A God in Carver (Carver High #1)

by Haven Francis

  With the minute long Nash drama behind me I am free, once again, to spend my entire day worrying about the homework I have to get done, but mostly, the article I have to get written. I spent first period in the computer lab typing out the profile that, after spending so much time recently thinking about him, seemed to come effortlessly. I spent the rest of the morning editing it while pretending to pay attention in class. At lunch time I watched him and thought about the words I had written and wondered if they were true. Although he was sitting directly across from me again, he managed to ignore me. He didn’t even look at me. He chatted easily with Nash and Summer but it was like I wasn’t even there.

  As I type out my final revisions, I’m having second thoughts about the whole thing, especially when I hand it over to Angel. I wring my hands together as I watch his eyes pass from line to line at a painfully slow pace. When he finishes he sets it down and starts gnawing on his thumbnail, his eyes looking off into space. He finally turns to me and gives me a crooked grin. “You’re a total pussy, you know that Austin?”

  “I kind of think I would have been a pussy if I would have let the other one run. I knew it was wrong and I almost let you and Lawrence bully me into running it.”

  “Mr. Lawrence is a bully?”

  “Both of you are.”

  “I don’t know if he’s gonna approve this – it’s a complete departure from the other ones - but I think it’s decent. Not as juicy as the other ones but printable.”

  “I don’t really care what you think,” I tell him defensively.

  “Don’t be a baby, Tatum. If you want the truth, I think it’s really strong. I think it’s emotional and touching and I think it will be good for moral. A positive, glowing piece on the guy who’s gonna have to win one last game for the Cougars to get the best possible bracket position for the playoffs. I don’t really want to admit this, but now that you and I are going to the games and the football parties, I’m kind of getting sucked into the whole romance of the thing and I think this,” he pauses to push his pointer finger into my paper, “is the right piece to run.”

  “You seriously think that?”

  “Yeah. I seriously do.”

  “Well in that case, I do care what you think. And thank you.”

  “I swear, Tatum, you have been a new girl this week. I kind of miss the bitchy attitude.”

  “I’ll try to find something to be miserable about but until that happens, you’re stuck with this.”

  Once I get approval from Mr. Lawrence, I fill out a slip to pull Brandon out of class. I want to show him the article. I don’t know why he’s ignoring me today but if it has anything to do with the pending profile I want to ease his worries. I walk into his U.S. history class and hand the blue slip to his teacher. “Brandon, looks like your needed by The Observer. Bring your things with you.”

  I see him flair his nostrils as he does what she says and I wonder, again, what is up with him today.

  He walks right past me and out into the hall. I spin on my heel and follow him. “I’m the one who got you out of that class, you kind of have to go where I say,” I call out to him.

  “What do you want, Tatum?” he asks without stopping his forward trajectory. I have to sprint to catch him and then I have to use all of my upper arm strength to keep him in place.

  “Is there a reason you’re running from me?”

  He looks down at me, his face is full of frustration. “I know you and all those other kids that write for The Observer think a deadline is a life or death matter worthy of pulling me out of my class, but I hate to tell you that here, in the real world, your little stories don’t really matter.”

  I let go of him and take a step back. “What is wrong with you? Did I do something since yesterday to piss you off?”

  “No, Tatum, you didn’t. I just have a lot of things going on and I don’t have time to do you favors right now.”

  “Favors? What kind of favors would I need from you?”

  “What then? Did you pull me out of class because you want to ask me about the fight I had with your boyfriend? Because if that’s the case, Tatum, I don’t have time for your drama.”

  “No. That’s not why. I cleared all that up with him. He told me the truth.”

  “Did he?” Brandon says with a mocking expression on his face.

  “Did he? Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I’m not doing this with you, Tatum,” he says, turning and walking back towards his class.

  “Brandon,” I shout, running to get in front of him. “Did he do something with her?” I stare into his raging eyes until he closes them. When he opens them again he tells me, “No, he didn’t.”

  “Please, Brandon. Can you just stop for a minute? Just stay here with me for a minute.” I didn’t come here to talk to him but now I want to. I want to know what his sudden problem with me is about. “Just talk to me.”

  “I appreciate you sending your boy to check in on me last night… did he not give you the full report about my family life? It’s all good. It’s better than ever and I just want to move forward. In fact, that little trip I took to my past was bad for me. I think we should just go back to ignoring each other.” The severity in his eyes and in his tone cause me to suck in a breath. He stares at me for one more long moment before shaking his head and walking away.

  “Brandon,” I manage to call after him, no longer pleading but pissed. He pauses at the entrance to his classroom. “I came here because I wanted to give you this.”

  He takes the article from my hand and looks down at it. I suddenly feel stupid for writing the words that I did. Clearly my perception of our new found friendship was completely different from his. I take off down the hall before he can tell me as much.

  I’m making a bee line for the front door when I run into Nash. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Getting the hell out of here,” I tell him, trying to keep my damn tears at bay.

  “Why?”

  I shake my head. “It’s stupid, it’s just… Brandon. He told me he doesn’t think we should be friends anymore and I shouldn’t give a shit, but it’s like Deja vu. He’s doing it to me again.”

  Nash wraps me up in his strong arms and I duck my face into his neck. “Like I told you before, I steer clear of him whenever possible at the end of the season. He kind of turns into a dick. I wouldn’t take it personally. I’m sure he’ll be begging for your forgiveness tomorrow.”

  “Well if he does, I don’t know if I’m gonna give it to him.”

  “Either way, I wouldn’t stress about it. You guys have only been talking again for the past few weeks and you probably won’t see him after school ends anyway. He gave his verbal agreement to Penn State this morning. Maybe it’s better this way.”

  My heart contracts at his words. Brandon made it official. He’s going thirteen hours away.

  Maybe Nash is right. Maybe I should just forget about him like I did for so many years. I can feel the pain of losing him taking hold in my gut almost immediately. It was stupid of me to ever let him back in.

  “Hey,” Nash says, leaning back to look at me. “It’s okay. You have me. You’ll always have me.” He brings his lips to mine and kisses me slowly and tenderly. It’s almost working. I almost feel okay, but when I pull away and my gaze falls behind Nash, I see Brandon standing there, a look of sheer hate on his face and the pain reclaims my heart.

  24

  I made Nash get up extra early this morning so I could get to the library and avoid Brandon completely. I told him I was probably going to have to skip lunch too, which I did. I’ve managed to duck in and out of classes all day without being noticed.

  I’m taking this thing with Brandon too hard. I know I am. Nash is right, who cares if Brandon shut me out of his life again? Who cares that I slipped so easily, and stupidly, into the role of his friend who trusted that he was there for me? I would have had to say goodbye at the end of the year anyway. Cutting ties now will just make it easier.
r />   So why am I avoiding him? Why am I avoiding everyone? I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t face him. I can’t face the humiliation of knowing that he knows how much I cared about him, thanks to the article I stupidly placed in his hands, and knowing that he could so easily forget about me again. I’m terrified I’ll start bawling at the mere sight of his face.

  I hunker down into a computer station during last period and try to disappear, counting down the minutes until the day is over and I can get out of here.

  “Yes!” Angel says, propping his arms on the top of the barrier that is supposed to keep me isolated on three sides. “You’re back. Give it to me, Tatum, give me a little rant. What’s it gonna be about? What’s got you looking so miserable? I’ll take anything.”

  I managed to stay cordial during our hour at the library this morning only because I really did need to get some math done, but at this point I’m too exhausted to pretend. “Fuck off, Angel. Just leave me alone.”

  His laugh is so enthusiastic it sounds like a giggle. “No. Hell, no. Talk to me, Austin, tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Seriously, I’m not in the mood. Please, just leave me alone.”

  I’m not looking at him, but I hear him let out a long, dejected sigh. He walks around the little cubicle and squats by my chair, putting his hand on my back.

  “Take your hand off me.”

  He does but he says, seriously now, “Tatum, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Did something happen between you and Nash? You weren’t at lunch today.”

  “No, Angel. I’m all good. Go away.”

  “Summer’s been looking for you all day. She told me to tell you she needs to talk to you. She’s had that look on her face – you know the one – the worried expression that’s so cute yet heart wrenching you just want to hug her?”

  I laugh at that. “Maybe her asshole boyfriend shared the news that he no longer wants to associate with me and she’s carrying the guilt.”

  “What? Brandon?”

  “Does she have another boyfriend?” I ask, my face still planted firmly on my crossed arms.

  “But that article your wrote about him… you made him sound like the best guy that ever lived. I mean, your story, the one you have with Brandon, was so… I don’t know, pretty? Sentimental? Special?”

  “I was wrong about us.”

  “Wow, that sucks. I’m sorry. Maybe you should talk to her. Maybe it’s not what you think.”

  “You know what? That’s a great idea,” I tell him, finally lifting my head. “Can you give me one of those passes so I can go talk to her?”

  “Sure,” he says, smiling at me before standing and going to his special drawer and unlocking it, pulling out one of the pre-signed passes that he has the power to dispense as he sees fit. He fills it out than hands it to me. “I was wrong before. I prefer the happy Tatum.”

  I force myself to smile for him before ripping the paper out of his hand and tearing out the door, down the hall and out of the school.

  “Why were you MIA all day?” Presley asks me when she shows up for work.

  “I had things to do for the paper,” I tell her tensely.

  “Good. I mean, I’m glad you weren’t avoiding any one on purpose. I was afraid you were fighting with Nash, but the way he and Brandon were throwing jabs at each other all through lunch I figured all was good in paradise.”

  “Yep,” I say before heading out to my tables.

  I check on the two groups that are just finishing up then notice that Summer is in one of my booths. I clench my teeth and put on my professional service smile before going to her. “Hey, Summer. What are you doing here – aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

  “I need to talk to you,” she tells me with the look that Angel was talking about: the cutest form of worry.

  “If it’s about the conversation I had with Brandon yesterday, don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”

  “It’s not about that. I mean, it is. He was a mess after it, but that’s not what I need to talk to you about.”

  “Okay. What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “I can’t do it here while you’re working. Can we talk after you get off?”

  “You’re freaking me out, Summer. Just tell me now.”

  “Can you at least take a break?”

  Her demeanor is unnerving so I tell her, “Sure. Meet me around back.”

  I tell Presley and Corey where I’m going then head out the back door where Summer is pacing behind the picnic table. “I have fifteen minutes, start talking,” I tell her.

  She stops and looks at me, the expression on her face so painful I do want to hug her, just like Angel said. “I don’t know what you and Brandon talked about yesterday but I could tell during practice that something was wrong with him and then when he was brining me home he just blurted it all out.”

  “Blurted what out?”

  “He told me not to tell you but you deserve to know. I can’t keep a secret like this from you.”

  I can feel every inch of my skin heating up with fear. “Just tell me, Summer.”

  She sucks in a long breath then says, “Nash slept with Jolee while you were in L.A.”

  I freeze in shock for a moment before my mind starts grasping onto her words, processing them and trying to find a hole in them. “Brandon apparently hates me now. I don’t trust his word. Nash didn’t do that.”

  “He did, Tatum. Brandon saw it.”

  “When?”

  “The night you left, at Jolee’s party. He was on the phone with you and he was trying to find Nash and when he did he was in the bathroom with Jolee.”

  A sliver of possibility that it could be true snakes into me, piercing my gut and then my heart and my mind, but reasoning prevails. “I’m sorry, Summer, but after the things Brandon said to me yesterday, I don’t believe him. I don’t know why, but he hates me and he would say things to hurt me. I would be careful if I were you. He’s got a little Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in him. He always has.” I turn and head back to the door. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Tatum,” she pleads, “I’m sorry. I’ve been sick all of last night and today thinking about it. If I had even a small doubt that it wasn’t true I wouldn’t have told you, but I know Brandon – he’s not a liar. Do whatever you want with your relationship, I just couldn’t stand the idea of you not knowing.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Summer,” I tell her, walking through the door and letting it slam behind me.

  I take a deep breath, try to push out the pit in my stomach, then I get back to work. All the while convincing myself that Brandon is a bigger jerk than I had thought and wondering why he is trying so hard to hurt me, and now Nash too I guess, because if I were to believe Summer than I would break up with Nash – Brandon knows that.

  As my shift drags on I can’t keep the doubts out of my head. I know what I have to do. I have to talk to Brandon.

  I let Corey know I’m taking off. She gives me some shit about being unreliable ever since I got back but lets me go anyway.

  I drive to school and park my truck by Brandon’s Mustang, seeing that Nash is parked illegally right outside of the field house on the other side of the lot. I get out and lean against his driver’s door, my stomach churning with the force of a V10 engine.

  When clumps of guys start emerging from the doors I think I might actually puke. I really don’t want to do this. I really don’t want to hear the contempt in Brandon’s voice. I really don’t want to look in his eyes, have him tell me that Nash slept with Jolee and see that he’s telling me the truth.

  I see him when he walks out. He’s with Nash. They’re talking easily, it looks like they’re both laughing. Their brotherhood still intact even though Brandon is either covering for Nash’s cheating ass and lying to me, or he’s making up lies to hurt us.

  They bump fists at Nash’s truck but as Brandon turns away, anger surfaces on his face. I suppose he sees
me. He drops his head and crosses the lot. When he lifts it again he’s only feet from me and his body stiffens and his head retracts like he’s repelled by the mere sight of me. He stares at me but doesn’t say anything.

  “Summer came by to visit me at the restaurant. Said you’re claiming that Nash slept with Jolee.”

  He flares his nostrils and his eyes darken as he takes a step towards me. “If that’s the case, shouldn’t it be Nash on the receiving end of that look and not me?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Can you move? I would like to go home.”

  “I’ll move when you tell me the truth. Did you make that up in order to hurt me, or did he really do it?”

  He scrunches up his face. “Did I make it up in order to hurt you? What kind of question is that?”

  “A reasonable one. You made it pretty clear yesterday that you despise me and I think you have it in you to deliberately hurt me.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re crazy, you know that? And blind. And self-centered. I don’t have time to worry about your life or your relationship. In fact, I would like to get the hell out of the middle of it, so no, Tatum, I didn’t make it up to hurt you.”

  “So you’re saying it’s true?”

  “I’m saying this has nothing to do with me and I don’t want to talk to you about the issues you’re having with your damn boyfriend. Move away from my car, Tatum.”

  “It’s a yes or no answer, Brandon. Did he have sex with Jolee?”

  He growls out of frustration, runs his fingers through his wet, black hair then looks at me so hard I can feel his glare travel all the way through me to my toes. “Yes, Tatum. Yes he did. He’s had sex with her all kinds of times, he’s fucked the both of you in the same night. He’s been having sex with her for years. You know that. How is this time any different from all the other times, huh? What the hell do you care? You know you’re just gonna keep putting up with his shit no matter what he did so why the hell do you even want to know?”

  My body is burning, tears are trickling out of my eyes, and I’m backing away from his harsh words.