by Lee Jacquot
No. My heart bottoms out, landing in my stomach with a dull thud. My limbs scream for me to move, run, and never fucking look back. But my dumbass stays, confusion begging to find reason.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” Her voice slices through the air, severing whatever piece of me still held on to the possibility of this being a misunderstanding.
The reason is she’s a horrible, miserable bitch, who I’ve let waste my time. Again. But now, with the added perk of a full hard-on.
“Oh my God! Fucking perv was waiting in your room, naked!” The screeching of her friend, Amora, slices down my spine, lighting my back on fire.
My eyes stay trained on Lily’s, whose face is twisted in disgust, a rose tint paints her cheek, and her ears burn a siren red. No part of her demeanor says she’s surprised or ashamed...
My throat closes, nearly suffocating me, while anger boils in the pit of my gut. The room spins, and the only thing I can focus on is Lily’s hand on her necklace as she pulls it back and forth. Something hot spikes in my chest, but I ignore it while I finish unlocking the handcuffs and bend to grab my clothes.
Maybe I should feel more embarrassed, but the rage rolling through my extremities leaves a dark substance floating around me, numbing my reaction.
I jerk on my sweatpants, balling my shirt in my fist as I push past the blonde twinkies standing in the doorframe.
“That’s fucking disgusting. You need to file a restraining order, Lily!”
I think I hear a laugh, the same fictitious one from class on Friday, and it hammers the final nail in the coffin of what we were.
Amora’s shouts are soon drowned in the music downstairs, and thankfully I’m able to slip out without a second glance.
I pull my shirt over my head and round the corner to my house. There’s a bite to the air that wasn’t there before sending jolts of goose bumps down my arms. At least that’s what I tell myself until my phone vibrates in my pocket.
It’s a video from Lily. I don’t have to play it to know what it is.
Liliana: Keep your mouth shut, or everyone will know what a twisted, depraved freak you are.
I pinch my eyes closed against the burn that’s suddenly crept into the sockets and take in a large gulp of air.
For two minutes, I could breathe.
For two minutes, I could see the girl that was my everything.
For two minutes, I didn’t hate her.
But now, I remember just who Lily Conley is, and I can’t wait to forget her.
“Fucking bitch set me up.” My fists curl around the edge of Remy’s footboard, my knuckles blooming white.
After Lily sent me the video, I couldn’t go home. I would have called William and done something stupid, something I would have regretted. Hitting up Remy was an impulse, but I’m glad I did. She told me to calm down and come over, so here I am. Standing at the edge of a princess bed, surrounded by hues of pink and piles of books.
I clench the railing impossibly tighter, ignoring the stabs of pain in my palm. My pulse continues to ravage through my head, the pounding in my ears making me dizzy.
For half a fucking second, I almost trusted her—thought maybe she actually wanted me the way I want her. How can I still be in denial after all this time? I’m so goddamn stupid. And that text… keep my mouth shut. I have no fucking clue what she’s even talking about, and that pisses me off more.
“Fuck.”
Remy’s eyes widen as she slinks back into her fluffy pink futon, pulling a cream blanket to her chest. Her head shakes slightly as she searches for words. “I-I don’t understand. Why would she do that? I mean, she’s not the nicest person, but I’ve never heard of her targeting someone l-like this.”
There’s no way I’m going to tell her the truth. The sad fucking fact that I’m pathetic and still harbor some feelings for the damn devil herself. So instead, I lie, thinking of the only thing that might make any sense. “So she doesn’t have to do any of the project.”
Remy’s small head jerks back, her eyebrows knitting together. “That seems...juvenile. Not to mention idiotic. You would have done the project alone anyway. Are you sure that’s it?”
I sigh, scrubbing my hands down my face. Maybe I do regret coming over. Remy’s smart enough to see through the bullshit I’m spewing, and I have no intentions of rehashing the dirty details of my past. “I’m sorry for coming here. And being so loud.”
Remy flicks a hand around the room. “Don’t apologize, Spencer. We’re friends. Heck, I think you’re my only friend. You can come here anytime. And don’t worry about being loud. My dad works at the hospital overnight.”
She lifts her blanket, patting the empty space next to her. I nod and flop down, surprised by how good the plush fabric feels. “Thank you.”
Her bright teeth peek through her pillowy lips as she smiles and pushes back her glasses. “I’m here when you wanna talk.”
She grabs the oversized tub of popcorn from her side table and sits it in her lap. Pushing play on the Hallmark movie I interrupted, she nudges me with her elbow.
I lean my head against her shoulder, accepting a handful of popcorn, and something in the air shifts, suddenly making me nauseous. This aura—I’ve felt it once before. It was when Liliana stopped being just the girl in the backyard and became the girl I needed. When she became my fresh air after a suffocating day at the hospital with my mom.
I told myself I would never let this happen again—needing someone to get through the dark. But then Remy glances down, her jet black waves brushing against my ear, and rests her head on mine.
A rush of calm floods through my core, my body relaxing at the connection. I don’t think Remy will be someone I need to get me through the dark. No.
I think she’ll sit in it with me until I find my own way out.
SIX
Spencer hasn’t been to school the whole week. Five damn days.
I knew he would be pissed, maybe a little embarrassed—I mean, that was the intended goal, but this is ridiculous. We still have a project to get done and today is the deadline for our submission.
Not to mention my nerves have been wound up tight as hell, waiting to see how he would respond. I didn’t really think about the aftereffects of the plan. I just knew I needed him to keep quiet, and this was my best chance at getting some leverage.
My pulse spikes, a sudden thought drowning out all the others.
What if he moved away?
Went back to his mom’s and said fuck this project...fuck me.
The air in the room seems thinner—like it did every last day of summer all those years. He came and consumed my life in ways I couldn’t describe, but when he left, he took that with him, leaving everything a little less colorful. Less beautiful. It’s as though I was tolerating the bleak life I had, biding my time until he came back.
Leaning back in my chair, I huff and stare daggers into my phone. My fingers itch to text him and find out. Put me out of this disturbing misery. But I can’t. I’ve put myself in such a stupid conundrum, my head throbs against the internal struggle.
I rub the ache in my temples, still staring at the phone. Every time the screen dims, I tap it, bringing it back to life, and hope a notification will pop up.
Why would he reach out to you after what you did?
The nerve in my molar sends a spike of pain down my jaw as I grind my teeth. I don’t want him to reach out about us, but I do need the grade for this class. And if he did move away, the teacher would have told me.
Failing would be just as bad as Spencer disclosing all my secrets. I need to get an A in this damn class, and I have no clue how I can do that without him.
“He’s already turned in the submission to Mr. Jones.”
My attention snaps to the voice, it’s soft, but there’s a bite in her tone.
It’s the girl with the hexagon glasses. Her inky hair brushes against her jaw as she straightens her spine, and I almost think she means to be intimidating. Her oval-
shaped face mocks me with its symmetry. Even her lips have the perfect cupid’s bow.
Irritation licks at my nerves. Partially because she’s a natural beauty that doesn’t seem to appreciate it, hiding her tiny body in hideous oversized T-shirts. And also, I can begrudgingly admit because she’s spoken with Spencer about our project.
I prop my elbow on the lab table, feigning boredom, and blink slow. “Is that so?”
The small girl scoffs, folding thin arms across her chest. “It is. Not that you even need to know. As if you really planned to help.”
It’s a struggle to keep my face indifferent against the flare of anger coiling deep in my belly. This girl is a friend. A good one, I’m guessing, since she knows about my text to Spencer from that night. It makes me wonder what else she knows.
I flip my hair over my shoulder and drum my fingers on the dingy table. I wait a few seconds before letting my eyes flit back to her. “Was there something else?”
Her eyes narrow, but she shuffles her feet before she answers. “I think what you did was pretty horrible.”
My eyes flutter closed before I sigh, turning back to my phone. A good friend indeed. To call me out, even privately, tells me I may need to look into their relationship a little more. “Okay, hun.”
“Remy,” she clips, needing to correct me.
Instead of talking, already having used too many words, I roll my neck and lean back. Thankfully, she gets the hint, turning on her heels and sauntering to the front, leaving an odd energy in her wake. It’s unsettling that she knows, but the way her voice wavered just now says she’s at least unnerved by me. That’s something—means she can be frightened into silence if need be.
But the whole encounter goes to show, Spencer can’t keep a secret. Rule two from a contract we once made. The penalty was a punch to the gut, if I recall.
I run my tongue over my top teeth, tugging on my necklace until it pinches the skin. My stomach is hollow, and instead of a flutter, it feels like a snake is swirling around the organs, making me nauseous.
I wonder what else he’s told her.
Finally, I grab my phone with one hand and massage the knot in my neck with the other. I swallow down the bile and type.
Me: I need a stress reliever.
I don’t have to wait long for a response.
Blaze: Say less.
“Again!” I screech across the field, throwing my water bottle on the ground.
We’ve been at practice too damn long for the counts to still be this off. We only have a few minutes before we need to clear out and get ready for the game, and these girls are nowhere near ready. This is exactly why we’ve already started practicing for regionals. They’re fumbling on top of one another, missing beats, and pissing me off with their lack of determination. And if there’s one thing I hate more than a clumsy cheerleader, it’s a lazy one.
I’ve lost countless amounts of sleep in order to perfect a routine before. I would eat, sleep, and breathe the damn counts until Blaze forced me to rest, and even then, I was watching videos of practice. I’ve worked hard, still do. I am proof that no matter what anyone tells you, you can do anything you set your mind to. Not only that, but excel, and be the best there ever was.
Make them envy you. Remember you.
Amora’s blue eyes narrow in on me, her chest heaving as she rallies the girls. “Let’s go bitches! Pull your head out of your ass and do it right so we can fucking go!”
There’s a chance I may also just be projecting, but I don’t really care. The sickness from earlier has yet to subside, and I can’t focus. My insides are rolling, and every few minutes, I have to swallow down the bitter bile.
That girl, Remy, could serve as an entirely different issue. First, I’m irritated that I don’t know the nature of their relationship. I mean, considering he was about to be balls deep inside of me last week, it can’t be too serious. But her knowing what happened means they’re close enough that he trusts her.
And that bothers me. It grates on my nerves, forcing me to be a little more sensitive than I should.
What makes her so visible when I was anything but?
“Tuck your fucking knees!” I instruct Stacy, tugging my ponytail down for the fifteenth time.
I need to figure out how much she knows about me. Find out just what mini Katherine Johnson might say to the wrong people, given a chance. My wheels begin to turn, just as Amora nails her landing.
“About fucking time!” I ignore the sighs of relief that echo through the girls. “Shower and be ready by six-thirty.”
I leave the field, not waiting for them to follow, and barrel into the locker room. I exhale a long breath when I see Blaze leaning against my locker, a white towel dangling from his index finger. His white T-shirt pulls across his chest then pools at his waist, where his own towel is tied. What kind of a guy showers before a game?
My broken little knight, that’s who.
Blaze has always had the weirdest quirks, most of which are tied to things he doesn’t even let me see. I may get the privilege to read more of him than others, but even I’m limited to specific chapters.
He tilts his head, brows raised. “Coming?”
Nodding, I accept the cotton towel and follow him to the showers—the private one at the end is already steaming. I throw Blaze a grin before stripping down and slipping inside, closing the curtain behind me.
“The party is set.” His smooth voice sounds over the crash of water in my ears.
The temperature is perfect, a few degrees before scalding, and it pounds into my muscles, relieving some of the tension from earlier. “I need another favor, B.”
I’m met with silence, so I continue. “There’s a girl I need to be there. I have a feeling she may know a little too much, and I can’t invite her myself.”
“Name.”
“Remy.”
More silence. Only this one feels like a pause, a shift perhaps. I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait. Maybe there’re lots of Remys. “I don’t know her las—”
“Solace.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Like Solace University, Solace?”
“The one and only.”
Shit. Solace University is a private institution damn near hidden in Emerald Falls Forest on the edge of the city. It’s elite and only for the rich and genius. It was my dream school before I realized the magnitude of money you need to go there.
And money is something I don’t have. Not anymore. It’s tied to my father in Texas, who would love a chance to feel like a father by throwing some at me. Which was reason number one, I dropped the idea of going to Solace and decided to pave my own way.
I sigh, popping open my lavender body wash. If she has ties to Solace University, I definitely can’t fuck with her. I’ll need another tactic. “Play nice, and make sure she comes.”
He lets out a yawn, pulling back the curtain, and dips his head to kiss my cheek. “Anything else?”
“No, thank you, Blaze. Good luck tonight.”
“You, too.” He pushes his now damp black hair out of his face and replaces the curtain. I chuckle as shrieks and gasps echo through the showers as girls make their way inside.
Closing my eyes, I lean against the cool tile.
The weight of everything is getting heavy, and I begin to wonder what it would be like just to let it go.
I bet I would be able to breathe again.
SEVEN
I don’t give a fuck about what happened. Not even a little bit.
Did I expect it? No. Though, in retrospect, I should have felt it somewhere in between her moments of slight hesitation. But with Lily’s body melded to mine, and her arms wrapped around me, it was like she wanted me, and I let that stupid ass moment melt my guard. It liquified from the heat of her touch, and I fell for it.
Hook.
Line.
And sinker.
Still, I didn’t want to risk the slight chance of her getting the best of me in class. So I took a day off
. Then it turned into two days, and soon it was a week. I don’t regret it. Not seeing her for six days has given me time—to think, plan, and spend it with my mother.
I’ve been able to take her to a couple of therapy sessions, which is where I am now. Sitting in the hard plastic chair next to her, I scroll on my computer, searching for more ways to test my experiment’s hypothesis.
How can different gradient colors affect human behavior and conversation?
My old partner, Maurice, and I already had a plan—script included, though I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off now. I could ask Remy, I know she would help, but that would be selfish. She has her own project to worry about—even if she won’t benefit from the prize.
Solace Scholarship.
Still, the idea of working with my foul blonde partner swirls what little contents are in my guts, making me nauseous.
I huff, closing my laptop with a snap.
“What’s wrong, honey?” My mother’s voice is the softest I’ve ever heard. It’s like she’s in a perpetual confessional and everything needs to be handled delicately. She tugs the pink shawl around her thin shoulders, leaning into me, letting her long gray locks brush over my bicep. “You can tell me.”
I spare her a gentle smile and shake my head. Even if my mother wasn’t suffering from the onset of dementia, I still wouldn’t worry her with such petty drama. She’s always had a fragile heart when it came to my happiness. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the miracle baby after fifteen years of infertility or the fact that being a mother at her age makes women a little more sensitive. Either way, I try to wear the mask of contentment well.
Even if it’s only for her.
“You can’t hide it from me, love. I can see it in the little lines on your sweet face.” She closes her big amber eyes and rests into me. “These waves you’re fighting against, hold steady, and hold fast. It will pass, my love.”
