Disarming Dakota | ?

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."