by Bailey B
“Just so we’re on the same page, there will not be a repeat of yesterday,” I warn. “If that’s what you’re looking for, then you might as well leave.”
I’ve thought about the way Liam reacted to seeing Asher and me together all morning. As mad as Liam was, I think I can fix things between us if I cut all ties with Asher. Easy enough, considering we don’t have that many ties to begin with, but I don’t want to go back to what Liam and I were. I want to transcend into what we should have been all along—a real couple—and I don’t think that’s possible unless I make Liam change the way he sees me.
Asher’s brows knit together. “Ellie, what are you talking about?”
“The kiss,” I whisper.
He laughs, really laughs, and my heart soars. I haven’t heard Asher this carefree since we were kids. There’s nothing behind the sound except pure amusement. No hints of judgment, or ulterior motives, or wicked scheming. He leans his elbows on the table and glances at the apple on my tray. “You gonna eat that?”
I shake my head. Asher stretches out his long arm and takes the fruit. His breath wafts across the table, and I catch the distinct smell of beer lingering under mint. My smile falls, my mood souring with concern. “Are you drunk?”
Asher takes a bite and wipes away the juice that drips down his chin. “No, beautiful, not drunk.”
My brows furrow as I take in his disheveled appearance. Messy hair. Wrinkled shirt. Asher wears the rugged bad boy look well. Today, however, he’s teetering on hobo. “But you have been drinking.”
Asher groans and tosses the half-eaten apple back onto my tray. “Let it go, El.”
“Asher!” I whisper-yell. “It's eleven-thirty! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Aw.” He covers his heart with his hands and juts his bottom lip out like a lovesick cartoon character. “You care.”
I roll my eyes. He’s so frustrating. I can’t believe I thought for a fraction of a second yesterday that he was cute. I’m pleading temporary insanity. Asher is not cute. He’s annoying. “Rumors are spreading that I’m your girlfriend. I never agreed to that.”
Asher flashes a cocky grin that says he’s convinced I'm going to give in. I may. Might. In all likelihood, I’ll probably agree to the fake girlfriend thing, but I'm not going to make things easy.
“Pretty sure you agreed when you kissed me yesterday. Or have you forgotten?” he asks.
Of course I haven’t forgotten. I’ve only kissed two people in my entire life! I roll my eyes and pretend he doesn’t get under my skin. I’m not even sure I should count yesterday as a kiss. Without tongue, it was more like our mouths hugged for two-point-five seconds. “Was I supposed to dream about it all night? It was a kiss, not some mind-blowing orgasm.”
“I can give you one of those if you’d like.” Asher wiggles his eyebrows and licks his lips.
My cheeks heat. Liam and I have been fooling around for years, but I can’t say with certainty I’ve ever reached the big O. However, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump feet first into bed with Asher. Even if he could make that happen.
“Hard pass.” I glance around the cafeteria for Liam. I am sitting at our usual table today, hoping to mend the bridge I demolished yesterday. “You need to leave and put a stop to these rumors before it’s too late.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Asher groans. “Why can’t you be like ‘thanks for having my back’?” He pauses, expecting me to thank him. When I don’t, he grunts and adds, “Liam has never done anything for you. Hell, he’s the reason half of the school thinks you’re a slut. Me,” Asher taps his chest with one finger, “I beat the shit out of the kids who were placing bets on how quickly you’d spread your legs for them. I saved you from a hell you didn’t even know was coming by making you mine.”
“Wait, what?” People are taking bets on me? Does Liam know? Is he doing anything to stop it? My stomach churns. Based on how things went down yesterday, both with the cafeteria and with the whispers, I’d say no.
“Just fucking forget it. I should have known you’d pick him,” Asher mumbles. He shakes his head and pushes up from the table.
“Trouble in paradise?” Liam gloats as he approaches. His smug smile is aggravating. I get that he may not like seeing Asher and me together, but as my friend, he should want to see me happy, even if the happiness is fake. Not find my discord amusing.
“No,” Asher growls at the same time I say, “Yes.”
Liam’s temperament changes. That smile I was just complaining about, it falls faster than a tower of cards on a windy day. He puffs his chest and shoves Asher back a step. “Did you hurt her?”
“Of course not. I’m not like you, dickhead.” Asher guffaws.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Guys, stop!” I can see where this is headed, and it's not good. Mixing Liam’s short temper with Asher’s lack of sobriety means we’re one smart-ass comment short of a fight. These two have been pretty good about keeping their cool in public, considering they’re half-brothers and all. I don’t know what things are like behind closed doors, when no one is around. Judging by the tension that’s always looming, I’d say these two aren’t as close as I thought they were.
There’s chaos brewing in his eyes and it terrifies me. He’s got a wild streak he keeps hidden, but we all know it’s there. You can’t grow up on that side of the tracks and not get your hands dirty one way or another.
“I said,” Asher taunts, “I’m not like you. I don’t make a sport out of fucking with girls’ emotions.”
Liam crosses his arms and chuckles darkly. “Right, you just get them knocked up and then pressure them into abortions.”
Without warning, Asher swings, catching Liam off guard with a jab to the nose. Liam staggers back a step. Asher barely gives him time to find his footing before tackling him football style. Asher’s shoulder rams Liam in the stomach and they slam into a trash can.
People stand and gather in a circle, chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
I run to the nearest cafeteria monitor, a paraprofessional in her first year of teaching, who looks absolutely terrified. “Aren’t you going to do something?”
The woman stands there, mouth slack, watching it all go down. It’s no secret we are short-staffed, which is probably why there are only two teachers on lunch duty. I don’t know where the other one is, but this lady is useless. I snap my fingers in her face. She blinks twice, noticing for the first time that I’m in front of her, then reaches for her radio.
“Uh, Ms. Grant to the office.”
“Go ahead,” someone replies through the speaker.
“We have a fight in the cafeteria,” she says.
“I’m on my way,” a different, deeper, voice replies. I recognize it as our assistant principal and nervous tingles take over. If Liam gets caught fighting, he won’t be allowed to go to prom, which should make me happy. Except, I know he wants to go and, no matter how mad or hurt I am, I still want to see Liam happy.
I push my way through the crowd of people to the center of the circle of onlookers. Asher has Liam pinned. He’s sitting on his lap, throwing blow after blow into Liam's face. Liam has his arms up, attempting to offset the impact, but it’s not doing much good. His lip is busted and his left eye is already swelling shut.
“Stop!” I scream, but my words are lost among the sound of the crowd. I take a breath, trying to settle the nervous energy searing through me, and step closer. “Asher, stop.”
He still doesn’t hear me. I take another step and reach for his arm, thinking I can pull him off of Liam. Asher’s arm rears back and his elbow smacks me in the nose. Pain clouds my vision with purple spots. I cover my nose with my hands, adding pressure in an attempt to alleviate the sensation rippling through my face. It doesn’t take long before my hands are covered in blood. I must have made a noise because Asher stops hitting Liam and looks over his shoulder at me.
“Shit, Ellie, I’m so sorry!” Asher climbs off of Li
am and cradles my cheeks in his hands. His thumb brushes over the side of my nose and I flinch. He grimaces. I want to be mad, but can’t. Asher’s eyes are a pool of pain that runs deeper than him accidentally hitting me. He looks miserable.
“You three,” Mr. Roper, our assistant principal, declares, “come with me.”
Nurse Bell cups my cheeks in her hands, lifting my head towards the light to look at my nose. She presses her thumbs along the ridge, turns my face again to inspect what I’m assuming is bruising, then releases me to scribble something on a notepad. When she’s done, she grabs a handful of paper towels then holds them out to me. “It looks like most of the bleeding has stopped, but pinch your nose with these just in case.”
I don’t need a mirror to know I look like an extra from a horror movie. I’ve always been a bleeder, from scrapes to dental work: this is no different. However, just because I’m not freaking out about the amount of blood covering my shirt doesn’t mean I like it. “Is it broken?”
Nurse Bell shakes her head then meanders over to her rolling chair. She swipes her badge along the screen, probably to open my file and document that I was here. “It doesn’t seem that way, but with the amount of blood you lost, I can’t be sure. I’m going to recommend that your parents take you to a doctor to be sure.”
I groan and let the napkin fall from my face. It’s saturated. Not surprising, considering the brown paper towels our school buys are crap. They don’t even absorb water. They hold just enough to seem wet while spreading the rest of the liquid around like a toddler with his vegetables. “Do you have to call my mom? I could go to the doctor myself and bring you back the note. Will that work?”
Nurse Bells leans back into her chair, a playful smirk tugging at her tickle-me-pink lips. “Tell you what, I’ll wait to call until after Principal Baxa has made contact. That way you can play the sympathy card.”
I groan again and fall back against the hard clinic bed. The paper barrier separating me from the shittiest cushions in this universe crinkles under my weight. I’m so dead.
It takes thirty minutes of constant pressure to get my capillaries to stop leaking. We were doing good, until I sneezed and reopened the floodgates. By the time I make it to the chairs outside of Principal Baxa’s office, Liam and Asher are gone, probably suspended for the rest of the week. Before my ass can sit in the folding plastic chair, my name is called. With heavy footsteps, I walk into the room.
Principal Baxa is a tired-looking woman. Closer to thirty than she is forty, running a school with nine-hundred and twenty-two kids has taken its toll. Her foundation cracks where wrinkles have forced their way through. Her lips are always turned down into a frown, and then there are her eyes. What were probably once sparkling pools of blue are now empty holes of grey.
“Sit, Miss Walker.”
I follow her directions, taking the black rolling chair across from her. I look around the room, noticing the lack of personal decorations. For a woman who’s been in this position for four years, she’s made no attempt at making her office feel welcoming. If not for her degree on the wall nearest the door, there would be nothing hanging in the room. Even her desk is absent of photos or trinkets. I’ve never been in here before, but I get the feeling that this wasn’t supposed to be a permanent position.
“In light of everything that happened in the cafeteria, and your unruly appearance, you are excused from the rest of your classes today.”
My throat goes dry as nervous needles tickle my spine. Sending me home means it will go in my file that I was suspended. I’ve never been in trouble before. I have no idea how this will affect my future.
What if the University of Florida pulls my scholarship? Or worse, what if they rescind my acceptance? Heat claims my neck, making me break out into a cold sweat. Going to UF has been my dream since the third grade. I don’t know what I’ll do if they kick me out because of this.
“Please, Mrs. Baxa, you can’t suspend me. I didn’t do anything wrong. Asher and I were just sitting there, having a conversation, when Liam came up. I’m sure he didn’t mean to cause a fight, but Liam and Asher are like oil and water. They don’t mix sometimes. I tried to get help. I tried to break it up. I don’t deserve to be suspended.”
Mrs. Baxa exhales an impatient breath. “I know all of this, Miss Walker. Both boys insisted you had nothing but good intentions this afternoon.”
“Then why are you sending me home?” Tears of frustration pool behind my eyes. My future can’t be ruined because of a cockfight. I won’t let it.
“Because you were physically assaulted and are covered in blood.” Principal Baxa huffs. She glances at her watch and her lips turn down into a frown, probably from reading a message. I don’t think she’s intentionally being rude. If I had to guess, I’d say the woman is at the end of her rope. At our school, something is always happening. Be it a fight or a spontaneous electrical fire in the woodshop, shit here is never ending.
“Oh,” I say, relaxing a little. “So I’m not in trouble?”
“No.”
“And you don’t have to call my parents?” It’s a long shot, but a girl can hope.
“The nurse needs to call them to explain the incident, but no. I don’t have to.” She pauses and stares at me skeptically. “Unless that’s what you want.”
“No!” I shout, jumping to the edge of my seat.
Mrs. Baxa’s lips lift into an amused smirk. She’s pretty when she smiles. Too bad the sight is as rare as an A on my report card. “May I offer some advice?”
I nod, not sure what words of wisdom she could offer.
“The sooner you end your lover’s quarrel with those boys, the better. I’m very much aware of the tension between Mr. Heiter and Mr. Anderson. Their situation warrants as much, but you don’t need to add to it.”
“What situation?” Does she know about their dad? Is Derek Heiter a three-timing scum, sleeping with Ms. Baxa too? I bet he is. I bet that’s why she transitioned from assistant principal to principal our freshman year, and I’d bet she is why Asher was able to come to school with us. I press my palm to my forehead. This is too much to process.
Mrs. Baxa pales and my suspicions are confirmed. “Never mind. Collect your things, Miss Walker, and have a good day.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m outside the school’s entrance. I look around at the overflowing student lot and weigh my options. It’s a five-mile hike to my house. Five long miles in the blistering Florida heat, but I’d rather walk than tell my mom I was sent home. First, she’ll freak out about my nose, and then she'll scold me for trying to break up a fight. Her disappointment is worse than any punishment she or Mrs. Baxa could hand out.
Convinced I’ve made the best decision, I shoulder my backpack but barely make it to the front gates before the distinct rumble of a motorcycle stops beside me. I keep my gaze forward, not wanting to see the damage Liam inflicted, or vice versa. Today’s fight was uncalled for. I understand that these two have issues that stretch beyond me, but they need to deal with it when I’m not around.
“Where the hell have you been?” Asher asks, silencing the motorcycle. “I’ve been waiting outside for you for almost an hour. I was starting to think you took a ride with Liam.”
“I ran into Russell. We were talking.”
Russell confirmed everything Asher said in the cafeteria. Right down to Asher beating the snot out of a group of guys in the boy's bathroom yesterday. It’s all the more reason I need space from everyone. Liam was supposed to be my best friend. Why didn’t he stick up for me? Why is he letting people make me out to be a cheap slut? I’m so angry, I could easily do something I’ll probably regret, like agreeing to Asher’s fake-dating proposal.
“I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”
“Of course I was waiting for you!” Asher takes his helmet off and holds it against his stomach.
He barely has a mark on him, and I'm surprised at the relief that comes over me. That feeling is short lived when I see the bruise
s on his knuckles. He may not look like anything happened in the cafeteria today, but I don’t think the same can be said for Liam.
“Ellie.” He reaches out and touches my arm. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Asher frowns and holds his helmet out to me. “Can I take you home? I feel like shit. I never meant for you to get hurt.”
“No.” My feet carry me forward. I grit my teeth and turn my head. I might be angry with Liam, but I’m not exactly happy with Asher, either. He started a fight. He freaking elbowed me in the nose. And, apparently, he got some girl pregnant. It couldn’t have been someone from our school, that kind of juiciness doesn’t stay secret for long, but the fact that I didn’t know makes me inexplicably frustrated. I spin on my heels and stare him down. “Tell me about the girl, Asher. The one you got pregnant.”
Asher grits his teeth and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Let it go, Ellie. That’s not anything you need to worry about.”
I don’t need to worry about it? For someone who wants to be my fake-boyfriend, he sure has a lot of secrets. I have no secrets. My life is an open book that, apparently, everyone has read the Cliffnotes on. I’m so mad I could scream, and the only person around to take my frustrations out on is Asher. “My name is Lainey. Why can’t you get that through your head, Asher? L. A. I. N. E. Y. Lainey.”
Asher’s hand, still holding the helmet, falls to his side. “You weren’t Lainey until he decided El wasn’t a good enough nickname. Until he changed you and turned you into his perfect groupie. Even as a kid, your head was so far up Liam’s ass you couldn’t see through all his shit. I will never call you Lainey because you are so much more than what he’s made you to be.”
“Stop it!” I scream, my emotions getting the best of me. My internal compass is spinning from mad to sad and right back to mad again, over and over. “I won’t let you ruin the memories I have. Liam was my best friend. He looked out for me. Kept me safe from jerks like you.”
