Facing Us (Kids of the District #1)

by Nicci Harris

  “Wha… did… that… arsehole do?” she asks breathlessly. Her voice comes in at different volumes, leading me to believe she’s jogging.

  “Nothing,” I mumble, and flip another page over.

  “Lie to Elise not,” she pants in a funny Yoda voice.

  I chuckle. “His girlfriend showed up and gave us a strip tease.”

  “What? You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish I was,” I sigh.

  She laughs. “Oh, that sounds interesting. You should have called me. I have, like, a whole jar of ones I’ve been dying to get rid of.” Her voice is muffled by those of passers-by.

  I scoff. “My apologies. How thoughtless of me.”

  “I hate ones,” she says in mock anger. “They’re so obnoxious, because they are the weakest dollar, but still physically bigger than the twos… ones are bullies.”

  This girl is crazy … and I love it.

  “They are,” I agree. “Imagine the attitude of the fifty-cent piece?”

  “Oh, the nerve of the fifty… I tell ya.” She pauses. “Now, Blesk… you never told me he had a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, sort of.” I huff. “He said it isn’t serious.” I smack my forehead with my palm. “I know, I know. I’m an idiot.”

  “Not you are. Softy you are. Suck boys do.”

  I chuckle. “You’re soooo weird.”

  “I’ll be there soon. Order me something vegetarian.” Then she hangs up, leaving me anxiously waiting for her arrival.

  I’m so glad I have Elise in my life. I have a feeling she’s going to keep me sane… and also possibly make me a little insane, but in a good way. I stand up and wander over to the bar, leaning on it to look down into the kitchen. While I wait, I recognise someone in another booth. Jaxon. Oh, no… I hide my face with my hand, but just as I do his eyes pluck up with acknowledgement.

  “B!” He waves, standing up quickly and strutting over to me.

  I pretend to look pleased to see him. “Hi, Jaxon, nice to see you again.”

  “Hey, you answered to B,” he laughs, leaning on the bar beside me, and grinning from ear to ear.

  “It appears so. Are you guys always drinking? Or do you actually go to classes?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  The bartender literally slides over to us on the slippery floor. “This is the mini Bellamy, Shawn,” Jaxon introduces me, patting my back in the same fashion he might a male friend.

  “Is this guy bothering you?” Shawn chuckles.

  “I suppose that answers my question,” I mutter as the bartender and Jaxon share a smile.

  Shawn smiles kindly at me. “Hi, mini-Bellamy, what can I get for you?”

  “It’s Blesk, and can I please get a haloumi salad. And two,” I hesitate, “beers?”

  If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

  “Is that a question, or do you actually want a beer?” Shawn asks, with a grin.

  “Yes, Little Creatures Pale, please.” I pick the local boutique beer to appear seasoned.

  “Come sit with us?” Before I can decline his invitation, Jaxon says to Shawn “Put that on our table.” Jaxon seems decent today. His eyes don't wander and his attitude towards me seems to have overcome any sexist innuendos.

  “Hey!” I hear a small voice come from behind me.

  Before I know it, I’m engulfed in Elise’s arms. “Want me to cut him?” she whispers in my ear.

  “God, I hope you’re joking,” I laugh, wrapping my arms around her in return, and squeezing lightly.

  She chuckles. “Just a little maiming?”

  Jaxon shuffles to our side, and as we release each other, he holds his hand out politely.

  Another handshake.

  “Hi, I’m Jaxon.”

  Elise looks at him wide-eyed, and I brush a piece of hair from her alarmed face.

  “Hi.”

  That’s it? Just hi?

  She is not quite her usual conversationalist when in the company of the more masculine gender.

  “Come on, girls,” Jaxon pleads, wandering over and taking a seat at his booth. “You two are much nicer to look at than Drake.”

  “Afraid of boys, Elise is!” I whisper in the same tone shed used with me earlier.

  She adjusts her glasses and swallows nervously. “Not all boys, but the ones you seem to know look like they just walked out of a Hugo Boss magazine.”

  I wrap my arm around her shoulder and walk with her over to Drake and Jaxon’s table. I enjoy touching someone I feel nothing but comfort with. Old squeamish thoughts surface as I think about the people in my life, and how very few I can actually say that about.

  I swallow down the memories. “It’ll be okay. They’re just people, like you and me.”

  “Like you, maybe,” she mutters softly, gawking at them.

  “They don’t bite,” I whisper. For the first time since Elise arrived, I find myself thinking about Konnor and Pemberton and whatever it is they’re doing with each other—or to each other—right now.

  “Hi, I’m Blesk,” I say, holding my hand out—because apparently university students shake hands—for the unfamiliar person to take. “This is Elise.” Lovely dark eyes stare at me, and a little grin tugs at my lips as he takes my hand in his.

  Boys are okay, I guess.

  “Hi, Blesk,” his eyes are trained on mine, “I’m Drake.” In fact, he still hasn’t let go of my hand, and we are still staring at each other. My cheeks start to heat up and I pull my hand from his grasp, rubbing my palm on my dress, and watching as he offers his attention politely to Elise. “And, Elise, nice to meet you.”

  “Drake, like, short for Dracula?” she says with a nervous chuckle. I laugh, and so does he. There must never be a dull moment inside Elise’s head.

  “Sure, why not?” he says, flicking his eyes to me, and grinning again. His dark hair is pulled neatly back off his face, his high cheekbones are separated by a strong nose, and his jaw is lightly dusted with stubble. He’s very attractive. Elise is right. They do both look like they stepped out of a magazine.

  “Whoa, don’t let Erik catch you two looking at each other like that. He’ll have a heart attack.” Jaxon laughs.

  “Why, whatever do you mean, Jax?” Drake asks, without taking his gaze off me.

  Elise and I sit opposite the two guys just as our beers come out, and I’m thankful for having something to do with my hands.

  We spent the next hour debating, laughing and getting to know each other. We hit heads over intense topics, purposely, yet diplomatically, getting each other riled up. Apparently, university students live for that stuff. Drake, or Dracula, and I bonded over our views on Diaspora in Australia, and how it will even further shape future generations. Elise joined in, in prime Elise style, as soon as Jaxon argued that our biggest drain on the environment is the mining industry, in which she fired off some amazing facts about the damage the cattle industry is doing. Despite her compelling case, Jaxon isn’t about to give up meat for the environment anytime soon.

  I enjoyed unleashing Elise on our two unsuspecting victims. At first, she’s all sweet and friendly, and then she morphs into this confident, sassy, little chick. All in all, we acted like friends, drinking, sharing opinions, and laughing, and I can’t really remember ever having anyone I felt comfortable enough to do that with. It was fun.

  I look at my watch and see it's already 2: 20.pm. So I leave them still drinking to get to my first Music and History 122 lecture. I ponder over how nice this feeling is, and why I resisted it for so long. I suppose I have Erik’s popularity to thank for them.

  And at least I was able to get my mind off Konnor. For a little while

  SIX: Konnor

  The right side of my bed is empty, the room is quiet, and there is only stillness. I’m alone. I was hoping she would be there, her hair spread across my pillow again and her body facing me with that impeccable concave at her waist. But no. I flip onto my back and stretch my arms above my head in an attempt to loosen my body. Agonising fatigue cl
utches my abdomen muscles, and I wish I could remember more about last night than just her hair and the way her body looked on my bed.

  The sun’s beams invade my senses. I spin over and squint at the alarm clock that mocks me on my bedside table. Ten a.m.

  Goddamn it.

  I hate that clock.

  I roll myself off the bed and hit the floor with more force than intended. My muscles are clearly not awake yet. I’m glad I don’t have practice today. I exhale forcefully as my head pounds, and I attempt my morning push-ups, focusing on my posture while ignoring images of her fucking hair. I keep my elbows tucked close to my body. I engage my core with each dip. My brain growls within my cranium. I keep going, fast and hard. Thinking about yesterday. Thinking about her leaving. Thinking about me doing nothing to stop her. Thinking about her sad face, and how this time it was my fault.

  I grunt, trying to maintain a straight back on the decline, and locking everything in place. I pump out four sets of thirty reps, before slumping over onto my back and relaxing into a sigh. There was something there. Between us. Not just her hair, her eyes, her hands. I lie on my back, stare up at the ceiling and contemplate how much I let alcohol do the majority of the heavy-lifting for my actions. Yesterday was an exception. Yesterday was the anniversary of her death.

  I hoist myself up and shuffle over to the kitchen bench. I flip my laptop open and log into the university’s database to print off my class list and timetables. I anxiously scan the list for her name and feel a quick rush of relief when I see the words: Blesk Bellamy.

  At least I know I get one hour a week with her. Right, I need to get my shit together. I’ve given her the wrong impression of me.

  After a shower, I stroll into my dressing room and put on my most presentable shirt and tie. It isn’t until I stand in front of the mirror that I realise I don’t know how to tie a tie because I’ve always had a girl to do it for me. I throw it to the side. Who needs a tie anyway? It’s the twenty-first century. My brows knit as I stare at the hungover dickhead in the mirror. Who is that guy? How much of that boy is left in him? That boy the deceased little girl loved for all those years. Is there any of him still in there? Her very existence made him worth loving. All I see now is a drunk, arrogant arsehole. I turn from my own reflection with a scowl and wander towards my desk.

  As I’m packing up my case filled with today’s course material, I see an envelope with beautiful cursive writing on the front, that reads: Corny Konnor.

  Corny Konnor,

  Thank you for the gift

  You are very #

  Now I feel I harmoni -can.

  Blesk

  A colossal smile stretches across my face and I laugh. She’s terrible at puns. I fucking love that she’s terrible at puns. She must have been happy when she wrote this, excited even. Excited to see me. I fucked this all up.

  I wish I’d chased after her, but if I remember correctly, even standing was problematic at that point. We could have stayed lying on my bed, hardly touching all night, and it would have been the best night of my life. I don’t care that I barely know her, that she knocks me off my tracks, that Erik wants to kick my arse … I just want to be around her.

  ✽✽✽

  As the elevator opens onto the ground, I stride out, making my way across the lobby to Adolf.

  “Looking sharp today, Mr Slater,” Adolph says, nodding once with approval.

  I raise my hands as I ask, “What were you thinking letting Pemberton up yesterday?”

  “Mr Slater, she is on the list,” he says, his eyes slowly widening. “She doesn’t need to ask.”

  “Well, damn it, take her off.”

  “Of course, sir!” He wanders over to his desk, and lowers his head, typing into his computer.

  You’re being a dick, Konnor.

  “I’m sorry, Adolf. I’m pretty hungover today,” I admit, approaching him and smiling graciously.

  “It is fine, Mr Slater. Pemberton Wright has now been taken off your authorised guest list.” He nods at me kindly.

  “Was Blesk okay? Miss Bellamy, I mean, when she came down yesterday?” I’m not sure that I want to know the answer, but the words came out anyway.

  Adolf looks regretfully at me, and my heart sinks. “She was crying, sir.”

  I wish I could punch myself. I wish I could kick the arse of the guy who made her cry. Me. “Dammit.”

  Fuck, Konnor. You’re an arsehole.

  I pat Adolf on the shoulder and force a smile. “Thank you, Adolf.”

  As I walk towards the sliding doors, he yells out to me, “Mr Slater!” I spin to face him again. “Would you like me to put Miss Bellamy on the guest list?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Aren’t we optimistic?”

  A wise sort of smile crosses his face. “Girls don’t cry like that for no reason, sir. They only cry when something important happens, or someone important does something to them.”

  I exhale loudly, and a grin tugs at my lips. “Yes, Adolf, put Miss Bellamy on my list.” Because he’s right. Girls don’t cry like that for no reason, and since those tears were because of me, it’s my responsibility to make sure they never are again.

  I begin to stride towards the exit once more, but halt abruptly and face him. “Hey!” I call out across the lobby. “What did you think of her?”

  He smiles and for a moment I see a young man thinking about a girl. “Beautiful, Mr Slater. Inside and out, I would wager.”

  I couldn’t agree more, Adolf.

  ✽✽✽

  I wander to class, each hand clutching a case filled with all my course material.

  Do I pull her aside and chat with her?

  Wait until after class?

  Am I going to come off as desperate?

  I am bloody desperate.

  As I round the corner of Block F, I see Blesk sitting with Jax and Drake. My chest tightens. It surprises me how the mere sight of her makes me feel. I love the clothes she wears. Flattering but humble. Very different from Pemberton's wardrobe selection. She’s wearing black leggings with a white lace shirt-dress. Her golden hair is pulled off her face in a high ponytail that bounces whenever she moves her head. I love how her hair bounces like that. I love that she’s wearing flats, not heels. I love that she clearly doesn’t were much makeup. Blesk is my brand of perfection.

  As I near them, my stomach lurches at how closely Drake is sitting to her. Unable to tame my expression, I glare at them, tightening my jaw. They are almost touching. Almost.

  I like Drake, though. He’s a good guy. We’ve known each other since high school, and when we matriculated here together, we shared a dorm for nearly two years. He’s practically family.

  I fucking hate Drake right now.

  I tense up when she laughs at him…

  He’s making her laugh.

  My knees feel weak when I see that smile, wrinkling the corners of her eyes and reddening her cheeks. She sticks her tongue out slightly with each bright expression, and I can hardly handle how that makes me feel. My heart pounds. As she giggles her head flies back, her shoulders shack and her ponytail bounces around. I want to capture that moment forever. So now I find myself smiling, grinning like a bloody moron, at this girl laughing with some other guy. Her happiness makes me happy, even though it has nothing to do with me.

  My gaze falls straight to Jax. “What up? You’re not hassling my students, are you?” I laugh, giving Blesk a charming smile. She blushes slightly and lowers her head evasively. I don’t like that. She blushed… Why did she do that? Because of me? Because she likes Drake?

  “Oh, no, B, do you have this dickhead as your tutor?” Jax rolls his head back, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Well, you are soooo lucky I know him—I’ll make sure you get off easy.”

  “I’m sure she won’t need any help. Blesk’s a smart cookie,” Drake says, knocking his elbow into hers. He stares at her, like they share a secret, and I hate that.

  “Mr Slater knows not to treat me any different,” she sa
ys, still avoiding my gaze.

  Mr Slater?

  “Mr Slater,” Jax taunts.

  Drake glances at me. “So, Mr. Slater, we’re still on for tomorrow night, right? I’m gonna kick. Your. Arse.”

  Friday night is poker night, and I usually lose. I completely ignore his comment.

  I swallow hard. “Seriously, Blesk, just call me Konnor, okay?” I dip my head, trying to get her to actually acknowledge me. Her eyes drift everywhere other than to my face, and her smile tightens slightly.

  “Slater?” Drake says louder, eager for my attention. When I dart my eyes to him and receive a suggestive wiggly brow, I become well-aware of his intentions. We have known each other far too long to not know when the other is looking to hook up. He juts his chin out at me and nods towards Blesk, in a ‘game on’ kind of gesture. I feel like knocking him out. Blesk’s not a game.

  Drake passes Blesk her bag, then tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “See you at six, okay? I’ll pick you up outside your dorm.”

  Why did he have her bag?

  What the hell is going on?

  “Okay,” she mutters, her cheeks pinkening. He made her flushed. She’s blushing because of him.

  I grit my teeth and turn to Jax. “So how do you all know each other, exactly?”

  Real subtle.

  “We bumped into B at The Basement Lounge, yesterday. Had a few bevy.”

  “Right, well, B needs to get to class now,” I state very matter-of-factly.

  Acting like a dickhead again.

  “Right-o, see ya, Mr Slater.” Jax sniggers as he walks away, calling back over his shoulder, “Catch ya soon, B.”

  Drake meanders off, but turns around, and walks back to Blesk. He casts me a furtive glance to make sure I’m watching before he reaches her Then… he kisses her on the cheek. “Later, Blesk.”

  On her fucking cheek.