When your girlfriend is mad at you, it's more than noticeable. Another thing I've come to realize is, just because a girl says that your relationship is okay, doesn't mean she automatically forgives you.

After a whole morning of classes I couldn't care less about, I wanted to have a break by having a nice lunch with Sabrina and my friends. I thought it was going well, until I leaned in to kiss Sabrina goodbye, and she moved so that I kissed her cheek instead.

Amber has a satisfied smirk on her face as she takes a bite of her salad, having witnessed the whole thing. I want to call her out on it, but Sabrina will definitely side with her best friend right now.

Luckily, no one else noticed the exchange. They're too busy paying attention to this story that Bradley and Rodney are telling about their family vacation at their beach house in L.A.

There were still ten minutes of lunch left, but I remembered I still haven't gotten a chance to arrange a time to make up for a quiz I missed yesterday. Dentist's are always so terrible at picking appointment dates, that it's almost like they want to get in the way of your schooling.

I wish I could say that Sabrina is just giving me the cold shoulder, but ever since she said that we are okay, she's been avoiding me. At first, I think she means it, but obviously the devil in disguise, Amber, got to her.

Madison even took it upon herself to apologize to Sabrina in person and telling her that she shouldn't have pressured me into dancing with her, but it didn't help. For some reason, it made her even more mad.

I don't think I'll ever be able to understand girls.

Once Mr. Thomson and I agreed on me coming in for tomorrow's lunch, I head to class. Luckily, the day seems to go by fairly quickly.

The last bell rings, and a crowd of students piles into the hallways. It takes me a while, but I finally find Sabrina standing outside the front of the school, her back facing my direction. For a second, I'm afraid to go over and talk to her. She is still mad at me, and I don't know how to handle that situation.

I never thought there would be a day where I'd be afraid of approaching a girl.

"Rina," I call out when I finally regain my confidence. When she doesn't reply, I call her name again. Still, she gives me no answer. "Come on, you can't stay mad at me forever."

She sighs and turns toward me. "I won't, but I will be for a little while longer."

"How long will that be?" I take a step closer, towering over her. Her eyes lift to meet mine and I can see a mix of irritation and longing spiraling in her blue orbs.

Looping my arm around her waist, I bring her petite form towards me. My other hand finds its way into her thick brown hair as our chests rise and fall together, our faces only centimeters away from each other.

"Th-that's not going to work this time, Austin." Just from the stutter in her voice, I know it's already working. This fact makes me grin as my eyes pierce hers.

I twirl a strand of her hair with my fingers before brushing her hair behind her ear. The way her breathing stops ensures I've won. With my fingers grazing along her neck, I'm so close that I can feel her minty breath fanning me.

When I'm about to press my lips to her, a shrill whine interrupts us.

"Sabrina!" Amber's voice makes me grunt and Sabrina pulls away faster than I thought possible.

I turn and see the glib look on her face that proved the suspicion that she interrupted us on purpose. The way her smirk suddenly falls makes me realize the arduous look I'm sending her way.

Sabrina leaves my side to go to her friend, smiling brightly as always. That smile is one of my favorite things in the world, and I hate that it's wasted on someone like Amber Reid.

Grudgingly, I follow.

They hug, and for the hundredth time why girls do that whenever they meet - they just had a lunch together three hours ago. When they release each other, Amber asks if Sabrina needs a ride home. After glancing my way, she agrees to go with her friend.

Amber notices my deepening glare, but ignores it.

My girlfriend brings her attention back to me again. "Just because you did, whatever that was earlier, does not mean that I'm not over you dancing with Madison."

"You said we were okay!" I don't mean to yell, but she's being completely unreasonable.

"We are," she says, now walking away with Amber, forcing me to follow behind. "I'm just not ready to be over it yet."

"Rina-"

"Take a hint, will you?" Amber interrupts.

"Amber," Sabrina softly warns, then faces back to me. "I told you were were okay, and I mean that. The one only thing is, you don't seem to think that this is a big deal."

"I apologized, didn't I?" This whole argument is really starting to get on my nerves.

"Is this boy for real?" Amber's commentary makes me roll my eyes.

This time, Sabrina ignores her and gives me a pointed look. "Yes, you said you're sorry."

I wait for a second, assuming she has more to add. When she stays silent, an aggravated huff escapes my lips. "What more do you want me to do?"

Sabrina shrugs and continues to look at me indifferently.

"Austin, you coming?" Rodney's voice catches my attention from behind me. He's just exiting the front of the school, football gear in hand, walking towards the field.

"Um, yeah! Just give me a second," I yelled back, but when I turn around to continue my talk with Sabrina, she's already getting in the passenger seat of Amber's car. After she closes the door, they drive off without even so much as a goodbye.

An annoyed grunt leaves me as my hands curl into fists at my sides. The trash can to my left feels my rage as I send my foot into the side of it. A couple bystanders eyed me cautiously before making room as I pass by, fuming.

In the locker rooms, everyone is still getting ready. Practice begins in less than five minutes, so I don't have long to get ready.

"Trouble in paradise, Griffin?" Rodney, who is already in full uniform props his leg onto the bench next to me.

I'm just finishing off tying my shoes when I answer.

"She's upset that I was dancing with Madison," I grumble, pulling one last time on my laces.

"You danced with the wannabee dykes, too," Rodney so gently added.

"Not helping," I growl, standing up to face him.

Rodney raises his hands in defense as he slowly back away, smirking.

"Do you have to use such a derogative term?" Bradley asks, clearly offended.

"What? Dyke?" He says the word again, causing his cousin to huff in annoyance.

Bradley rolls his eyes and turns to me. "You said Sabrina's upset about you dancing with Madison, right?"

I nod.

"Well, she has a right to be," he says, not shying away from the honesty.

"Excuse me?"

Brad sighs. "What would you do if you saw Sabrina grinding some other guy?"

My response is without hesitation. "I'd break his teeth in."

"Exactly, so how do you think she feels?" He has a good point.

As irritating at it is, he has always been the voice of reason in our impulsive group. Bradley is definitely the most thoughtful player on our team, and it's something I've always admired about him - me, being the opposite.

"Shit," I groan, sitting back down on the bench. Running my hands through my hair, I let out a big huff of air.

I get so focused on my own thoughts that I don't realize I'm the only one left in the locker room.

"Austin." Bradley's voice coming from the doorway breaks my daze. "Coach wants us out there, man."

"Give me a minute."

I don't leave the locker room for another ten minutes, my thoughts had pulled me deep into a trance. When I finally make it out to the field, I'm greeted by an angry coach, and his favorite punishment: suicide runs.

School night parties are not thrown often, but when they are, almost everyone at school attends.

Brett is the host for the night since his parents are gone all week at some sort of fundraiser for his church. They have no idea what their son has planned for the night; beer pong, jello shots - provided by his older brother who is a sophomore in college, and a bass that would make the neighbors go completely insane.

Unless you are Brett Larson, and your parents own a secluded lake house. They even have a boat that they use for tubing and a couple jet skis for those hot summer days. You could say they were pretty wealthy, if you didn't know what actual wealth looked like.

My family isn't big on family vacations, but do own a loft complex in New York city, a beach house in California, and a couple houses in Europe. I haven't left the country in the past few years, but when Andrew did take us on vacations, there were actually good times shared between us. Instead, Andrew now only leaves the country for business, and I'm not allowed to tag along on those until I'm eighteen.

The trip I remember the most vividly is my favorite. We spent a whole summer in Greece, a significant amount of which we explored the volcanic island Santorini. It wasn't only my favorite because of the stunning scenery, but because it was one of the last happy memories I had with my parents.

After we got back, the stress of Andrew's work got the best of him, and Sandra's affair with his partner came to his attention.

That was the first time my mother had ever gone to the emergency room because of my father.

I lift the bottle of Jack Daniels to my lips, drinking my past away. The burning sensation is so conventional to me now, I barely even notice it anymore. I down the whiskey as if it's water, my thoughts drifting away.

Swig after swig, I slowly notice I feel even worse than before. Usually the buzz makes me feel better, forget. Not this time. My mind starts to swell as negative thoughts violate me like an unwanted parasite.

The music is blaring and I feel a migraine coming on. I need to get out of here - all the noise is deafening.

It takes me a bit longer to get up, my legs feeling weaker than before.

As I make my way to the door, I notice a Marlboro pack on the coffee table, so I take it, not caring who they belong to. I need them more than they do right now.

The cold air chills me to my bones when I exit through the back door. Pulling my jacket on over my bare arms helps a little, but a chill still bites my skin.

Walking down the path towards the docks, the fall leaves crunch under my Nikes. It's one of my favorite noises, just like snow under shoes, but it doesn't make me feel any better tonight. The dock wobbles when I make contact with the wood, but not enough to lose my balance. I can hear the water move against is as it ripples, making the moon's reflection quiver.

I sit down on the bench built into the dock and pull out the pack of cigarettes from my back pocket. A curse leaves my lips when I realize I don't have a lighter, but when I open the pack, one is tucked away between a couple cigarettes.

Resting the stick between my teeth, I take a deep breath before sparking the lighter to life.