Smart Tass

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  The coach blows the whistle and everyone turns to glare in my direction.

  Uh-oh. I smile awkwardly and make a little pump with my fist. “Go Pirates?”

  “You! Out!” screams the coach.

  I hold up my hands in the “I surrender” position and turn to leave before I get mobbed. I can’t believe I did that. I stop. Wait. I can’t believe I just did that! It felt so damned good. Like…amazing.

  I smile and head down the bleachers, making my way to the gate.

  “Hey! Tassie!” an angry voice calls from behind me.

  I freeze, knowing I’m about to get an earful, but I realize that I don’t really care. For the first time, I’m not the one taking the hit and sucking it up. It feels fantastic.

  I turn slowly and watch Hunter jogging toward me, removing his helmet.

  “Hey, Hunter,” I say in a sugary-sweet voice.

  “What the fuck was that?” He stops two feet in front of me, frothing at the mouth.

  I shrug. “Ummm…it’s called payback. You like it? Because I’ve got more. In fact, I’m thinking from now on, I’ll be at every game.”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Are you in love?” Huh, strange. I wasn’t expecting that question to come out, and I certainly don’t know why I added the bitter tinge to my voice, making it sound like I’m accusing him of cheating on me.

  He stares for a long moment. “What’s going on with you, Tass? This is my fucking practice. You can’t show up here and pull this shit.”

  “Oh no. Am I…bothering you?” I say in a snide tone.

  “Yes. And you should go now.”

  “I was going. You’re the one who came after me.”

  “Then-then don’t come back,” he says, all flustered. And I realize that I’m thoroughly enjoying being the aggressor for once. I like not being his doorstop, and I want more.

  “Oh, I will.” I smile and turn to continue on my way. “You’re my jock now, Hunter! Better get used to it!” I call out over my shoulder. I can feel his blue, blue eyes burning into the back of my head as I walk away.

  Damn, I love this.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Okay, Elle. New plan.” I burst into our dorm room, feeling like the universe has offered me a new lease on life. It has never occurred to me to take action or revenge, but now that I realize Hunter—the celebrity star quarterback—is vulnerable, I can’t wait to give him just a little taste of his own medicine. Just a little.

  Elle pulls her earbuds out. “Sorry?”

  “My new plan. Relentless heckling.”

  She crinkles her nose. “Did I miss the bus? Because you’ve obviously gone somewhere without me.”

  I close the door and plop down on my bed. “Did you know that Hunter bullied me for thirteen years?”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Why did you put up with it?”

  “I guess…” I shrug. “I think because letting him know he got to me would feel like letting him win.” Once again, I’ll point out that I’d rather look like an ass than lose. “So I ignored him, which only made him try harder. Or I would smile and tell him how ridiculously stupid he was.” That usually pissed him off and provoked more incidents.

  “Still. Thirteen years?”

  I swipe my hand through the air. “I’m over it. But it’s dawned on me that Hunter has never been an outcast or ridiculed.”

  “Your point?”

  “I’m going to let him know that no bad deed goes unpunished.”

  Elle cocks her head. “Explain how this will allow you to win the bet with Lainey and Jessica to make him your boyfriend.”

  “It won’t. Or maybe it will. He’ll be begging for mercy and do anything I say after I make up a bunch of shrimp signs and pass them out at the next game. I’ll tell everyone it’s to intimidate the rivals, but Hunter will see them and unravel. It will completely mess with his head.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “As a heart attack. On a cruise ship. That’s forgotten to stock aspirin and defibrillators.”

  “Have you always been this crazy, or have you only just recently lost your mind?”

  She thinks I’m crazy, but that’s only because she doesn’t know.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “What if I told you that he once had the entire school wear white T-shirts to honor my virginity.”

  “That’s pretty mean.”

  “Just the tip of the iceberg, but I think his most memorable prank was when he had everyone write me in as homecoming queen.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He thought it would be hysterical to see me put on a frou-frou dress and ride in the town parade.” Hunter planned to make me sit next to him and humiliate me—or something like that.

  “So you were homecoming queen?” she asks, her eyes going wide like saucers.

  “I rejected the title.”

  “I’m sorry.” Elle blinks. “But can you go over that part again? Hunter persuaded everyone to vote for you so you would be homecoming queen?”

  “Yes.”

  “And…was he voted homecoming king?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  She tilts her head to one side. “Is he a psychopath?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Brain damaged in any way?” she asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Seriously.” She gives me a look.

  “Okay, no. He’s not suffering from any brain damage that I’m aware of.”

  “Does he practice sadism or satanic rituals or is he a superfan of the movie Carrie?”

  “No. Where are you going with this?” I ask.

  “I like a mystery—it’s my thing. And I’m very proficient at guessing underlying motives and, therefore, the ending.” She inhales deeply. “Don’t you find it a tad peculiar that a non-sadist, non-brain damaged, non-psycho, non-Carrie fan would go to such lengths and make you homecoming queen just to harm you?”

  “Not when it comes to Hunter. He’s cruel. He once held me down in the fourth grade, gave me a noogie, and then spit a giant wad of gum in my hair.” It took two jars of peanut butter to get it out.

  “Ah. But did you see him lavish his ‘cruel’ attentions on anyone else in such a manner?” she asks.

  “No, Sherlock Homes, but I don’t see how that matters.”

  She shakes her head. “What’s the first rule of kindergarten? When a boy teases a girl, it means he…?”

  I frown. “Now you’re off your rocker. He does not like me.”

  “I beg to differ. I think he was into you. Big time. The hypothesis fits, Tassie.”

  “No. It doesn’t. And I’m going to ruin his life. He’s going to know what it feels like to be laughed at.” She had absolutely no clue what I went through. And no one in their right mind would claim his actions were motivated by love.

  A booming knock on the door startles us from our debate. I turn and pull open the door, finding… “Hunter?”

  He steps inside the room, smelling of sweat and anger—whatever scent that is.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I’ve been standing out in the hallway, and I just heard everything you said.”

  Oh boy. Not good. On the other hand, what do I have to be ashamed of? My feelings are just, and I’ve done nothing wrong.

  “Leave,” I say. “Before I…spank you.” Why did I say that?

  He ignores me and then turns to Elle. “Can you excuse us? Tassie and I need to have a little chat.”

  Elle bites her cheeks and pops up from her desk. “I’ll go sharpen pencils in the library.”

  “Wait. You don’t have to…” She’s gone before I can finish my sentence.

  I scowl up, up, up at Hunter’s tall frame. “How dare you eavesdrop and then run her out.”

  “Well, you, me, and my shrimp dick need a little privacy.”

  “Little is right,” I snarl.

  “Doubtful.” He starts reaching
for the zipper of his uniform pants.

  “Whoa! What are you doing?” I hold out my hands and close my eyes.

  “Well, you’re obviously obsessed with my cock, and I have nothing to hide, so here it is.”

  I can’t help but peek, but his penis is still in his pants.

  “Come on. You really think I’d show it to you?” He scoffs.

  “Who knows what you’re capable of? You’re obsessed with tormenting me.”

  “Really? What the fuck was all that you just said to your roommate?”

  “It’s called justice, Hunter. Because making me lose my chance to get into the Tri-Kapp House was the last freaking straw.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I look at him, and his annoyingly vivid blue eyes. “Well, I’m not exactly out, but I will be because of you.”

  “What did I do?”

  “What you always do,” I bark. “You humiliate me and put me down, and that little display in the library on Friday was just the thing to convince them that I’m not good enough.”

  “Because…why?”

  “They think our little hate war is a love war, me being the aggressor.”

  “I’m not following,” he says.

  “They hate you. They hate Alphas. They think I let you abuse me like that because I’m into you.”

  His gaze is empty at first, but then he breaks out into hysterical laughter. “Yeah. I fucking see that.” He gulps down some air between laughs. “Hysterical.”

  Well, at least someone agrees with me. “Exactly.”

  “So what was your plan? To torture me with shrimp-dick signs so they’d see you as Tri-Kapp material and let you in?”

  “Maybe, though my original plan was to get you to fall in lust with me so I could humiliate you somehow.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  He’s right, but…“It made sense at the time. And it’s no worse than your lame scavenger hunt, which you’re losing, so ha!”

  He takes a sudden interest in his tennis shoes. “So you heard about that.”

  “Yes, I did. And thanks to you and those morons, I won’t be getting into my sorority. My mom really wanted this for me, Hunter, but here I am, yet again, having to disappoint her. Next, I’ll be listening to another speech about how I’m not living up to expectations. Because of you! Do you understand how much pain you’ve caused me, how much damage you’ve done to my life? I mean elementary, middle school, high school—those weren’t enough for you? Now you have to ruin college, too? What did I ever do to you?”

  The words coming from my mouth help me realize just how crazy he makes me. It’s a wound I’ve never overcome, which is likely the reason I’ve emotionally regressed back to high school.

  He stares down at me for a moment, his expression undecipherable. I suppose if I had to guess, I’d say he looks confused.

  “I, uh…gotta go.” He turns for the door.

  “Oh no. You’re not running away from me, mister!” I dash to the door and slide between him and the exit. I’m realizing this has to end. It’s doing bad, bad things to my maturity level.

  “Move, Tassie.”

  “No. Not until you say you’re sorry and you promise to leave me alone from now on.”

  He stares down at me, and I notice how the scruff along his strong jawline isn’t dark like his head of shaggy silky hair. It’s more of a red brown with black mixed in. I also notice how his bottom lip is kind of pouty and very sensual. I’ve never actually looked at his face before. I mean really, really looked at it—the way his dark brows arch over those intense blue eyes with thick black lashes, the high cheekbones and the slight indentation in the hollows of his cheeks or the angular jaw. In my mind, I always saw him as that little boy with the fat cheeks who broke my heart, but now I realize how he’s grown into this…this man with a scruffy short beard and muscles and everything.

  Okay. He’s nice looking. So what if I never noticed? On the inside he has nothing to offer.

  I suddenly realize he’s sort of just standing there looking at me, too, and it shocks me like a gust of frigid winter air. He’s staring at my lips. Really staring.

  My heart suddenly kicks into high gear and adrenaline pumps through me. I don’t like it one little bit. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and my body is all hot and—

  Sexually flustered? No. No, no, no.

  I step to the side and look away, crossing my arms over my chest. “Go. Just go,” I say.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see him reach for the handle, but he doesn’t turn it. I hear him breathing, almost an angry pant, like he wants to hit something or say something, but can’t or won’t.

  He suddenly jerks open the door and disappears, not bothering to close it, leaving me just standing there, trying to digest the weirdness that just happened.

  You just totally got hot for Hunter.

  Fuck. I hang my head and give it a shake. I think it’s time I have sex. My body clearly needs it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  That next night, I dream I am a Salem witch being dragged through the town square while the crowd throws rotten cabbage and undressed Barbies at me. Yes. Strange. Possibly symbolic of my fear of emotional exposure. That or I really dislike cabbage and naked Barbies. When the torch-wielding masses tie me to a post, I notice I’m standing atop a heap of obsolete electronics—Motorola flip-phones and Nokia bricks. I’m fairly sure there are a few pagers and fax machines buried underneath it all, too. Just beyond the mob, I see my parents’ emotionless faces, and I scream for help, but they don’t see me. Only the people with the torches want anything to do with me, and they want to watch me burn along with the other garbage that was once deemed smart and essential. They light the fire, and I yell, “Let me go! I am not obsolete!” Through the flames and smoke, I see someone fighting through the angry mob. Hunter’s handsome face appears and our eyes meet. The look in his eyes tells me he wants to save me, but the people are pushing him back, screaming at him. The fire ignites my legs as he mouths “I’m sorry.” I’m mortified to see him in so much pain. I don’t want that for him.

  The cell phone rings on my nightstand, jarring me from my strange but horrific dream. I grab the thing and look at the caller ID. It’s not a number I know, but it’s six in the morning and I should be getting up for my 7:30 a.m. class.

  “Hello,” I say, my voice all scratchy.

  “Hey, Tass. It’s Hunter,” says that deep, deep voice I’ve come to loathe.

  I blink and rub my face, wondering why the hell he’s calling so early.

  “We need to talk,” he says. “I have practice right now and then class until two, but can we meet somewhere after?”

  I scratch the top of my head. “I have chem lab until three.”

  “Fine. Meet me at my dorm room at 3:15.”

  “What’s this about?” I ask.

  “Best to talk in person.”

  “Okay. You’re being mysterious and that makes me feel uncomfortable. You’re not up to anything, are you?”

  “No,” he replies.

  “Would you tell me if you were?”

  “No. But I’m not.”

  Says you. “Wait. How did you get my number?”

  “Your mom. I called her and asked for it.”

  “At six in the morning?” I ask.

  “No. I called her the other day.”

  Now he’s really piqued my curiosity. He’d been planning to call me? “Okay, see you at 3:15.”

  The day crawls by like a slug on crutches, and my mind can’t help wondering what Hunter wants. Ten minutes before the end of chem lab, I catch myself doodling in my notebook:

  Revenge.

  Apology.

  Censure.

  These are my three hypotheses regarding Hunter’s request to meet. He wants to subject me to some sort of public humiliation after the heckling episode or it’s finally sunk into that thick pigskin-lined head of his that he’s genuinely caused me pain. Or…or…he wants to yell at me a
gain.

  My mind darts to that brief moment just before he left my room—the way he made my heart thump inside my chest. The sweat on my palms. The body tingles.

  I push the thought away, feeling more ridiculous than ever. My body is in its prime, and biology is demanding I pick up her phone call. You know, the call of procreation. “Find strong male. Make babies. You know you want to.” That’s what really happened. My brain, hardwired with millions of years of evolutionary coding, doesn’t care that I’m a modern woman with aspirations.

  Ha! Well, lucky me, I’m smarter than my brain.

  Wait. That doesn’t make any sense. I let out a soft groan as the professor calls it a day. The moment I stand, my stomach makes loop-de-loops and my heart goes crazy. Holy crap. I’m nervous. Really nervous.

  I realize I can’t go see Hunter. I don’t want to. I want to run far away from him. Being outside my comfort zone makes me feel like I’m lost because I don’t know what to do. And not knowing what to do will lead to failure. I’d rather die than fail because I’ve got a chip on my shoulder the size of the Arctic.

  I take a deep breath. Whatever’s going on with me—this out of controlness—can’t be good. I’ll just have to call Hunt and tell him I’m busy. Or that I have the flu. Of my sanity.

  I throw my backpack over my shoulder and dig into my jeans pocket for my cell. I type in, “Hey. Can’t meet today. I’m sick.”

  As I step outside the room and hit SEND, I hear a phone beep to my right in the hall.

  Hunter’s standing there holding his phone and glaring at me.

  “Oh. You…you’re here.” Dammit!

  “I had a feeling you’d flake.”

  “I’m that predictable?” I ask, kind of surprised he knows me so well.

  “I figured after your little chew-out yesterday that you might get second thoughts about meeting. That, and now I know you don’t trust me. Not even a little.”

  “You’re a lot smarter than you look.”

  “You’re funny,” he says dryly and jerks his head toward the exit down the hall. “Let’s go.”

  I stop in my tracks as chatty students flow past us. My heart is thumping like a galloping horse, and I really don’t want to be alone with him.