I drop off Beck and then drive to my own house, letting Layne out to walk the three houses down to her own house.

"I had fun. Thanks," Layne says as she moves to get out, "You're a good friend, KJ."

"I'm glad you had fun," I go through the motions to get her out my car. My introverted soul can only handle so much socialization before I feel myself crashing and burning, "See you Monday."

She nods and skips her way home and I pull around back to park. Inside I immediately collapse into bed, faced with a hundred some pieces of paper taped to my sealing, glow in the dark bible quotes written above.

When I was younger I was much more into the Jesus thing than I was now. Not to say the good news didn't give me any comfort, but that it didn't give me as much comfort as it did when I was say, thirteen. I'd been through so much in the last couple years that it was hard not to look in the sky and question the supposed man upstairs. I tried not to, but occasionally I'd catch myself slippin' with the what if type of questions.

But I try to be a good Christian, regardless. I swear it.

My phone flashes and I glance at it.

THE SOCIOPATH: So you and Layne....

I open the attachment. It's screen shots from Layne's instagram, which has been flooded with pictures, tons of them featuring me. Most of them are labeled 'PRACTICE PHOTOGRAPHY' but I'm in a lot of them. Honestly I don't even know when she took these?

The one's I'm not in were clearly taken with me present, as a few are obviously from the view she must've had hiding in my truck bed.

Me: I've never seen these photos before in my life

THE SOCIOPATH: Makes me wonder what you think about when you're with her...

I shoot off a text to Layne about photography and consent before powering my phone off completely and being dragged into a fitful sleep.

***

Everyone glances at me, their eyes pouring through me. Yasmin. Jonah. My other homies from NCT. Even Graves- they all stare at me, whispering to each other. Suddenly, my classmates begin to duplicate, their piercing eyes turning black. Their whispers swelling into a thundering voice, piercing through my thoughts, my voice, my entire body.

"Gay. Gay. Gay. Gay. Gay."

I cower down, the weight of the words forcing my into the ground, until I'm six feet under. Buried under a pile of lies.

Suddenly, I'm forced through the ground, falling into an empty field. I don't know why, but I take off running, something a kin to a shadow chasing me. I don't know how I know, but I know that it's dangerous. I can't see it, but I know that it has a gun. I know that it's trying to kill me.

I don't however know why it's trying to kill me.

I swerve from the way of a lone tree, dodging them until the field is slowly eaten up and turned into full forest, the trees clumping together as I progress, the shadow rapidly gaining on me. I attempt to run faster-- but to know avail.

Knowing I can' t out run it, I drop down, quickly hiding myself away in a cluster of bushes and underbrush. Even being a shadow, it's foot steps are heavy. I hear it approach the brush I've stolen away in. And then I hear the cocking of a barrel.

***

I startle awake just before dream me is shot to death. I glance at my phone, dry as the Sahara, for the time. Two in the morning. Too scared to possibly attempt to go back to sleep, I grab an energy drink from my stash and knock it back, stretching out once again on my bed. I don't always remember my dreams, but when I do, they're nightmares. When I blink, the leftover images flash across my eye lids.

Sleep, I decide, is a conjurer of bullshit.

I plug in my headphones, hoping to kill my thoughts with the melodic flows of J.Cole and Kendrick.

When I wake again, I'm better energized, the caffeine having processed through my body and into my blood. Wired with nervous energy I change and hit the pavement, going for a morning jog instead of a late one.

As soon as I pass Layne's house, she runs out as well, keeping pace with me. My playlist still playing, I don't acknowledge her. A tornado flew around my room...

She hits me, demanding acknowledgement, "Hi, Kaylie Jane."

I stop, "Who told you to call me that?"

"Wren," she stops, "Sorry is that wrong?"

Excuse the mess it made...

"No I was just wondering" for some reason, it sounds nice coming from her, "Like how you happen to be out jogging at the same time I am."

"Oh I hate jogging," she replies, "I was chasing you down. I'm your stalker remember?"

I start jogging again and she follows me, "Oh come on. It's a joke, KJ. I was being funny. You know you like me."

I pause again, "I don't like you. I don't like anyone-- but definitely not you."

"Really? Because I--"

"Nope," I stop her, not concerned with the end of her sentence, "I'm not allowed to like anyone before the age of twenty-five, per the rules."

"The rules?" she stands in confusion and I take the opportunity to run into the woods. Morning runs are better than jogs anyway.

I reach home in just enough time to shower and change into my church clothes. Sunday morning I attend service with my family and then immediately after I volunteer at the nursery downstairs.

In the actual service, I pull out my sketch book, sketching the little I still remember of my dream, my pastor droning on in the background.

"Stop inviting devils into your life. Whether that be in getting a job that draws you away from church, partaking in media with secular morals, forbidden romances that you know you shouldn't be having, friends and family that pull you back instead of propelling you forward... All of these things can and will lead to your destruction. The devil is no longer needing to announce himself anymore. He is slick. And he will hit you where he knows it will hurt."

My phone buzzes and I glance at it.

NAPKIN GIRL: So what I'm hearing is I have a chance in about seven years?

I start to reply, but instead leave the message unread, turning my phone off completely. Not today Satan.

***

"You're so bad at texting back," Layne immediately reprimands me Monday afternoon, sliding into my car, "It's rude."

"Sorry," I dryly reply, "We can't all always be glued to our phones."

"I'm not asking you to be glued," she mumbles, "At least acknowledge me..."

I can tell from the tone of her voice that she's serious and I've actually hurt her--- but pride wins over everything else in me telling me to apologize.

At NCT Layne hops out the car before I can even stop the ignition and storms into school. I tell myself she'll get over and pull my uniform on over my street clothes before heading into the school. Once I'm changed, I notice Layne talking to another classmate, Lori, in the corner. She glances at me and then quickly goes back to her conversation.

Did see just check to make sure I was looking?

"Parker," the Sociopath greets me as I take my seat, "You and your girlfriend in a fight?"

"My what?" I question. Girlfriend? Bitch where?

"Layne and Kaylie Jane, sitting in a tree~~"

I punch her in the arm, "Shut up."

She hits me back and I hit her again. It's not before long we're in a slap fight with each other, with me winning.

"Hey!" Graves knocks both of us on our heads, "Stop fighting. I don't feel like filling out a referral today."

The bell rings and Layne takes her seat in our row and class starts. My phone buzzes and I sneak a peek at it, using my textbooks to head it from view. When I see it's from Layne--- I purposely stare at her and slide it back into my pocket. We hold eye-contact as she watches me ignore her text messages. We continue our death stares for a few minutes until the moment is broken by the class standing and moving. Class has started.

I glance down at the recipe that somehow appeared in front of me. Chocolate chip cookies.

We spread out in the kitchen, Layne assigned to the station farthest from me. I work next to Lori, asking about her summer and how school's going.

"What's up with you and Layne?" Lori interrupts our small talk to get in my business.

I shrug, "I don't know what you mean. Did she say something to you?"

"Nah. But she talks about you a lot. Kept glancing at you. Are y'all dating?"

I shake my head, starting to be irritated, "We're just friends."

"So you don't mind if I steal her from you?" I probably forgot to mention, but Lori is hella gay.

Anger boils in my belly unexpectedly and I repress it, "Take her. It'll keep her off my back." I add in a dry chuckle, but I can tell from how she's looking at me that she's skeptical.

I finish my cookies and slide them into the oven. As more cookies go in, more heat is produced and I start to feel the heat under my heavy chef jacket. In search of relief, I stand in the walk in refrigerator, surprised to see Layne in there, presumably trying to keep cool as well.

As soon as she sees me, she hurries out, brushing past me. I check my phone, sending a snarky comment to something Nat said before reading Layne's text from earlier. Lori's giving her a ride home after school.

I don't question why, when Lori lives a half hour away from us or why when we literally live right next to each other. I don't question anything. I just toss an ambiguous "K" in her direction and continue class as normal.

No bitterness here.

Nope.

None.

Nada.

I swear it.