by Nichole Noel
“Your handiwork?” I ask Ainsley.
She gives me a simpering smile. “Oh, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Sedona,” she says, purposefully calling me by the wrong name.
“It’s Sadie and I’m only asking because I’m surprised that you were able to spell ‘virgin,’ right. I assumed you are illiterate, given than you can barely string a sentence together.” I smile back, and it’s just as fake as hers.
They all glare at me—cookie cutter versions of Ainsley, but with slightly different shades of blonde hair. It’s like looking at Pacific High’s own Stepford wives and it gives me the creeps, but these girls are powerful here and popular. They can and do make my life a living hell, but I’m tired of having to bow to them. I’m human, I have feelings, and right now I want to send a message.
I take the balled-up tissue in my hand and make sure the lipstick is facing out as I methodically smear the shit out of Ainsley’s shirt. At first, she’s too shocked to do anything, then her face creases with rage, then she starts to scream and flail. And then I laugh. And laugh. And laugh so hard that I basically double over right in front of her because I can’t handle her reaction.
“You fucking bitch, just you wait—”
“Ainsley, cut it out,” a surprisingly deep voice interrupts what’s about to be a huge catfight, except I definitely plan on fighting dirtier than a cat.
I turn my head and Connor is right there, looking at us both like we’ve grown extra heads.
“Do you two want to get expelled?” he says, and he sounds exasperated, like he’s disappointed in us when he’s the one who’s known for being an antagonistic asshole.
“I am not just going to stand here and let her disrespect me like this,” Ainsley starts while I roll my eyes. “I am going to—”
I stand there and look at her, still laughing as I cut her off, “You’re going to what? Can’t do shit. Even your boytoy knows that you’d get your ass beaten if you tried anything. So, how about this? Leave my shit alone, or next time it’s your face that I mess up.”
“You’re going to regret this, you Paper bag bitch,” she spits at me and I just laugh. It’s all I can do because she’s right, I probably will, but right now I’m riding high on adrenaline and rage.
Connor gives me a look and I give him a fake smile. “Take your little plaything away before she gets herself into more shit that she can’t handle. Go on now, O’Brien!” I mock.
“Come on, Ainsley. It’s not worth it,” he says quietly, which is so unlike him that my fake smile almost falters. Is he really trying to keep the peace here? Good luck with that, Connor.
I give them a cute little wave as Connor bodily directs Ainsley away from me before she can start anything and her friends follow, flipping obscene gestures over their shoulders as they stride away, indignant and performatively offended for their bitch of a friend.
Serves her right. Maybe she’ll think twice before messing with my shit next time. Or maybe what she does next will just be worse, a little voice in my head suggests, and I immediately squish it down. No matter what happens, it was worth what I did to see the look on her face and, besides, her shirt is totally ruined now.
The warning bell rings for my next class and it’s one that I share with Connor, but not Ainsley or any of her little friends. Not that it matters. He sits on the opposite side of the classroom from me, normally.
So, imagine my surprise, when I enter the classroom and he’s sitting in the seat right next to my spot with a smug smile on his face as I enter the room and glare at him. He must have dumped Ainsley off at her class before deciding to annoy me in ours.
I’m not about to let him win whatever pissing contest is going on here, and I’m certainly not afraid of him, so I take my normal seat and give him a preemptive, “Piss off, Connor,” which only makes him laugh. It draws some attention from the other students as they settle into their own desks and I blush because of course, I do.
The last thing I want is people to think of Connor when they think of me, so I try ignoring him while we wait for our teacher—Mrs. Byrne—to come in. She teaches English, and she’s always late and smells faintly of perfume and cigarettes.
I think she hates her job and, given that half of the class isn’t paying attention at any given moment, or trying to inconspicuously text while she’s got her back turned to the whiteboard, I don’t blame her.
Technically speaking, we’re not supposed to have our cellphones out of our lockers during class time, but no one follows that rule and it’s only an issue if you get caught using it, so most people have mastered covert texting.
That and Mrs. Byrne really just does not seem to give a shit. Class starts, she half-heartedly tries to get our attention and starts droning on about King Lear, which I actually read and didn’t completely hate, surprisingly, but I’m having a hard time paying attention because Connor seems to be doing his best to distract me.
At first, it’s innocent, little knocks with his knees against mine, his arm brushing up against me, scribbled notes on paper that I ignore, that kind of thing. But then he ups the ante. His hand drops low on my back and I have to keep myself from squeaking out loud, I’m so surprised.
We’re in the back of the class. No one is behind us. And no one around us is paying attention as Connor slowly traces circles into my lower back and I don’t… I don’t hate it. Why don’t I hate it when he touches me? His face is calm, staring forward, as he pretends to takes in whatever Mrs. Byrne is trying to teach us.
Meanwhile, I can’t pay attention worth shit. Especially when his hand shifts and slides over the top of my leg, softly drawing over my thigh. I swallow thickly. I should stop him. Should do anything other than sit here and—oh wait, there go my legs, spreading just a little bit wider.
He notices. I know he notices. His lip quirks and he puffs out a little breath like he’s amused and his fingers inch, ever so slowly, between my legs before—
“Sadie MacLean!” Mrs. Byrne calls my name. “Can you read the second paragraph on page twenty-eight from your text book.”
I sit up straight and scramble to find the right page as Mrs. Byrne watches disapprovingly. Connor has to duck his head to keep her from noticing that he’s openly smiling now, otherwise, she’ll think he’s making fun of her. I finally locate the right paragraph, read it, glare at Connor and try my best to compose myself.
He’s a fucking asshole. Teasing me like that when he’s got no real intention of making… whatever it is between us into anything official. But it’s almost like he can’t keep from touching me, can’t keep those strong hands off of me. And I, like the fool that I am, just can’t seem to keep myself from falling for it, each and every time.
The rest of the class passes and he manages to keep his hands to himself. Which is good and bad because I don’t exactly hate when he touches me, but I do hate what it does to my head because I can’t make sense of it.
After class is over, I pack up my stuff and Connor obviously slips me a note. I pretend to ignore him as he leaves the class without a word, though I do tuck the note into my backpack.
I don’t get a chance to read it until break later. I half lean into my locker so that no one can come up and read over my shoulder while I take a peek at what he’s said.
The note reads:
Do you remember when we used to make mud pies in the playground? Do you remember making me eat one? I think I was sick for days after that. But I never regretted it. I still remember the sound of your laughter, even now. You don’t laugh as much now. I think that’s mostly my fault. I just wanted… I don’t know. This is a bad idea, but I’m full of those lately.
Call me. Text me. Even if it’s just to tell me to piss off, okay?
Connor
He left his cell phone number. Like I’m going to ever call it! I do consider texting him to tell him to piss off, just as he’s said I should, but that would be giving in to what he wants. And I don’t want to do what he wants. But what do I want? Do
I want to open up a dialog with Connor? I mean, I am still trying to figure out just why the hell he turned into a bully all those years ago.
But is this some sort of trick? Some way to get into my head so he can keep harassing me? Ugh. I hate this shit. Why can’t he just leave me alone? Or tell me what the hell he’s after? Like, if he wants to be my friend, there are better ways to go about it than talking shit and being mean.
But a voice inside my head tells me the truth, He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than friends and can’t, for some reason.
I sigh. Maybe if I text him, he’ll finally leave me alone in person? Am I just making up excuses to text him, now? I groan. Stuff the note into my backpack and head to my next class where I, inevitably, think about nothing other than how it felt to have Connor’s hand on my leg—how good his touch felt. And I think about that damn stupid note as I realize that, no matter how hard I try, I’m never going to be able to get his stupid, smug, handsome face out of my mind.
******
Later, weeks later, I’m alone in my room and feeling so unbelievably shitty that I don’t even want to move. Not even Kylo snuggling into my stomach makes me feel better, not his tiny feet beans, not his adorable little squeaks, not his fuzzy kitty face, nothing. I feel like no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, I’m always destined to fail.
Basically, schools been garbage, work has been an unbelievably busy mess, and mom’s been intolerant of just about everything. And I’m just tired. I’m so tired. I want to cry, but I don’t even have the energy for that.
I’m trying to write my university applications, but even that seems like a pipedream. And, to top it all off, I have my period and the cramps are unbelievably painful. Painkillers don’t do shit and my heating pad is on full-blast, but even that only minorly mutes the pain.
I almost text Sarah or Kennedy, but I don’t want to drag them down with my bullshit. They hear so much of it and they’re always so understanding, but sometimes I wonder if I’m too much. Who wants to be around a friend that’s negative all the time? I wouldn’t. And no matter how much they assure me that they’re always here for me, I don’t want to be a burden.
So, I do the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do. The one stupid thing that I really shouldn’t do. I text Connor.
Sadie: Piss off, Connor.
He answers back almost immediately. I see the little animation as he types back. Either he’s typing a lot, or he’s typing and erasing what he’s saying and when his answer comes, I realize it was the latter which means he was probably agonizing over what to say.
Connor: Princess, it’s about time.
Sadie: I’m only doing this because I’m weak and lonely and I just… need someone who knows me. Knows my shit.
And, despite it all, Connor was there for me when my dad died. He’d seen it, even if we’d both been kids at the time. Hell, he’d even defended me from some kid at school who’d mockingly told me that he was “glad my dad died.” I’d been too shocked at the time to do anything other than stare, but Connor had taken me right away.
…Only to tell me later that he beat the crap out of that kid. I mean, I don’t condone violence, but I definitely felt better about the whole situation after the fact. And, I’d never forgotten it. Sometimes, I’ll still think about it when I’m alone and trying to reconcile the Connor I’d once known with the way he is now. He is a mystery, a cruel mystery, that I can’t seem to stop picking at as I try to solve it.
Connor: You never need a reason to text me. What’s wrong?
Sadie: I hate everything
Connor: And me most of all?
Sadie: You most of all, and least of all. I hate that too
Connor: What does my name show up as in your phone?
Sadie: A devil. Me?
Connor: A crown, Princess
Sadie: Can we pretend to be friends here?
Connor: We can pretend to be whatever we want
Sadie: It hurt me when you stopped being my friend
There. Fuck him. I said it and now I wanna see what he has to say for himself. It destroyed me to lose his friendship when I was a kid, especially considering it came so soon after losing my dad too. It felt like I’d lost almost everything that meant anything to me, and then we’d move to California on top of it all
He types for a long time, and I wonder if it’s another short sentence that he’s rewritten a million times. It does make me feel better that he has to agonize over what to say. Just a little, anyway.
Connor: I don’t have an excuse. Some things just aren’t meant to be. I should have been kinder, but you would have never listened to me otherwise, not if I told you the truth
Sadie: Then tell me the truth now
Connor: Can’t, Princess. It would destroy everything. Can’t do that to you
Sadie: Then we’re going back to my opening: Piss off, Connor.
I’ve had enough. I throw my phone on the other side of my bed with a huff and annoy Kylo in the meantime. He gives me an angry look before snuggling himself back near my pillow. I lay for a moment until I get a brilliant, spiteful idea.
I decide to text Michael and make a date with him. He doesn’t text me back for a while, but eventually, we set up a day and time that works for us both—coffee and then ice cream. Nice and sweet.
Something easy that I can duck out of if things get too weird or awkward. And, as an added bonus, I know that Michael knows Ainsley, so it should get back to her and then back to Connor by extension. Which hopefully means they’ll all leave me the fuck alone when they finally realize I don’t have any desire to date Connor.
I ignore the little voice inside of me which tells me that doing things to spite Connor still means that I care about his opinion, one way or another, because what else am I supposed to do? I have to figure out a way to move on and I can’t do that if I keep seeking him out or giving in every time he pays me the slightest bit of attention.
I also ignore the part of me that’s digging in and ribbing me for texting Connor at all. I know better. I really do. But there’s a stupid, weak part of me that is nostalgic for how things were and wishes it could be the same now.
He really was my best friend and, even if our families were against it, he was there for me so much as a kid. And he used to be so sweet and… I’m making excuses. No more excuses. I need to move on and get over it.
My date’s set. Time to get out there and finally forget Connor O’Brien.
Chapter Nine
November passes in a ridiculous blur of school, work, and dealing with mom’s shit. As December starts, Michael and I finally go on that date. He actually canceled on me twice, so things kept getting pushed further and further back. I’m surprised when he texts and sets up the date because I figured it was just an elaborate way to ghost me, but apparently, he does want to go out.
So, we do and, well, it’s a little weird. He was really nice at the party, right? And, I guess it’s been about a month since Halloween, but on the date, he’s uninterested and distant. Like he’s here against his will, which is weird because he was the one who asked me out to begin with.
His questions are almost prying and it doesn’t really seem like he’s interested in asking them either, more like he feels like he has to. Which is so weird. Oh, and he asks a whole bunch of personal questions about my family and Connor. Tell me about your family. How do you know Connor? Were you two friends a long time ago? What is he to you now?
I’m not much of a drinker, but I wish I had something extra in this coffee because his questions and this date are starting to drive me nuts. Fortunately, we finish up with the round of twenty questions and head for ice cream. He’s a bit better at the shop. He actually pays for my ice cream—birthday cake and strawberry, double scoop in a waffle cone.
And he’s mostly human after we eat. I ask him a bit about his life—he has two sisters, a dog, doesn’t like school, wants to be a mechanic. And he pretends to be interested in my answer
s when I tell him about my life. After that, we had back to my house because I have to work in the evening and I need to get ready.
As we pull up to my house, I assume that’s it, so imagine my surprise when he asks if I’d like to go out again. I’m pretty shocked, so I end up agreeing, even though I didn’t really enjoy this date and can’t really see us going anywhere because I have no backbone, apparently.
“Okay, cool,” he says and seems to mean it. He leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek, which is also surprising and kind of sweet.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” I manage to say back. “See you at school, probably.”
“Yeah, see ya,” he says with a wave as I exit his car and head up the driveway to my house.
So strange. I thought the date was a complete train wreck, but maybe I just have expectations that are too high? He is just a teenager, after all, what was I expecting? Fireworks and romantic declarations?
Actually, I think I was expecting something like that… I think to myself. There was no spark, not like when I’m near…
Don’t think about it and don’t say it… I mentally chide myself.
But it’s too late, as ever, I’m comparing everyone to Connor and they always come up short, no matter how badly he treats me. I must be a glutton for punishment, either that or I’m into the push-pull dynamic we have together.
I sigh as I stick the key into my door and head inside. I should have told him no to a second date. There was still that weird feeling inside me that said there was something strange going on with Michael, but I’m paranoid too, so sometimes I just ignore that voice and move ahead.
Sometimes to my benefit, sometimes not. But what’s the worst that could happen? He’s boring, I’m boring, we’ll have another boring date together and… then I’ll end it. Maybe if I wasn’t so hung up on Connor, I’d be able to let loose a little and have a better time, so I’m working against that too.
