She shrugged and looked away. “They usually don’t get in trouble. Some of the teachers ignore what they do because they’re on the team.”
As much as it sucked, I knew what she meant. Hell, half of the things I’d done in school were swept under the rug because of who I was. Didn’t make it right. But I also knew Coach Harrison didn’t put up with that bullshit and when he found out, heads were going to roll.
“Have you ever talked to Mr. Harrison about what those two were doing?”
She shook her head.
“He doesn’t think that they should get special treatment. They have to earn their place on the field by more than just their ability to play.”
“I guess.” The slump of her shoulders told me she’d heard me but didn’t believe it was true. Damn, how long had she dealt with those two shitheads?
“How about this? I’ll talk to Mr. Harrison and deal with Jarrod and Chris. I’ll write you a pass to class for ten minutes from now, so you can have a few minutes to collect yourself, unless you want to go see someone else? The only thing you have to do is promise to let me know if something like that happens again. Deal?”
She watched me for a moment, most likely afraid to trust me—to trust the former jock. Eventually, she nodded. “I’ll take the pass.”
After I wrote her pass and sent her on her way, I went to deal with Dipshit and Dumbass, who had wisely taken my advice and were standing outside the door when I arrived back to my office.
So much for eating.
I unlocked the door and flung it open, gesturing for them to step inside. The moment it closed behind me, they started.
“Coach, you can’t bench us. We need to win tonight to get to the championships.”
“We were just joking with her.”
“We won’t do it again.”
I held up my hand and the room fell into silence.
“You’re right, you won’t do it again.” I let my gaze fall on one, then the other. “But you won’t be on that field tonight, either, whether we win or not.” Jarrod opened his mouth to speak again. “Don’t,” I snapped. “You’re not going to change my mind and once Coach Harrison finds out, you’ll be lucky if this is the only game you miss. You know he doesn’t put up with that shit. What the hell were you thinking?”
They exchanged a look and I shook my head.
“You know what, I don’t wanna know, because the why really doesn’t matter. Just because you play on the team, doesn’t give you the right to treat your classmates that way. Keep it up and not only will you be off the team, but she’ll have the right to press charges. Are you really gonna ruin your life over something stupid like that?”
Chris shook his head, his skin taking on a grayish hue. At least one of them got it. Jarrod, however, stood stock still, defiant as ever. “Jarrod, get to class. And I better not hear or see any more of that crap.”
He curled his lip at me, glancing at his friend before swinging the door open and letting it slam closed behind him. I looked at Chris. “I’m gonna give you some advice, and this comes from personal experience. Jarrod isn’t willing to get it together, hang out with someone else. I had a friend in high school who was a lot like Jarrod. I thought it was no big deal when he harassed anyone he didn’t consider popular. He was wrong, and I was wrong to stand by and let it happen. I look back and wish I’d stood up to him sooner. Don’t make my mistakes.”
He nodded. “Sorry, Coach.”
“Go to class. I’m going to talk to Harrison now.”
Chris left silently and I slumped into the chair behind the desk. I should have known when I got out of bed that this day was going to hell in a hand basket. I grabbed my phone off the desk and sent a text to Harrison.
Me: Problem with Parker and Wilkes. Caught them bullying one of the girls in the hall.
Losing those two for the game was going to be a bitch. Two lines hit. Plays would have to be rewritten. My phone buzzed with one text after another.
Harrison: Fuck, we could have used them tonight.
Harrison: You told them they were benched, right?
Harrison: If not, I’m hunting them down before the end of the day.
Me: Yeah, we could have, yes I did, and no need, already had a long chat.
Harrison: Good. Can you handle reworking offensive line?
Me: I’ll get it done before practice.
Harrison: Let me find Davis to deal with the defense.
I dropped the phone on the desk and got some paper to rewrite the plays as students began filing in for health class. By the end of the period, I’d figured out a way for the offense to survive a game without Chris. Hopefully it would be the last time I needed to do that.
* * *
The lights of the stadium were still on when I left the locker room. Most likely the grounds crew cleaning up after the game.
And what a game it was.
Nights like this reminded me of the excitement, of why I’d started to play. The team rallied to make up for Jarrod and Chris’s absence on the field. It wasn’t easy—especially when the rival team took an early lead. The guys had to fight to score that final touchdown.
With only five seconds remained on the clock and three points down, there was enough time for one last play. Jones, the team’s quarterback, under pressure from the other team’s defense, threw a high pass, the kind Chris usually excelled at catching. But with his ass on the bench it was up to his backup, Keith Young. I must have bitten off every nail watching the ball come down, right into Keith’s hands. The team surged from the bench. One more win and they’d make the playoffs.
For the first time since that afternoon, I’d taken an easy breath. Even waking up without Mari couldn’t get me down.
Traffic was light when I pulled out of the lot. The frustration I’d seen on Chris and Jarrod’s faces made me hopeful that they wouldn’t pull that shit again. I’d made a lot of mistakes in school, but I was lucky because some of the shit I did could have ruined any chance I had before I even made it out of high school. The fear and embarrassment were written all over Kristen’s face. Could they not see it?
Then again, for the longest time I hadn’t seen it. I’d never paid enough attention. How many times had Sam and I done something like that?
Poor Mariella. The number of times we’d tormented her were too many to count. The look in her eyes. The fear. The same wide-eyed stare as Kristen as she braced for whatever horror might come next.
There were so many similarities. Just thinking about that poor girl’s shaking hands, the way she fidgeted with her bag, with her folder. I thought about the way Mariella would hold tight to the pendant around her neck.
The pendant.
As my foot surged forward, my head almost slammed into the steering wheel. Horns blared around me. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed headlights swerving around me. I sucked in a deep breath and with shaking hands turned the wheel until I was safely parked on the side of the road. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
A smirk rose at the corner of her mouth. She turned slowly, the lights above glinting off the barbell in her eyebrow, her fingers toying with her necklace. She froze, the pendant slipping from her fingers. A six-petal flower in silver and jade.
So familiar . . .
It couldn’t have been her. My luck couldn’t be that bad.
But deep down, I knew it was. If I’d looked a little closer earlier, maybe I would have seen it. Everything made sense now.
Mariella Cosmann was the lead singer of Jaded Ivory.
My lungs seized in my chest, getting breath almost impossible. I couldn’t catch my breath. Somehow, I forced myself to calm down and after sucking in large gulps for a few moments, I sat up, resting my head against the back of my seat. It felt as if a five-ton elephant was sitting on my chest.
Her eyes after she threw the drink in my face should have told me everything I needed to know. Had I paid more attention to her that night instead of focusing on my wet shirt and ego, maybe I would have seen it.
<
br /> I was still an asshole.
Each night I’d hit on her like she was some kind of prize to be won. A conquest. A challenge I needed to win. There I was preaching to the guys today about treating people with respect, yet once again I’d done nothing but disrespect Mariella. I’d told them they had to take responsibility for their actions and deal with the consequences. Now it was time for me to man up and do that.
I grabbed my phone off the seat to see where Jaded Ivory was playing tonight. I’d looked it up before on my quest to get Mari, but there were too many thoughts running through my head to remember.
I really wanted to punch myself.
The venue was about forty minutes away. I glanced at the time. Nine thirty. The band would probably already be on stage, which would give me enough time to get there before the show was over. Originally, I’d planned on going home to change then going out to see Mari, but now I didn’t give two shits that I was in my school polo. I needed to make all of it right. Or at the very least, try.
Why the hell did she come home with me? She’d obviously recognized me the moment she laid eyes on me that first night. Why else would she have thrown her drink on me? Each and every night I’d tried to talk to her, she’d known who I was. I hadn’t had the same luxury.
As I walked into the cafeteria, Mariella stood a couple of feet in front of me. Her long blond hair hanging midway down her back. Sam and a couple of the other guys already sat at our table. Sam nodded toward Mariella’s group. Taking the hint, I hip-checked her, hard enough to send her careening into her friend, their books flying every which way.
“Shouldn’t block the door, Mariloon.”
Half of the cafeteria burst into laughter. Mariella’s pale skin brightened as the red hue rushed up her cheeks. She glanced up at me, her eyes partially covered by her bangs. I ignored her, stepping over her stuff to get to my table.
I punched the side of my fist against the wheel. The tires spun, catching, and lurching forward when they finally found purchase on the road. Lights passed by me in a blur. Red, white, yellow, green—it didn’t matter. My only goal was to get to Mari.
The parking lot was full when I arrived. Not surprising, considering Jaded Ivory’s popularity. The pavement vibrated with the beat of the drums. They were still on stage.
With purpose, I walked toward the front door of the place and stopped, my hand frozen on the handle.
What would I say to her? What could I possibly say to make up for all the wrong I’d done over the years? I thought about her smile, her laugh. The way she’d felt in my arms. There was so much to Mari I’d never known.
All I could do was try. She deserved that much, even if she told me to fuck off. I yanked open the door.
It was time to man up and accept responsibility for my mistakes.
“Thank you, Brevet Lounge. You’ve been great tonight.”
Her soft voice sent a tingle down my spine. I caught a quick glimpse of her as she bowed and waved at the audience, the short, curly hair such a contrast to the young, naive girl who’d hidden behind bangs. Not to mention the tattoos on both arms and shoulders, plus the brow piercing. Never in my wildest imagination would I have dreamed Mariella being so bold or confident. It wasn’t like I’d done anything to help her come out of her shell. I was one of the people who probably pushed her into it.
As I watched her, the differences were astounding. No wonder I hadn’t put it together sooner. The only two clues I’d had were the pendant and her eyes. How had I not noticed her eyes before? They were a unique combination of green and blue, almost teal in color. No doubt they’d always been beautiful, but I’d been too lost in being a popular dick to notice.
The band left the stage and maybe it was childish, but I stepped up to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a beer. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. The bartender set that and a beer in front of me. I downed the shot, letting the alcohol burn a path down my throat. The familiar tingle along my nerves settled me; at least, until I saw Mari step out from the back and head toward the bar, flanked by two of the band members.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and tried to steady my racing heart. With measured steps, I walked over to where she’d stopped to talk to a fan.
“Mari?”
Her shoulders stiffened. For one moment, I had the irrational desire to pull her into my arms and hold her until I could make up for everything I’d done.
She said good-bye to the woman she’d been speaking to and slowly turned to face me. “Cole? I . . . I didn’t know you were here tonight.”
“Can we talk?”
Her eyes darted left to right and my stomach took a nosedive.
“Look, there’s not really much to say. Sorry for sneaking out like I did. Last night was great, but we both knew it was a one-time thing.” She continued to ramble on, her words blending together when I saw something flash in her eyes. Hurt maybe? Disappointment? I didn’t know her well enough to tell what she was feeling. I forced myself to concentrate on her words. “So, I’ll see you around.”
She stepped around me to make her way to the bar. I could leave and never worry about seeing her again, but I wouldn’t let myself be the kind of man who took the easy way out. So I turned and did the one thing I knew would get her attention.
“Mariella.”
CHAPTER 8
Mari
“Mariella.”
My lungs seized. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All I could do was stand there and hope this was a nightmare; the kind where you are naked in front of a room full of people. Shit, that dream would be easier to deal with.
The people around me were silent. Sawyer and Heath hadn’t moved a muscle. Heath didn’t know the story, but the tension in the air was thick enough you could choke on it so it was clear something was going on. Sawyer glanced over my shoulder and I knew Cole was still standing there.
How had he figured it out? Had someone told him? Sawyer would never . . .
The drum of my heart pounded in my ears. It was so loud, I was surprised no one else could hear it. Deep down, I knew Cole wouldn’t leave until I faced him so I sucked in a gulp of air, tried to muster as much courage as I could, and slowly turned.
Cole took a step forward and I forced myself to hold my ground. “Mariella, I’m—”
I held up a hand. “It’s Mari and don’t worry about it. You don’t have to say anything.”
“But—”
“No buts. It’s fine. We’re good. I’m gonna get a drink with Sawyer.”
I glanced over at Sawyer, hoping he would swoop in and save me again and, thankfully, he nodded his head toward the bar.
Cole wrung his hands together, not a sight I was used to seeing. “Please. Talk to me, Mari. Just a few minutes.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sawyer and Heath take their seats, leaving one in the middle. Heath shot me the briefest of looks but then nodded once and turned. Whatever Sawyer had told him, I owed them both. “Not right now.”
I turned back toward the bar and took the seat between the guys. The bartender seemed to appear out of nowhere, but I was grateful as hell for his presence.
“Can I get a shot of Jamison?”
Sawyer took one look at me, rolled his eyes and said to the bartender, “Make it a double.” I glanced at him and he added, “I’m driving.”
The bartender went to get my drink. I noticed Heath watching me. When I followed the path of his gaze and saw my hands shaking uncontrollably, I tucked them under my legs. There was no way I’d let anyone, especially Cole, know how fucked up my head was at the mere mention of my full name. If I had to sit there all night with a fake smile plastered to my face, that’s exactly what I was going to do.
Up until the moment that name left his lips, whenever I’d seen Cole, I could be Mari, lead singer of Jaded Ivory. It made it easier to see him. I could be someone else. Exactly like I’d been last night, before I let him take me home. I didn’t have to worry about seeing pity or disgust
in his eyes.
Another documentary. It had to be the third or fourth this week. Most of the students went to the bathroom during class, to wander the halls and get a break from it all.
Not me. The classroom was a safer place to be. With the teacher in the room, the jocks kept their comments to a minimum. Not that the teachers did much to the athletes when they treated others like shit, but they knew there was a line they couldn’t cross with an adult around. And they stayed only just behind it.
Jennifer, the one friend I had, sat a few desks over. It looked like she’d already given up on the video, when I noticed her head down on the desk. For some reason, people paid less attention to her. She was better at hiding in the shadows and going unnoticed by the rest of our classmates. I wasn’t so lucky. The last thing I needed was to give them more ammunition. A picture of me sleeping in class blasted all over social media would most certainly fit that bill.
I propped my head up with my hand and turned the lined paper on my desk into sheet music. I spent the class writing music, ignoring the muted laughter coming from behind me. God only knew what they were doing. Whatever it was, the less I paid attention the better.
With a few minutes left of the period, the movie ended and the lights came on. The guys at the back of the class were still laughing, with a few snickers thrown in here and there. I looked over at Jennifer. She’d woken up and was staring at something behind me, her eyes wide.
“Your hair,” she mouthed, pointing at the back of her head.
A lead weight settled in the pit of my stomach. With trembling fingers, I reached up and lightly ran my hand down my hair. About only an inch from the top my hand ran into something sticky. Gum. But it didn’t stop at one piece. As I ran my hand down my hair, I found more and more sticky lumps. The laughter behind me came in great gusty shouts.
I ran from the room, ignoring Jennifer’s calls. I ran into the bathroom, which was thankfully empty because it meant no one heard the high-pitched cry that left my mouth when I saw my reflection. Small pieces of gum covered most of my head, the bright pink a stark contrast to the blonde.
Rock Me (Jaded Ivory Book 1) Page 6
