The Masks We Wear: High School Bully Romance (Emerald Falls Series Book 1)

by Lee Jacquot

  I hate that.

  I hate that after everything, his body still calls to me. Every ounce of my being wants nothing more than to be next to him—while to him, I am nothing. I hate him.

  “William. How many times do I have to tell you? We’ve been friends forever, bro. There is nothing going on with me and her. She’s not even my type—too plain, boring. She’s nothing.”

  The voice on the phone is so loud I can hear it through his ear piece. It’s deeper than it should be for a thirteen-year-old, and his laugh curls the hairs on my neck. “You’re a dog, Hanes.”

  Squeezing my eyes against the burn of the memory, my chest heaves. The once dull pain, now alive, radiating through my body with a vengeance. It’s hard to look at him without hearing his whispers from that day.

  When I look back at him, his eyes are locked on mine. My breath hitches—no, it stops. Each nerve ending tingles as we stand, waiting, but for what I don’t know.

  Do something. Anything. Urging him with my thoughts, I take a quick breath. Just once, I want to see that same fire in him like from the cafeteria. I want to know I get under his skin the way he does me.

  Instead, his gaze flits down before he thrusts himself off the window, turning and disappearing behind his curtains.

  My shoulders deflate as I let the air fill my lungs. This is stupid. I’m stupid. Falling back on my bed, letting it curl in around me, sleep comes. The crushing weight of nearing midterms, scholarship deadlines, regionals, and all things Spencer finally taking its toll.

  When I wake up, I have too many messages and notifications, but one makes my heart stutter.

  Bulldog: Monday, 4:45

  I’m early today, but only because I want to get this over with. The quicker we start, the faster we’ll be done, and I don’t have to see Spencer the entire week. Blaze took me out to eat for lunch, so I spared myself the nausea of having to see him while I ate.

  Slipping into the worn chair, I sling my bag on the back and begin drumming my fingers on the desk. Waiting is still something that drives my nerves into overdrive, though I’m not sure if it’s from irritation or anticipation.

  The door opens a few minutes later, and Spencer appears in the frame. He doesn’t notice me a first, flopping into the seat with a sigh, letting his backpack drop from his shoulder with a dull thud. His ugly confetti sweater hugs his biceps as he runs a hand through his hair, and that’s when I notice he still doesn’t have any glasses. The scratches on his face are starting to scab, and I ignore the twinge of guilt that wells in my throat.

  I swallow it down and clear my throat. He deserved it. “Rough day?”

  Spencer jerks back, his eyes narrowing, and I assume, trying to get me into focus. I wonder how he managed to get through the day like that.

  “Between being barked at all day during the passing period, finding a bowl of dog food in my locker, and a new collar with a ‘Lily’s pet’ tag, I’d say yes.”

  A hideous bark of laughter spills from my mouth before I can stop it. I knew when I posted it on social media, things would get a little rough, but this is gold. Part of me wonders if he’s connected the dots. If he’s figured out why being a dog is so significant.

  Spencer shakes his head, and his body vibrates with the anger he won’t let out, which makes the prior guilt fade. He still won’t react. Why?

  “I’m going to start the timer. Please don’t talk until then.”

  My head snaps back. “The only reason I won’t is because I don’t have anything else to say, not to mention I don’t speak bitch, so, ya know.”

  The nerve in his jaw tics as he clenches it, but other than that, he says nothing, grabbing the remote from his backpack. He clicks a button, and the room illuminates into a golden yellow, similar to when the sun first starts to set.

  We wait in the requested silence, neither of us daring to look at the other. While normally I would feel happy surrounded by yellow, its brightness irritates me today. But maybe it’s because I’m having to wait again. Either way, my pulse increases, and I can feel it in my wrists, tapping against the thin skin. It’s annoying as hell. Clenching the charm on my necklace, I pull it back and forth, paying little attention to the sting of it digging into my fingertips.

  Finally, the timer goes off, and he jumps right into it. “Hey.”

  Making my voice as bored as I can, my hand waves cheerfully. “Hey.”

  “How was your day?”

  My eyes flash to his, and a smile creeps across my face, widening when he shifts in his seat. “Marvelous. How was your day?”

  “Dumb as fuck. How are you feeling?” he continues, keeping his face impassive, but he can’t stop the nerve thumping in his temple.

  “Annoyed,” I chirp, honestly. “How are you feeling?”

  Spencer’s eyebrows draw together slightly, and his head quirks, but he doesn’t inquire further. All business. Cool, that’s what I wanted anyway.

  He clears his throat and mimics my response, “Annoyed. If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

  “Fuck your mouth,” I reply, hoping to get some type of reaction.

  I have no earthly idea why it matters so damn much. Why I can’t just let it go and move on. Why after all this time, I still think about that day I climbed up the rose trestle outside his window to have my heart ripped out of my chest.

  Because that’s what he left me with—a mangled piece of meat that barely even beats anymore.

  Coupled with the occasional beatings from my piece of shit mother and total neglect of my father, he made me the very thing that’s sitting in front of him now. Losing him, the last person who was everything to me… that’s what broke me. It made me realize that the only person that ever truly, really cares about you is yourself. Everyone else is just a good time or collateral damage.

  “If you could do anything right now, what would you do?” The burn behind my eyes is strong now, but not enough for me to give in and let him know he still hurts me even when he isn’t doing anything.

  It’s just been me, struggling with making him keep a secret and wanting to fuck his brains out, while he hasn’t done anything this entire time. He’s just sat there, taking it all without a word…

  Biding his time…

  Like he’s just waiting for this thing between us to pass…

  Then it hits me.

  Spencer hasn’t done anything. He was enrolled almost three months before I even knew he was here, and even that encounter was by chance. There was no way in hell he didn’t know I was here.

  Why haven’t I realized this before?

  He purposely avoided me.

  An anger I haven’t felt in years rears its head, soaking into my blood like a hot toxin, spewing through my body. My hands shake under the table, but I keep my face as calm as I can.

  He doesn’t get to win. Not anymore.

  He mumbles something about doing research, and I realize it’s now time for the extra part. I clamp my mouth closed, unable to verbally say anything else. The room is suffocating, full of his scent, and I don’t want to breathe it anymore.

  When he realizes I have nothing to add, he leans back. “Stop with the bully act, Lily. It looks like shit on you.”

  Bile hits the back of my throat. That’s what he thinks I’m doing? Bullying him, and he’s a victim? Like he’s the one that didn’t rip my heart out like a fucking coward.

  I scoff, standing, and shoving the heel of my palms on the desk. Rage continues to flood my system, driving it into sensory overload, coating my words in a venom I hope knocks him on his ass.

  “Fuck you, Spencer. Fuck you for thinking I care in the slightest about your meek existence. You are the shit beneath my heel that smells so foul, I just throw them away. You think I’m being a bully? I’ll show you what a fucking bully I can be.” I yank my purse up by the straps, whipping it around so it hits him square in the face and slam the door closed behind me.

  Charging forward through my blurry vision, I don’t stop
or look back and let the tears coat my cheeks. They aren’t tears of sadness or hurt. They are from the deepest, darkest part of my twisted soul. The last part that gave a fuck, which is now burning in the fire of my fury.

  I hate him, and I want him to feel it. I want him to look down at the shards of his life after I’ve demolished it, leaving it at his feet, and feel it all.

  Then he will know what it is to have nothing or no one in your corner. He will know the same reality that I’ve known since I was twelve years old. And I think I’ll start with the thing he does care about.

  Remy.

  SEVENTEEN

  My phone buzzes for the fifteenth time, and I don’t even bother looking anymore. My last test is coming up, and with the nonstop shit at school, focusing has been nearly impossible.

  It’s been a whole fucking week, and people still haven’t let up. The constant gifts left for me have become so abundant, the local shelter knows me by name. I’ve dropped off donations every day. Dog bowls, food, leashes, toys, you name it. At first, it was easy to ignore, but it went from annoying to straight fucking harassment. The amount of little scabs running across my palm from clenching my fist is pitiful.

  Hold fast, hold steady.

  I played my mother’s words on a loop to keep from bashing in every head that barked at me. She’s forgotten about the fight already, but I haven’t forgotten the face she made when I got home. It was the same one she gave me back in Idaho when all she saw in me was a bloody disappointment.

  There isn’t much time left before I’m just another stranger, and I’ll be damned if that’s the last look she ever gives me while remembering who I am.

  I won’t lie, though. Holding fast and steady this afternoon has proved fucking difficult. It’s Friday afternoon, just a couple of hours since school’s let out, and my phone won’t stop ringing. I answered the first one, but after being barked at, I haven’t bothered picking it up again. Somehow my number got out, that much is obvious, but then the emails started coming in. How the fuck they got that is beyond me.

  Now, I’m waiting for Remy to finish up her book club meeting, so we can FaceTime study for this chemical compound test. Glancing at the clock, I consider texting her. Tell her I’ll just come over tomorrow after work so that I can turn off my phone.

  Right as my finger hovers over our text thread, a bright smile and hexagon glasses flash across the screen.

  “Spencer!” Her voice is breathy like she’s been running. “I’ve been calling you. Where are you?”

  Guilt takes the place of annoyance, and I sigh, rubbing the nape of my neck. I must have missed it while ignoring others. “You and thirty other people. I’m sorry, I don’t know what th—”

  “I know! That’s why I’ve been calling. Can you come over?”

  My brows pull together. “Yeah, of course. Now?”

  “Yes, hurry up, Spence.”

  I pause, feeling my face contort at the use of the nickname before responding. “Okay.”

  After hanging up, I turn my phone off, unable to take any more of the calls, and throw on a hoodie. Whatever the fuck is going on, there’s no doubt in my mind who’s the cause. The moment she swung herself out of the room, I knew.

  Lily’s pissed.

  But I’m not sure why. She mentioned multiple times about keeping my mouth shut, which I’ve done. No one knows her mom’s a custodian, and I damn sure haven’t told them Lily’s family abandoned her. So I don’t know what her problem is. She seems to be pissed I don’t react, but that’s like Bully Survival 101. Don’t engage, and they’ll leave you alone. But it seems to have the opposite effect on her.

  My eyes flash to the house behind mine. It’s hidden under a fresh blanket of snow, the smoking chimney showing the only signs of life inside. The life that for some reason, is hell-bent on making mine miserable. An unwelcome ache radiates across my chest, but I force my gaze away, snatching my keys from the kitchen counter and leave.

  The influx of snow we’ve had causes it to take a little longer than normal to get to Remy’s, which lets my mind wander more. Frustration burrows in my head as I try to wrap my thoughts around what the fuck happened with Lily and me.

  There’s something I’m not seeing. Something I’ve missed, maybe.

  By the time I arrive, the sun is setting, and a chill cuts through the air, threatening to bring a blizzard with it.

  Remy must hear me pull up and opens the front door before I get out of my car. She’s bundled up in fleece long johns, and a chunky knit blanket’s wrapped around her. Her short nose is already blooming a pink that’s spreading to the tops of her cheeks. Those big hazel eyes are wide beneath her oversized glasses as she watches me trek up the driveway.

  I make a note to clear it before I leave in case she needs to go somewhere.

  “What’s up?”

  She closes the door behind me but doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, her eyes focus on the floor, and she chews on the corner of her lip. After a few seconds, she tilts her head toward a stack of crumpled paper on the entryway table.

  Grabbing the one on top, I glance at Remy before opening it. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I got as many as I could find.”

  The flyer is the printed photo from the party with a bold print, listing the appropriate time I can be reached for services, along with my phone number, email, and place of fucking employment.

  It’s not anger or rage that floods through my body, it’s validation. It’s knowing my suspicions were right, and every bad thing in my life stems from this new Lily. The one I loved isn’t underneath some complicated layers, waiting to be saved.

  This girl is damaged beyond recognition, leaving me mourning the loss.

  “It could always be worse.” Shrugging, I toss the paper back down and stride up her stairs two at a time.

  There’s a pain, one I don’t want to acknowledge, stabbing into my heart. Each breath I take makes it worse, shoving whatever’s poking it, further in. I flop down on her futon in my usual place, and my hand massages the ache.

  Remy appears in the threshold, still bundled up. She peers over the rim of her glasses before pushing them back up the bridge of her nose. “You’re not mad?”

  “Nope.”

  It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling.

  “Seems a little much for someone to do just because they want you to do their part of a project, Spencer.” Remy sits next to me, folding her legs beneath her. She almost looks like a little kolache, and it makes me smile.

  Her eyebrows knit together, and I realize she’s waiting. When I merely shrug again, she clears her throat. “I’ve thought about things lately, and I noticed something. You know a lot about me. Like a lot an—”

  “No, I don’t,” I interject. I know where this is going, and I’m not ready. Having a friend of the opposite sex is easy, but when they know too much, when they know everything and become a best friend, that’s when you have to worry about losing them—about becoming strangers that know each other’s secrets. I don’t want to lose Remy.

  “What’s my favorite color?” She’s not going to let this go.

  “Pink. But come on, that’s pretty easy.” I gesture around the room. “Your favorite hobby is reading. You always have a book, most of the time your finger is tracing some part of it. You’re smart as fuck, and low-key a little funny. You stutter when you get nervous and chew on your bottom lip so much, it explains why it’s always swollen. Let’s not forget your bad taste in guys. But those aren’t intimate things, just simple observations of a scientist.”

  Remy huffs, leaning back a little. “I see. And are you always that observant?”

  I nod. “Always.”

  “Okay. Well, it looks like we have a few things in common. Like our poor choices in who we like.”

  My head tilts. “You lost me.”

  “I mean, this thing with Lily. Crush gone wrong? Or mayb—”

  “Crush? Remy, fuck
that girl. She’s a psychotic fucking train wreck, and the only kind of crushing I want to do, is my hand around her throat. I can’t believe she’s changed so damn mu— Fuck.” Remy laid the trap in front of me, and I still fell in.

  “Changed. The Lily I’ve known about has been the same since she was a freshman. Who’s the Lily you knew?”

  I sigh, scrubbing my hands over my face. She doesn’t need to know every detail, but keeping up the vague lie is becoming exhausting. “Her name was Liliana when I knew her.”

  After that small admission, the words flow. I tell her everything. How Liliana and I met, our childhood, the time spent in the summers under the stars, and all the days we wasted in the treehouse. My mother’s condition and her parents’ absence. I tell Remy how much I loved Liliana.

  I loved her.

  The once annoying stabbing in my chest stops. Now, it’s a twisting sensation, and everything inside my ribs seizes. My ribs cave under the pressure, and suddenly I can’t breathe.

  I need to leave.

  “Remy, I got to go. Thank you for ripping the posters down. But really, don’t worry about it. I don’t want you becoming a target or anything.” No matter how much I try, my voice cracks, strained under the lack of air.

  Remy, being the amazing friend she is, just nods and stands, walking me to the door in silence. When we get to the front, the weight has lessened, and I turn on my heels.

  “Where’s your snow shovel?”

  She shakes her head, “Oh no. You don’t need to do that, Spencer. My dad should be home in the next couple of days.”

  “Where?” I say again, though this time, I’m not asking.

  A smirk lifts the right side of her mouth, and she juts her chin toward the side door. “Left side of the garage, in the tall bin.”

  Nodding, I head out. “See you tomorrow, Remy.”

  I find the shovel and tug my hoodie on, leaving her garage open a foot so I can roll it back under when I’m done. The frigid air wraps around me, tightening every muscle in my body. The wind has died down, leaving a new layer of snow on the ground. The crunch of it beneath my feet echoes into the night as I trudge to the side of the driveway behind her car.