The QB Bad Boy and Me

by Tayler Marley

  She was beautiful. Olive skin like her brother. Long light-brown hair pulled into twin braids. Looking at her smile, seeing the innocence of a child who had experienced nothing but good in her life and knowing that her end was so evil and brutal, my stomach churned into a nauseated knot.

  Abigail had had her entire life in front of her. A smile like hers was impossible to fake. It was in her eyes, shining like the sun should have on all of her long living days. I could feel sorrow swelling in my chest, which was tight and filled with regret over something that I could never have controlled. But I didn’t want to spoil the moment. “She was gorgeous.”

  “She would have been too pretty,” his voice hitched as he locked the phone again. He pulled the blanket up farther around us. “I can just imagine all of the attention she would have had. I would have ended up in so many fights,” he laughed.

  “I should have ended up in those fights,” he said quietly. I let my head rest against his chest. He wrapped both of his arms around me. “You would have liked her too. She had attitude. It made my dad real proud.”

  “They were close?”

  “Closer than he and I ever were. I think he still blames me for what happened.”

  I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know anything about Leroy apart from the fact that he seemed mildly controlling. But even Drayton said that he used to be cool. Perhaps the father that he once had was hidden beneath grief. A parent should never have to bury their child.

  “How did you guys celebrate your birthday?” I kept steering the conversation back to topics that I hoped would make him smile to remember.

  “We had the same group of friends.” His cheek rested against my head. “We didn’t split up our parties. Mom and Dad did something pretty cool every year. Themed parties until we were ten and then it turned into big sleepovers with games. Spotlight and capture the flag. That sort of thing.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “It was.”

  There was relief again when his tone was lighter. I wasn’t sure how long we spent outside. Drayton talked about Abigail for hours. He laughed and I listened to his stories. Perhaps this was what he needed—someone to encourage remembering in a way that didn’t have to be so painful. It would always hurt. Loss was a wound that never totally healed. It left a scar. And time didn’t mend the damage; it just changed the pain. It became different. But honoring a loved one’s memory was remedial.

  Which was why I found it so heartwarming when Drayton asked me about my mom and dad. He took his turn to listen to the memories that I had. We offered each other strength. An ear. A shoulder to lean on.

  When it got too cold, we went inside. The fire crackled in his bedroom, casting an ambient lighting and we lay beside each other, still sharing tales of a time that was different. We did that until we fell asleep, and I had never felt more in tune or connected to Drayton than I did that night.

  Chapter 22

  In the morning, I cooked breakfast for Drayton. It was his birthday, so it seemed appropriate to deliver it in bed. We ate together. We kissed, we cuddled. He was in a good mood.

  He politely asked that I give him a bit of time alone so that he could go to his sister’s memorial room. I obliged without hesitation and let him know that I’d be showering.

  Josh and Gabby appeared from his room in the middle of the afternoon. They must have come in late last night. The four of us spent a while getting the house organized for the party. We hid valuables in a spare bedroom that could be locked. And not just valuables. Vases. Ornaments. Whatever could end up broken or damaged.

  By nine the house was crawling with not only Archwood students but students from some of the other schools in Castle Rock. Music thudded through the built-in sound system. Voices competed with the songs. The main area of congregation was the rec room downstairs, but there wasn’t enough room, so the first floor was crowded as well.

  People were gathered around the pool table; others had set up a beer-pong match in the kitchen. There was dancing, and the amount of alcohol that flowed through the house was insane— Maxon’s older brother had bought everything for tonight. No one was supposed to know who it was because of the implications, but I was trusted with the information.

  “Hey,” Gabby latched onto my arm the moment I came back from the bathroom. She was wrecked and it wasn’t even ten. “Can you come to the bathroom with me?”

  Never mind the fact that I had told her that I was going two minutes ago and she told me that she didn’t need to.

  We held hands and attempted to get up the staircase, which for some unknown reason had turned into a gathering point. Not to sound like that annoying mom who was constantly reminding everyone that microwaves were cancerous and cell phone towers were going to kill us, but I really didn’t understand why people chose to hang out on the staircase. It was dangerous and it was narrow, hardly the most convenient social setting.

  The bathroom was empty, much to Gabby’s relief. Not that it would have mattered because there were three on this floor alone. I shut the door behind us and she ran in, her heels clacking against the tiles.

  “I am busting. Holy shit,” she stumbled as she hiked up her pink satin dress and fell onto the toilet. A satisfied sigh left her glossed lips.

  I stood in front of the mirror and assessed my hair and makeup as if it could have changed in the minutes that had passed since I was in here last. The new long-sleeved black dress that I’d found on clearance last weekend was fitted with a low-cut neckline and a zip at the front that went from top to bottom. Pairing the short dress with a pair of black platforms gave the illusion that my legs were a hint longer. Silly little stumps.

  Gabby flushed the toilet and stumbled toward the basin with a slurred smile.

  “You look so-o-o-o-o hot,” she gushed, banging on the top of the soap dispenser with a careless thwack. “I’m drunk.”

  “No shit,” I laughed, turning the tap on for her because she’d forgotten to do that before her hands got all slippery with soap.

  When we left the bathroom and headed downstairs in search of another drink for me and a water for Gabby, we bumped into Emily, who was beautified to perfection in a blood-red chiffon dress. She looked down at me as if I was a peasant, unworthy of her presence. What else was new?

  “I was hoping that I might see you tonight,” I said, remembering an idea that I’d had that morning while I was flipping eggs for breakfast. She raised a brow and I let Gabby’s arm go so that she could escape to the kitchen. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, hear me out.”

  She pushed her perfect auburn curls over her shoulder and checked her cell phone. “Maybe on Monday. I’m leaving.”

  “You’ve been here for like fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes. That’s long enough. Believe me.” Her lips curled with distaste as she peered around at all of the excitement. “You’re new to this, but let me explain how it goes. There’s drinking. More drinking. Perhaps a fight. Too much PDA and then Drayton gets so drunk that he can’t stand and it’s embarrassing. But one of these girls is hoping to be his chosen birthday screw. Just be aware.”

  I exhaled and attempted not to laugh at how ironic it was that our roles had sort of switched. I would have been the one leaving in the past. I’d still prefer a quiet night in. But this was about Drayton.

  “Let me guess, you used to be the chosen birthday screw.”

  She looked at me and pursed her lips. “I’ve never slept with him,” she admitted with a small voice. Somehow, she still sounded confident. “He never wanted to.”

  It was hard to determine how serious her crush on him was, but for a brief moment, she seemed hurt, and I once again felt sort of bad for her. It was an unnatural, unwelcome feeling. And then I felt relieved to know that she’d never touched him.

  “Anyway.” She lifted her head and gave me a tap on the shoulder. “I’m leaving. Lincoln is waiting. See if I care about this favor of yours on Monday
. You never know.”

  I watched her leave and figured that going an entire conversation without an insult or the urge to throw down was progress.

  The kitchen was bustling. The large glass doors were shut, but the windows were cracked open because despite the fact that it was freezing outside, the copious amounts of bodies inside were causing a claustrophobic heat. I didn’t love having my phone jostling around against my boob, so I switched it off, dropped it in the utensil drawer, and snatched an unopened bottle of vodka from the cupboard.

  “Dallas.” Gabby shoved her phone in my face, recording a Snapchat while I poured a shot. “Do a keg stand.”

  “You do a keg stand,” I scoffed and threw back my shot. The afterburn made me wince. Gabby recorded me pulling the same face that a baby makes when they eat a lemon wedge.

  “No, I hate beer,” she argued, still filming the conversation. “You’re one of those weird people who actually likes the taste of beer.”

  “Hey, Maxon,” I called to the linebacker who was currently manning the kegs. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and he was well and truly off his face.

  “What’s up, Cheer?” he shouted.

  “Don’t call me that. What’s the current record?”

  “Mitchum!” He pointed at one of our defensemen, who was slouched in a corner, I don’t even think he was conscious. “A minute fifty-six.”

  “That’s a long time to be drinking beer.” I winced. I’d wanted to do it for a challenge, but I also valued having a functional liver.

  “Come on, Cheer.” Maxon lifted the hose and started gyrating around the keg in some sort of disturbing ritualistic dance. “You know you want to.”

  I stood in front of him and scowled. “Call me Cheer again, and I’ll be shoving that hose up your ass.”

  He recoiled and lifted his free hand in surrender.

  “Come on, Dal,” Gabby whooped. “You can do it. I really do believe in you. If Mitchump can do it, you can too.”

  We peered over at the boy who was now throwing up. With the help of his girlfriend, it was being directed into a bowl rather than all over the wall and floor.

  “If I end up in that state,” I pointed out, “you’re looking after me.”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Fine.” I laughed at her intoxicated enthusiasm. She clapped her hands and stepped back, familiarizing herself with her phone again as she began to film.

  “All right, usually you’d need two guys to lift a dude onto the keg,”—Maxon stepped behind me and put his hands on my hips—“but I think I can manage you by myself.”

  “Good attempt.” I stepped out of his hold. “I’m a cheerleader. I can manage a handstand just fine.”

  “Sheesh. Fine.” He rolled his eyes but stepped back, giving me the space I’d ordered. I put the tap in my mouth, rested my hands on either side of the barrel and kicked off the ground.

  “Yes, bitch!” Gabby shouted as I started swallowing beer. I paced myself, knowing that if I didn’t chug it too fast, I might be able to stay up longer. Eventually, the blood rushing to my head became an unbearable weight. It hurt, blurring my vision and making me feel ill, so I dropped one leg at a time and spit the hose out.

  “Forty-seven seconds.” Maxon slapped me on the back, hollering with excitement along with Gabby and a few other watchers. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and did my best to stop the kitchen from spinning.

  I’d just had a lot of beer.

  “What a legend!” Gabby screamed, standing next to me with the phone in front of us. She was recording a Snap video. “Forty-seven seconds. How do you feel, babe?”

  “Like I’m going to throw up.” I hiccupped. It was aggressive. “I need water.”

  I headed for the fridge and found a bottle. I wasn’t sure how, but I finished the entire thing and then I felt worse. “I want bread,” I mumbled and began to go through the cabinets. I found a loaf of gluten free and decided that I’d rather chew on cardboard.

  “Maxon!” someone, maybe Austin, shouted from the kitchen entrance. “Drayton’s birthday present is here.”

  Maxon’s expression became alight with smarmy glee. He dashed across the kitchen, disappearing as he literally rubbed his hands together like a creep. I was curious to know what required such devious and excited behavior.

  “Come on.” I tugged on Gabby’s wrist and we followed them, pushing through the crowd to get downstairs. It was harder than it had been earlier.

  When I finally made it through, it wasn’t hard to find Drayton. He was in the center of the room, sitting on a chair while some bitch gave him a lap dance. Loud shouts of approval almost drowned out the sound of Little Mix coming from the ceiling speakers.

  I watched, aggravated, hating every second that I saw another girl all over him. He was smiling an awkward smile and his hands were at his sides. Instead of watching the massive set of boobs that were bouncing around in front of him, he was scanning the room and I wondered if he was looking for me.

  “Hey.” Josh tapped my shoulder. I hadn’t noticed him approaching, so I turned and attempted not to take my frustration out on him. “This wasn’t his idea. It’s something the guys do to each other at birthdays sometimes. He was hoping they wouldn’t do it to him this year.”

  “Some warning would have been nice,” I mumbled before I turned to leave, ignoring the pitiful expression that Gabby threw me.

  I was drunk. And history revealed that I wasn’t the most levelheaded when I was under the influence. The best thing that I could do was leave and calm down. I was proud for realizing that before I pulled someone’s fucking weave off … although it was tempting.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I stumbled when I was intercepted. It took me a moment, but I realized that it was Melissa with her gorgeous skin and intimidating stare. Why did I feel like I was in trouble?

  “I’m going upstairs.”

  “Ain’t that your man?” She gestured her head behind me but I didn’t need to turn around to know who she was pointing at. “You know what I’d do if I were you? I’d go do her job for her.”

  “What?”

  “Girl, you can dance. You’re hot as hell and he’s damn near obsessed with you. Go and take her place. Give him a dance.”

  “In front of all these people?” I slurred and stumbled forward. She couldn’t be suggesting what she just suggested. I couldn’t be considering it either.

  “You cheer in front of people all the time.”

  “This is a little different.”

  “I wouldn’t put up with that shit. Show him how a real woman does it.”

  I was considering it. She pointed an orange manicured finger at the stripper. “Full disclosure: that’s a real woman. She’s fine. I’m just giving you hype.”

  “You give good hype.” The room swayed. I was sure it was the room. Not me.

  “Go.” She gave me a little push.

  I turned around, and the girl was wearing even less than before. Mustering up the few fucks that I actually gave and throwing them out the window, I adopted confidence and bee-lined toward them.

  Drayton saw me over the girl’s shoulder. I ignored the guilt-ridden grin on his gorgeous face, palmed Barbie’s shoulder, and pushed her off Drayton’s lap. She landed in a heap on the floor.

  She shouted something about doing a job. Which was cool. She could earn that coin—there was no shortage of people in this room who’d accept her services—but before she could stand up and attempt to continue, I slung a leg across Drayton’s lap and straddled him.

  “Cheer?” he murmured. I held his shoulders, kept a straight back, and rolled my hips. It was slow and sensual. “Dallas?”

  “Happy Birthday,” I shouted, encouraging the crowd to join in. A symphony of slurred happy birthday songs began. There was a cloud of cigarette smoke in the air, bottles clinked, and people shouted. Whenever I closed my eyes, I lost all sense of surrounding and Drayton’s hands had to stop me from toppling over more tha
n once.

  I giggled and decided that I had better remain eyes wide open. I lifted my leg straight into the air and spun around so that my back was to him. Still grinding against his crotch, I slowly unzipped the front of my dress, earning enthusiastic encouragement in the form of clapping and cheering.

  “Dallas.”

  I stood up and bent over, hands on the carpet, ass in the air. I whipped my hair and slowly stood up with rolling hips. It felt good to be appreciated.

  I circled the chair that Drayton was sitting on, dancing seductively as I strategically dropped the dress from my shoulders. When I’d come full circle and was in front of him again, I was in nothing but a thong and bra. The dress landed on the floor just as the stripper had earlier.

  The crowd was loud.

  “Take it off!”

  There wasn’t a lot left to take off, but it didn’t matter because Drayton bolted up out of the chair. His hand wrapped around my biceps and he dragged me through the den, picking up my dress as we went. A collective sound of protest and disappointment followed our departure. I turned around and saw a lot of people watching. There hadn’t been that many there before. I swear.

  Drayton acted as a bodyguard, shielding me as he pushed through the crowd. Shoulders bumped mine. Feet were stood on. Sweat joined the stench of cigarettes and alcohol.

  “What the fuck are you doing?!” He pushed me into his room and slammed the door. “What was that?”

  “It was a lap dance,” I mumbled. He tossed the dress at me but it fell to the floor before my arms registered that they needed to catch the object flying at my face, and that was when I started to feel a rage of my own. “Oh, so that artificial bitch that they got from the back pages can dance on you, but not me?”

  “Do you think that’s what this is about?!” he yelled, walking toward me with rigid movements and a thunderous glare. “Do you think that I’d rather have her than you?! That’s not the fucking problem!”

  “What is the problem, asshole!?” I shoved his chest but he barely moved. This was not a conversation that we should have been having right then. Both of us were far too drunk to be arguing. It wouldn’t end well. “Ya know what, fuck you.”