by Nora Cobb
“Fleming. Five laps!” shouts Coach Stanford.
“But why?”
“Make it ten.”
I toss the ball on the ground and start running around the field. This sucks. I’ve got to run around 1.32 acres, or at least, I hope Stanford only means the football field.
Lucas points at me and laughs. “Work those shapely legs, baby boy.”
The coach blows his whistle. “Bellman. Five laps. Get going.”
Abruptly, Lucas stops laughing and starts running along the perimeter of the field. Fuck. It’s too cold, and I didn’t double up on my sweats. At least I have on long sleeves. Lucas has on black sweats and a sweat jacket. He zips it up as his breath forms a cloud in the air.
I snarl at him when he catches up. “If my dick freezes off, it’s your fault. You dumb fuck.”
“Your life is not my fault,” scoffs Lucas. “Still on punishment?”
“What do you think, Bellman? I haven’t been out since homecoming.”
“But was it worth it?” I hear a sneer in his voice.
I give him the side-eye because Lucas knows it wasn’t. That night, I wanted to be with Natalie, and I had a plan to get her alone. I would have made Lucas an old, distant memory. But it didn’t work. Instead, she did something stupid, and I was grounded.
***
“So,” says Lucas, “if you were going to the party this Saturday. Who would you take?”
Again, Lucas has that stupid grin on his face, looking like an ad for a cheesy mall shop that sells knockoff jeans. Sure, the guy takes care of himself, but he uses too much product. Half the time, I’m not sure if it’s him that I smell, or a girl. He flashes his bright whites again, and I scowl at his BFF act.
“What are you saying, Lucas? Spit it out.”
“Have you spoken to Natalie?”
My stomach dips as my feet pound the frozen grass on the field. For a moment, the only sound is the icy grass crunching under our feet.
“Yeah, she’s tutoring me again.” I swallow hard, and the cold air burns my nostrils. “What about you?”
He shrugs. “She came to my house a few days ago.”
My feet stop moving like they need a new battery. The whistle blows, and I make my legs move, not wanting another five laps.
“And what did you do together?” I ask.
“I invited her into my car,” Lucas replies. Panting, his breath floats up and evaporates into the chilled air. Glancing over, I check his expression. I don’t like being wound up, but he looks thoughtful. Maybe I should have put some distance between us on the field.
“Did you do something in the car?” My tone barely hides my sarcasm.
“No, she just wanted to talk about homecoming night.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “She talked to me about that too.”
In silence, we jog a little further and conserve some energy because we’re still on lap one. I watch my team at the far end of the field. Coach has them tackling the dummies, and he’s working them like a heartless taskmaster. Right now, I’d like to tackle the shit out of someone, if only I knew who.
“So, was it you?” I ask, staring straight ahead.
“No,” Lucas shoots back. “Was it you?”
“No. You think it was Anthony?”
But I already know that Anthony is not the guy. He’s the type of person to hang back and not put his neck out. Anthony just flows along with life until it dumps his ass off somewhere it doesn’t belong.
“So, you just sat in the car?” I press.
“This time,” he shrugs, “but maybe not next time.”
“You think there’ll be a ‘next time’?”
“Why wouldn’t there be? There’s a party Saturday that you’re not going to.”
“But I’m seeing her.”
Lucas scoffs. “What, for some romantic tutoring? Gawd, you’re a cheap date.”
“F.U. What about Arielle? Arielle is crazy jealous. Why do you play with her like that? You like that kind of pain?”
“Arielle is over.” Lucas’ tone is hard, and it’s time to back off. “And she’s not coming back.”
I follow his gaze, and it lands on Troy, coming out of the fieldhouse. I thought he was flirting with Arielle to make Lucas jealous, but I can hear the resentment in his voice. “Did you try to get her back?”
“Don’t want to.”
It’s good that he means it. Lucas can’t get her back, but I won’t say that he won’t.
Troy strolls onto the field like he owns it and doesn’t care that he’s late for practice. I crack my knuckles, thinking about how much I’d like to put a fist in his smug face. The idiot has it all. Now, he’s top dog, showing off what a pig he is.
Troy stands next to the coach as if they’re colleagues. Wide-eyed, with his arms outstretched, Coach Stanford does a double take and gawks at Troy in mock disbelief. He’s an older guy. Maybe he’s in his sixties, but definitely older than my parents. Buzz-cut gray hair, hard blue eyes, and bowlegs. If I had thrown a party in his house, Stanford would have kicked my ass so hard that I would have landed on the far side of the moon. He’s a cool dude.
“Saunders!” he shouts. “Nice of you to join us. Would you like to practice today?”
Troy laughs like the guy is making a joke. It’s no joke. Coach doesn’t have a sense of humor when it comes to hard work and showing respect.
“Saunders. Five laps.”
Troy rolls his eyes.
“Make it ten,” shouts Stanford, the spit spraying from his grizzled mouth. “And hurry up, golden boy. It will be dark soon.”
Without discussing it, Lucas and I speed up the pace. Christ, I don’t want to run with Troy. He’s been a real ass lately. I remember when he was just a jerk. I miss those days.
“You know …” Lucas’ voice is low even though we’re at the far end of the field. “He may have been with Natalie that night.”
Watching Troy from the corner of my eye, I shake my head. “He said he got her panties from Anthony.”
“No, Anthony didn’t hook up with her.” There’s a pause, and I know what he’s thinking. “Do you know who left the condom in your parents’ bed?”
“No, but according to them, it was me. But I don’t use ribbed.”
Lucas laughs. “You’re a selfish man, Jacob.”
“Fuck you.” I force a laugh, but my face tightens, and it’s not from the cold. “So, you think it was Troy?”
“You know it was Troy,” he mumbles.
***
“Aww, no,” I mutter under my breath.
Troy cuts across the field toward us instead of going around the full length. He sidles up next to Lucas, and we run side by side, together again like the Three Musketeers. For several minutes, we say nothing, but I’ve got to know. I don’t want to get it wrong.
“So, Troy.” The words are casual, but my tone is not. “Who were you with homecoming night?”
“I don’t know,” he laughs. “I lost count. I saw you with Cora and Lexi. How was that? I hear Lexi can suck the caramel off an apple with one swallow.”
“I don’t know,” I bark. “Were you with Natalie?”
He laughs, but it’s forced. “Hey, I’m with something better than trash. I just asked Natalie’s current squeeze for a favor.”
I’m sure Troy’s lying because that’s what he’s aces in. He’s an okay athlete, but an award-winning liar.
“Don’t believe me? A picture is worth a thousand words, but these selfies are for a billionaire.” Dangling in his fingers, he holds his phone up like sparkling diamonds in front of a desperate gold digger.
Lucas reaches for the bait. His lithe frame is quick, but he’s not on the ice. And I snatch it first, careful to keep it out of Coach’s sight.
Using my thumb, I scroll through the pictures on the screen, and I want to crush the phone in my hand. It’s a girl’s body, stretched out across a purple bed. I know it’s Natalie even though her face is cropped out of the first few pictures. Man, s
he is beautiful. I recognize her soft body though I only saw flashes of those curves under the water in her uncle’s hot tub. Her sweet breasts swell up as she arches her back against her bed. Her blonde hair almost covers a hard pink nipple. My thumb traces over killer curves, then I switch to another picture. I growl in my throat. The next image is of a half-naked guy, and I recognize the tattoo on his scrawny chest. Anthony.
Troy is quick to grab his phone back before I can toss it to the ground and grind it under my heel. We’re running along the right side of the field, and our backs are to the coach. Stanford can’t see Lucas as he grabs the phone from Troy. At first, he smirks, and then his face pinches in disgust. I know exactly what he’s looking at.
I’m afraid to ask. No, I’m not afraid. I want to know, but I really don’t want to hear. “How did you get those pictures?”
“The same way that I got her panties. Anthony.”
Troy’s taunting laughter shoots across the field as I quicken my pace and leave him and Lucas behind. They start to quarrel, but I can’t distinguish the words as I pull ahead. All I can hear are my thoughts racing faster than my feet.
How could she do that to me with that loser?
CHAPTER 16
JACOB
“You’re quiet.”
Natalie sits at the kitchen table with her calculus homework spread out in front of her. The papers are turned in all directions, and a few face me, but I have no interest in homework. Concentrating on her tablet, Natalie looks as innocent as a cat that cleaned a bowl of stolen milk. She looks up slowly, as if she’s been deep in thought. Calculus isn’t that interesting.
“You’re the one in the mood,” she answers back.
Sighing, I stretch my arms over my head, letting my wrists go past the cuffs of my hoodie. Watching Natalie, I push my notebook aside and take a lingering look at her hot legs in her tight jeans. She has on one of those big, loose sweaters in red and black stripes—the thing girls like to wear with tight pants. Too baggy, and I wonder if she has a tank top on underneath. Looking down again, Natalie bites the top of her pen.
“What is it, Jacob?” Her voice is frustrated.
“I talked to Lucas, and he says he’s still seeing you.”
She scoffs. “I sat in Lucas’ car, and we talked.”
“You like to talk.” My insinuation is pretty apparent.
“We only talked.” Natalie narrows her eyes on me.
I roll mine, which makes her glare. “And what about Anthony?” I ask. “Did you have that talk with him yet?”
She slams the pencil down and glares at me with her deep brown eyes. Her bottom lip pokes out, and it looks plump and pink. My breath deepens, but I won’t get the truth if I don’t push.
“Well, did you have that talk with him?”
“We’re only friends,” she hisses.
I shake my head. “Very good friends from what I saw.”
“What does that mean?” And maybe she has a clue.
“Nice pictures.” My tone is cold.
At first, her innocent face shows no understanding. Then the light switches on bright as Natalie’s eyes widen in alarm.
“What pictures are you talking about?”
My gaze moves down along the curve of her sexy bottom, and I lick my lips before shifting my gaze to her face again. The shocked expression on her face makes me instantly regret not having a picture of that.
“How do you know about that?” Natalie stands up and looks down at me. “That’s not any of your business.”
“It is my business.” My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand. She jumps slightly as I lean in until I can feel the warmth of her breath on my chin. “I stuck my ass out for you and had it handed back to me. I ignored the gossip. But now, you need to tell me about those pictures.”
Natalie sighs, sitting down heavily. “I wanted to get a tattoo.”
“So, you took a picture of your bare breasts?”
Something occurs to her. “My face was cropped out.”
“Not in all of them, sweetheart, and you looked pretty lit.”
Natalie grips the seat of the oak chair and looks past me, avoiding my demanding gaze. I turn to look, expecting to see my father in the kitchen, staring back in disgust at us. But there’s no one there. My family expects a suitable girl that will improve our status or bank account. Natalie’s uncle may have money. Still, new money can’t compete with old according to my mother, especially when it comes to class.
Shaking the thought out of my head, I turn back to face Natalie, and our eyes meet. My jaw is tight enough to crack. I can stomach Lucas; he’s an equal, but Anthony? I screw up my face as if I can smell his weed stench in my house.
“Girl,” I demand. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m not with Anthony.” Her eyes plead. “And how did you see those pictures?”
“Your friend Anthony likes to share things, but I don’t.”
In complete silence, Natalie stares at me, and I can hear her mind working. “What does that mean?” she finally asks.
“You have no privacy at Montlake.” Feeling tired, I sit down again and decide that making her feel bad isn’t going to help. “Someone will always know your business because someone’s willing to pay for it.”
“How much did you pay?”
Rolling a pencil back and forth on the table, I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not always about money, Natalie.”
“The code,” she laughs bitterly. “Montlake isn’t the entire world.”
I toss the pencil aside. “It’s our world, and you’re stuck in it. The scale might be smaller, but it’s all the same.”
“You mean Montlake is practice.” Her lips tremble, and her cheeks are flushed. How can someone so naïve hope to exist?
“It’s not practice.” I try to sound more comforting than my words. “It’s where it all starts.”
Defiantly, Natalie scoffs, staring down at her tablet, but I know she’s not thinking about math but about what I just said.
“Just don’t do it again,” I warn her. “And stop seeing Anthony. I can stomach Lucas. But that piece of …”
“I’m not your servant for you to command.” Natalie’s cheeks are flaming red, and I haven’t seen her blazing mad in a while. She needs to cool down and get a grip on who can help her and who can destroy her.
“No, you’re not my servant, but Montlake is a hard mistress.”
CHAPTER 17
Natalie
School treats me no better, no worse. I can’t tell who knows about the selfies, and who doesn’t. The rude comments take a different tactic. Instead of being bullied for being a slut, I’m ignored and made an outcast. Out of the loop and set apart.
So, they turn their backs on me, and gratefully, I turn my backs on them. I don’t look left or right at their mocking faces as I strut down the hallways of Montlake. I block their texts, their prank calls, and I stay off social media. It’s like I’m grounded, but it’s my own choice.
It would be hard, except my bedroom becomes my haven. I go online and spend a lot of bills on my bedroom. I pack up the pink and purple, and go full-throttle turquoise—new tie-dyed eco-friendly bedding, furry throw pillows with silver stitching on the back, and sweeping drapes that extend inches from the wall. Purple is the past, and turquoise is the future. I order a new turquoise robe to replace my old ratty one. While I’m at it, I replenish my school wardrobe with red and gray outfits including knit hats, sweaters, boots, skirts, and a butter-soft suede jacket. Montlake can ignore me all it wants to, but I’m going to look good while they’re doing it.
“Wonderful,” grins Uncle Phil as he looks around my new blue bedroom. “Is this retail therapy?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I suppose I needed a refuge.”
He nods. “Nice. I was thinking of sushi for dinner.”
“Are we eating in?” I toss myself onto my bed, sinking into the fluffy down comforter.
“I thought we’d eat out.” He cocks an eye
brow at me.
“I’d rather eat in,” I mumble into a pillow.
“You’re becoming a recluse, Natalie.”
