Matters of the Hart

Chapter 20 - Caleb always looked like a dementor on the loose.

I had a vivid memory of when I was in grade five in middle school, my then English teacher Mrs. Montgomery was a phenomenal person. I think that's where my love for such extensive reading bloomed and grew into what it was today. Some would go as far as to say I read them books in exchange for Kit-Kats.

Hey, I was not going to deny anything here.

But I had one special memory from back in the day that I always had a hard time decoding, even till date. I remember Mrs. Montgomery reading out an extract to us from a book I never re-opened again, not because I didn't like it, but because I was smart enough to pass fifth grade - so I didn't have to open it. Contrary to your beliefs, not all my words are philosophical. Some are plain bullshit.

Never mind.

She read that lines out loud for the sake of the thirty children in class, twenty nine of which had already done good on their sleepover plans with their respective desks. I would have been the thirtieth to follow suit, until it was that one line which hit my ears and had the wheels of my brain churning.

"The grey clouds overshadowed the sun, silently declaring a gloomy holiday."

Grey.

In a plethora of all the big words that were held together in that sentence with a thread called meaning, a simple four lettered word was what made me think hard.

Nine year old me could never understand why it was necessary to associate colours with negative words. For instance, black for dangerous, black for mourning, grey for gloomy. Whether it was one being caught in the moment of angst or a poignant reminder of the hardships of the past, why must everything negative be colour coded?

Nine year old me thought that the whole purpose of having colours in life was to celebrate the livelihood, the essence of purity and happiness and love that filled the lives of the people who wanted to label them. Why would anyone who understood the above label grey as the representation of gloom that is cast upon the land of the happy souls.

What was it about grey that was so beyond the pale that we were to paint it on the face of cheerless days?

Time and again I was taught and told about the different aspects to the world of grey but somehow, my heart refused to keep up. I always managed to fail to understand this supposedly strong premonition. In my mind, what had been transfixed was the words of my teacher and the everlasting cloud of confusion that neither poured out knowledge upon me nor floated away from my differently wired scope of thinking. All I could appreciably understand was the presence of the colour in my world.

Grey.

Until senior year, I would have vouched for all of which that I explained in the least boisterous way.

But that was all until senior year happened.

Until now, grey was just another colour in my world - the shadow of an innocently crawling insect in the farthest corner of the room, or the cover of my favourite romance novel. Never had I ever imagined in my wildest, most absurd and the most unreal dreams of all that soon, grey would be the only colour I would so keenly appreciate.

Never had I ever imagined growing fond of a colour that I had always learned was the equivalent of melancholy.

Never had I ever imagined that I would choose to take all my breaths standing in the middle of a storm, and eagerly looking forward to get swept away with it's whoosh.

A storm, which brought back the fashion of greys in my life.

A storm which made me want to look into it's eyes and take whatever comes my way head on, without any regrets when my mind knows I shouldn't be. It's the heart that won't keep shut.

A storm that I could find in the eyes of the only person whose grey orbs had held my dreams, my sleep captive all of this week.

After last weekend's events and my super embarrassing moments which Noah Stark had recorded on his phone with great pleasure, it was suffice to say that Nathaniel Knight was back into my life. This time, for good. Well, there is still a question mark to that but that shall be a monologue for another day.

We decided that we were both stupid; him more than I. His words, not mine.

Fine. Let's just say no serious harm was caused to said person during the birth of this honest, very honest confession - except maybe a couple of punches in the shoulder and a riot of 'Nathaniel is a piece of s**t').

For the common good of all our friends, we decided to move on from that mind blowing kiss which we never spoke about again. Thus came to life the mummified friendship of Thea Hart and the frog prince.

Oops, I meant Nathaniel Knight.

But our newly found old friendship was exactly like the QRS complex of an ECG: one positive, but two negative waves.

The first negative wave was of a small magnitude one, just a spur in the beginning. The medical world calls it a Q, I call it Amelia Hart.

You bet I told her what went down between Nate and I a week ago.

You bet I also saved Nathaniel's baby making device from permanent damage because it was very close to Amelia's knee joint.

Let's just say ever since then Amelia had had it out against my old-but-new friend. What came as a surprise was the fact that now I knew how I could get his head served to me on a silver platter if he ever pissed me off to the point of no-return.

Three days into our newly found old friendship, I realised that I'd probably choose buffet lunch over being served the 'Nathaniel corn soup'.

The hate-filled stares that Amelia threw his way reached everywhere but to his ego. He didn't mind a bit; baring it all like a punishment he deserved. The thought of him putting up with my fire-breathing sister made my heart melt, even though I kept reminding myself on repeat that we were strictly friends.

So like the peace-maker that I was, I took it upon myself to organise a bonding exercise for them.

Guess what it involved?

Yes. You probably got it.

It involves food.

Waffles, to be precise.

Lia, Nate and I decided it was time to get rid of those permanently super-glued glares and bond better to get to know each other again, like a revision of sorts.

Okay, I decided it.

Nate had no choice because I told him he was paying and Lia, well, I may or may not have told her that Nate was paying.

Do you see the magic of free food?

Luckily (or unluckily, I still had to decide that) Luke overheard us and he told Noah and Noah, along with Luke and Cole, invited themselves to our bonding therapy session which had now become group bonding session on a Friday evening. One that I was already half an hour late to.

Because apparently, I was the shrink.

Not that I minded; waffles were the only thing worth losing my peace of mind over.

Besides, I wouldn't want them destroying one of my favourite cafés around town just because Nathaniel breathed out his carbon dioxide in Lia's general direction. It was Lia - no logic was ever involved in the making of her brain.

Checking my phone, I realised that I already had a gazillion texts from both Lia and Nathaniel, wondering where I was. Oh, and one from Cole too, asking if I knew why Lia was bugging him by asking him to text me.

This boy, I swear he could qualify for a distant cousin of Lucas Roe.

I was busy at dance practice after school and I happened to lose track of time. Sue me, ugh.

Slowly I replied to all, including a certain grey-eyed boy's irritation filled message.

Grey: Hurry up!!!!!!!

A very fitting nickname, isn't it?

I mean if I could get used to 'Shortcake', he could surely put up with my feeble attempt at re-christening him.

I shook my head, thoroughly amused and thanking God that nobody else was around right now to notice the out-of-place looking grin that graced my face. They would think I was mental or something, laughing to myself.

It held so much exasperation his message did, that I almost felt sorry for him.

Oh, man up Nathaniel. Lia won't kill u.

That, ladies and gentlemen was how I tried to console Nathaniel who could possibly be dead meat if I didn't pick up my pace.

His reply though, was instant, which made me think if he was that petrified of being in the vicinity my sister who was known for her violent tendencies.

Grey: For the love of my balls, I don't trust her around me shortcake.

Still think I was trying to control my laugh? Nah, I gave up long ago- as soon as this message popped on my lock screen. Guffawing sure made me look mental, but at this point I genuinely didn't care as we chatted back and forth. There was a part of me that was feeling utterly bad about forcing this on Nate, without even asking him. But if we were to ever be the kind of friends that we used to be - this was the most influential bridge that he needed to cross.

We chatted back and forth for a while - him telling me what I already know (that Lia hated him) and me assuring him that if she ever broke his nose, I'd take him to the hospital myself.

I locked my phone, assuring him one more time that I'd be there soon as I continued to walk on the sidewalk. Zoe's café was a fifteen minutes walk from the campus; it was like a quaint little place in a corner of this town where the staff greeted you like you made their day just by sticking your face outside on the glass window.

Since it wasn't exactly in the centre of the town, the only business Zoe's had was from the students of Saint Theodore's. Which meant that everyone knew everyone.

In my waffle infested daze, I had almost reached the corner around the café and I didn't realise that I had bumped into the shoulder of a passer by until I heard a familiar voice use a very familiar word.

"Fuck."

Oh, the heavens above that I send my prayers upon.

Was I not clear enough in my morning prayer that I wanted, no I needed this day to go by without any sign of mishaps or slapped faced or broken noses or Caleb Ridgewood?

Then why, oh tell me why would you plant the biggest tarantula on this planet in my way and I am not talking about Aragog, mind you.

I muttered a weak apology, pressing my lips tightly as I collected myself and planned to walk away like I had originally pictured in my mind.

But you know me by now. It's never about what I want.

It's always about what I never, ever ever want.

I was pulled back by the arm in front of a very fierce, cocky and angry looking Caleb and if I was to solely judge on the basis of looks, I'd say that it was probably time to say goodbye.

Remember how I mentioned the two negatives waves of a QRS complex? This was my negative number two - the long wave - Caleb Ridgewood.

"What's the rush, Hart?" He let go of my arm and took a step closer in my direction, forcing my gaze to charge into his.

Something about Caleb inching closer to me was repulsive to my senses and I wondered why. Maybe it was his demeanour.

I was taken aback by the way his eye darkened a shade, probably due to the intense hatred he had harboured for me all these years - for reasons known to him and him only.

It was like every time I trudged upon this blurry line that separated his world from mine, he would catch on. It always felt like hell was about to break loose any moment now.

I tried moving to the side so I could trick him and walk away. I realised that I wasn't bound by chains. I also realised that Caleb had not even touched me. But I guess sometimes it's the air around a person that could suffocate you to nearly death.

The fact that Caleb always looked like a dementor on the loose didn't help my nerves by much either.

Moving away, walking backwards, all things done but I had no luck. He wouldn't budge, nor would he let me. It was like I was trying to get away with the unfortunate killing of his pet cat, Dodger. A pet that Caleb Ridgewood never had.

Exactly. Getting past him was pointless. I shouldn't have to try to get past him because I didn't ever remember doing him so wrong that he would hate to breathe the same air as I did.

Now it wasn't like it had suddenly dawned upon me that I was a Kryptonian or anything - I wasn't supergirl. But for me to stand in front of the only living human in my knowledge who wanted me dead as a ferret, it required an obscene amount of courage and some control over my nervous gulps that barely made their way below my hyoid bone.

"Let me through, Caleb," I folded my arms across my chest, knowing full well that he had clearly picked on my change on mood.

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from my friends?" He c****d his head to one side, jaw clenched as one of his hands curled around the strap of his backpack. Was the other hand holding the pocket knife he was planning to kill me with?

"They're my friends too."

"Shut up."

As if, I snorted. "Stay away from me, Caleb. I'm warning you. For the last time."

"I'm so scared," he feigned fear, before laughing his butt off at my 'poor' attempt at a warning. In my defence, it took my some guts to spew that out and take a stand for myself. Even though I chose the wrong place and time to do that.

I sighed, turning around. It was almost five in the evening and there were hardly any people around to call for help in case he stabbed me and left me to bleed to death.

No sooner than I turned around to make my merry way towards the other side, I was harshly pulled back into his chest. But that was not even the worst part. My wrist was locked behind me.

Correction, my wrist was twisted twice and locked behind my back in his death grip, his mouth so close to mine that nothing had ever felt more repelling to me as I tried to struggle out of his hold. His hold that was so excruciating that the more I curled my fingers into a fist and fought a way out with all the power I had, the more his smirk grew because he knew I wouldn't be able to fight him.

"Don't you ever turn your back on me you b***h," he spat in my face, gritting his teeth. Of course, my pain was a source of pleasure for him.

Amidst my struggling, I was thankful that I was pulled away before I would start crying and begging Caleb to release me.

In one second I fell back into a hard chest and the next, pushed behind a muscular back which I later realised was none other than Luke, standing in front of me and protecting me like a shield.

"That's enough, Caleb," his voice sounded strained, tight and like it meant business.

Caleb rolled his eyes, mimicking what looked like would have been Luke's facial expressions. I nursed my swollen wrist where four long fingers of Caleb Ridgewood had now left a very red imprint. Boy was this going to bruise badly.

"Oh look, our little Luke coming to this b***h's rescue. Some f*****g loyalty you show Lucas," Caleb growled and I was pretty sure he was up in Luke's face.

"Let's go, Luke." I whispered into his ear from behind, so loud that only Luke would hear them but with the way his body had tensed at the moment, telling him anything would be futile.

Lucas was the baby of the Broody Brothers & Co. Never in a million years would I have ever imagined Lucas breathing hell at somebody, much less one of his own closest friends. This version of Luke was fearful; even more fearful than Caleb's apparently empty threats and warnings.

I didn't have it in me to watch him cause more damage than was necessary at this point and thus watch a friendship be tested. I tugged harder on Luke's jacket, pulling him back and away from where the devil stood.

Luke glared at Caleb. "Fucker, you got lucky that it was me who caught you being an asshole."

That was it. I didn't waste any more time, dragging Lucas away from my non-injured hand. Damn, the swelling was growing and my wrist looked worse than it did five minutes ago. I wondered if I broke or cracked a bone because the pain was intolerable and it wasn't ready to die down even a little bit.

"Nate is going to kill him."

My eyes widened as I looked up at Luke, who had his eyes fixed at my very, very swollen wrist. His eyes held an unheard apology as he examined the look of my wrist with his long fingers.

"Please don't tell Nate."

"But Thea…" Luke's eyes widened, an incredulous look crossing over his face as he opened his mouth to finish the sentence. But I beat him to it.

"Please Lucas."

I was the face of desperation right now.

Caleb was my problem. He was my battle and the last thing I wanted was to pile it on somebody else, especially when they were all such good friends. I couldn't possibly make Nathaniel choose between Caleb and me.

One, my conscience would never let me live it down.

Two, Nathaniel would never choose me. He never did.

In a twisted way, if keeping something like this a secret from Nate meant that he would stay in my life a little longer then you bet I would do anything to do it. At least that way I wouldn't have to see him walk away. Not after the last time, when he evidently didn't spare me a second glance before...

Never mind.

Luke opened his mouth to counter, but I guess the look on my face and the fact that I was tugging the sleeve of my jacket down to cover that slowly bruising wrist was proof enough that I wanted Luke and I to be the only testimonies to the scene.

I watched him silently as he contemplated for a bit, struggling inside his head like he was going against his will before he finally sighed and caved in, slowly nodding his head.

"Let's just go get those waffles," he muttered weakly and just like that there was one less thing that I had to worry about. For now.