by Sadie Allen
“Why are you acting like this?” I asked in accusation laced with hurt, which was pathetic, but I had to know. I could feel the sick churning in my stomach threatening to escape, but I couldn’t stand this gulf that seemed to have come from nowhere. He had been the one sending me snaps, and he had been the one knocking on my window at night while I still had a boyfriend. Now, after giving me hope, he wanted to jerk that out from under me for no reason? No, I needed to know what I had done that had been so wrong.
He scoffed as he looked down at the floor while shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I had just asked him that.
I pulled in a breath and held it, trying to control the burn in my chest.
“So, how’s Miles? He good?”
Uh, did he even read my Snapchat messages?
I straightened out of my hunched position over the crutches and asked, “How would I know? Didn’t you read the messages I sent you?”
He lifted his head a little and studied me. I could feel his eyes as they darted from my hairline to my eyes and finally settling on my lips. Then he reached behind him and pulled out his cell phone. He moved his fingers over the screen, his face a picture of concentration before it cleared. When he looked at me again, the expression on his face morphed into one of relief.
“So, that’s why he was all over you this morning?”
“He wasn’t all over me this morning,” I shrilled.
“Uh, princess, he was touching you.”
There he went with the princess thing again. I still wasn’t sure I liked it. I didn’t feel like a princess. I felt more like the unwanted stepdaughter.
I grimaced and shifted my weight to my good leg. The usual ache had turned into an insistent throb of pain.
“You hurting?” The concern etched on his face eased the sting of his earlier hostility.
“Yeah, I went to physical therapy at lunch, and they did this electrode thing that made my muscles contract. It didn’t feel too bad then, but I think it’s catching up to me now.”
He nodded, and then, before I knew it, I was in his arms, and he was striding over to the lunchroom tables. He deposited me in the closest chair then grabbed the one next to it, flipped it around, and straddled it. He folded his arms on the back and rested his chin on top of them.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” I said as I stretched my legs out in front of me and winced. The insistent pain had dulled, but it still throbbed.
“I don’t mind. You’re light and probably weigh a buck twenty soaking wet.”
He was wrong about that. I weighed one-thirty, and that was naked and dry. I wasn’t too short, and I wasn’t too tall; just average height. My body, however, was comprised mostly of muscle. My dad had had me lifting weights from the time I was twelve until the week of my injury. I wasn’t about to tell him any differently about my weight, though. Not that there was anything wrong with my weight, but still … I wasn’t about to contradict him if he thought I weighed less. My mother would just about die if I did. I rolled my eyes and changed the subject.
“You think she’ll recast us?”
There was a devilish twinkle in his eyes, and the corner of his mouth tipped up. “No,” he replied like he had all the confidence in the world, and I guessed he did.
I wished I had that kind of faith in myself.
I chewed my lip as we sat there, not saying anything. There was music playing and people talking, but it didn’t intrude on our little bubble back here in the corner.
Drawing up the courage, I decided to ask him what had been bothering me for most of the day. “So, why were you mad at me today?”
“I wasn’t mad at you.”
I made a rude noise, blowing air out through my lips in disbelief before I could check my reaction. My eyes widened to the size of platters, my cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I slapped my hands over my mouth. However, Sterling gave no reaction to the fact that I practically spit all over him.
Finally, he chuckled, but it held no humor. He looked toward the trophy case that lined the wall between the two sets of double doors that led to the gym.
“You were mad at me,” I insisted. I knew it was true. It had been in his eyes, and the hostility that had just radiated from him onstage and after.
Only his eyes shifted back to me, and it was just for a moment, before he looked back to the wall. His jaw flexed, and then he said through gritted teeth, “It wasn’t anger at you driving me, princess.”
I ignored the princess remark and shook my head.
“I was jealous,” he admitted so quietly I thought I must have misheard him.
Say what?
I wanted to laugh, but I knew that would probably not be a good move. I was getting lax in suppressing my reactions and emotions after not being around my father for a few days. I was slipping.
“Why?” The thought of Sterling Chapman being jealous of Miles Thorpe was ridiculous.
He didn’t say anything, and I let him have that.
“There is absolutely nothing for you to be jealous of Miles Thorpe for … unless it was me you were jealous of. Miles did tell me he thought you were gay.”
His face twisted, and his lip curled. “Like I would want Miles Thorpe if I were. He has to have the worst case of FOMO I’ve ever seen. I’d be worried I’d catch something.”
I snorted. Miles was the only person who thought his horndog ways were a secret.
In any case, Sterling wasn’t the only one who had been feeling jealous. I had been wondering about Sterling’s relationship with Raven since she had confronted him last week in the parking lot, and that curiosity had only increased with her attitude during theater class. I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted the answer.
Before I could reply, the bell sounded, and the room turned into a hive of honey bees. Students poured out from the halls, their noise a buzz of chatter.
“Memorize your lines! We’ll work some more tomorrow. After-school rehearsals start next week,” Mrs. Cook yelled shrilly over the din. The last was barely audible.
I looked at Sterling who hadn’t moved. I decided I wouldn’t either and just wait out the crowd so I could walk to my car without the hassle.
I could feel everyone’s eyes on us and hear the whispers, some not even bothering to whisper as they discussed us like we weren’t sitting right there. I thought this would be something that would piss him off, but his lips quirked upward like he was fighting laughter.
Did I care that people were talking about me? I looked for the tight knot that usually formed in my diaphragm that made it so hard to breathe, but it wasn’t there, and I didn’t have the urge to do my breathing exercises. I searched within myself to see if I really cared about other people’s opinions. I already knew I didn’t care what my old crew thought. I was over them. I did know I cared about what Sterling thought. Not even an hour ago, the thought of him thinking badly of me about brought me to my knees.
That thought made my breath catch, and I inhaled deeply to prevent the knot from forming.
“So …” Sterling’s voice brought me back to the almost empty cafetorium, where a few kids still milled about. Other than that, it was just the two of us.
I blew out a breath and replied, “So …”
“You really through with Miles?”
“Yeah, I never …” I shook my head, sure that Sterling didn’t want to hear about my relationship or lack of one with Miles.
“You can tell me.” His chin was still on his hands, and his expression was open.
I looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear our conversation then lowered my voice. “We were going through the motions. I haven’t had feelings for him in so long it’s hard to remember when I did. There just wasn’t anything there anymore.”
“Dumbass.”
“What?”
“Miles Thorpe is a dumbass.”
“Why?”
He lifted his chin and looked at me like I was crazy. “You own a mirror, right?
”
A blush stole over my cheeks, and I cleared my throat before replying, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I can see how you would think that, especially with where your head is at, but you have to know it isn’t just because you’re stupidly beautiful.”
I felt my face go slack. He thought I was stupidly beautiful? Raven was stupidly beautiful.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Not as beautiful as Raven.”
I couldn’t believe I had just said that. My face felt like it was on fire.
Sterling’s lip curled, and his face darkened at the mention of the other girl. “Not in the same league as you, babe. Yeah, she’s gorge, but she has nothing on you. Your beauty isn’t just on the outside; you have this light inside you that you don’t even realize you have. You’re beautiful on the inside. I don’t know how it all got twisted inside your head, but you are. Your beauty shines so bright that you practically glow.”
My nose started tingling, and my vision was going wonky through the wet that had gathered in my eyes. He was so wrong. There was no beauty inside me. I wasn’t a good person. I was a fake, a phony. The perfect persona I had worked so hard at was a farce … and he knew it.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, even if it isn’t true. You know it’s not true. Yeah, I’m not ugly, but on the inside … I’m hideous,” I whispered.
He straightened, and his head shot back like I had dealt him a blow to the face. “I’m not blowing smoke up your ass—just stating facts. What you just said … that’s a load of crap.” His nostrils flared and the grip he had on the back of his chair turned his knuckles white.
“You don’t even know me. My friends and I, we’re not good people. I may not do the mean girl stuff, but I don’t stop it either. That makes me worse than they could ever be.”
“I know you. I know you’re not like those vipers you’re friends with, and I’m hoping now that you’ve dropped Miles, you’ve decided to cut them loose, as well. And yeah, watching those girls tear into people wasn’t right, but I imagine you had a lot more things to worry about than what those skanks were doing.” He lifted his brows and gave me a hard stare.
I looked away and swallowed against the lump that had formed in my throat, knowing what he had alluded to.
I concentrated on the framed photos that hung above the trophy case. My dad’s picture was there. I could see his familiar visage. It was like looking in a mirror. I was his reflection in female form, except I wouldn’t ever be on that wall. It was the “Bear Wall of Fame,” where the pictures of students who had competed on the state or national level hung. I was good, but I didn’t have the talent he had possessed. My legs were a little too short, and the love for the sport just wasn’t there to make up for the deficiency.
A lump formed in my throat and my eyes itched. So many hours wasted on something that didn’t matter. Something I didn’t even care about in the first place and would be forgotten ten years from now, and for what? Nothing. A dislocated hip and a torn hamstring. My chest burned at those thoughts, and I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt a touch on my cheek.
I instinctively drew back, but Sterling didn’t move. I hadn’t even heard him get up, so lost inside my head. He was crouched in front of me, swiping the tears off my cheeks with his thumbs. His touch was so gentle, so soft that I felt everything inside me just crumble.
“Shh … We’ll fix this,” Sterling murmured as he pulled me into his arms and I sobbed into his shoulder.
I faintly heard someone in the background ask, “Is she all right?”
No. No, I wasn’t all right.
I felt Sterling nod, his cheek brushing against my hair.
“Should we call Derek?” That came from another voice, and it made me freeze.
Sterling must have read my body language, because he answered, “No, she’ll be okay.” He said this with so much confidence that I pulled away and looked at him in the face.
He was gazing right back at me, resolve etched over every feature, determination blazing from his eyes.
He tilted his head forward, and I shifted to see Mrs. Cook and Mr. Goddard, the principal, behind me. Mr. Goddard was a short man with thinning gray hair that he tried to comb over. He was as round as he was tall.
I nodded and assured them, “I’m fine. Um … Just a little overwhelmed with the leg and all.” I pasted on a watery smile, hoping they would buy the lie.
Mrs. Cook looked at us with both relief and delight. She reminded me of a 1950s housewife in her black and white polka dot housedress and cardigan. She even had on red lipstick that could often be found smeared on her teeth.
I guessed our current position assuaged her worry about having to recast the roles. We definitely looked cozy now.
Mr. Goddard, who normally could only be described as jolly, looked concerned, but there was something else in his face that I didn’t like—disapproval.
“Well, young people, I advise that you take time to collect yourselves, and then move along. Students shouldn’t be hanging around here after school without purpose.” His glasses slipped down his nose, but he didn’t bother to lift them, which made him look more disapproving.
I took in a deep breath and exhaled a shuddered, “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.” Sterling’s wasn’t as deferential and held a note of sarcasm.
I shot a cut-it-out look his way, but he didn’t even look at me. He just smiled a big, insincere smile at Mr. Goddard until the man toddled away.
Mrs. Cook was still there, examining us. Then she said, “You both might want to start working on your scripts on your own time together. I’ll have some CDs made with the music. The more we practice, the better the performance will be.” Her voice rose in excitement on those last words.
“I was just about to suggest that to Ally, Mrs. Cook.” The smile he gave her was just a little less genuine than the one he had given our principal.
“Good, good.” She nodded then sashayed her way back in the direction of her classroom.
“She has a point,” Sterling said as he rose from his seat and grabbed my crutches.
“What?” I asked as I looked up at him, not bothering to get up just yet.
“We should get together on our own time to run lines. We can’t today ’cause I have to be at work, but what about tomorrow? You wanna come to my house after school?”
My eyes rounded. “Are you asking me to come to your house?” I asked stupidly with no small amount of wonder.
He chuckled. “Uh, yeah …” He drew the yeah out like I might not be all there upstairs.
“Where do you work?”
I didn’t know he had a job. Then again, I really didn’t know him at all, so I didn’t understand why I was so surprised. I promised myself right then that I would remedy that. I was going to learn everything I could about him.
“I work at my gramp’s auto shop when he needs me or when I need the extra money.”
“Which is it today?”
He smiled a smile that made me tingle all over. “Extra money.”
A smile formed on my lips.
“Your eye makeup’s smeared.” He reached out and wiped the remaining wetness from under my eyes, then rubbed his thumb on his jeans.
I covered my face with my hands so my voice was muffled when I asked, “Does it look bad?”
“Nah.” He chuckled. “I got it pretty good.”
I dropped them and looked up at him to see if he was being serious. His chin was tipped down, and he held me in his steady gaze.
“Okay.” My voice was small and unsure, but I was going to take his word for it.
“Let’s get out of here before Old Goddard loses the rest of his hair.”
I laughed, but then winced when he helped me to my feet. We made the trek to the doors that led to the student lot and walked down the long sidewalk outside. His hand was firm and warm where it rested against my lower back as he guided me.
�
��Do you want me to carry you?”
My leg was really starting to burn, so I just nodded.
Sterling helped slip my backpack from my shoulders and donned it. Then he tossed my crutches in the grass before he lifted me in his arms. He was warm and smelled good, and I couldn’t resist laying my head on his shoulder as he strode toward my SUV.
There, he set me down, swung off my backpack and gently dropped it to the concrete before opening the driver’s side door, telling me, “Hang tight. I’ll run back up and get the crutches.”
I sat in the driver’s seat with the door open, my legs hanging out of the car, as I watched him jog across the parking lot and up the way. It didn’t escape my notice that he had a really nice backside in those jeans. The way he moved, you would think he was getting ready to go to baseball or track practice, but that wasn’t him, I was learning. He wasn’t like those boys.
I inventoried what I knew about him. Sadly, it was a short list. He liked acting, drove an old muscle car, worked at an auto shop for his granddad, was friends with Blake Davis, and he gave a crap about me. Oh, and there was something going on between him and Raven. I rolled my eyes at myself because that last part sounded like a nasally obnoxious twelve-year-old in my head.
He jogged back, carrying my crutches in one hand. “Where do you want them?”
“Just put them in the back seat.”
He did just that then grabbed my backpack off the ground and stuffed it back there, too.
I smiled to myself because he was just so nice.
When Miles had helped me with my backpack this morning, it had been a surprise. To him, I was more background noise. He didn’t think to do those kinds of things unless he wanted something, like this morning. I was the trophy that he took out occasionally and polished. Nothing more, nothing less, even if he didn’t realize it.
“Thanks.”
“No probs. Got your phone?”
“Um, it’s in my backpack,” I said as I limply gestured toward the back seat.
When he pulled his phone from his pocket, I noted he didn’t carry a backpack or any books with him. Weird.
