Stalking the Matt

My alarm went off at six in the morning that friday. I was unhappy about it, but rose dutifully. I always arrived early at school in order to escape my father's morning moods. He was not a morning person. Normally, I was the only one in the school for the first thirty minutes, aside from the staff. So when I arrived to find another vehicle in the student parking lot, I was momentarily stupified. Then I recognized it.

It was one of the DerLeon's cars. The black one. It had to be Evan's. 

Suddenly, I felt my breath catch, and my palms begin to sweat. This was highly uncharacteristic of me and I couldn't help but wonder if Evan really was different. I put the thoughts from my mind and got out of my car, gathering my bag over my shoulder. 

The school was cool, echoey and empty as usual. The way I preferred it. Making my way to my locker in the science corrider though, I heard the rattling of an unyeilding locker door. Curiousity took over, and I veered towards the sound. Around the corner, wrestling with the metal door, was Evan, his features scrunched in irritation. 

"... Evan? What are you doing?" I asked cautiously, stopping still several metres away.

His head jerked up at the sound of his voice. "Oh, uh. I didn't expect anybody to be here this early." He stepped back back from the lockers. "It's bent and I can't get it open," he said, sounding a little bit guilty.

I frowned and stepped closer. After inspecting it from afar for a minute, I knew why it was keeled in around the lock. "This was my locker two years ago. I bent it," I admitted, not a bit of guilt in my voice. "Lift and pull." I reached forward, gave a sharp upwards pull and it eased openly silently. 

"Why?" he asked, watching me closely with his green eyes. 

"Someone stole from my locker, so I decided that a lock wasn't enough security. They couldn't figure out how to open it." I shrugged.

"That's not what I meant. Why did you help me?" He spoke slowly and carefully.

I blinked. "Because ... you needed it." 

Evan's look was contemplative, thoughtful. "Thanks." 

I simply nodded and turned to head back to my own locker, when a touch to my shoulder stopped me. "Hm?"

"I know we're practically strangers, but I don't know anybody in this whole city." His eyebrows contracted faintly, his lips tight. I understood what he wanted without him having to say it. He wanted a friend.

"Yeah, sure." I added a smile for good measure. Truthfully, I was thrilled. This beautiful, strange boy wanted me to be his friend. He knew my name. "Do you have your schedule?"

Evan procured a sheet of paper and offered it to me. He had almost all the same classes as me. While I had art, he had drama. And where I had physics, he had French. Aside from that our classes were the same. PE, English, Math, Chemistry and History. I listed the differences, but he seemed pleased. After throwing his bag into his locker, he tagged along to mine.

"Where are you from, Evan?" I asked conversationally. I wasn't particularly skilled with people; it wasn't my sutre. 

He shrugged one shoulder. "Around. We move a  lot," he said lightly. "How long has it been just you and your dad?" 

I stopped, and turned slowly to face him. His face was politely interested, but his eyes were intense. "What made you come to that conclusion?" 

Turning his head away as though thinking deeply, he answered, "You never glanced over your shoulder, not once, while your father spoke. You weren't expecting anyone to arrive or exit your house. You're defensive, and unyielding." He paused.

"Good answer. A while." I closed my locker and faced him. The feeling of his eyes on my face made my skin prickle; he was unnervingly intense. "Is your equilibrium naturally that good?" 

Evan didn't miss a beat. He knew exactly what I was talking about. "Trained."

Before he could ask his question, I asked, "In what?"

He cast a rueful half smile my way. "Dance."

I couldn't stop the suprise that passed over my face. He smiled. "Finally. A real emotion. You're very difficult, do you know that?"

"Difficult, how?" I said defensively, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"You very unexpressive, very closed off. It makes you intensely intriguing." Evan smiled quite openly and I wanted to simply stare at his face, taking in every detail of his strangely beautiful face. I looked away.

I collected my wits very quickly. "I'm afraid I'm not really that interesting beyond my rough exterior." My voice was sharper than I intended. I was shocked to find him leaning in almost too close to me.

"I'll believe that when I see it," he said in a hushed voice that made my breath stop. Evan was becoming an annoyingly attractive mystery. He smiled widely, happy with his victory. 

I managed not to smile. "We're wrestling in PE this week." Trying to switch the subject and regain ground in this unspoken battle of wits, I closed my locker and began towards the gym without checking to see if Evan was following. 

He fell naturally into step beside me, as though we had walked the hallways like this hundreds of time before. It was strange, and I felt unusually comfortable. A nice change for a socially challenged person such as myself. 

"Co-ed on the matt?" Evan asked, his voice innocent, but mischevious. 

"Yes."

"Go a round with me, then?" There was a challenge in his voice. I was hungry to meet it, as I was almost all good challenges.

"Are you ready to be beaten by a girl?"

"Beaten at the hands of Rowan Greeve, I doubt I would feel any shame." Evan was dead serious; I could hear the weight in his musical voice. 

"You're observation skills are excellent." Honestly, I was quite flattered, but suspicious. I don't know why, exactly.

He was quiet for a long time after that. We made it all the way to the gym before he spoke again. "Why are you doing this?"

I had to stop for a short moment for understood what he meant. Then I turned on him. "Is it really so strange?" Was it strange for me to want to be his friend, simply because? Was it strange for him to be likeable?

He blinked. Evan, for once, looked as though the question had never occurred to him. "I'm a stranger to you."

"And I to you, Evan. Do you always question other people like this?" My voice was more cutting then I meant it to be, but Evan seemed happy with my rebuke.

"No. Are there gym uniforms?" he said cheerfully, smiling brightly at me.

Everytime I thought I'd gotten used to his handsomely strange face, he smiled at me and I was drawn in again. He had a very charming smile, really, with lovely white teeth and perfectly shaped lips. Taking a breath and pulling my eyes away from his face, I said, "Yes."

"Why? There aren't regular uniforms."

I pulled open the door. "It's to prevent inappropriate behaviour in the co-ed classes." I paused before adding, "I think it's to prevent distraction."

Evan chuckled. "Pants and a t-shirt then?" 

"Shorts and tank tops," I corrected him as we walked into the gym. 

"Because that's much more appropriate," he said sarcastically, but I could hear a laugh in his voice. 

We meandered over to the PE office to find Mr Barkoff tipped back in his chair, reading a book named 'Blonde Bounties'. I doubted it was school appropriate, but I didn't comment. 

"Good morning, Mr Barkoff," I said, leaning against his doorframe. Evan hovered behind me. 

Mr Barkoff started abruptly, dropping his book in his hurried attempt to hide it. "Oh, uh, Rowan, you're early today! Wh-who this behind you?" he said, nervously running a hand over his shadowed chin.

"Mr Barkoff, this is my friend, Evan DerLeon. This is his first day." He blanched as I introduced Evan as my friend; as far as anyone knew, I didn't make friends. He completely missed the last part, so I prompted him, "He needs a uniform."

"Oh yes! Yes. Well, Evan, what size are you?" Mr Barkoff stood and moved to open the cabinet containing the spare uniforms.

Evan told him the size and frowned only faintly at the faded black uniform, before thanking him. I said good-bye to the gym teacher and we settled on a bench near the change rooms. There was only a little bit of time left before class started. Evan deftly turned the overwashed clothing over his hands. He had pianist fingers, I noted, long and agile, but callused and scarred. 

Class got underway shortly, and began without incident. Mr Barkoff introduced Evan to the class. A few of the girls shuffled together to giggle and glance over at him every few minutes, wearing their most innocent expressions. I scowled. We were all hustled onto the mat to start the warm-ups. 

There was three rounds of grappling on the rubbery mat, shoving and pushing, and occasionally rolling each other out of bounds, out of the white circle on the mat. I came out on top once, then was content to be outted. I couldn't tell if Evan even cared. He shoved and jostled around like any other, grinning playfully. He sat next to me, legs stretched in front of him, leaning back on his hands, while Mr Barkoff recalled the rules of one on one rounds. 

The objective was to either get the other out of the ring, or pin them. Co-ed was fine. Both participants had to be consenting to the match. No blood shed. Simple, right? Well, the co-ed portion led to a fair amount of ridiculous actions. Girls fell into self-defeating fits of giggling and boys took opportunities to place they're hands where they didn't necessarily belong. Evan watched in silence, his smile gone, his eyes narrowed. 

I watched Evan for as much time I did those on the mat. He was almost entirely still, eyes always on the others, as though calculating and assessing their actions. Eventually, Evan glanced over, seemingly unsuprised by my staring. 

"Shall we?" he intoned, gesturing towards the mat with an airy wave. I nodded and we stood simultaneosly. I was amused by the general hush that fell. Even Mr Barkoff came to attention.

We took our spots across from each other, standing with our feet apart knees bent. Mr Barkoff blew the whistle and Evan made an inexperienced grab for my shoulders. Acting instinctively, I hooked one arm under his shoulder, grabbed his other wrist, and flipped him over my hip. He landed hard on his back on the mat with a grunt of surprise. His sharp green eyes brightened as he rolled back to his feet. He made another grab, but feinted and dived for my hips, a grin tugging at his lips. Evan moved so fast, I barely saw him. But I did see him. 

As we went down, I pulled my knees up and braced my feet against his bare knees.  My back struck the mat and I shoved with my legs, flipping the once again surprised Evan over onto his back again. And rather then back away this time, I rolled over and immediately locked in a half-nelson.

"Surrender?" I breathed in his ear. 

He responded with what I could only describe as a growl; a low, rumble emanating from deep in his chest. I froze, staring at the back of his dark red hair. It was fine, but thick, soft under my fingers. While I was stunned, he slid out of my half-nelson and flipped me onto my back. His fingers pressed my wrists to the mat, straddling my hips and hooking my knees with his ankles. Evan's face was mere inches from mine, eyes bright. 

"Never," his whispered, smirking. His breath was warm and minty. My breath hitched slightly in my chest.

I twisted my wrists experimentally. I only had seconds before I was declared pinned. They were stuck. I bucked my legs and Evan was momentarily lurched forward. It was enough. 

I pulled myself forward to get leverage and shoved his arms up. His elbows buckled, and I rolled him onto his back, but lay across his heaving chest, rather than bar the individual parts of his body. He tried to squirm free, but his ten seconds was up, and Mr Barkoff called a pin. 

"Impressive, Evan, you almost had her," he said as we got to our feet. A general murmur ran through the class and the regular chit chat began again. Evan and I both returned to our seats at the side of the mat.

"You're a quick learner," I said, crossing my legs.

"Not really. I'm extremely stubbourn." His voice was light, but I detected a faint change in his tone. Something defiant.

I looked at him closely. "You aren't often beaten are you?"

"I'm not often let around people at all," he said quietly, and I narrowed my eyes. That didn't make sense. But he wasn't expanding, so I didn't push it.  

"Do you hunt?" I asked, and the shock on his face made me wonder if I'd offended him. 

"Why do you ask?" he asked suspiciously, glinting green eyes narrowed. 

I shrugged, suddenly not wanting to explain myself. Something about the way the air  around him sharpened made me feel like it was necessary to protect my observations; the way he studied the others, the assessment, the stalking, most of all, the growl. For now, I was keeping it all to myself. "Just wondering."

Author's Note

It's not perfect.