A month passed since Antonio and I last spoke.

On week one, he didn't show up at school, which made it easy for us to avoid each other. Regardless, he was all that occupied my thoughts.

On week two, he started coming to school, although he didn't sit with us at lunch, or annoy me in biology, or take me to the spot after school. He went back to his old ways: sitting with his brainless friends at lunch, smoking in between classes, and winding up in detention.

On week three, he started looking at me. He'd see me in the halls and stare. He would set his eyes on me in the cafeteria, but he wouldn't approach me. He'd just stare. I could never tell what exactly he was thinking.

And now we were onto week four.

It was the last day at school before the winter break. I suppose it was really the last chance for Antonio and I to talk, as we likely wouldn't be in contact over the break, given the terms we'd left off of.

After school, I pushed through the double doors with Lily.

"Freedom!" She dramatically inhaled the cold air.

I laughed at her, though my amusement subsided once I saw Antonio leaning against the wall, only a few feet away from us. He met my eyes before I could even register that I'd been staring at him.

One hand was in the pocket of his black jacket, the other loosely held a cigarette to his lips. He stood with his chattering friends, though it didn't quite look like he was listening to what they were saying. Lily was talking to me, though her voice went in one ear and out the other.

The cig in his hand, the dark eye bags, the five o'clock shadow, the pale skin, the tousled hair—Antonio looked as a tired as a thirty year old man did during tax season. Though, he still looked as striking as ever.

We stared at each other for a second, and there was a brief moment where the world stopped. The moment was over in the blink of an eye. He looked away first, resuming as if nothing had even happened. I began to walk down the parking lot with Lily, my heart cracking just a little...

I went back home and crawled into bed. I attempted to take a nap, as the school day had utterly drained me, though my thoughts kept me up. I wondered if Antonio thought about me as much as I thought about him. The odds were not in my favor. The past month was proof of that. He resumed life as if he'd never even met me. Although, maybe he'd been waiting for me to approach him first. What if he thought I wasn't ready to talk to him? After all, I did walk out on him that day.

I sighed and began to make my way over to Jo's room, in desperate need of some girl-talk.

"Jo–oh!" I shrieked and immediately slammed her bedroom door shut.

A mixture of disgust and happiness overtook me. I ran back to my room and jumped onto my bed, before whipping out my phone to text Benny.

His reply was almost instant.

I laughed at the Benny-like reply and glanced up, but as I did so, I shrieked and fell off my bed. A pair of eyes were watching me from my bedroom window. Though, not just any pair of eyes...

After regaining my senses and pinching myself to make sure I wasn't hallucinating, I rushed to the opposite side of my room and unlatched the window. With shock evident on my face, I watched as Antonio's tall body crawled into my room.

"You got any mittens?" He groaned, rubbing his hands together.

And those were the words that broke the ice.

I wanted to laugh and cry. How could he just waltz in here as if this were normal?

"You creep! How long were you sitting there?" I grabbed the first object I saw—a purse propped up on my dresser—and whacked him with it.

Considering it was about the size of my hand, it probably didn't do much damage. Dramatic as ever, Antonio yelped and rubbed his shoulder.

"Ouch, Flower!"

"That did not hurt." I hit him again as if to say, see?

"I'm serious, you've got a strong hand." He grabbed the purse away from me. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

I stopped. He wasn't only apologizing for watching me through my bedroom window like a creep. He was apologizing for our fight.

Antonio carefully set my purse back on my dresser and gauged my reaction. I blew wisps of my curly hair out of my face. Although I wanted to hold a grudge, I knew I couldn't.

I sat down on the edge my bed and took in his appearance. A black beanie rested atop his head. Tufts of his dark hair peeked out from underneath it. His dark eyes analyzed me, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. His jaw was tense and his stance was rigid, as if he was almost nervous to begin.

"The second you walked out of Benny's house that day, I wanted to stop you," he began honestly.

"I wanted you to stop me too," I couldn't help but admit.

"I had no right speaking to you that way. I guess I was partly in denial. To hear someone label it as abuse, it felt too real."

He stared deep into my eyes. It was funny how our eyes were the same color, brown, yet completely different. Mine were light, glassy, big. His were vigilant, intimidating, dark—so dark they were borderline black. Eyes are the windows to the soul. What did that say about you, Antonio? What made you this dark, this closed off? Your troublesome behavior at school, your class clown attitude—is it just a mask? A façade, so no one finds out what things are really like for you?

I bit my lip and shifted over, a silent offer for him to sit next to me on the bed. He obliged.

"I've never had someone care as much as you do," Antonio admitted, rubbing his face. "I didn't want to wrap you up in my problems, so I pushed you away. But I immediately regretted what I said once you'd gone, and if I could take it all back, I would."

He clutched onto my hand. The coldness met the warmth of my own, and I shivered.

"Say something, Flower." His eyes desperately roamed over my face.

"I'm sorry too."

He frowned and almost instantly stopped me, but I wouldn't let him.

"No, I really am," I shook my head. "I was too hasty. I tried to force you to get help, without considering what you wanted–if you were even ready for it. I just wanted to help you."

"But you did help," he gently murmured. "Riding your bike all the way to the other side of town just to talk to me—you care about me, don't you?"

And there it was. His signature smirk.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I stuck out my tongue. "Anyways... I'm also sorry for not telling you about my mother."

"No," he firmly stated. "Don't apologize for that. You don't owe me anything."

I looked away. "That's not the way I wanted to tell you."

He curiously looked at me, but did not ask any questions. He could see I wasn't ready to tell him, and he was respecting my boundaries. Our grips on each other's hands tightened.

"I missed you these past few weeks," I admitted, doing a poor job at concealing my blush.

"I missed you too, Flower," he replied, sincerity painting his features. "I didn't want us to spend the winter break mad at each other. I knew I had to see you today."

"I was never mad in the first place," I smiled.

Antonio didn't smile back, but I could see the warmth in his eyes as he gazed at me. He gave me the look. The look that warmed my insides and brought butterflies to my stomach.

On another day, I would've reprimanded him for the look. Today, it only made me smile.

• • •