It was glitching, but I managed to get to my contacts, scrolling through the list while trying to keep my breathing steady, and not freak out.
I didn’t have a clue who to call. Mom would make a big deal out of this, and she'd try to get the cheerleaders punished, which would only mean I'd suffer more. Andromeda couldn't help me out of this one, and Estella was the last person I wanted to call. I knew she'd feel sorry for me, and I couldn't handle it.
Crispin's number flashed in front of my eyes, and I pushed a paint-covered strand of hair off my face, took a deep breath, and dialed his number.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Crispin,” I whisper-sobbed into the phone. My emotions were getting the best of me now. I wanted to go home. I wanted this day to be over.
"Yeah?" he asked, confusion coloring his voice. "What's up, Tins?"
"I'm..." I hiccupped, the tears finally falling and mixing with the paint dripping down my cheeks. "I'm not okay."
“Jesus Christ, crybaby,” he muttered, and I could hear the concern in his voice. “What happened to you?”
“Come get me,” I begged. “I’m at school.”
“I’m leaving now,” I said. “Where are you?”
“In the gym. I'm locked in. Do you have the keys?”
“I do from practice.”
“Hurry.”
The line went dead, and I stared at my phone in my hands, realizing it had finally died. I just hoped Crispin had heard where I was, and he was on his way to get me.
The nasty surprises were far from over though, and as I scrambled to find my bag, I realized they'd taken it. Panicking, I ran to the bathroom next, only to discover my clothes had disappeared as well. Someone had left me in the gym with nothing but a paint-streaked, too-small uniform and no way of getting out of there.
Why were high school girls so mean? I found myself wondering, biting back more tears.
I crumpled into a heap in the bathroom, right in front of the mirror where I could see the full extent of what they'd done. My hair had dried in clumps, the paint was dripping everywhere, but I didn't have the energy to do anything about it. I was a miserable heap of emotions when I heard footsteps outside. Fear took over not knowing it was Crispin or somebody else.
The door to the bathroom swung open, and I looked up, slowly letting my eyes wander from his expensive sneakers, over designer jeans, a V-neck T-shirt and the lacrosse jacket resting on his shoulders.
"For fuck's sake," Crispin muttered, rushing to come closer and kneeling next to me. "What the hell happened?"
"They- I-" I couldn't find the words to explain, staring at a spot on the floor and holding back my tears. I'd already cried too much. Those girls didn't deserve to make me this upset. "I tried out for the cheerleading squad. They made me go last. Made me change into this."
"And the paint?" Crispin asked softly, reaching forward and wiping a stain off my face, his own fingers coming away streaked in purple and red. "How did that come into play?"
"They- They wanted to prank me, I guess," I muttered.
"Oh, crybaby."
We stayed like that for a few moments, with me sniffling and Crispin glancing around.
"You should've told me to bring some towels and clothes," he muttered. "Let me drive you home."
"My mom will be back in like an hour," I muttered.
"But she's not at home now?"
I shook my head, and he took me by the hand, gently pulling me to my feet.
"Then we should be okay. Come with me now, crybaby."
He didn't seem to care that I was dripping all over his stuff, designer jeans included. He just held my hand and led me out of the gym.
“Shouldn’t you be with Estella?” I finally gathered the courage to ask.
“Yeah, we went out for a sundae.”
The betrayal felt like a knife to my stomach. But that was our thing! I wanted to exclaim, but I stopped the frustrated scream from leaving my lips, instead giving him a strained smile, muttering, “How nice.”
"I'm going to call in someone and get that cleaned up," he said, motioning to the paint-streaked floor. "Do you need to get your stuff?"
"They took it.”
"Okay," he nodded. "Come on, we're leaving."
He locked the gym behind us, and I stood shivering in the cool evening air. When he saw it, he took his jacket off and handed it to me.
"But I'll mess it up," I managed. "I don't want to get it covered in paint."
"Doesn't matter," he told me. "Put it on."
I was grateful for it and slung the jacket over my shoulders while we walked to his G-Wagon. The school parking lot was deserted. Small mercies.
Crispin started the car while I stood uselessly in front of the passenger door. A moment later, he reappeared, opening the trunk and getting out a bottle of water. When he did, I caught a glimpse of something familiar.
“What’s that?”
“What?” He looked down, blanched, and shut the trunk. “Nothing.”
I stared at him, trying to see if he’d lied. Because that sure as fuck looked like my bag in his trunk. But I wasn’t going to bring it up. Not until I was sure.
"I'm going to mess up your car," I told him as he wrapped the blanket around me. "You have cream leather inside. This paint will never wash out."
"It's okay," he told me, coming over to my side of the car. "I'll get it taken care of. Just get in, we need to get you home before you catch a cold."
"Okay," I muttered.
He opened the door for me, and I climbed inside, feeling my heart speed up when Crispin reached over. I flinched, but he merely pulled my seatbelt over my chest and buckled me in.
"I'm not a baby, you know," I said, and he rolled his eyes.
"Sometimes it sure feels like you are," he told me, putting a final nail in my coffin. Great. So he saw me like a baby he needed to take care of.
I waited for him to get into the car and rev the engine. Music blasted from the speakers, and I was surprised to recognize an artist I'd obsessed over lately.
"Is that Unlike Pluto?" I asked him.
Crispin pulled the car into the exit.
"Sure is," he told me. "You like him?"
"Love," I corrected him. "Like isn't a strong enough word."
He smiled, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes.
"Give me your address," he said. "Put it in the GPS."
I realized with a start Crispin had never been to my place. Of course not, stupid. Not after what happened.
"It's like, twenty minutes away," I mumbled apologetically as I added the address to his phone. "Are you sure you can take me?"
"Of course," he nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. "You sure your mom isn't home, waiting to kill me with a machete?"
"Why would she kill you?" I asked softly. "She never had anything against you, Crispin. It was her mistake that got us into this whole mess, not yours."
An uncomfortable silence lay over the car for a second, but he finally spoke up again. "In that kind of situation," he said. "There are always two people responsible."
I felt my heart hammer in my chest. This was a conversation I'd convinced myself I didn't want to have, but now I was close to changing my mind. Maybe this was what we needed. Closure.
"Crispin," I said. "Do you hate me?"
This time he did glance at me, just for a moment before looking away. "How could I hate you?"
"Because of what my mom did," I whispered. "She ruined your family."
"Ruined it?" He let out a laugh. "My family has been falling apart for a long time. Just because what happened with your mom sped up the process, doesn't mean she's at fault for everything that's been wrong over the years. And trust me, there's been a lot of shit."
"I'm sorry," I managed, sneaking a sideways glance at him. "I'm sure you hate her, though."
"No, Tins, I don't," he answered calmly. "Your mom did something stupid, sure. But that doesn't mean she deserves this mob coming a
fter her. And neither do you."
"But, Crispin, she did something horrible."
"She slept with a married man." Crispin shrugged. As if were nothing. As if lives hadn’t been ruined because of it. "Lots of people do that."
"Not just any man," I told him. "Your dad, Crispin." A silence fell over us, and I could feel the tension in the car. And there it was. The truth, out in the open. "I'm really sorry," I told him then. "I didn't... I never knew what she was doing. And I swear, Crispin... I know he was the director of Devin Mooney, but she didn't do it to get me a role. She swore she didn't."
"It's okay," he muttered. "I trust you."
How could you? I ruined everything for you.
Sometimes, even I didn't believe Mom hadn't done what she did for me. She was fiercely protective and always eager to push me forward. But after she'd sworn time and time again she hadn't slept with Crispin's father to get me the role, I'd chosen to believe her. What other option did I have? I could spend the rest of my life doubting her, our relationship and everything she'd ever done. But I'd chosen not to.
"You sure she won't freak out if she knows I brought you home?" Crispin asked again.
"Crispin, she has nothing against you," I told him again. "Your family is the one who should hate me. Us."
He stayed quiet, which convinced me I was right.
Just another reason for us to stay apart. Something to add to the long list of things keeping us away from one another.
Just then, we pulled up in front of my house. Crispin didn’t comment on the size of it—much smaller than our previous home. We’d wanted something more manageable after the story broke, our own little slice of suburbia. At the time, we both would have done anything to stay out of the camera’s eye.
Crispin was the perfect gentleman, getting out of the car first and opening the door for me. He helped me climb out, and I led him to the entrance of the house, fumbling with my keys. At least Mom's car wasn't in the driveway, which meant she was still out. I didn't think she'd freak out if she saw Crispin, but it was bound to get uncomfortable.
He followed me inside, looking around as I stood in the foyer, dripping with paint and feeling miserable.
"You need to take a shower, Tins, before the paint sets," he muttered. "Do you need help?"
I glanced down, noticing how the paint had dried over my clothes, making them nearly unmovable. I felt sticky and gross, covered in now hardening purple and red paint. "You can help me with my hair,” I suggested. "Let's go to the upstairs bathroom, there's a bath there."
He followed me up the stairs, still not saying anything. The tension in the air was thick, and I fought the urge to fill the silence with words that didn't make sense.
In the bathroom, I stacked a few bottles of shampoo next to the tub and positioned a chair in front of it.
"Can you just... try to get rid of it?" I asked Crispin.
He nodded, pulling his sleeves up and turning on the tap. Warm steam filled the room, and he grabbed a bottle of shampoo, grinning at the label.
"No tears baby shampoo?" he asked.
"It's true," I replied with a giggle. "No tears."
"Good," he muttered. "I don't like seeing you in tears."
My heart skipped a beat. Not unless you put them there, I guessed. He lathered his hands with the argan-scented shampoo and started massaging it onto my scalp. It felt so good I had to bite back a moan. His fingers were firm yet gentle, softly getting out all the paint that was dripping down all over me.
"It's coming out well," he muttered with a look of pure concentration as he lathered my hair.
I looked up at him, eyes wide and unblinking as I waited. "Crispin," I said, the word barely above a whisper. "Why are you with her?"
His eyes snapped to mine for a split second before returning to my hair. He stayed quiet.
"Is she that much better than me?" I went on, a little louder now. I was letting my anger get the best of me. "Would you be with someone else if it weren't for her?"
"Stop, Tinsley. We shouldn't be talking about this."
I shut up for a moment before saying, "I thought- I just always thought you'd pick..."
His fingers tightened in my hair. Now he was pulling on the strands, rougher than I liked it.
"Ow. You're hurting me."
"You don't get what it's like for me. My family is demanding. My mom, she's excited that I'm with Estella."
"Good." I felt bitter, sick to my stomach. "I hope you're happy, too."
Once again, he didn't say anything, just kept silently washing my hair. "I think we're done," he finally managed after a few excruciatingly long minutes. "I'll wait outside while you wash off."
"Fine," I muttered, getting up and tugging at my clothes. I didn't give a shit whether he saw; he’d made it perfectly clear it made no difference to him.
"Tinsley."
I turned around, having lifted the top of the cheerleader uniform above my tummy, with my navel and belly button on show. "What?" I demanded.
"Don't do that," he groaned, glancing at my skin before looking back into my eyes. "How are we supposed to be friends when you act this way around me?"
"I don't want to be your friend, Crispin," I clipped back.
He sighed and left the room. I locked it behind him, feeling anger coming over me in waves. I peeled off the clothes from my body, getting in the bath and muttering curse words under my breath. As soon as I started rubbing off the paint, it seemed to stick to every single hair on my body, making me tug and pull painfully at my skin.
But I didn't ease up. I scrubbed myself raw until my body burned, then blasted myself with ice cold water. I put on a fluffy floral robe, past the point of caring, and scrubbed the makeup off my face for good measure.
Once I got out of the room, I found Crispin still waiting for me, standing awkwardly in the foyer. "You don't have to stick around," I mumbled as I took the stairs two at a time. "My mom will be home soon, anyway."
"Oh," he said, uncomfortably, glancing between my face and the floor. "Look, Tins..."
I waited, but he didn't finish the sentence. I rolled my eyes, sick of waiting, and sauntered past him. But his fingers snaked around my wrist, jerking me back. This seemed to be his signature move.
“You don’t get to touch me when I don’t want it.”
He pulled me to him, his eyes thunderous as we glared at one another. I was painfully aware of the fact that my face was makeup-less, hyper-aware of every imperfection on me.
"What are you doing?" I hissed at him, but it didn't come out as angry, more like the pathetic fight of an animal that knows it had been trapped.
"My family loves Estella," he said, holding a finger up when I tried to speak. "They think she's perfect for me. Me? I think you're... beautiful, Tinsley. Unforgettably beautiful."
"I'm- I-" I felt myself flushing, but I couldn't take my eyes off his. "Don't say that."
"I won't," he nodded. "Not after this. I need to do what's right, not what I want. Do you understand?"
"Yeah. I understand."
His fingers left my skin as headlights illuminated the darkened foyer.
"Shit. My mom is back."
Crispin paled, and I motioned for him to follow me to the back door. He rushed after me, dropping his jacket on the way. When he bent down to pick it up, the door flew open, and my mom was right there, with a bright smile on her face, hands full of shopping bags.
"Hi, darling!" she called out, then her eyes landed on Crispin. "Oh."
"Mom," I spoke up, walking toward her with more confidence than I felt.
"Tinsley," she said carefully, glancing at Crispin over my shoulder. "What's going on?"
"Some... some cheerleaders pulled a prank on me. They spilled paint on me."
"What?" Her anger poured over with one word.
"Mom, it's fine," I tried to reassure her. "Crispin brought me home. I'm fine. Luckily he was nearby."
A white lie was still better than making up fake stories.
"Oh. Hello, Crispin."
"Hi, Mrs. Sullivan," Crispin said, his voice confident and friendly.
God, this boy would be the death of me.
"I'm sorry I didn't call. But I didn't want you to be worried."
"It's okay." She came toward me, kissing my cheek before asking, "Darling, could you give us a few moments?"
"Of course," I said, but Crispin spoke up before I could get out of there.
"It's okay, Mrs. Sullivan, really."
"Crispin, it's not." Mom shook her head. "I betrayed you, as well as my own daughter. I'm truly sorry for the situation I've put you both in, and I want you to know I will never stop regretting what I did."
"Thank you," he said, emotionless.
I realized both Mom and I were staring when he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't need you to apologize, Mrs. Sullivan," he finally said. "I'm just sorry this has alienated our families."
"Thank you, Crispin," Mom whispered, and I could tell how emotional she was getting. "You don't know how much that means to me."
Crispin grinned before raising his eyebrows to me, asking, "You gonna be okay, crybaby?"
"Yeah.”
"Okay. I'll be on my way then. And don't worry, I'll take care of the mess in the gym and get your stuff back."
The memory of the black leather bag in his trunk hit me again. Surely I was remembering things wrong. Why would he have my stuff if the cheerleaders had taken it?
"Thanks."
Mom and I watched the door close behind him, waiting until the car pulled away before exchanging glances.
"Well, I didn't know you two were..." Mom started.
"We're not," I muttered. "Far from it."
"I see." She gave me a knowing look, making me roll my eyes and giggle.
"It's not like that."
"I'm sure."
Chapter Eleven
Tinsley
"Ugh, last night was a nightmare," I confessed to Andromeda as we made our way to our lockers. "I never should have agreed to those cheerleading tryouts. I knew they were going to be a disaster from the moment Estella convinced me to go. And now I need to get a new phone as well. All my pictures are freaking gone. Ugh.”
Boys That Tease: A Bully Romance (Lords Of Wildwood Book 1) Page 13
