At some point during the walk Rachel had tied her hair back because of the wind. She was fixing her hair since even though it was tied back small pieces had escaped from their prison. The hair tie was pulled out completely as she worked out the knots the breeze had caused. Our jackets were tossed carelessly to the side of the room so that now her hair was down against her long sleeved shirt which hung slightly baggy on her so that the fabric did not cling onto her body like most of the girls in our school wore theirs. She fixed it so that the strands were neither too high on her head nor loose at the top of her neck. I couldn't help notice the light catching the waves that rolled down her back almost like gold.
"I'm still freezing!" Rachel said, breaking the silence as I realized that I was staring at her again.
"Do you want to borrow a sweatshirt?" I offered as she spun her body so that she was positioned in front of me.
"I'll be fine, thanks though," she answered quickly; she crossed her arms over her chest as she scanned the room.
I raised an eyebrow at the girl before me
"It won't kill you to accept help; I'm just offering a sweatshirt. I promise no harm can come from a sweatshirt," I ranted, hands coming out of my pockets out with emphasis.
Rachel shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The room filled up in utter stillness and not the comfortable kind. I ran my fingers through my hair. I was as happy as the time I wore the itchy wool sweater my great aunt got me for Christmas when I was younger. Then there was quiet that filled the room awkwardly just like the first day of school when you’re trying to scan the cafeteria for a friend.
"So, are you ready to go?" I asked, my voice softer than earlier.
"Sure," Rachel responded, with a tint of bitterness or maybe annoyance; I wasn't sure with her.
"I wonder what we'll have for dinner," I thought out loud.
Rachel chuckled. "You and your stomach!"
I put my hands on my stomach. "My stomach and I have gotten through some pretty awesome meals over the years." I grinned as I looked down at her as we made our way back to the dining hall.
She raised her eyebrow at me. "Are you in a relationship with your stomach?" Rachel posed.
"A very nice one if you ask me."
"We're going to fail," Rachel muttered as she fiddled with her necklace that held a single wing.
"Nah, you wouldn't know how to fail even if you were given instructions." I snorted.
"If I was given instructions, how could I fail?" she inquired as she stared at me.
"Don't poke holes in my logic," I responded quickly before poking her hoop earring.
"Aw, but, Nick it's so much fun," Rachel faked a whine.
I grinned, I haven't seen too much of this side of Rachel before. She always seemed to have her guard up, and with the, 'this is school, and things need to get done’ attitude.
"Whatever, blondie," I chuckled.
"Don't call me that." Rachel laughed, her voice was stern though.
Silence overcame us yet I could see her out the corner of my eye attempting to hold back her smile by pressing her lips together and biting down. A lopsided grin formed on my own face. Walking into the conference room the students were all over the place, so Rachel and I took our seats from earlier.
"Hey, Rachel!" Bridget waved as we got to the table, her eyes covered in dark make-up.
"Hey, Bridget, I see you haven't killed Dill yet," Rachel spoke up while Dill had his back to us all so that his attention seemed to be elsewhere.
Bridget glared at the brunette next to her. "Don't tempt me," was all that Bridget said through gritted teeth.
I chuckled, oh how I knew how Dill was. Part of the guy code, make fun of each other. "Yo," I called over, which got Dill's attention.
Dill half turned, did a semi wave before finishing off his conversation with someone from the table near us. I rolled my eyes. What a buddy. Rachel beside me let out a giggle, probably at something Bridget had said. She glanced down at the placing before her. I shook my attention as food was placed in front of me which I dug right into without a second thought. I didn't even try to attempt to start up another conversation with Dill who usually was as enthusiastic as me with food. I kept peeking over at Rachel who was poking around the pasta sauce, pushing away the clumps of tomatoes instead of actually eating the meal. As I chewed, I watched her taking a small bite.
"You eating?" I asked, fusing my eyebrows together.
Her face scrunched, not even looking at me. "I hate tomatoes."
"This is completely normal for Rachel, trust me," Bridget informed me before taking in a good bite herself.
I nodded my head still observing the blond girl besides me.
"I have eating habits like a five-year-old," Rachel continued as she skimmed a couple of strands before putting the bundled portion into
