by Angel Lawson
His circle of friends, guy friends, was tight and pretty popular but they mostly keep to themselves. Jackson Hall. Hayden Pierce. Oliver Baldwin and then Anderson Thompson. They were close. Super close, and no girl had ever broken into their ranks. Many tried. All failed. They seemed more interested in each other than in the opposite sex.
The boys and I had shared classes since grade school and I had harbored a crush on all of them, Anderson in particular, for a long time. Fine. Years. I knew it was useless. They didn’t seem to date. The Allendale Four went to dances and stuff, but increasingly I suspected none of the girls were up to their standards. Smart.
If I were them, I would wait until college and not tie myself down to one of the Stage Five Clingers looking for a way out of this place.
Class started and much to my relief, Mr. Baker turned on a film. I took the opportunity to pull out my pen and write a note.
Jackson Hall just checked me out.
I pushed the paper in Anderson’s direction. He looked at the paper. Then at the movie. Then at me and blinked. When he got back to the paper, he wrote quickly.
What?
Was that unclear? He ogled me.
Anderson smirked at that one and scribbled on the paper.
Jackson’s a pervert. He’s always staring at pretty girls.
Wait, what? Pretty? Nope. No. I ignored that jab. I sighed and tapped my pen on the table before replying.
Everyone is treating me weird. What’s going on? Be honest.
Anderson placed his pen on the table and slipped his hand in his back pocket. I felt my forehead crease as I tried to figure out what he was doing. After a second, he pulled out his iPhone.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, looking around to make sure no one could see us. Phones were not allowed out at school.
He ignored me. I watched as his long, graceful fingers moved quickly over the screen. His silly hair was all in his eyes and from this angle his jaw was sharp and strong and—
He handed me the phone under the table. It was open to his social media page, to a photo of me. In the image, my fingers were gripping Justin’s shirt and I was smiling up at him. We looked happy. Even in love, to the outside viewer. It was sweet but didn’t show anything. What was the big deal? But I knew. They heard the rumors.
“So,” I mouthed. I could feel the heat burn into my cheeks.
He motioned for me to scroll through the photos. I did and felt the heat burn into my cheeks and my stomach dropped. The images had taken a life of their own. Before and after photos tagged with my virginity status. Little graphics of hearts and stars. Questions about me in bed. What Justin liked.
What I liked.
Oh god.
The whole thing had gone wrong and according to the ticker at the bottom, viral. My chest constricted and my lungs froze. I wasn’t sure if I could breathe. I pushed the phone back to Anderson and tried desperately to pull air into my lungs.
He shrugged, unaware of my panic, and took his phone back. He slipped it in his pocket. I focused back on the front of the room. On the desk. On anything, trying to keep calm.
I mean, the plan worked. Justin and I tricked everyone. Just not only the kids at his school, but mine too. Mission accomplished. Why was I freaking out? Did it matter? Do I even matter?
History said no.
The movie ended and right before Mr. Baker turned on the lights, Anderson leaned over and said, “If people are noticing you, I guess that’s why. They look at you differently now.”
I didn’t care about people. Not most of them. The one that really mattered was sitting next to me. The other was down in Oceanside not getting harassed in the locker room. I found the paper we had written on before, scribbled a note and slid it across the smooth tabletop.
Do you?
Just then the bell rang and Anderson stood, taking the paper and balling it into his fist and shoving it into his pocket. I realized he wasn’t going to answer and I said, “Anderson, do you think differently about me?”
He slung his backpack over his shoulder and frowned. “It doesn’t matter what I think, but you need to be careful,” he said before walking out of the room.
*
“Heaven, I had no idea.”
Justin was at my house after school when I pulled up. He leaned against his rusty Honda, all legs and long body. I’d been on the verge of a panic attack all afternoon and when he showed up, I lost it.
“I know. How did you find out?”
“Emily took the photos, but she swears it’s not her account.”
I twist my hands. Of course. Stupid Emily. She probably thought this was hilarious. Her family had been big on the “run the Reeves out of town train” back in the day.
“It seems a little detailed for Emily. I’m not sure she has the attention span to go full mean girl, you know.” He nodded in agreement. “I did a little research. The whole account is brand new. It’s some kind of Fakestagram. Apparently, it exists just to announce my exploits.”
Justin reached for me and pulled me into a hug. “What do you want to do?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” The anger was clear in his voice. He pushed me back to look me in the eye.
“I don’t want to change anything. We accomplished what we wanted. Right?”
Justin ran his hand over his head. “Not like this. Not with your reputation on the line. I don’t want this to trigger anything for you—you’ve been doing a lot better lately.”
I laughed. The idea of me having a “reputation” was still a foreign idea and he was right, I had been doing better lately. I should be able to handle this. “It’s no big deal. Gossip for the week. I’m sure it will pass. I’d rather you be happy.”
He eyed me warily. He knew about the anxiety and where it had led in the past. I’d worked hard to get better. Would the scrutiny make it flare up again? I shook it off and promised it would be fine.
“Are you sure? Because we can totally fake-couple it for a while. Make it real and they’ll get bored faster.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Eh, if this means more kissing, then no thanks.”
“You really know how to make a guy feel special.”
“It’s a gift,” I deadpanned. “I’m sure if we ignore it, everything will be fine.”
A girl could dream, right?
*
“Heaven, do you have a minute?”
I was at my locker when Eric Oswald came up behind me. His question set me on edge…I’d heard it over and over this week. It wasn’t the first time the joke had been made, but post-Fakestagram the ribbing increased, and two minutes didn’t pass without some jackass making a hilarious play on my name and their desire for Seven Minutes With Heaven.
Seriously, what was my mother thinking naming me after a psychological horror novel from her teens? Honestly, it explained so much about her.
It just didn’t say much about me.
I turned to the smallish boy with his thick mop of overly-styled hair and impeccable clothing standing next to me and prayed, pleasedontaskmeout. I didn’t feel like I had Jesus on my side, but it was worth a shot.
“Sure. What’s up?”
He cast a glance around the hall. “In private?”
I eyed him skeptically, but Eric hadn’t approached me all week and was notoriously well-liked and not a jerk. I nodded and followed him to the Student Government office. His name was listed under “President” on the small sign by the door. He closed the door behind me with a soft click.
I sighed. “What’s going on, Eric?”
He moved and sat behind the desk and tented his fingers. “I know about you and Justin Blackwood.”
“Yeah? So? The rest of the school seems to know, too.” I folded my arms defensively across my chest and waited.
He shook his head and said, “No. I know about you and Justin. What really happened.”
Well, that was a surprise. “What really happened?”
E
ric cleared his throat. “Justin and I are friends.”
I stared at him.
“You know,” he moved his fingers in air quotes and lowered his voice, “‘friends’?”
My eyes popped wide. “Wait...what? Really?” I thought of Justin. Tall, muscular, handsome Justin. And then I thought of Eric, not so tall or muscular. A little handsome. Interesting. I knew Justin had been questioning himself…things were starting to make more sense.
“Yes.”
“So what did you want to ask me?” I asked, not sure where this was going. Was he trying to blackmail me? ‘Cause I didn’t think that would work.
Eric leaned forward. “I want you to pretend you made out with me, too.”
I snorted. Out loud. “That’s not what we pretended to do, Eric.”
“Whatever,” he waved his hands. “David Nash has been calling me a flamer since the third grade. Not only am I gay, but they know I’m a virgin. I have six months before I get out of here. I have a scholarship to UCLA and I’m gone. Just help make the next six months a little easier on me, please?”
“Eric, no one cares if you’re gay.”
He stared at the papers on his desk. “I care.”
The identity crises were strong in this school.
“If I helped you, what’s in it for me?”
“My undying gratitude? A bump in the social structure? Good weed, invites to parties, a date to the prom? Maybe you can lose the label of being a frigid bitch for good.”
The last one was a slap in the face. I knew what people thought. They mistook my lack of social skills for being a bitch. Normally I didn’t care, but this last week made me look at things differently. I considered the offer and what it could do to change all this. Eric was extremely popular despite the issues he just brought up. Maybe if I got an invite to one of those parties, Anderson would be there...
Eric stood. “Just consider it. Meet me tomorrow morning at my car and we can discuss, okay?”
I studied the strange boy in front of me. “Okay.”
Again, I had a bad feeling about this.
Chapter 3
I left school feeling like crap. Worse than crap. If I said no to Eric, what would he do? Tell everyone Justin and I faked the whole thing? That would be social suicide for both of us. Things were awkward already. I can’t imagine what would happen if they knew we lied.
I mulled over Eric’s offer. If I said yes, what did that make me? I really didn’t know. Stupid was the only word that came to mind.
I started home, walking down the sidewalk that led from the school to my neighborhood. Mom and I lived in a small house, the only thing she could afford after my dad left. She worked long hours at the police station as a secretary with an erratic schedule, but at least the benefits were good. Her shifts alternated every few weeks. Sometimes day, others night. Currently she was on the day shift, which meant I had a few hours before she got home.
I loved and hated that time alone. I liked the quiet, but it also gave me too much time to think. That was when I’d go down the rabbit hole, allowing my anxiety to take over. Anxiety was stupid like that…you know it’s bad and it makes you feel bad, but it also has a strange sense of comfort. Comfortable pain.
I turned and took the long way home, walking past the Quick-Zip where all the kids with cars stopped to get drinks.
Fuck. Bad idea.
A red sports car pulled up next to me and rolled down the driver’s side window. Spencer propped his arm in the open window and leaned his head out. “Heaven, hey, you need a ride, sweetheart?”
“No thanks,” I said. It was hard to hear my voice over my thundering heartbeat. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? I’ve got a few minutes to spare. I’m sure we can find a way to fill it.”
Another car rolled up behind me and a shadow fell over Spencer’s face. His creepy smile dropped and his eyes darted over my shoulder. My throat constricted, feeling the fear of being enclosed. What now? Who wanted a piece of me now?
I turned and saw Oliver sitting in his forest green Mustang, the engine idling loud. “Heaven, I’ve been looking all over for you. Did you forget we have that test in calculus tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrow and leaned casually across the black leather seats. I stared into his blue eyes and knew that he was offering a lifeline—a rope to pull me back to safety. How did I know? No idea, but behind me was a shark and I needed out of the dangerous waters.
“I totally forgot.”
Oliver smiled and it was like a blessing from the gods. “I figured. Hop in.”
“Hey,” Spencer said, aggravated hurt clear on his face. “We were going to hang.”
“Sorry,” I apologized, which was dumb. Why was I apologizing to a jerk like that?
He frowned, stroking his nasty goatee, and muttered, “Whore,” under his breath and sped off.
Once he was gone I leaned into Oliver’s window. His eyes followed Spencer and his jaw tensed with controlled anger. “Thanks for saving me from that idiot. I can walk from here.”
He set his eyes on me. “You’re not walking anywhere. Not after that. Come on. I’ll give you a ride for real.”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t trust Oliver. I didn’t think he was a jerk, but any other day would he have stopped to give me a ride? Or was it just because of my new reputation? It didn’t help that a group of students from school, including Mallory and Jennifer, were watching from the doorway of the Quick-Zip.
He frowned when he saw my expression. “Heaven, I promise. I don’t want anything but to get you home safely. Okay?”
I exhaled, feeling the tightening in my chest loosen a little. “Okay. Thank you.”
I opened the door and it groaned and creaked. Inside, I inhaled the old leather and oil permeating from the classic car. I couldn’t help but smile.
“What?”
“My dad had an old car like this. I forgot how much I missed it.”
“Oh yeah? Well buckle up and we’ll go for a ride.”
“I’d like that.” I clicked the metal belt into place.
He revved the engine and glanced over at me, floppy blonde hair falling into his eyes. It took every ounce of willpower not to push it aside. “When you’re ready, you can tell me exactly what the hell is going on. Because that look on your face? It’s not one I ever want to see again.”
I nodded and looked out the window. The kids were watching me—us. Mallory’s jaw was slack with disbelief, and jealousy was written all over Jennifer’s face. I was in the car with Oliver Baldwin. One of the Allendale Four. Sure, they may all think I’m there because I’m nothing but a trashy whore, but looking over at the handsome, sweet boy next to me, I realized I didn’t care.
I knew the truth and that was all that mattered. Oliver peeled out of the parking lot, taking me away from the stares and scrutiny. I knew the truth…at least that’s what I told myself.
*
I don’t know why, but I told Oliver the truth too, and now he sat next to me with a completely dumbfounded look on his face.
“So what you’re telling me is you pretended to have sex with Justin Blackwood, who was worried about his status as a virgin.”
“Yes.”
“And this could be because he may or may not be gay, but mostly because the other guys in Oceanside were harassing him.”
“Right.”
“Some snotty girls shared the photo all over social media, a Fakestagram was born and now you’re the one with a bad reputation.”
I pulled the lollypop out of my mouth. “Yep, pretty much.”
Oliver’s eyes flicked to the lollypop and back up to my eyes. “Well, that just...sucks.”
And the worst part was, I hadn’t even told Oliver what happened today with Eric because what if he thought I deserved it for getting involved with such a stupid idea in the first place?
We’re sitting on the back porch of my house. My mom isn’t home yet and I didn’t feel comfortable asking Oliver in. No, that’s not true. I did
feel comfortable. I just didn’t want him to think I was offering up a piece of Heaven.
Ugh. Everything was really confusing now. Including the fact Oliver Baldwin is sitting next to me on the porch swing.
How crazy was that?
Avoiding the Eric situation for now, I decided to bring up Anderson, who was a touchy subject, being his best friend. I thought maybe he could provide some clarity. “We always get along okay. Even flirting a little here and there, but once he showed me the photos, everything changed. He seems pretty judgey about the whole thing.”
“Like he thinks you’re a slut?”
“Did he say that? Do you think that? What about the other guys? I don’t really know them, but Jackson spoke to me and Hayden…”
Oliver’s jaw tenses. “Hayden did what?”
“Acknowledged me.”
He laughed. Even he knew how difficult it was to get Hayden’s attention.
“Look, I don’t think you’re a slut, and Anderson can be a little…reserved. He’s probably just shocked. I mean, screwing a guy at a party and everyone knowing about it? That doesn’t compute with the image we all have of you.”
“What image is that?”
He rubbed his hands on his thighs for minute before saying, “You’re quiet. Reserved. You wear huge sweatshirts that barely reveal you have curves. You never date. You skank-eye the more popular girls.”
“You think I’m a bitch.”
“No,” he said, holding my eye. “But I do think that’s your image and this whole thing with Justin and the photos? You just blew that wide open.”
I groaned and leaned into the cushion on the porch swing, toying with the fringe on the edge. “No one up here was supposed to know! Mallory has sex. Tiffany North has sex. Why is it such a big deal for me?”
“It’s a big deal because you’ve never done anything like this. Not just the sex part but the party and the gossip. You keep to yourself. Believe it or not, that kind of behavior intrigues people. You’re an enigma.”
