Thank you for the reviews! They absolutely made my week :)! If you wrote anything, I want to R&R it! I'll be lurking on Inkspill to pester you for updates (it's been a while since Cutter ended!)
Drama usually started out of boredom.
Few people were more bored than Kylie.
She sat listlessly on the bleachers by the pool, eyes bulging, one hand in her stick-straight hair, bottom lip pushed out and upper lip sucked in.
Any moment now.
This was the big day. Everyone in the locker room knew it would happen, except perhaps two people. No one ever told Zach anything, and Gentry didn’t need to know yet. Around this time Sydney or Mike or one of the guys probably found an excuse to usher him out…
Kylie hunched over her knees, a grin spreading over her bubble-gum lips.
When Gentry emerged, she beelined to him and chirped, “There you are! I was waiting for you.”
“Then you wasted your time.” Gentry dropped off the bag of waterweights he’d been carrying, and headed back to the locker room. Kylie blocked the door by letting herself fall against it, eying him up from underneath her heavily shadowed eyelids.
“You haven’t even heard what I wanted to say. ” she squeaked past a mousy grin, flipping her stick-straight hair over her ear. “Are you going to the prom with me, or what?”
“Why not?” she exhaled deeply, “I was on the committee, and I have one extra ticket…”
Gentry stared at her, focusing on the stale grimace of a smile and the squinted brown eyes. He let the seconds slip by, watching her pupils grow smaller and smaller while her adgitation grew larger and larger. She waited with barely parted lips and stiff fingers, unconsciously grinding her heel into the cement. Watching. Waiting. Perfume wafted through the air, one spray too strong, singing the senses rather than enticed them; thick as the concleaer that was buttered over her freckles. Flushed red fingers gripped at her bony arms, and her expression feigned an indifference that was too cool for school. Yet her heart was probably pounding in her chest, awakened by the realization that he was The One. The man to hold her tight, the warrior to lift her in the air and sweep her off her feet with his predatory elegance. How could she be a prom princess without the perfect prince? The realization hit her that might not only be turned down--- but that she would be a prom leftover. Her feelings hung on his answer. An answer he could care less about. An answer that held within its careless grasp her dreams of style and popularity.
Gentry felt downright giddy!
She looked like she was going to ask him again, but probably wouldn’t. It wasn’t fashionable to. So she waited in stunned silence, watching for a reply or a sign other than that mind-numbing blankless in his features. Had they always been so empty?
Gradually, he sauntered to the locker room door and propped it open. The anxiety reaked beneath her perfume, and he responded by letting the silence surround them from all sides, rising with the dusk and stretching hours to minutes. Until time stopped.
“Well?” she squeaked out.
“I’ll go.” He said, before slamming the door in her face.