Song for the start of the chapter!

To be honest, I wasn't sure if this song fit or not but I really like the high school vibe it had so I thought it best to put it in somewhere :)

Anyhow! Have a great night/day!

Darla

Stella POV

The next day I sat in class midday, waiting for him to show up in class. He said he would be here, but yet he wasn't around, nor had I seen him all morning. As the bell rang to signal the start of class, my doubt came even more. He wasn't coming, and I was disappointed in this for reasons I didn't understand myself.

"Ok, let's get this lecture started," the teacher whose name escaped me like a bird flying from its cage said as he clapped his hands, ready to start the class, breaking my gaze from the empty seat across the room. As the teacher gave his starting remarks, Grayson as he ran into the class. "You're late," the teacher snapped at Gray as he smoothed out his hair.

"I know, I'm sorry," he begged as he found his seat and sat down before he made any more of a scene than he had.

We made eye contact for a second before he broke it by taking out his schoolbooks. I couldn't explain the feeling of excitement I felt as I saw him here. I didn't understand why I cared so much about a boy that surely didn't care about me, or anyone else for that matter. But there was something about him that drew me in, wanting me to care about him because deep down, I knew he cared about me.

As the class continued, I couldn't help but sneak glances at him as he wrote notes in his notebook. He looked so concentrated on what he was working on, but as I stared at him, I realized that the notes he took had nothing to do with school, instead they were symbols and math problems that were complex. Everyone told me that Gray was a slacker, that he didn't care about school, but he wrote details on the notebook as if that was the only thing he cared about.

"So, Stella, what are your plans tonight?" Alice asked as the school bell rang, tearing me from my thoughts about Gray.

I shrugged as I thought about biking back home and working on homework. Maybe if I was lucky, I could talk to my mother, but besides that, my day was as boring as golf on TV. "I don't really have anything set in stone. What's up?"

"Nothing, just wondering."

I smiled as I packed my backpack full of my things. Grayson's backside caught my attention as he walked out of the room, and suddenly my interest for Alice's conversation fell flat like a popped balloon. "I'll talk to you later."

"Sure, I guess, I'll talk to you later," she frowned, upset that I didn't keep the conversation going, but said nothing more to me.

I followed Gray out of the room and followed him to his locker. He put his books in the metal container, not paying attention to me, or maybe he didn't realize I was stalking him. Finally, I could not hold my questions at bay; I had to ask him why he wasn't here and I felt like now was a good time. Silently, I walked up to him as he dumped his books off at the locker. "So you're here."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me with a frown. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked tiredly, looking around at the hall, hoping something would be around to pull him away from me but no one would save him from this conversation. He was all mine.

"You weren't here the last two days. Why?"

He gave me a pointed look, as if that wasn't the right thing to say. "I didn't know you were keeping tabs on me."

"I'm not," I replied, feeling defensive.

"Ok," he said and started walking away.

"Wait, Gray...."

"What?"

His rough expression didn't sit easy with me as I stared back at him. As he scowled at me, all my questions flew from my mind and fear held me in place. Something told me I shouldn't get on his bad side. "Nothing."

"Ok." And with that, he left without another word, leaving me alone in the hall.

By the time I made it home, I was more frustrated in Grayson than I should have allowed myself. He was clearly trouble, and he clearly didn't want to be bothered, so why was I trying? Why did I want to talk to him? Just thinking about it caused me to become more frustrated, so I was happy when my mom called, breaking me from my viscous thought cycle.

"Hey Stell, how are you?" mom's voice rang out over the phone.

I smiled, finding comfort in her voice. It had been so long since I talked to her and I welcomed the nickname that she only called me. "Good. But tell me about you? How is the dig?" I asked as I put my books on the small desk dad bought me just a week earlier.

"Oh, it's been exciting. I can send you my findings via email if you want to read about it in detail."

"I would love to," I smiled, even though she couldn't see it. I never found her research that interesting, but she loved it when I read it so I would carve out some time and take notes just to make her happy.

"So how is Hank?"

I thought about my father and how I mainly saw his wife. He was barely around and it frustrated me that he was still as much of a stranger as he was when I arrived. "He's ok."

"Still working tons?"

"Still working tons," I confirmed.

"Some things never change, do they?"

I smirked at the hint of bitterness in her tone. I never understood why my parents divorced, I never bothered to ask, but there was often a hint of bitterness in my mom's tone when he was brought up. She sometimes acted like a saint in the situation, but I knew she would never see that, just like my father, she was also a workaholic. I guess it's always rough seeing faults in yourself. "Nope, I guess not."

"And how is his wife? Becca?"

"It's Bec," I corrected her, although I was pretty sure she already knew her name. "She's good. I see her more than I did dad. But she's nice and I like her a lot."

"Good to hear, I was a little nervous about her and you, but I'm glad it's working out." Before I had time to ask why she was nervous about it, she changed the topic. "So how is the school?"

"It's fine. The classes are easier here than in LA."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"But it's fine. I'm finding time to make friends now," I said as I thought about Alice and the group she kept around her like a sweater.

"Oh Stell, I'm so excited to hear that. You know how long I waited for you to have friends? Too long."

"Thanks for the confidence booster." I rolled my eyes as I looked at my bed. Back in LA, the family room couch was always temping me, but here, at first, I wanted to be anywhere beside that place in fear that I would overstay my welcome. That feeling started to fade, but I was so used to going out that it didn't seem like a chore any more.

"I mean that in the nicest of ways. I'm thrilled for you, Stella."

As the conversation changed back to her work, I tried to pay attention as she gushed about some discoveries, but my mind went to other topics that I deemed more important at this moment. Soon minute bled into an hour and I realized I had to carry on with my homework.

"Stella, I'm going out for work this evening and your dad shouldn't be home until late, are you good on your own for dinner?" Bec's voice rang out as I sat at my desk, looking at my homework.

"Yeah, don't worry about me!" I called out and quickly turned back to my homework as I tried to do all of it.

As I continued to study, I noticed how silent this place was. I was still used to the loud noises of LA, the traffic, people screaming from outside the windows, speakers playing music. But here, there were no sounds except crickets. I never realized how much I missed the noise until I was here. There the noise was predicable, but here the silence was as practicable as a wild horse, ready to run and changed directions at any point.

Night wore on and the silence continued until I heard a door open and the heavy steps of my father came in. I continued to stay in my room as I heard Bec return. Her soft voice echoed the halls of the house, telling me she was talking to my father, however I couldn't hear what she said to him.

I stayed in the comfort of my room until I heard my stomach growl, telling me I needed some kind of food in me before I went to bed. Checking the time, I realized it was already almost 11. I stretched my back as I stood up from my desk chair, then silently left the room to go upstairs in search of some kind of food.

As I reached the top of the stairs, my dad's voice talked quietly, as if he was keeping a secret. My dad was a private man, one of the things so different from my mother, who would share anything with anyone at a drop of a hat. Maybe that was one reason they broke up. I didn't dwell on the thought, as it was replaced with curiosity, wondering who he was talking to at such a late hour. The curiosity compelled me to wonder closer to his office to see him talking on the phone pacing around the room.

"There is no way that will work," dad said over the phone. He ran his hands through his normally neat hair as he paced in his office at 11PM at night. "Seriously, it's too late for that. I think we need to stop before this buries us."

His tone told me he was concerned about something, but as I watched him for a moment, questions flooded my mind. He was a lawyer, so what kind of case was he working on? He paid no attention to me as he walked around, confirming that this call was consuming all of his attention.

"It can be done, but that is so much work," he said, giving a tired sigh.

He continued to talk, however I gathered no more information on what he was talking about. This was a conversation that needed to be heard from both angles, but I wouldn't get that. Sensing this was a sensitive conversation, I wanted to give him the privacy he deserved. Before he noticed me, before walking into the kitchen to get some milk and a slice of cake Bec made yesterday before I headed off to bed.

As I sat at the kitchen island with a fork in my hand and a mouth full of cake, minding my own business, a voice spoke up, breaking me from my moment.

"So you're up late. It's it past your bedtime?"

I smirked as I turned to face my dad, who wore a tired face. "It's 11PM. I'm a lot older than when you left," I said lightly, although the words were rougher than I wanted them to be.

He nodded with a frown as he poured himself a glass of milk, as if he had so many regrets. "I guess you're right."

I nodded back at him, although I didn't want him to dwell too much on the thought. It was the past and there was no way that he could have changed it, so why just be filled with regret? "So why are you up?"

He gave a tired sigh and sat down, acting as if he wanted to talk. "It's a case."

In the dark of the night, it was as if there were no distractions for either of us. Without distractions, there were no words that would pull attention elsewhere, allowing us to focus on the other fully. The simple statement he shared told me he wanted to talk about it and wanted us to have a conversation. "Tell me about it," I said as I poured myself another glass of milk, as if that would cement me being here.

He smirked at me as he poured his glass higher with milk. "It's just an immigration case for migrant workers."

"Do you do a lot of those cases?" I asked, realizing that I knew nothing about his job.

"No, but I had a friend that is buried in these cases, he works in Idaho and asked for some help."

"That's nice of you."

"I think insane is the right word. I am already so busy, I don't understand why I agreed to this," he chuckled, then gave a heavy sigh. "So tell me about school. Have you made friends?"

I smiled at him, welcoming this change in conversation to me. In the privacy of the night, I felt like he actually wanted to listen to me and hear about my life, and I wanted to share. I thought about Alice and the gang of people she kept around her. "Yeah, I have."

"Good to hear. I knew you would make friends. And is there anyone in your life you are interested in?"

I felt my cheeks blush just a little. Grayson shouldn't be someone I would want to be friends, or even interested in, but as much as he tried to push me away, I wanted to draw closer to him. He was complicated and messy, but I wanted to know him. "There is this boy."

He smiled as he bumped my shoulder. "What's his name?"

"Grayson, but he goes by Gray."

"And you like him?"

That was a loaded question that I didn't know the answer to. I barely knew him, so how could I like him? But if I didn't like him, why was I always wanting to be around him? "I don't know. I want to know him first before I decide."

"Right answer. But the question now is what are you going to do to get to know him."

I thought about how we only talked to one another outside of class. But talking on a bike path while he was in the middle of doing something wasn't ideal either. I just had to come up with a plan on how to know him better. "I am going to invite him to do something."

"Ok, that's an idea," he said, then drank the rest of his milk. "Why don't you invite him for a study group or something? Isn't that what teens do still?"

I chuckled at my father's ideas about flirting. "That's a good idea."

He smiled. "I have those sometimes."

"You do." I just wish I could say that statement with more vigor.

"Well, I have to get to bed. But we should do these conversations more often," he said as he stood up from his seat.

"I agree. I'm always free in the evenings if you want."

"Sounds like a plan to me."