He flashes me a reassuring smile and leaves me flustered on my feet. I sigh as he walks away.
“If you’re interested in getting in his pants, get in line. There are 500 girls ahead of you.”
The unexpected sound startles my frazzled nerves. I whip around to meet the owner of that deep rumble. When I find Julian looking at me with contempt, I roll my eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
He catches the disdain dripping from my tone and curls his lips. “Brandon’s taken.”
Though he surprised me by talking to me, I’m more dumbfounded by the maleness of his voice. Three years ago, cracks and unintentional falsettos dotted his conversations. But now, it’s steady and baritone. I shake my head and refocus. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
He sneers. “If you get your kicks from stealing other people’s boyfriends, this one’s off-limits. Find another relationship to wreck, sis.”
I redden at his insinuation. How dare he question my moral fiber? “You got some nerve accusing me of that, bro. You know I don’t roll like that.”
Blue eyes narrowing into slits, he glowers. “And you got some nerve thinking I still know you.”
Here we go. Let the jousting begin. “Likewise, Julian. I don’t know this version of you, either.”
That unwavering stare returns, making me back away. But he steps closer. “What version did you want, Josephine? Did you expect to see the doting, puppy dog you had wrapped around your little finger? Were you hoping for a welcome banner celebrating your return? Or that gullible Julian still existed, carrying a torch for you?”
The cool metal against my back tells me I’ve retreated to someone’s locker. My chest pounds as I watch his body tense up as if he’s ready to crucify me. But I raise my head and challenge him. “Go ahead, then. Say it and get it over with.”
As he narrows his eyes, I wait for the punchline. “Say what, Josephine? That I hate you?”
Damn. Whoever said words can never hurt you is a liar. They hurt as much as those wretched sticks and stones. I look away.
But no further verbal attack came afterwards. Only silence. I refocus my attention on him, only to find his fiery eyes softening and becoming heavy-lidded. He closes the space between us, leaving me confused at this sudden transformation. Fingers moving toward my face, his warm hand heats my flushed cheek as it hovers below my ear.
“You still have these.” He touches an earring.
I gasp. The bacon earrings. The same pair he gave me on my thirteenth birthday. Oh, why did I wear them today? I clear my throat and answer truthfully. “Well, uh, I found no reason to throw them.”
He places a hand on the locker as he leans towards me. This time, warmth radiates from his body and engulfs me. I glance elsewhere, shying away from his gaze.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
His voice traps me and forces me to lift my head and meet him eye-to-eye. He bites his lower lip, and I watch him pierce that pout with his perfect teeth until it blushes a tomato-red.
Then a gust of wind blows, causing my earring to fall. He casts his eyes to the ground to follow the drop. Then he pauses. There’s a shift in the air, and it makes him blink several times.
A finger grazes my bare forearm in a feathery touch. I look at my skin and see him tracing the fresh, angry scratches. As if he had uncovered a secret, I move my arm and hide it behind me. His face contorts as if in pain. Then he composes himself.
“Julian, it’s nothing.”
He backs up as he shakes his head. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
I stare straight into that sneer that is now disfiguring him. “Jules…”
His eyes flash. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Then he moves forward and brushes past me. As he leaves, I’m driven by the need to hash things out. I catch his wrist to stop him from moving further. He doesn’t turn, but I see him grit his teeth at my touch. “Back off, Jo. I mean it.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
He closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling as if taking long, heavy breaths. Then he speaks. “You didn’t. I’d have to care to feel the pain.”
I swallow hard. Not surprised at his dismissal, but my heart still drops. “Well, good thing then. I guess we’re solid.”
He turns to me and opens his mouth. But the sounds of quick footsteps interrupt us.
“Hands off, bitch!”
I realize that I have yet to remove my fingers around his wrist. I drop it in a heartbeat. My head swivels to the left, and I see a tall, gorgeous blonde with piercing green eyes surrounded by a gaggle of girls with full-face makeup and high heels.
Julian sighs and rubs his temples in frustration. “Bianca. Relax.”
Ah, Bianca Peters. The school’s power couple. The BiJu, as they’re called among peers. Ok, I get what he sees in her. She had the entire elementary school under her spell years ago. But now she’s hot. She’s three inches taller than me with straight shiny blonde hair falling past her perfect perky boobs and a body that puts Gisele Bundchen to shame. She and Julian make sense—like how Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively make sense. Add Barbie and Ken Doll to that list.
But the girl is a bull seeing red as she glares and steps towards me. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
I react on automatic and clench my fist. Bitch, try me.
But Julian juts a hand, blocking her, so she can’t come closer. “Let’s just go, babe.”
His long, sinewy arm wraps around her waist and moves her forward. As they stroll past me, he positions his body in front of mine, barricading the war-freak beauty. I stare dumbfounded as they walk away with Julian not glancing back. But Bianca does—still shooting daggers. No. AK 47s.
As the queen and king of disdain stalk off, I lean against the locker. This will be a long four months.
Chapter 12
Julian
The promise of a cool shower seduces me as the gym comes into view. Minutes later, warm spray from the old showerhead washes away the tightness in my body. Hands splayed on wet tile, I watch water droplets trickle off my chin, hit the floor, and swirl around the drain.
“Does it hurt when you do that, Joy?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you only do that when you’re sad?”
“Yes.”
“Do I make you sad?”
“Never.”
“Then stay with me forever.”
I smack the wall in front of me. “Shit!”
Jo’s return is messing with me. Two fucking years it took me to forget her. Then she comes crawling back into my life. Things were different when we were nine years old. My innocence duped me into believing the healing powers of love. Back then, I wanted to erase the reasons that made her dig her nails through her skin when overcome with sorrow. But we’re older now. Shit, I just turned eighteen.
But she’s a different story. Despite her body, those red marks tell me nothing else has changed. She’s still in her private hell. Fuck that. I’m done with her problems. She left me. I run my fingers through my hair. But if only I can stay away.
“Bro, you cool? You’ve been underneath the shower for a while. You low-key look like a prune.”
Head snapping up, I peer towards the voice. My teammate stares at me with a raised brow. “Sorry. Just getting myself ready for practice.”
“Oh, for sure.” He steps aside as I step out, allowing him to do the mandatory rinse. “That’s some straight Jedi meditation, man. Gotta learn that trick so I can win medals like you, right captain?”
“Yeah, whatever. See ya in the pool.”
I exhale and put on the team’s full length parka. The swim cap goes on next. Today’s practice will help erase Jo from my mind, and as soon as I’m in the water, I’ll be fine.
“Yo.” I hear a familiar nasal voice from the other side of the lockers. That’s Brett, one of my teammates. “So, he murdered her or what?”
I stop shoving my clothes in my duffel bag and listen. A snort erupts from another pe
rson followed by shuffling and side conversations.
“Shit, I bet you they got in a fight on Friday and beat her up. Guaranteed!”
The boys verbalize in agreement. “No doubt. The guy’s an asshole, and with the amount of drugs he does, he went nuts and killed her. How much you want to bet she’s lying in a ditch somewhere?”
“For real, bro. Imma put my money on that.”
I purse my lips. Not appreciating where this conversation is going. For one, Lexie isn’t dead. Two, Brandon is their teammate. And three, these speculations hold no merit. The boy knocked out in Jordan’s basement, a couch away from me on Friday. Not our finest moment. We were both high as a kite. But he has a solid alibi.
“Nah. The guy’s cocky as fuck, but he’s harmless.”
Finally, someone with sense. That’s Bishop. I always liked the guy.
“I heard a private investigator interrogated them.”
“Interrogated” is an exaggeration. Detective Brower visited Bianca, Brandon and I—that much is true.
“Who gives a shit? Maybe when pretty boy’s locked up, I can nab those trophies he keeps stealing from me. Imma take what’s mine.”
“Gotta be a beast for that, Rick. You suck ass.”
They howl in laughter as they rag on him.
“Hey, what about that chick that popped out of nowhere today?”
I growl. What about her, asshole?
Another guy joins the discussion. “Man, she got nice tits and a tight ass but too preppy.”
“Yeah, goody two shoes.”
“I dunno, but she fine, though. I’d tap that.”
Jaws clenching, my fists curl. As the new girl, it’s not surprising she’s locker room conversation. But I don’t appreciate her body being dissected, either.
“But in the immortal words of Ludacris,” says one of them, clearing his throat as if delivering a speech. “A lady in the streets but a freak in the bed.”
The idiots hoot and holler while rage boils from the pit of my stomach. Hand curling into a ball, I have the insurmountable urge to punch faces. I stomp to the other side. As soon as six heads come into view, my fist slams into a locker—the rattle from the impact reverberating to the end of the row. They turn to my direction in unison.
“Now that I got your attention. How about you quit talkin’ shit about your teammate and leave the new girl alone, or I’ll rip your balls off and shove it down your throat? We good?”
They stare, eyes wide with fear. Being the captain with zero percent body fat has its advantages. “Get your ass in the pool!”
They scramble for the exit, reminding me of roaches scattering at the flick of a light switch. That was just a warning. Next time, these knuckles promise to bloody their faces.
As soon as the last one leaves, my brows furrow at the continued tingle of nerves from hitting the locker. I glance at my reddened hand. This is problematic. While defending Brandon is not an issue, protecting Jo is. Fist fights and intimidation to defend her honor aren’t my responsibility. She means nothing to me now.
Ok, idiot, let go.
She shocked my brain after her unexpected return. It’ll readjust to normal once I get used to seeing her walking around school.
The minute I step outside, the smell of chlorine hits my nostrils. Brandon is in the middle of warmups, moving from one stretch to another. But his eyes are distant, sporting that glazed expression that’s appearing more on his face.
I clap his back and greet him. “What’s up, man.”
He says nothing.
I throw my parka onto the bleachers and ask. “You all right, dude?”
For a minute, I thought he’ll keep quiet for the rest of the practice until he opens his mouth. “Just trying to stay focused, bro.”
Since this morning, everyone has been treating Brandon with strained politeness. If the locker room conversations is this scandal’s barometer, he’s feeling the heat out there. But no one has the guts to ask him, resorting to staring from the corner of their eyes and whispering whenever he walks. He knows that everyone’s asking the same question. Did he hurt Alexa?
As if reading my mind, he speaks. “I’d never lay a hand on her.”
My arm stretches across my chest, and I nod. “I believe you.”
We go through the warm-up exercises in silence. Then I take a chance and ask something that’s been nagging me. “Bro, you and Lexie have always been solid, but you guys ever hit a rough patch?”
Brandon stops and scowls. For a moment, I regret asking, but then his face softens. “We did. But we resolved it. We even renewed our commitment to each other last Friday.”
I look at my friend. Ladies swoon and gush whenever he passes. A surfer, born and raised in Hawaii, with plans of going pro with Billabong. He’s muscular and tan with a chest plate tattoo on his right breast of the Philippine sun. It’s common knowledge that Brandon’s a stud, so I’m sure temptation has knocked its ugly claws once or twice at his door.
But Brandon and Lexie had remained rock solid. To be honest, I can’t imagine them cheating on each other. Then again, everyone touts my relationship with Bianca as “couple goals.” Obviously, anyone of us can put on a show.
Coach Mendez’s voice booms across the other side of the pool. “Ok, boys. Enough chitchat. Time to work!”
I smile and turn to Brandon, who plastered the same grin. We’ve craved for this distraction since this morning. I run to the edge and dive into the aquatic environment that promises to consume my afternoon for four straight hours. The shock when water meets body sucks my breath, but not for long. When I gain momentum, I swim along the lines—arms and legs slicing through the water. Worries wash away as I move, leaving only the pure ecstasy of being in the pool.
I breathe.
Chapter 13
Josephine
“Dammit!”
An ornate silver spoon drops to the floor for the third time, making me question my dexterity. My father’s heated glare sears my skin as I pick up the slippery utensil. “Watch your mouth. We didn’t raise you in the gutter.”
Good to know. Imagine his reaction if he hears the expletives taking permanent residence in my head. Mama Nilda places the tray of roast chicken on the dining table and puts a juicy drumstick on my plate. I smile and give a thumbs-up sign. She winks in return while wiping a hand on a greasy apron. “You know what they say about spoons falling on the floor.”
“What, Mama?”
Mom scowls at the affectionate title, but Mama misses her glower and continues. “A lady visitor is coming.”
Mommy dearest huffs as she slices her chicken breast. “Don’t fill her head with nonsense.”
Mama turns to her and opens her mouth. But then she changes her mind, closes it and says nothing. As she places a salad bowl in front of me, I flash her a devious grin and lean over to whisper. “To be honest, I prefer a male guest. What do I drop for that?”
The parental units have bionic ears because they heard it. They grunt and narrow their eyes, but Mama rewards me with a throaty laugh and a pinch on the cheek.
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