Fletcher( Boys of HGU #1)

by Victoria McFarlane

  This is where she belongs. Here. With me.

  My molars grind as her arms wrap around my waist, her head resting on my left pec. She was a whole head and a bit shorter than my six foot two height.

  Her delicate hands rest on my lower back, warm against my skin through my t shirt and she smells like fucking heaven. Sweet and fruity.

  I had found myself comparing every single girl I met at college to her, their hair color, eye color but no one ever came close to the real thing.

  And this is all some serious shades of fucked up.

  Clearing my throat, I release her, stepping away from her little body, still all on show for me to see or rather, try to avoid seeing. Once I got a peek it would take everything I had not to stare.

  It was nothing short of an obsession and clearly I needed help.

  “I missed you,” Peyton tells me, pushing her glasses to her head to look up at me.

  “Yeah,” I grind out, “Me too.”

  After a little talk about college I head up to my room, finding it exactly how I left it, the walls lined with football posters, trophies from my time in high school on the shelves and right there, on the desk, a picture of Peyton and I, taken at the cabin in Aspen this past winter. It was then I realised what I had let go. What I hadn’t seen right in front of me and now I was too late to do anything because she belonged to someone else. She belonged to my brother.

  I shouldn’t have done what I did that day, but I couldn’t change it now, it was permanently there, a constant reminder.

  “That was a good day,” I startle, not realizing I had been staring at the photo of the two of us. I take another glance, memorizing the way Peyton’s cheeks were pink from the cold, her long dark hair a striking contrast to the pristine snowy white hills behind her. She was completely covered in thick trousers and a puffy coat, but she had never looked more beautiful with that bright, cheerful smile on her face, my arm around her shoulders, grinning at the camera like I had just won the damn lottery.

  “It was,” I agree, placing the photo back on the desk, making a mental note to pack it before I headed back to campus Sunday night.

  “Are you okay, Fletch?” Peyton steps into the room, her body now covered in a pair of too tight, too short, shorts and a flowy white blouse, “You seem tense.”

  I flinch away from her as her hand lands on my bicep, wincing at the hurt in her face.

  “Sorry,” I scrub a hand down my face and open one arm, inviting her to tuck herself against my side. It’s a move I’ve done a thousand times, a hug we’ve shared watching movies and whilst we’ve talked and every time before it was simply platonic but now, for me at least, it was torture.

  She rests her head on my chest, “I have missed you, you know. It’s not the same without you here.” She sighs.

  “Colt and Decker will be here later,” I quickly change the subject.

  I feel her smile, “The gang all back together.”

  I chuckle at that, not having thought about it that way. It’s not even been a full year away from home and yet everything has changed. Where we used to spend every day together, all of us, we now got lucky to spend a single night.

  Life moved on, too quickly and before we even knew it, we were losing things, bits and pieces of our lives that had become so important over the years we wondered how we would ever survive without them.

  What was really scary, I was only forty-five minutes down the road at Hillgrove University but it may as well have been on the other side of the country.

  “Yeah, we’ll have to make sure we do this more. Summer’s coming, we’ll have plenty of time, all of us.” I say.

  I didn’t realize at the time those words would become a lie.

  We didn’t have time. None of us had time.

  And tonight would be the last night all of us, me, Tyler, Peyton, Colt and Decker, ever spent together as a group.

  It would be one of the final times I saw my brother smiling, having fun and it would be the last time I allowed myself to look at Peyton the way I was looking at her tonight.

  Because after tonight, everything was going to change. Maybe not right away, but soon, real soon, my whole life was going to blow up like everything before this didn’t exist.

  Five

  It’s early when I wake to my phone screaming on the bedside table, okay screaming is an exaggeration, maybe ringing, just really loudly.

  I swear I only fell asleep an hour ago, too restless, thinking about the night before at the bar with Fletcher. Decoding and dissecting the entire time we spent together to figure out what I did to make him actually talk to me again.

  My hand fumbles on the side until my fingers clasp around the device and I open one eye, squinting at the screen.

  Mom calling.

  I hit the answer button and bring the phone to my ear.

  “Hey mom,” I answer, cringing at the huskiness to my tone.

  “Peyton, honey, are you sick?” My mom’s concerned voice shrills down the phone, “you sound awful.”

  I force myself to a sitting position, rubbing my eyes with one hand, “No mom, just woke up.”

  “It’s nine A.M, you’re never up this late!”

  “It’s Saturday,” I remind her, “I, at least, sleep in till nine thirty on weekends.”

  She chuckles, “Well as long as you’re not sick.”

  “Not sick,” I confirm, “Is everything okay?” I ask, “Eric good?”

  “All good here, sweetie, we were just wondering if you were coming home this weekend?”

  I glance over to the desk in the corner of my room, at the mountain of books and paperwork, “Not this weekend, I have a ton of studying to do.”

  I usually went home at least two weekends every month, this month, with all my work plus the tutoring I had only managed to go back once. It was only a short drive, forty-five minutes and guilt began to niggle at my stomach, “I’ll be back next weekend, promise. Maybe I’ll even drive down after class on Friday.”

  “Oh that would be lovely, sweetie, we also have thanksgiving soon and I get you for a whole week.”

  I smile, “Yeah mom, a whole week.”

  My mind wandered idly to Fletcher, would he be going home this weekend? I knew he rarely went back now, maybe once every couple of months. Would he see his family for the holidays?

  He had changed so much since that night that I really couldn’t recognize him anymore. Well, last night not included. When he gave me his jacket, that was classic Fletcher, the knight in shining armour. He always was and I hoped he always would be.

  I guess that’s what hoping got me.

  With a loud sigh I force my thoughts off the boy I used to know and back onto the phone with my mom. We talk for a little while, about my classes, life on campus and my roommate but then Eric calls her from the kitchen and she has to go, telling me he had promised to take her to the mall today and she wasn’t going to give him any excuses to not go. With a chuckle, I tell her I love her and hang up, throwing off the blanket still covering my feet and trudging out to the little kitchen I shared with Demi, my roommate.

  She’s already perched on a stool beneath the small counter, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand as she peruses the school paper.

  “Still hot,” she tells me, not looking up from the article she’s reading.

  I groan my appreciation, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring myself a cup of the holy java.

  “So a little birdie told me the one Fletcher Dallas walked you home last night.” Not a question, a statement she speaks after she’s folded the paper and peers up at me, her thick black, rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose and one perfectly sculptured brow quirked in curiosity.

  “A little birdie?” I raise my own brow, challengingly.

  “Okay it was me, so help me, I’m a journalist, I have to keep an eye out for everything and I just so happened to be looking out the window the exact moment you and him stopped on the corner. Girl, you looked pissed.”

/>   I laugh, not at all surprised she was spying. She wasn’t of course spying on me, I just happened to be there when she did her nightly look out the window. It was worse on weekends, our dorm was in a busy part of campus, we saw a lot through these windows and more often than not the things we saw ended up on a blog online, written by Demi herself about Hillgrove Campus Life.

  “I wasn’t pissed,” I roll my lips, “just a little confused.”

  Demi knew it all, everything that happened my senior year of high school with Tyler. She knew of my history with Fletcher and the boys and my crush on my boyfriend’s older brother. I cringe at the thought.

  What a messed up situation to find yourself in.

  Demi nods understandingly, sipping thoughtfully at her coffee, “He looked confused.”

  My brows pucker, “What do you mean?”

  She shrugs, “I don’t know. He just looked like he was warring with himself. I can’t imagine it’s easy for him.”

  I scoff, “It isn’t easy for me either. He abandoned me when I needed him. Forget the mess of my feelings, he was my friend.”

  “He lost his brother,” Demi says, “you probably remind him of that every time he sees you.”

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. Sighing, I sip at my coffee, letting the caffeine seep into my bloodstream and wash away the memories of last night. Was he confused? Did seeing me hurt him?

  That’s not what I wanted, I didn’t want to cause him anymore pain than he was already going through. Him and Tyler were brothers, best friends with under a year between the two of them. It hit him hard when Tyler died, which of course was not surprising. I had always thought he blamed me for his death. It was me he was coming to see, I was the reason he was in that car on that particular night. But clearly I was being selfish and self absorbed to think that, too stuck in my own guilt because I blamed myself. If I hadn’t called him an hour before, if I had just waited until the next day maybe this would have been different.

  I leave Demi writing a blog post about a fight she had witnessed outside the library yesterday afternoon and head into my room to tackle the mountain of work on my desk. I would be working tonight at the bar, an extra shift I had taken seeing as I wasn’t heading home so I needed to cram in as much as possible between now and six when I was due to start.

  I last an hour before my mind wanders back to Fletcher.

  What is he doing right now? Will he be at the bar again tonight?

  I hadn’t caught up with Decker or Colt this week so I didn’t know if they were around either.

  Would he talk to me again if we did see each other tonight?

  “Stop it,” I tell myself, pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

  At five I stop working, having achieved very little in the studying department.

  Jeez, one encounter with my old friend and I’m a mess. Maybe it was best not to see him again if this is what it’s going to do to me.

  After showering, I dress in a pair of black jeans and a chucks polo shirt, slipping my feet into my converse sneakers and tying my long hair into a high ponytail. Hopefully it’ll be busy tonight, leaving me no time to overthink, well, everything.

  At a quarter to, I head out, wrapping my coat around my body to save myself from the chill. It was dark out, the sky a deep navy color and the lamps around campus had been switched on, illuminating the path. Even though it was the weekend and most students venture home, it was still bustling, with people heading out to parties on frat row or to the bars just outside of campus.

  As I’m walking I hear the tires of a car slowing on the road. I don’t think anything of it until they stop and a door opens, slamming closed only a few seconds later.

  “Peyton,” the deep timbre of his voice cuts through me, my spine stiffening, goose bumps chasing over my skin and not from the cold. I twist my head over my shoulder, spotting Fletcher at the hood of his car, wearing a pristine white t shirt that molded to the shape of his muscles, covered by a leather jacket and paired with dark jeans with rips down the leg and a pair of boots. His hair was gloriously disheveled, his eyes piercing.

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  It would take me another five, tops, to make it to the bar.

  “I’m good,” I swallow, “Thanks.”

  “I’m heading there now,” he says, stopping me from advancing, “Decker and Colt will be there.”

  “Oh,” I look at the truck, at the space between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat. If walking with him left me completely frazzled then being in such an enclosed space would floor me.

  “Come on,” his lips slightly tilt at the corners, a promise of a smile he won’t give me, “It’ll take two minutes.”

  Sighing and unable to come up with an excuse I climb into the passenger seat, using the step to hoist my body into the truck. Inside is clean but tainted with the scent of him. Fresh but manly, almost spicy and rock music is playing on a low volume through the speakers.

  He’s silent as he climbs in behind the wheel and pulls back out, heading towards Chucks.

  “So, uh, how’ve you been?” He asks.

  I shrug then realise he isn’t looking at me so answer, “Good. Thanks. You?”

  God, why do I sound so robotic?

  I used to sing in front of this man and have no issues and I’m so off key it should be embarrassing but never with him.

  “Good.”

  The two minutes it takes to get to Chucks may as well have been an hour for the way the road appeared to be endless, the silence heavy and awkward.

  Finally he pulls into the lot outside Chucks, the heavy bass of the music playing inside the bar cutting through the silence.

  “Okay, well, thanks,” I give him a smile that probably resembles more of a grimace and get the hell out of dodge, rolling my eyes heavenward at the awkwardness of that entire situation.

  The warmth of the bar and the loud crowd does nothing for my internal struggle and before I start shift, I splash my face with some cold water, thankful I went makeup free tonight.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, taking a deep breath.

  Even after three years the man still had this hold on me. A hold that I was now realizing was never going to go away.

  The thought sent a spiral of panic through me. Every man I ever meet is going to be held up against him, measured against the one Fletcher Dallas and I fear no one will ever come close.

  No one will be able to match his charm, or his smile or the way he laughs.

  He may be a different person right now but I know the man from three years ago was still in there somewhere.

  He was just lost.

  He would find his way again. I knew he would.

  It just might not be with me, I might not ever get to see him like that again.

  I guess I should be thankful that I got to spend time with him before tragedy over took our lives but all I feel is resentment and jealousy for the people in his future who get to witness him returning.

  I hadn’t realized I had started crying until a tear drops off my chin and lands on the back of my hand resting on the edge of the sink.

  I meet my reflection in the mirror again, my eyes blood shot and glassy.

  It wasn’t just him who lost himself.

  I’ve lost myself too.

  Six

  It’s half an hour before I see her again. She disappeared out back the moment she stepped foot into the bar and hadn’t come out since.

  It wasn’t necessarily the truth when I told her that I was meeting Colt and Decker here and yet here I was, sitting at a high top table near the bar, waiting for her to come back out. I text the guys as soon as I sat down, telling them to meet me here and they were all for it, sorting some shit out first before meeting me. They still weren’t here.

  Eventually, Peyton pushes through the door at the back behind the bar, her cheeks rosier than before, her eyes a little swollen and bloodshot like she’d been crying.

  It was a bad idea inviting h
er into my car, I knew it then and I definitely know it now as the scent of her strawberry shampoo still lingers in my nose, teasing me.

  Fuck that conversation had been stilted, awkward, like the two of us hadn’t spent the best part of our teenage years together.

  What confused me more was how her presence eased that pain in my chest. The grief, it didn’t feel so heavy, like just the weight of it was going to crush me.

  Had I been wrong this entire time? Had I pushed her away for all these years, thinking she would only bring me pain when in actual fact her mere presence was like a balm on my soul?

  I scrub a hand over my mouth and knock back the rest of my beer.

  I didn’t choose this table because it was her section, in fact I didn’t even think about it but clearly I had chosen one of her tables as she shuffles towards me, her eyes averted, looking at everything else, everyone else, except for me.

  “What can I get you?” Her voice is small, almost being swallowed by the loudness of the bar.

  “I didn’t realise Chucks did table service.”

  “Until nine and only these tables,” she shrugs, “The same?” She asks, referring to my empty bottle of beer.

  I nod once, “Please.”

  “Decker and Colt bail?”

  “No, they’re coming.”

  She nods again, picks up the empty and heads back to the bar.

  I watch her the entire time, hypnotized by the sway of her hair, the movements of her body.

  I’m so lost in her I don’t realize Colt and Decker are here until a palm slaps me on the shoulder blade, startling me. They’re rowdy tonight, Decker more so but that’s not surprising. Decker was the most enthusiastic out of us, which, considering his past is surprising. It’s safe to say he had a hard upbringing, one he doesn’t speak about much but every now and then he’ll get a haunted look in his eyes, his mind reminding him of everything he’s been through.

  “Hey man,” Decker grins, hopping up onto one of the stools on the other side of the table, “What’s happening?”