So...
That chapter was weird...
I really didn't know what to write, so...
Hopefully this part will be less weird.
(The course of the book wasn't really affected by that BTW. Well, maybe a little😏)

It was quiet. Awkward, even, which was something he had never failed to do.
But this time, it was just plain embarrassing.
I mean, what are you supposed to do when your best friend, (who happens to be really attractive), nearly rapes you, and then your equally-as-attractive other friend saves you?
In the men's bathroom at a high school.
Even worse.
In the car, (where I was at that moment), he hadn't spoken a word.
I didn't either.
Would you?
I didn't think so.
He would just look over at me every once in a while to see a girl curled up in a ball, with puffy red eyes and wet cheeks staring out the window.
I didn't even know where he was taking me, and I didn't bother to ask, because the only place I wanted to be then was away. Away from Antonio, away from Amelia, away from him. Away from myself.
I wiped my cheek dry with my t-shirt as the image of Toni's beaten up, scabby face came to my mind, and how he was scratching at welts on his forearms, wrists, and face.
I tried to think of every possible explanation, and then, the sound of Alfred saying, "you're probably on drugs", resonated around my brain.
Drugs.
It was either the over-the-counter stuff that was pretty low-strength for headaches and stomachaches and toothaches and almost every other kind of ache you could think of, and then there was drugs. Like murder-business world class criminals dealing to each other in the streets of L.A. Or something, with the hoodies, gold chains, and Adidas on. Deadly.
I took in a deep breath, and turned to Alfred, trying to seem as not-upset as I could. "A-Alfred?"
He suddenly snapped his head back towards me, his hair whipping back along with it. He was obviously surprised I was even talking. "Y-yeah, what's up?"
I sniffled. "D-do you really think that Antonio is-" I paused. I didn't want to ask, because I knew what his answer would be.
"Gay? Apparently not, judging by the way he-" He stopped. "Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure he's not gay."
I shook my head weakly. "No, I wasn't gonna say gay, I was gonna say," I looked down at my shoes. "I-Is he taking drugs, like you said?" I looked back up at him.
He frowned. "Uhhhh... I don't really know. He looked like it. Unless he usually acted like that, raping girls in bathrooms at school." He looked over at me, and saw a tear drip out of my eye. "B-but, I'm sure it's not too serious, I mean, he's not gonna die or anything..."
I continued to cry, but silently, tears flowing down my face. I turned around to face the window, so he couldn't see me, only to be pulled back around by my shoulder.
"Lydia. He freaking raped you. I saved you. If I hadn't, you'd probably be dead, or worse, pregnant. There is something wrong with that kid. Why do you care if he takes drugs? He can burn in hell for all I care." His face was red. He was actually really angry.
I pulled my shoulder away. "He's still a person, Alfred. I know you saved me, but he wouldn't have killed me. I know he wouldn't have. He's my friend."
He scoffed. "Yeah, what kind of friend rapes you, and doesn't stop when you're crying?" He turned his attention back to the road completely, and didn't look back at me. End of discussion.
I sighed, and closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about what had just happened anymore. It was hurting my brain.

When I opened them, I wasn't in a car. I was on a leather couch with a soft blanket over me. It was warm. I smiled, and then looked around, realizing I was not in my own home.
There were trophies lining the walls, and signed jerseys, and stacks of dirty baseballs in glass cases.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
Where am I?
I yawned, and outstretched my arms. I got up shakily, and went over to a window with cheap blinds. It was dark out, and the only light that shone was a street lamp, and a porch light from a nearby house. Actually, right across the street.
I turned back towards the rest of the house, and walked around.
It was small. That was immediately noticeable.
The seemingly only bedroom was a loft sort of thing that was connected straight by a ladder in the living room.
But, there was a huge TV.
At least 70 inches.
I walked down the small hallway, and saw a little guest bedroom I assumed, since it was so neat, and a bathroom across from it.
The door was closed, but light spilled out through the cracks.
It was a nice house. But whose?
It must've been Alfred's. Unless someone kidnapped two innocent high schoolers, and brought them to their house to murder them. But, one, this house was not murder-ish at all, and two, that was highly, highly unlikely.
"Oh, God!"
I turned towards the sound, which was coming from the bathroom door. "What the-"
"Fu-"
There it was again. It was obvious that it was coming from the bathroom now, and that someone was in pain. I knocked on the door. "Alfred??"
"Wha-"
There was a loud crash, and a yell.
"Shit!"
Without giving it much thought, I opened the door, and lying there, on the floor, was Alfred, with no shirt on, no glasses on, but still had underwear on. He had a big lump on his head, which was bleeding a tiny bit. He put his hand there for a second, and then took it off to see his hand now red. "God-"
I ran over to him, and helped him up. "Are you okay? What just happened?"
He laughed, still holding his hand to his bump. "I just got out of the shower, and I'm fine. And so are you, by the looks of it." He locked his sky blue eyes with mine, and they lit up with a smile.
I let go of his arm. "Y-yeah, I'm good. Maybe you should put some pants on.."
He looked down, and laughed.
So did I.
"Yeah, that's a good idea, isn't it? I'll be right out." He pushed me lightly out of the bathroom, and closed the door behind me.
Even after hitting his head, he was still hot. Very hot.
This was the perfect time to do some old-fashioned, classic cliché stalking to find out information about someone.
First, the family pictures. There were only a few, which was pretty expected. After all, he was most popular kid in the whole high school, and not being the decorating type would not be assumable.
Most of them were of him as a little kid, holding baseball, basketball, football and almost every other sport you could think of, trophies. There didn't seem to be any pictures of him past 6th grade, or so.
One picture stood out, though. He was around 10 or 11, standing on a baseball diamond, holding a glove and baseball. He also had no glasses on.
But, behind him was a strikingly handsome older man, in his late 30's, standing behind him with his hand on his shoulder, and wearing a big smile.
I smiled. It must've been his dad or something.
"I didn't get glasses until the 8th grade. Thank god, I did."
I spun around to see Alfred behind me, fully clothed this time, with wet hair. He smelled good. And, not like Axe.
I nodded. "Well, you seem to have been fine without them, judging by all these pictures." I picked one up that had his in a little league uniform throwing a ball.
He laughed, and crossed his arms. "Yeah, well Arthur made me put them there. He's staying late at the library or something, so he's not gonna be home till a while. His bedroom is down there. He's so boring. Like his bedroom."
I scoffed.
"So, how are you feeling?" He smiled at me, and sat down on the couch, and took off his glasses, wiping them off on the blanket.
I stared down at him, and smiled awkwardly. He was so hot. "Uh, yes."
He looked back up at me, his sky blue eyes full of confusion. "What?"
I blinked my eyes. "Yes. I mean- uh, yes, I'm fine. I'm fine now."
That was a close one.
He smiled, putting his glasses back on. "That's good." He patted the cushion next to him. "Sit down!"
I lifted the corner of my mouth slightly and did as he wanted. I sat up with my back straight and my hands on my legs neatly.
He laughed and I winced. I was still shooken up from what happened with Toni. "C'mon, don't be scared! Don't you know me enough to know that I'm not gonna hurt you?" He continued to laugh.
I sniffles, my eyes getting watery. "I thought I knew Antonio, too."
He stopped laughing, and looked over at me, pulling me against his muscular chest suddenly.
I sobbed quietly as I felt the rise and fall of his lungs, and the feeling of his rough hand stroking my neck gently. "Lydia, it's okay. I'll never let Antonio, anyone, ever hurt you."
I stopped crying, and looked up at him, tears still running down my cheeks. "What about yourself?"
He bit his lip. "I would never hurt you, Lydia. Trust me on that."
His gaze locked onto my eyes as his face moved closer to mine.
I could smell his breath, and feel his heart beat, which was beating pretty fast.
I wrapped my hands around his shoulders, and buried my face into his collarbone before he could move any closer.
Then the door opened.