by L. Jayne
“Are you okay?” Blake asks me, a funny look on his face as he looks at me.
I must’ve just been standing there, looking like a fool. Shaking my head, I reach for my backpack and find a note crumpled in the bottom. Meet me at the beach at six. Adrian’s blocky writing sends up memories of the ocean, our kiss, our sudden moment. Scoffing at it, I fish it out and toss it into the nearest recycling bin.
“Last night’s homework?” Blake asks.
“Just some garbage I forgot to throw out earlier.”
And just like that, I’ve buried everything me and Adrian once shared.
***
I remember the first time I got my heart broken by some guy I’d harbored a silly crush on for months. It was back in grade seven, when the girls still ignored the guys and the battle of the genders was going strong and raging horribly. Ever since I was a little girl, I’d always craved for romance. The kind that sweeps you off your feet, the dizzying and exhilarating ride that is love. I’d pour over romantic books and swoon over the strong but silent type, the dangerous bad boy, the spirited womanizer, every stereotype out there. I wanted my love to change the bad boy for the better, I wanted to reform the womanizer and make him mine. But sooner or later, reality crashes down on you.
It was at a dance, the type of dance where there were chaperones around and mainstream pop playing in the background, and there was an invisible line drawn between the girls and guys. Girls clustered in groups, talking to each other over some cookies and sneaking sidelong longing looks at various boys on the other side. The guys would try to look cool as they leaned against the wall, checking out any girl in a dress that walked past.
My friend Shannon and I were discussing our plan. The plan that involved snagging our crushes. A plan that was soon guaranteed to fail.
“So, you just walk past him and pretend to trip?” I said. “It’s so stupid that it just might work.”
After the guy asked if she was okay, I’d say “Oh, my friend’s just so clumsy” to Jason Fieldings who’s beside him.
So Shannon prepared for her downfall, smoothing out her blue dress and staring hard at her target. She started towards them near the punch table, conversing in loud guffaws, while I was at her heels. Both of us crossed the invisible line, squaring our shoulders like we were crossing enemy territory.
Then she did it. Tripped. Her foot snagged the other and in one graceful motion, Shannon dropped to the floor with a wail of distress and as predicted, the two guys looked over.
But it was not Shannon’s target who rushed to catch her. It was Jason, my crush. He bent over to inspect her, helping her up as she stared blankly at him. “Hey, you alright?” He asked her, flipping his blond bangs off his face.
His friend and I stood awkwardly there while they got up and started talking. Shannon noticed me standing there. “Hey, this is my friend, Aven--” She tried to introduce us.
“Hey, want to dance?” Jason asked, cutting her off, barely giving me a glance. Right there, I felt my heart drop to my feet and it was like I was trapped in a glass bubble. Wasted. My pining after him, my endless daydreams, my hopes.
And for the rest of the dance, I stood near the edge of the dance floor, watching them dance. Him holding her by the waist awkwardly as she swayed in his arms. It was far from being romantic but watching the other couples dance around me was just too much. Back then, I thought that my heart broke.
And that was it. No more romantic imagined daydreaming. No more hoping for a white knight in shining armour. My quest for perfection had ended.
Adrian was the proof for that theory. That there was no perfect prince coming to save me from my broken heart.
***
Today is the first year anniversary of Mom’s death. My dad and I try not to mention anything relating to her at breakfast but the cloud over us doesn’t lose its grip on our hearts. There seems to be some kind of burden upon my shoulders as I enter the familiar halls of Eiernhill, losing myself in the whirlpool of bodies surrounding me. In a hollow thought, I wonder if I can ever forget her death. Act that everything’s okay again. Will the hurt ever cease?
Another girl waves at me and I try to plaster a smile back, ducking my head as I walk through the hall. I exhale deeply, getting in a big lungful of air. That’s it. Get a hold of yourself.
But thinking it is easier said than done.
As I’m sitting through the second half of English lit class, I have the intense urge to escape this humid, hot room. The heat from the AC filtering through the air vents overhead is making my head pound, sending shoots of aching through my brain. I stare at Mrs. Kentworth’s scraggly letters on the board and the way her arm flab shakes with each stroke of the dusty chalk. Sunlight streams through a closed window, lighting up every dust molecule in the dense atmosphere. Breathing in and out, I bite my lip.
Every other student around me is doing the worksheet or doodling absently on the margin but I’m doing nothing, just staring up at the ceiling.
The pulsing in my head is almost relentless. And then I submit to the appeal of escaping this class.
I raise my hand, interrupting Mrs. Kentworth’s flow of babbling. “Can I go to the bathroom?” I say quickly.
She peers at me through black glasses, straightening them. “Be right back.” Then she turns to the blackboard and starts writing notes on the board again.
Feeling free, I stand and make my way to the door, feeling my classmates’ eyes on me. Once out in the hall, I breathe a relieved sigh and surrounded by an unfamiliar sensation, I start to run.
Running down the open-aired corridor, to the bio lab, down the set of stairs to the eastern wing. I surge out the back door of the school, gasping out of slight exertion.
I’m finally alone. I stare out at the mostly secluded parking lot and try to even out my breathing. Under the gray wintry sky, I slump against the school building, revelling in the feel of the fresh wind blowing against my skin.
Tucking my arms tightly around my legs, I bury my face into my knees. Feeling just like that time just after Mom died, I can barely feel my cold icy hands.
“Why can I always find you like this?”
My head snaps up and I look at him. He pushes himself off the wall, holding a half-smoked cigarette to his lips. His eyes flicker over me and I feel an involuntary flinch.
I don’t reply. I look at my shivering arms and try to keep them warm. If he’d sensed that I’m cold, Adrian makes no move to give me his jacket. He wears the same face from before: cool, sardonic with a tinge of amusement.
“A funny case,” he says in that lilting mocking voice of his.
I can only snap out at him. “Can’t you see that I just want to be left alone?” I say through gritted teeth.
Adrian tips his head back and laughs. He raises his eyebrow. “Someone is cranky today.” Cold sarcasm traces his words.
I grab my bag and get up, moving for the next door but his next words stop me in my tracks.
“You can’t escape forever, you know.”
“I might as hell try,” I reply crisply.
He laughs again.
“What was that?” I snap, turning back to him.
Adrian smirks. “What was what?”
I look at him, feeling anger bubble beneath the surface. “Why are you acting like this?”
“This is me. I’m acting like myself. A stone cold bastard. Get used to it.” The same half-smile is on his lips. “I break people’s hearts.”
I see him and Lauren stumbling out of the closet again, in my mind, flushed and red. “What were you doing with her?” The words burst from my lips. Before I can take them back, he stares at me.
I stare back at him as the silence stretches onwards.
We’re both stiff. He says nothing.
“Maybe I should ask you the same thing.”
I shake my head, my nails digging into my palms.
Then before I can react, he has pushed me roughly up the wall, his eyes now dark and fiery, like
a storm ready to unleash itself. Good. He’s mad too. His hands force me to the wall as he presses his body against mine. The intensity of the move, the feel of him makes my breath hitch.
“Get off me,” I seethe, pounding my fists into his chest but Adrian keeps me locked in place, so that his breath caresses my ear.
“Were you guys too rushed?’ He mocks. “Too desperate to book a hotel room?”
I can barely stifle a disgusted snort. “What are you talking about?” Fury pumps through my head. “A hotel room? What kind of girl do you think I am--mmf?”
He moves against me, moving to kiss me. The moment where his lips meet mine hard and unyielding. He tastes of smoke and lipgloss—and I’m reminded of the scene earlier where he and Lauren got out of the closet together. Disgust fills me as I squirm in his arms.
He groans, fire burning in his voice. “You want me, you’re trying to hide from it.”
“No,” I try to bite the words at him but it comes out strangled.
I try to push him away but before I have to, he releases me.
His face is pale and his eyes are unfocused. “You still taste like him.” Pain is in his voice.
I try to put as much distance between him and myself, shaking. He’d just treated me like I was one of his whores.
Loathing is my voice. "Get away from me. I hate you."
He swallows and looks away, his breathing slowing. He pushes himself from the wall, still very pale.
Then closing his eyes and turning, he starts walking away, heading towards the parking lot.
"I hate you!" I scream again behind him.
Adrian stops for a moment, his back to me. “I’ve told you from the very beginning. You should.”
He keeps on walking, never glancing back.
chapter nineteen
AVENA
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
How could he turn something good into something so sour? I want to scream at him, hit him, and tear his hair out. How could he make me like this? Wild and out of control.
My mind keeps replaying to last week, that scene where he had pushed me against the wall and said those things to me. My mind keeps on flashing back to that.
God, how I hate him right now.
But Adrian is someone that is hard to erase, no matter how hard you try. His enigma existence breathes life into everyone at school and his name is whispered throughout the halls, from behind a closed palm, that is. He’s the type of person that should not be idolized, instead scorned on, but his looks and veiled charisma get him out of trouble. For every girl he’d been with, the guys bet money on who he’s going to dump.
I’ve heard of him before I’ve even seen him. Girls bonded by swooning over his melting green eyes and tall, rugged body. The moment he stepped into school, he was knighted. The ones that he dates are the type of girls that I’d try not to associate myself with. Girls are attracted to his fame, appeal. Like he’d mentioned before, few of them are looking for something real in him.
The way that Adrian uses girls and tosses them out is so smooth that nobody even seems to mind that much---or maybe because his ex-girlfriends are too busy screaming and engaging in cat fights with each other that they forget to get mad at him.
But whatever the reason is, it’s enough to make most of the girls go crazy over him—whether it’s hatred or puppy love.
At lunch, I’m confronted with the question of where to sit again as Kara and Hayden are off somewhere again and the skittering of nerves races up my spine. Then I spot Blake and Valerie—two familiar faces. I start towards them before I pause; surveying that Adrian is sitting there too. Before I can turn away, Valerie looks over and sees me standing there awkwardly and immediately waves me over with a smile.
When she sees that I’m standing rooted to the ground, staring at Adrian who’s gaze is refusing to meet mine, Valerie comes over and grabs my arm, leading me to their table. I protest but I have no choice but to make my way over there, setting my tray on their table. I pick my seat near Valerie and am squished between her and Blake. Adrian inspects me over with a glance.
“Why is she here?” Adrian says to Valerie, unscrewing his silver flask.
I bristle. “I can hear you, you know.” I haven’t forgotten how much of an asshole he can be.
“Be nice,” Valerie scolds him.
“I’m not in the mood to play nice.” Adrian looks at me, directing his words at me.
Blake sweeps his arm over me, his fingers dangling over my shoulder. “Aww, don’t make her go away.”
Adrian doesn’t say anything, swigging the drink in his flask rapidly.
“Hey, you!”
I feel the urge to vomit as I see Lauren bounding up here and jumping to him. She flicks him on his head, her grinning playfully. He turns, pausing. She plunks herself down in his lap, settling down there. “I didn’t see you in English, where were you?” She says.
The table goes into a hush. Instead of smiling back or resting his hands on her hips, Adrian stiffens and says imperturbably, “Around” and she frowns at him, seeming surprised.
“Hey, what’s up?” She asks him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Without another word, Adrian stands up abruptly, causing Lauren to slide down his lap and fall onto the ground with a shocked oomph. Staring up at him, she says something to him but he ignores her and stalks out the dining hall doors.
Blake gets up and helps her up, leading her out. “Hey, don’t cry.” Lauren’s eyes start to get watery as her cheeks blaze bright red.
There must be something wrong with Adrian. And I have to find out.
Throwing down my napkin, I leave and start running towards him, catching up with his long strides. He’s walking towards the courtyard absently and I start up to him, tugging him by his sleeve, stopping him and jerking him back.
“Seriously!” I say to him and he turns, his eyes heated. “What the hell was that?”
Adrian looks down at my hand bunched in his sleeve and hesitantly, I drop it. “It’s none of your business,” he says coolly.
I fume. “Don’t even…try that on me.”
His gaze is disconcerted. “When did you start caring?”
My cheeks are flushed. “Right now.”
“You…” He looks away. “Are something else.”
I don’t know whether I should take it as a compliment or an insult. “Stop trying to distort everything.” I soften my gaze, my voice steely. “You know, maybe you’re just this type of person. The one who humiliates girls, hurts them, uses them--”
“Don’t push me,” Adrian says, stepping closer to me but I don’t budge.
“You make them like you and then stab them in the back,” I babble on, watching him as his jaw tenses. I don’t know why my blood sings to provoke him. “We’ve talked about this before. You’re nothing but a manipulator, a lying, cheating bastar--”
Fire lights up the green in his eyes and with a drive, he pulls back his fist and punches the wall hard, the spot near my head, and I flinch from the loud impact, jolting me temporarily. I blink dizzily. My back collides with the bricks and I have to get my bearings when he’s breathing heavily in my face, my lips only a breath away from his. His eyes focus onto mine and he tears his head away, turning.
I stare at him, holding in my breath. Words form in my mind but my lips don’t move. With a broken gasp, I rip myself away from him.
Adrian drops his arms and with a shudder, he bows his head and closes his eyes. His whole body is shaking, and he curses. “Godammit!” It’s burst from his lips.
“Adrian?” I say.
His voice is hoarse. “You really want to know?”
I blink.
“Let me show you something.”
Adrian lifts the back of his gray shirt and tugs it up to reveal his toned, compact lower stomach with the valleys and grooves.
“What?” I say, my voice coming out shakier than intended.
He comes closer and then I see it. A Celt
ic dagger tattoo near his stomach, with Old English letters under it. The words The Unwanted is etched onto his skin, onto the flat expanse of smooth skin. I turn to him, confused.
I was sure that he wasn’t going to answer the question in my mind when he says in a suddenly quiet voice, “I went to see my father. My real father.” He breathes a short intake of air and shakes his head. “I drove to Oklahoma City and wandered around there for days.”
“What happened?” I swallow.
“Nothing. I never saw him.” He stares over me. “I asked around and a couple of guys living near him said that he was already dead.”
My mouth has gone dry. When he lifts his eyes to mine, I see them clouded with pain. Without thinking, I loop my arms around him and hold him to me. I rest my head on his collarbone and he shakily breathes out. His body is strong and compact against mine as he buries his face in my hair.
“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” he whispers into my hair, his voice slightly rough. “I was out of control. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was out of line.”
We stand like that in the hall, both of us exchanging comfort and worries that long have hung over us.
I feel his grief as if it’s mine and I hold him tighter, closing my eyes.
His mouth brushes the top of my head and I ache. And even if I know that this is the first leap toward disaster, I kiss him.
His lips are warm and dry against mine and heat, warm and liquid, flow into me.
Refusing to fight it, I pull him into the nearest room, an empty classroom with only a few desks.
Adrian jerks the door close and we’re surrounded in darkness, not a moment later, his mouth is on mine again and I’m pressed against his body. I mewl, tasting the alcohol in his flask and mint as he kisses me hard and twisty like. My mind has turned off. He makes a low sound in his voice and I drag him closer, wrapping my hands in his soft hair, our mouths descending over another. His deft fingers start unbuttoning my shirt, popping each open, and I tug his jacket off. His lips are hot on the curve of my neck as I have to bite my lips. I feel like I’m melting. My hands explore his body, sliding from his shoulders to his pecs, feeling the strong muscle underneath.
