Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel

by Niki Hager

  "Ouch. Son-of-a-bitch. Really, Rigbee? Was that fucking necessary?" His face twists.

  "Well, apparently it was! What the hell are you thinking, Nate? You know." I cry. "You know better; you know me better than to …" I fail to finish my sentence as I try to fight the tears my body desperately wants to release.

  "I … I figured if you loosened up a bit you might want to—"

  "Well, I don’t," I rage.

  "No. Fucking. Shit," he spits out at me.

  The anger he directs at me is asinine, causing me to think it stems from something deeper.

  "What is really going on here, what are you doing? This isn't like you."

  Finally, awareness comes over him as the color drains from his face. He drops his head low and slightly shakes it side to side. The guilt and disappointment is apparent in his expression. He abruptly turns around and storms out, slamming the door behind him. I'm left here alone, in the gross bathroom, to analyze the startling incident that has just taken place.

  I'm taking my time in here before I have to face whatever waits for me out there. I'm hesitant to, but I take a look at myself in the plastic, fogged-up mirror. I have to. My face is flushed, and my glazed eyes are red and puffy. I wince at my reflection. I feel one coming, so I do what I do best and squeeze my eyes shut, take a pill and a few deep breaths, and pull myself together.

  After I am calm enough to breath normal, I slowly walk out. Though I'm fine now, I can't stop myself from keeping my eyes on the ground and my head low. I don't know why I feel shameful; the situation was not my fault and I know so, but part of me wishes I could have been that girl for him.

  There is nothing wrong with a little bathroom fun between two consenting adults, I just wasn't ready to consent. I feel like my issues are the problem in the way. I know Nate is not the one, but I've always wondered, if I didn't have these problems could I have fun with guys who don't necessarily have to be the one?

  I won't ever know. If I can't have sex with a guy like Nate, a guy I actually feel—scratch that, felt comfortable around, will I ever be able to? When I walk to our picnic table I see that my bread bowl of soup is waiting for me with a bottle of water, and a very apologetic looking Nate.

  "I'm sor—" I begin, before I get cut off.

  "Don't you fucking dare turn my mistake into something you can use against yourself, the problem was all me. I know how you are, Bee, and I ignored it on purpose for my own selfishness. I am so sorry."

  "Why? Why did you do that to me? Why did you even want to do that, with me of all people?"

  A deep rooted sadness clouds his features.

  "Jill is dating some guy. I just found out. I got pissed at myself for thinking she was coming back and I snapped. I thought maybe if I … Well, you know. And as for your last question, I am not dignifying such a stupid question with a response. You're too hard on yourself and any guy who ends up with you will be damned lucky."

  "I can't be that girl for you," I whisper to him.

  I close my wet eyes in an attempt to fight back tears.

  "I know," he whispers back.

  "I don't think …" I start with a choke. "I don't think we should hang out outside of school anymore. I didn't mean to give you the impression—"

  "You didn't." He lets out a groan. "Fuck," he pauses. "You've always been honest with me. I'm such an asshole for taking advantage of you when my own shit started to fall apart. But, I agree. I don't think we should hang out, either." His own eyes begin welling up.

  Wow, I was not expecting his response. I should have, but hearing him agree with me still hurt.

  "Not like that, Bee. Shit, I see your face. I do like you, and I should have known better than to think I could control it to your level."

  "My level?" I know what he means, but I had to ask anyway to hear what he meant out loud.

  "Yes, your level. You're not ready, I get it. But if I wait until you're ready, I will be waiting until Armageddon. " Ouch.

  "Okay, well it's been lovely, but I am going to go now. I have a few cliffs and bridges to scout," I declare, with a humor I simply don't possess.

  I give him a sad smile to silently assure him everything will eventually be okay, for the both of us. I try to believe it.

  "Bee?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Thanks."

  "Thanks for what?"

  "You know, for listening. For giving me the benefit of the doubt, and for not hating me after... you know." He nods his head toward the sex offense shack.

  "I don't hate you." I really don't feel anything for him at the moment. "But you should have warned me, and you should not have purposely tried to get me drunk. That was low."

  I catch a slight glisten in his eyes again before he puts his head in his hands. I'm not sure if he feels remorse, but he definitely feels regret. I think he regrets me, not necessarily the way he acted. However, he's trying to be a nice guy now, I will give him a small amount of credit.

  I eat my soup and drink my water in awkward silence and wonder to myself if we can get past what happened. Be friends again. Part of me already knows the answer is no. I won't forgive him, and I'm sure he won't forgive himself, either.

  On the way home, I replay the entire mess of a day in my head, and I realize how much he actually hurt me. Guys have no idea how long the things they say and do stay on repeat in our heads. I didn't notice at the time, probably from the shock of it all. Truthfully, I don't need him in my life. He was never essential to me, but he was a nice friend. Was. I do hope he someday finds his happiness. Everybody deserves a happily ever after.

  When I get home, I have to face the reality that is my life again. I have a gut feeling Enzo is home, and I don't know if I want to tell him what happened.

  He does ask me how my day was, like I knew he would, but I lie and reply, "Fine," without going into detail.

  I sit down on the couch opposite of him while he sprawls across the loveseat. He doesn't question me any further. He really has no reason to; I have never lied to him before. I don't always elaborate my days to him in detail, but I did expect a little more interest. Come to think about it, his head's been visiting the clouds a lot lately. Not in a bad way, though. I can see the sparkle in his eyes. He is happy about whatever he's thinking about as he pretends to watch whatever show is on The Discovery Channel.

  His entire face is lit up, and the boyishly cute grin he's sporting is new. I know his expression is not from watching people in the woods try to survive for however many days.

  Good for him, I think to myself.

  "Why are you looking at me strange?" he barks.

  "No reason," I innocently reply.

  "Whatever, weirdo." He directs his attention back to the show.

  He fakes me out as he jerks back and catches me study him again. I hear a short groan-like chuckle, right before I feel the sudden impact of a soft smash to my face. From the pillow he's thrown at me.

  "Ouch. Hey, you really just did that?" I laugh. My words didn't come out as stern sounding as I had wanted.

  "Ouch-hey-really?" he mocks. "It was a pillow," he sarcastically points out.

  The show is boring. I'm lying curled up on the couch, and I begin to daze out. I think about what happened earlier today and need to stop, so I start to think about school Tuesday. Should I take the time to plan an outfit to wear? I know I'll be seeing Roman. Who am I kidding, no amount of primping is going to change the fact that I have acted like an idiot every time I've been around him. If he's even taken any notice, which he probably hasn't. I imagine I haven't crossed his mind. Little does he know, he has taken up a permanent residence in mine.

  "Fuckin’ hell," I shout when the second pillow to the face snaps me out of my own head.

  "If I cut you in your sleep, know you handed me the knife," I warn, pursing my lips and pointing my finger to let him know I'm serious.

  He sticks out his tongue, and I break my bluff and crack a smile.

  Jack-Jock, Jack-Ass

  No- Meghan
Trainor

  Rigbee

  "So, once more in simple terms, your speech will be a pros and cons based speech. You and your partner will need to pick one subject together, preferably one you are both interested in. One of you will debate the pros of the subject, while the other will provide their view on the cons of the matter. The two speeches must flow together as a single subject, and you will need to back up your opinions with facts."

  I heard Weiss the first time he told us we needed to pick partners for the assignment, but in his redundancy I realize oh, shit I'm going to have to work with another human being. I am freaking on the inside. One of the worst feelings is holding back an attack in public. Breathe. I've done this before. Breathe. I've been uncomfortable before. Breathe. This will go away. Breathe. I will be okay.

  People start looking around to decide who to work with. Most people in the class at least have a friend to some degree. I find myself staring straight ahead, not willing to look at anybody. I know the disappointment I will inevitably feel when no one wants to partner with me.

  I am always the pity partner who either gets put with the one who lost rock-paper-scissors with her other two friends, or with the person absent. That's how I met Enzo. But today, I know exactly who I want to look back at. I'm just too terrified, knowing he probably won't be looking at me in return. Weiss informs us we don't have to pick our partners right away; we will have until Thursday to choose. So today, I choose not to choose.

  We get a ten-minute break in the middle of class since Government is a particularly long class, running an hour longer than most. Students rustle around and talk about who they’re partnering with and what subjects they're considering.

  I take a deep breath and work up the nerve to turn around and subtly make eye contact with Roman. I act like I'm looking around for just anyone around me. Only, I don't have to, because Roman isn't there. I swear he was sitting there a second ago. I look forward again and catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He's halfway out the classroom door. He left. Great. The one time I get the courage is the one time he actually takes a break during break.

  I can see him in the hallway from here. He's on the phone smiling and laughing. I don't think I've seen him laugh yet, until now. It's beautiful. But who is on the other side of his phone making him look that way? Probably a girlfriend. I'm already pissed at her. What is so urgent to interrupt class for? Gah, listen to me, I'm psycho. If Enzo were here he would tell me I'm making up scenarios in my head which most likely will never happen and I'm getting stressed for no logical reason. I sound like a flippin’ crazy person. Norman Bates has nothing on me. Speaking of Norman Bates, can you believe he's the same cute kid from Johnny Depp's adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Who knew he had …

  "Rigbee?" I jump at the start of Martin's voice, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  "Huh?"

  "You're staring; it's getting weird," he informs me, with a smile on his face and zero judgment in his tone. "Do you have too many tabs open?" he pokes. He doesn't know how right he is. "Right click the little red X on the top right for a minute, will ya?"

  "I so was not staring at you," I argue and roll my eyes. I wasn't even looking in his general direction. I was definitely looking out the door to my right. I think. Oh shit, am I getting delusions like Norman Bates? At least I don't live with my mom anymore.

  "No, not me." The corner of his mouth turns up, seemingly amused with my response. "At him—" he nods his head toward the hall "—with the hair, as Weiss would say."

  "Oh, you mean Roman."

  "Yeah, him. Look, kid, everyone knows but him.

  "Knows what? What are you talking about?"

  "The way you look at him, no use trying to hide it now." He shrugs his shoulders about the same time I hear the guy behind say, "Yeah, too late," and snort.

  I pale and shrink as far down in my seat as I can go.

  "Geez, am I so utterly obvious?"

  I'm naturally extra careful of my surroundings, so their attention and having all of these eyes focused on me is making me uneasy.

  "Um, yeah," Martin, the guy behind me, and the cute little blond in the seat ahead of me all reply in unison. I scrunch up my face in humiliation.

  "Just talk to him."

  "Yeah, okay, Martin, it's not so easy for me, I'm sure he doesn't even—"

  "Don't overthink it, just do it."

  "How would you even—"

  "You're getting kinda sad to watch," he interjects. "Do something soon.

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  "Why do you think nobody purposely asked you to partner up?" the blond in front of me chimes in.

  Huh. I didn't notice all of the people around me were so keyed in to my situation. Well, apparently not all of the people around me. A guy in class who I haven't given a second thought to, comes and sits in the seat next to me after break. The seat's usually empty. Every class since we've started last week he has gotten closer and closer.

  He looks like your stereotypical jock type—sports related T-shirt and a baseball cap, typical. He is sort of cute, in a sports enthusiast and athletic way. He's not the kind of guy I've ever been attracted to. He looks a bit too much like an asshat. Eyeing me like I should be grateful he graced me with his presence.

  He leans in, as expected, and claims, "I remember you."

  He what now? I may be extra dense today, but I'm pretty sure I don't know him.

  "You do? From where?" I ask him.

  How have I been missing all of these things going on around me? Oh, yeah, right, I know why.

  "Yeah. Tech Center, senior year. You were always walking around. Like, looking for things to draw or some shit like that."

  Charming. Is this his idea of flirting, because I think he might've just insulted me. I wouldn't remember him. Tech Center was too big of a school to know everyone, especially if they weren't in your field.

  "Oh, I guess it could've been me then. I do draw and shit like that."

  I really don't want to be talking to him anymore. I'm fidgeting around in my seat when Roman walks back in the class, which means break is going to be over in a minute.

  I look away from Jock to gaze at Roman. My body breaks out in goosebumps the moment his eyes find mine. I see when he catches the first glimpse of jock guy next to me. His expression hardens, and he looks as thrown off as I was.

  He quickly looks at me again, his mouth now set in a stiff line. He tips his head to the side like he's silently asking me something. Asking me what? If I'm interested in the jock next to me? If I need his help? If I will be his speech partner? I have no fucking clue what he is trying to communicate. But his look meant something so I shrug my shoulders to relay that I don't know any more than he does.

  The whole exchange happens so fast, within the few moments he walks past. So quickly Jock didn't even notice.

  "Jack."

  I snap my attention back to the ever-persistent pain in my ass next to me. He's sitting sideways in the desk so he can physically face me.

  "What?" Man, today is not my day for sounding like an intelligent human being.

  "My name, it's Jack."

  Convenient enough. I only need to change out the one letter to turn Jock to Jack. So if I accidentally slip up and actually call him Jock out loud he shouldn't notice.

  "Rigbee, nice to see you again, I suppose," I force a slight smile and reply as pleasantly, but stand-offish as possible.

  "Good to finally put a name to that face."

  He reaches up and turns his hat backward for no apparent reason, and rests his elbows on his knees. His smile is sickly almost. He thinks he's being smooth. He. Winked. Who would actually fall for his shit? Jock—oops, I mean Jack, thinks I'm interested. I think to myself, Please don't ask me to partner, please don't ask me to partner.

  "All right, break's up. Let’s continue." Oh, thank you Lord Thor and Professor Weiss. I've never been so happy for class to start. In the words of New Found Glory "What Will Happ
en Next I Don't Wanna Know."

  Jock-Jack unfortunately stays next to me, casually focusing on the side of my head. I peer back at Roman when passing back the paper stack, like I always do. Staring has become a thing. Him catching me look during this class ritual. My stomach twisting each time. I get giddy, wondering the what ifs.

  Gah, Jock-Jack needs to stop looking at me, because he is really starting to freak me out. Oh, god! Is that what I look like to Roman? Am I the creepy fucker freaking him out? I may need to rethink my strategy.

  The rest of class was boring and uneventful aside from Jack-Jock and his inching his way uncomfortably close to conveniently ask me a question. And to give me a cocky smile. I officially, very badly, want to smack it off his face. Poor guy, he probably isn't as bad as I'm making him out to be. But I do distance myself from people like him for a reason.

  "Class dismissed, I'll see all of your pretty faces Thursday," Weiss sings.

  Oh, Professor Weiss is something. He has nick named a few others in the class. I haven't been singled out for that honor yet. He probably sees how big my eyes get in their pleading, when he looks anywhere near my general direction. Yeah, he knows I'm terrified to be picked. I should suggest to him my personal nick name for Jack-Jock, though. He would likely find it funny and use it.

  As I'm about to walk out the door, I am halted by a voice.

  "Hey, Rigbee, can I talk to you?" Jack-Jock asks, way too easily.

  Has he not taken the hint? I tighten up.

  "Sorry, can't right now. Busy," is all I can muster being put on the spot. It's a trigger.

  "Busy? We were let out ten minutes early, busy doing what?" He puts his hands in his pockets and grins, knowing full-well he got me. I know he's going to ask me to partner with him. I don't, and probably won't, have one. I think I'm going to end up stuck with him, so I make the crap decision and figure I might as well be nice.