After we sat down in the nurse's office, it didn't take long for me to gather that Aslan didn't plan on speaking to me. Especially with the looming idea that a girl leaped in his favor to ensure the safety of his life.

The sound of cold water escaping the faucet, was the only prospect that could be heard, while the nurse proceeded to clean Aslan's most eminent wounds. He didn't want to be treated I gathered, or even explain to the nurse how he ended up hurt pretty badly. His dampening temper only revealed to be a perfect example of guy's and their egoistical attitudes. In other words, he couldn't take a beating, and then associate back into society like the rest of us.

With stolen glances at each other, which each time he looked up batting his eyelashes, there was something rather unsettling washing away in his irises. Possibly shame. Guilt? Reluctancy maybe? I couldn't decipher it.

The nurse bandaged Aslan's cuts, securing gauze around his bruised wrists; which I'm assuming formed due him lurching his fist against his opponent. Nothing could be done for the distinguished black eye sadly, but the nurse recommended an ice pad for his face and a lollipop to soothe Aslan's feelings.

"I'll write you both an excuse, so you can get back to class." The nurse tells me, scribbling across her notepad. Aslan dreamily sat on a stool adjacent from me, sulking with his head tilted against a desk. He folded his arms across his chest dejectedly.

"So you're telling me, you have no idea who could've done this to you?" I roll my eyes at the nurse again, clearly Aslan won't admit that Silver is the one who jacked him up. He refuses. It's like he won't dare say his name.

"I have no clue, lady." Aslan coated.

It was my turn to scoff underneath my breathe.

The nurse simply nodded before fixating her fish bowl glasses above her nose. She stands, smoothening out her blouse before leaving the office that only me and Aslan now occupied.

"I don't get it," my eyes remain casted outside of the window, but I knew Aslan had been listening. It took maybe thirty minutes before he surfaced back to consciousness again. Quicker than any man I've seen after being knocked out cold.

"Why won't you tell on him?" I finally ask.

Aslan sheepishly shrugs, his memorable tresses being leveled out into finger waves. "What is there to tell?" He questions, all out of gracefulness.

Heavier than before, I sigh harder wanting to submerge into cushion chair. "Oh I don't know. Some weird guy beats you to a bloody pulp. Why not do something about it!" I exclaimed in a glowering tone.

Blame my confusion, but I wouldn't care to protect someone who doesn't care about rearranging my face. In Aslan's case, maybe he's too good of a person. Whereas, I'd be singing like a bird in jail to tell on the guy who slung me around like a paperweight.

In a weird way, I'd say Aslan reminded me of a ball of sunshine, if he weren't just covered in blood and sweat. His hair was damn near perfectly framed, he had these big lips. His lips were naturally pink aswell.

I couldn't shake this feeling that something other worldly was about him, and it wasn't just his outward appearance.

Aslan only smirks at my dramatics, and even with a scarred lip; his demeanor alone teases me. "You don't know me at all Delilah." He daringly decreases the space between us only to rip off his wrist bandage, revealing its propensity. "You don't think I can take a punch or two and not give a damn about it?" He seethes.

"You win some and you lose some." Aslan falls back into his resting position, everything about himself was reddened and vulnerable. His torn energy leaked from his pores; his handsome crown had tilted. "It looks to me like you lost more than some." I began with a grin spreading across my lips.

"You've lost plenty." I proposed, with a single eyebrow raised.

Before I could register, Aslan rose to his feet beginning to tear away all of his bandaids and protective ligature. He exits through the door with me hot on his heel. Out of discomfort, he toys with something in his jacket pocket which sounded to me like some car keys.

"Hey! What happened between you two in the first place." Curiosity ate away at the best of us, I figured it wouldn't serve much to ask. Especially because it looked like he'd gone a few rounds against God.

Whatever Aslan had done, it must've been something gravely enough to piss the domineering, Silver eyed guy off. Given reason, Silver acted out like he intended to seriously do harm to Aslan, who'd been nothing but a cool guy if you ask me.

But I barely know him, it's too soon to decide what might've happened between the two. Silver though, I could tell had a nasty attitude. Aslan stood no chance.

Aslan slid into his car, an amiable yellow mustang. Everyone must've been rich or came from abundant families here in the town of Bellingham. I could tell he was of money, by the cologne and flaunting aroma which tickled my nose once I opened the car door.

"I'll tell you what went down when we get there," Aslan grumbles, after making a gesture for me to join him, so I do.

I climb into the passenger seat.

With only a little hesitation, I eventually get comfortable inside of Aslan's car. He signaled for me to buckle my seatbelt, which I did also. "Wait, where are we going?" I found it to be a rather ironic time to ask, now that we were leaving the parking Lott of the school. He didn't waste any time, speeding down the road.

"Well isn't it obvious?" I watched as Aslan, combed his hair cooly through the rear view mirror.

The real precaution wasn't the seatbelt, but me easily getting into a vehicle with an absolute stranger. Why do I keep doing that? Aslan just got into a fight, he could murder me with his imbedded rage for all I know.

"Isn't what obvious?" I side eyed him with suspicion.

He peaks over at me, "How about I formally introduce myself for reassurance," I smirked at his angst and intrusive means at communicating.

"Aslan Whiting. I doubt a serial killer would tell you their name if they had intentions on killing you." Aslan reprimands the idea that he's fine even despite not looking the part.

The decorative swollen cheek confesses otherwise.

"We're going back to my place. My bed will relieve me." At this notion, I couldn't agree more. A smile jerks lowly on my lips, watching Aslan turn the music up by the dial.

In the history of first days, mine seems to continue to escalate its course of action. One minute I'm in a staring contest with Silver, committed to stopping a fight, and the next I'm in a car with a dirty blonde with a bloody hairline and sullen violet eyes.

It didn't take long for us to arrive to Aslan's home, mostly because he was driving really fast like a mad man. The front lawn was clean, two other expensive cars were parked out in front. My mouth was laid agape as my gaze traveled higher up the five story house, reminding me that everyone who resided in this town banked buttloads of cash. What else was Aslan gate keeping?

Not until we walked up the flight of stairs did it dawn on me that this was the same house me, Darcy and Robin attended the day of the party. That was three days ago, my first real taste in a new setting that was rapidly changing.

"Make yourself comfortable." Aslan amused, peeking at me with longer eyelashes. He appeared bashful but my baffled reaction must've made him laugh.

"Is this really your home?" I ask, immediately rolling over to collapse onto the living room couch. "Where are your parents?"

Aslan looked down at me before plopping on the opposite end of the couch as well, moving a pillow underneath my feet. "No parents. Just me and my brother." My eyes couldn't help but to drift toward the gigantic flat screen, my favorite movie just had to be playing.

Troy, a solidified tale about the infamous Trojan hero, Hector. Brad Pitt as Achilles was totally good casting.

"He'll be home any minute now." I nod filled with daze as Aslan twists a drinking glass in front of my face. Smugly, "What is that?" I ask. I send this dirty blonde godly-looking guy a mischievous glimpse, as if to cue what happened to me last time I drank suspicious goldish-brown liquids.

"It's not alcohol, if that's what you're at least hoping." Aslan makes me chuckle whole heartedly at this. "Not funny!" I exclaimed, "Why would I be hoping for that?" I lightly push the glass away from my reach as if it were poisonous. Aslan smirks wildly, violent eyes were set ablaze into slits like a serpent.

I couldn't help but to think deep down, that I was starting to make a new friend and how easy it was. One who matched my humor, who also just happened to be devilishly attractive. Could Aslan be anymore charismatic than he already was?

"Something to take the edge off, but it's far from alcoholic, I can promise you that." Aslan takes a seat beside me on the couch, soaking in beside my feet. He lifts my legs, raising them to place on his lap while I perched on the opposite end on a pillow. Becoming reassured, eventually I sip at the amber substance. Aslan seems satisfied enough that I was actually relaxing.

"You say only you and your brother lives in this house?" There it was again. Curiosity eluding my mouth with personal inquires.

"Just me and my brother." Aslan curtly replies. "And a few friends who stay here and there."

My attention couldn't help but to scatter back to the television after seeing Brad Pitt flash on screen out of the corner of my eye. Such a fine specimen he was, with those oceanic pupils and dazzling teeth. As if just on cue, I heard a car pulling up outside.

"Think that might be him," Aslan began to exit the living room when quickly someone began hustling around outside of the door, admitting their key into the slot. "It is him."

I shuffled to my feet, reading my hospitality to greet whoever reveals themselves from the outside. Wanting to make a decent friendly impression.

The door opens and who I expect to see is the last guy I thought would be related to Aslan.

This man is obviously bolder, taller in stance. Displaying the same prominent frown as he did in the bar the other night. His chest was heaving up and down as if he'd just ran thirty miles and yet a drop of sweat nor sway had revered his figure. Quickly at the sight of him, I wanted to morph to become smaller. Oddly, I wanted to shrivel up in my place like a plant.

If only I could remember his name.

"What is she doing here, Aslan?" The man doesn't have to narrow his eyes to send Aslan a deadly stare to the grave. Maybe he was pissed. I just needed to properly introduce myself.

Before Aslan could speak, I reach out my hand towards his older brother before forcing a showcase of teeth in a smile. "Hi, I'm Delilah. A friend of your brother's, nice to meet you." Aslan watches the exchange.

"Don't get me started, I know who you are." Shyly I looked down at my hands, anywhere else but to back at his presence which demanded my attention. Just as he walks by, stopping behind the couch, the air shifted. The world pauses as his hands grip the couch cushion behind my head.

"You can't be his friend. Aslan doesn't have friends."

"It's not what it may seem," Aslan steps towards us, realizing his brother refused to acheknmoledge me directly. His attention was focused on Aslan and his apparent bruises on his face.

"Don't be rude, you have to speak Wes." I was grimacing at this point, snatching my hand away midair from the brother, Wesley, who grits his teeth after noticing my empty hand. What was happening right now? He was being bluntly indifferent toward me.

After sighing broadly, Wesley appeared bored out of his mind. Flexing his jaw, he finally decides to look me in the eyes with such a translucent gaze. Could he see through me?

"Nice to meet you for a second time. I am Wesley," while folding his arms across his chest, he leans cooly against the living room wall. It was evident, he thought he was Mic Jagger or somebody.

"And it's you, I don't really care to know." He grins, complacently.

"Trouble." Wesley scoffed, more to himself.

"What are you doing here?"Wesley's demeanor alone is fervent, I was beginning to heatedly shake within my skin. Not from fear, not from anger but out of anxiousness.

A ball of stars began shaking inside of my hull of flesh, prepared to burst and implode. "In 5 minutes she better be gone, Aslan." From Wesley, he doesn't dare to even look my way.

I turned around before pushing pass Wesley's shoulder, but even he was too hot from the touch of my skin, it has me snatching myself away, staggering backward.

"Wait, Delilah! You don't have to leave." Aslan bolts to stand in front of the door, I could jump his bones right now if I wasn't so mad.

"I think I should." I interject, attempting to grasp the door knob but Aslan deflects my advance.

"Why were you home so early today Aslan." Wesley begins his interrogation, strolling into the kitchen in the process. Forgetting my lack of importance so easily, he must've given up on ridding me. "Did you skip school again?" Wesley pours a glass of the same amber liquid I drank, succumbing it to his lips.

"No, I hadn't." Aslan answers honestly. My hand still hadn't left its place on the door, but neither had Aslan stopped shielding the exit.

"Just got into a fight today with guy." Wesley tosses his head back, allowing his drink to slush around in his mouth.

Becoming even more lively with arrogance, "Did you win? Who was it? Better question-" Wesley stirred with excitement at the mention of an altercation-as if the gashes in his brother's arm wasn't proof enough that it happened. "Why did you fight?" Wesley quizzes.

Aslan finally looks me down from head to toe, captivating my murky irises with his flooded violet ones. The tension in his shoulder had eased up, as he began to allow me to leave. It was true, that deep down he really didn't want to fight. He didn't have much of a choice.

"I showed interest in something that belonged to him." This him, Aslan referred to was evidently Silver and I couldn't help but to think how greedy Silver must've been to fight over something as stupid as material or possession or both. Again, men and their sickly egos.

"What's wrong with that." I found myself asking. I could legitimately feel Wesley's line of vision hovering over my body without even facing him.

I heard the sound of Wesley dragging his whiskey bottle up the side of the stairs with him, moving around sluggishly. This conversation was now only between me and Aslan as he spoke to me gently and softly.

"I wanted to take it from him."