she can’t always convince herself that soon enough. She wishes he hadn’t made her cry, and it’s more for his sake than hers. She cries over everything and can let it go as soon as she’s done. He’s the kind of boy who punishes himself more than necessary and she’s the kind of girl who can only absolve you if you let her. Does her breath catch in the back of her throat when she’s around him because of guilt or something bigger?
“I guess it could be worse. You could still be hanging around that piece of shit,” Mark comments, eyes hard and judgmental as they’re fixed on the back of the pickup. She clenches her jaw, so close to telling him off that she feels the words in the back of her mouth. She swallows them back just in time for him to make it worse. “You know some people say his dad hits him,” he states, voice so unaffected it makes her sick. “All I know is that if I were his father I’d sure as Hell hit him harder.”
“That’s not funny, Mark,” she says, voice so serious she almost sounds older. If she was tense before she’s ten times worse now and she feels like a rubber band pulled tight and ready to snap. She’s seen Nat after bad days and nights and been able to do nothing more than offer half her sandwich and a place to stay, and knowing that it isn’t enough is bad enough. A coddled rich boy joking about something he has never had to understand is too much.
“I’m not joking, Laura. The kid deserves it.” He says it like a fact, like it’s just another thing she’s too young or too dumb to understand and that’s all it takes for the band to snap.
Her hand clenches into a fist and connects with his jaw before he even knows what’s coming. He stumbles backward a step, one hand raised to his chin just as she shakes the harsh sting out of hers, already feeling the bruises to come on her knuckles. The look he gives her is like nothing she’s ever seen before and suddenly she knows that he’s found his chance. His shove is harsh and rough and meant to do more than hurt, although it does leave her on the ground with skinned palms and eyes shut tight. He’s trying to make her beneath him like he always does and his hand fisting into her hair is enough to make her hiss more out of fear than pain. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, sharp pain jerking at her scalp as he tugs her upwards and she reaches to stop him when suddenly he lets her go with a small grunt, and she falls back to the pavement.
“Touch her again and I do more than break your arm,” a cool voice warns, quickly followed by a low cry of pain. When Laura looks up to see her best friend with the sun making her red hair look like fire personified she almost smiles, but instead just watches as Nat releases the boy’s arm from behind his back with a push. Mark looks ready to fight back until he sees the infamous gleam in Rushman’s eye and he backs away like a dog nursing his bent arm. The girl’s hand is warm when she helps her up and Laura is once again reminded how lucky she is to have her. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” is what she thinks but it comes out as a simple “Let’s go home”.
