by Blair Holden
“You’re going to eat that?” Cole asks as he eyes my pizza slice, which I gladly push toward him.
Cole’s sitting beside me whereas Megan and Beth are sitting opposite both of us. Megan’s tray remains untouched as she ogles Cole. Apparently she’s never been in such close proximity to, as she calls him, “The Cole Stone,” and it’s robbed her of her appetite. Beth remains much more composed about the situation and is munching away on her apple with only a hint of amusement on her face.
At some point during all of this I will have a panic attack about how absurd this scene is, but I’ll save it for later.
“So do you ladies have plans for the weekend?” Cole asks. It’s an innocent question, but I can sense it’s more to do with ending the uncomfortable, hostile (mostly from me) silence. He’s been sitting with the three of us for a week now, much to the chagrin of the popular crowd, especially Nicole. Her horrific glares are getting harder to ignore. I get it—she’s mad. I’ve somehow gotten myself under the protection of the one bully who could out-mean her and she’s probably suffering from going cold turkey from her addiction. It’s been a whole week since she’s targeted me. Call it pessimistic but I can’t help but feel a little frightened, thinking of the quietness on Nicole’s front as the calm before the thunderstorm that is my former best friend.
“We might go to the mall or something,” I tell him, then mentally slap myself knowing that I’ve given away my possible location over the weekend. I’d been hoping that the girls and I could go out and do something fun without Cole shadowing us. Now that seems somehow impossible.
“On a Saturday night? Does the mall stay open that late?” He raises an eyebrow and I shrug.
“It’s not like we have a lot of options. We’re not exactly swamped with party invites.” I hope that didn’t sound as mournful to him as it did to me. He studies me for a while and before I know what he’s doing, he stands up on his seat, turns around, and hollers at someone called Jared across the cafeteria.
“Hey man, you still up for the party on Saturday?”
The person called Jared is sitting at Nicole’s table. He’s probably a jock since he’s wearing the jersey. He yells yes and Cole tells him that he’s in.
“Awesome.” Jared grins and everyone at his table is immediately buzzing, discussing the all-important issue. Who’s going to bring the booze?
Cole sits back down on his seat and grins at me. “That guy’s been begging me all week to throw a welcome home party. I didn’t want one since you know he’s a tool but you’re welcome.”
I stare at him, trying to comprehend what it is that he’s trying to imply. Why would I be thanking him? So someone’s throwing a party for him, big whoop. Why should it matter to me? Always the smarter one, Megan squeals in delight and jumps in her seat. That’s before she starts clapping her hands like a two-year-old on a sugar rush.
“What?” I look between the two of them wondering what it is that I’m missing.
“We now have plans for the weekend.”
I scowl and turn in my seat so that I’m facing him.
“Who says I’ll go?” I say determinedly.
He chuckles. “It would be the polite thing to do, besides, it’ll be fun.” I shake my head furiously. “No! I will not, I cannot, and frankly, I should not for the sake of my own well-being go to this party.”
He turns in confusion toward Megan since I’m still mumbling incoherently under my breath, having gone into shock because of what he’s just asked me today.
“What’s with her?” he asks Megan, like I’m not even there.
Megan is caught off guard, not expecting Cole to directly address her. Her SAT vocabulary flies out the window and she’s stuttering through random phrases as she tries to piece together an actual sentence. I call it being Stoned, with a capital S, of course.
“I-She . . . her . . . I mean that . . .”
Beth snorts and takes off her earphones. “What she’s trying to so eloquently say is that we’re social pariahs. If Nicole sees us at a party, she’ll go nuclear. Honestly, I don’t give a shit about her royal bitchness; these two are too scared to actually face her.”
Cole looks impressed at her response as she puts the earphones back in her ears and goes back to ignoring us. Though the impressed look on Cole’s face is soon replaced by something I can only classify as anger as he clenches his fists.
“How long has she been doing this?” he asks with barely restrained fury, and I’m taken aback by his reaction. Shouldn’t he be happy that in his absence someone’s been thoughtful enough to continue his legacy?
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to calm him down. We’re starting to attract attention and the unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach is coming back. I really wish more than ever to be someone, anyone, else, even a child named North West. However, it seems like Cole’s piercing eyes are holding me captive. They keep me rooted to the spot as they burn so fiercely into mine. He’s searching for answers I’m not sure he even wants to know.
“How long?” he repeats and this time he makes it clear that I’m supposed to give him an answer. I slump in my seat and avoid looking at him. What’s he going to do when he finds out that my life is actually a lot worse than it was when he was here? Will he pity me? Will he feel even more guilty for relentlessly bullying me throughout my childhood until the age of fifteen? For some reason I don’t want that. He’s already going out of his way to insert himself into my life due to some unfathomable desire to make things right. I’m not his pet project and I don’t want to give him more to fix. My life, the way it is right now, isn’t the best, but I don’t think I could deal with him turning it all upside down.
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter; I’m handling it,” I say, aware that my best friends are watching me intently.
“Oh you are?” he says mockingly. “Because from what I’ve been seeing for a whole week, your idea of handling is letting her stomp all over you with her giant-ass feet.”
I burst into giggles at the last line, surprising everyone. “She does have huge feet, doesn’t she?”
Cole groans at my obvious changing of the topic but he can’t help but laugh.
“I saw her toes once up close and they’re freakishly long,” Megan adds, finally finding the courage to speak up. Cole grins at her and she beams with pride knowing that she’s made Cole Stone laugh.
“This doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten what this conversation is about,” he says seriously, and we look at him like he’s going to start questioning us about Nicole again, but then his face breaks into the most gorgeous of smiles as he says, “I honestly think it’s a good idea that the three of you go to this party with me. You can’t keep letting Nicole get away with this. We’ll all go, we’ll have fun and there’s nothing that anyone can do about it.”
Should I be constantly wary and suspicious of his motives? Yes, I should, but sadly that just joins a long list of things that dabble between the “should” and “could.” As I listen to him, I begin to think of all the ways I’ve let Nicole dictate my life and choices. My friends and I have no social life but how much of that is because I’m too afraid to face Nicole? Maybe a lot of it, and as I take in my best friends’ excited faces, I find myself giving in.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
***
Cole drives me home like he’s been doing all week. My father and his car are conveniently missing when I need a ride, and so Cole and I have become reluctant carpool buddies. By now I’m tired of waiting for him to strike. Ever since he’s come back, he hasn’t done any serious damage and I’m tempted to stop being on my guard so much.
He parks the car in the driveway, which I’m not expecting. Usually he just drops me off and leaves, yet today as he kills the engine I realize that he’s planning something else.
“So I was thinking,” he begins as he notices me looking at him pointedly, “since we’re spending all this time together . . .”
“Involuntarily,” I
mumble under my breath, but of course he catches it.
“Right.” He grips the steering wheel tightly. “I know I’m still not your favorite person and odds are that I never will be, but what about a peace offering? How about I make you lunch and we talk?”
The word ‘talk’ sounds ominous and I fear for what’s to come, but right on cue my stomach growls. The sound is especially loud in the confines of the car and the smug idiot hears it. My cheeks redden with embarrassment but the idea of a home-cooked meal sounds heavenly. I don’t get to have a lot of those. I would therefore like to clarify that I invited the devil into my home because of food.
He gets out of the car and I follow him.
“So what is it that you want to talk about?”
The back of his head shakes slightly, and I would bet my right hand that he’s smirking. He knows that the conversation looming in front of me is enough to send me running for the hills. I avoid heart-to-hearts and confrontations like it’s my day job.
He pauses on the porch and turns around. “Relax, shortcake. I’m not suddenly going to declare my undying love and devotion toward you. If we’re going to be friends, I thought it’d be nice if we spent a little more time together, actually talking and not arguing.”
“I didn’t think you were capable of that kind of emotional maturity.”
“Usually I’m not but hey, I’m willing to give it the good old college try if you are.”
“And why would I want to do that? Try with you, I mean.”
“When life gives you lemons and all that jazz, shortcake.” He chuckles. “The thing is, you’re stuck here with me for at least a year. You could either choose to ignore me or we could try and build something great. I vote for the latter.”
I’m still thinking about his words when he unlocks the door to my house. Wait, it is MY house. “Why do you have a key?” I ask, because there is no possible reason for him to have an all-access pass to my living space.
Unless, of course . . .
“Your mom gave me one the other day.” He grins. “She told me to make myself right at home.”
“Excuse me?” My voice is so high pitched it hurts my own ears.
“Well, she said you have a tendency to forget your keys, and since both your dad and her might not be home to let you in, I was entrusted with the responsibility. I take it you’re not so happy about that?”
That is most definitely an understatement, but worse! Oh God, my parents were Cole Stone fangirls!
***
After Cole makes us both lunch, he takes to lounging around in my room, taking up all the space on my bed due to his tall frame. I sulk in a corner trying to do my homework, still unsure of how to deal with his constant presence. He fiddles around with his phone, no doubt arranging his next tryst. I cannot fathom why he’s still around, but I’m wary of asking him that. Lately his answers have left me feeling stumped, unsure of what is going on with us, so I let things be.
“Hey Tessie?” he asks and I look up from my notebook to find him leaning on his elbow and staring at me. It’s comical watching someone as tall as him on my bed with its floral bedspread and my Build-A-Bear collection. His feet dangle off the end when he stretches; I’m worried, or rather hope, that he might fall face-first on the floor.
“Yes?” I say, pretending to look annoyed.
“Would you mind if I asked you something?”
“You’ve never really cared about what I thought before. Why are you asking now?”
He doesn’t answer me immediately and the fact that it takes him so long to make his point has me on my guard. I’m sure that I won’t like whatever it is that he’s going to say to me.
“What is it? You can’t just say that and then not even ask me your question.”
“Look, this might totally not be my place. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m way out of line asking you this but . . . is there a reason why you barely touch your meals?”
His question takes time to have the right effect. I start off by becoming confused then shocked and then scared. He couldn’t possibly know, could he? He’s only been here for a week, not nearly enough time to pick up on my eating pattern. However, with the seriousness on his face, I realize that I’m in deep trouble.
“W-what do you mean?” My voice comes out shaky and I hate it because it goes against my plan of keeping him at bay regarding the issue.
“Look, just tell me if I’m imagining things,” his voice trembles a little before continuing, “but even at school you pick at your food. Whenever I eat with your family, you take a bite or two and then leave thinking that your parents don’t notice. We’ve been back from school for two hours and you didn’t even eat half of what I made. Please tell me that I’m wrong, that I’m seeing something that’s not there. I . . . I know it’s not my place to bring this up, but Tessa, I’m just worried.”
My heart’s beating faster than normal as I listen to him and think how accurate his assessment is. I realize that he’s caught me when no one else has.
“Maybe it’s because you repulse me and I can’t stomach food when you’re around,” I bite back, my words coming out defensive.
He doesn’t miss a beat.
“I’m not joking, Tessa. If there really is a problem then I want you to be able to talk about it, to someone you trust if not me. I don’t know what to do here, maybe I’m just making a huge idiot of myself, but I want you know that I care and that if you ever need someone to talk to . . .”
This kind of attention and concern are foreign to me and have been for so long. No one has really talked to me like they care, especially when it came to taking care of my health. My parents are too busy trying to deal with their messed-up relationship and my brother, well, he’s . . . my brother.
“Mind your own business,” I say scathingly, wondering where all my witty comebacks were vacationing or where they hide whenever Cole’s around.
“You are my business, Tessie.” He tries to joke about it but there’s something haunting about the expression on his face. Why? Why does he suddenly care so much about me now? I’m a hair’s breadth away from having a full-blown temper tantrum and it’s all because I’ve been spending so much time with Cole. He’s this incredibly frustrating person who’s more cryptic and confusing than any Nicki Minaj song I’ve heard to date. It’s like he’s exposed the rawest, most vulnerable part of me and put it on public display. I’m unsure of where to go from here. He knows, he knows my weakness but rather than using that weakness to make me feel worse about myself, he’s being surprisingly supportive. I take a deep breath.
“How about we come to a mutual agreement to talk about this on a day when I’m ready, and you’ve not literally come at me with it out of nowhere?”
“Oh, okay.” He looks surprised. “Will you be willing to do that then? Talk?”
“I might as well, since you’ve somehow made it your job to worm yourself into every possible area of my life.”
I grunt in exasperation but really I’d rather just talk to him, someone who is more a stranger to me than my friends or family.
“You might want to tone down the grunts, Venus, or your brother might think we’re playing the kinky kind of tennis.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I give up any hope of trying to have a decent conversation with him since he’s dirtier than the underside of Travis’s bed.
***
On Friday I’m taking out some books from my locker when I feel a presence behind me. Seeing as how Beth and Megan are both in their home economics class there could only be one person who’d come stalking me. Hello, Stalker Stone.
“Go away, Cole,” I say as I scrape off a piece of gum someone, probably Nicole’s minion, has stuck outside my locker.
“Uh, it’s not Cole.”
I whirl around fast enough to cramp my neck but it doesn’t matter, not when it comes to Jay. He’s standing before me looking somewhat hurt yet adorable at the same time. He’s wearing his baseball jersey and the deep red in it makes him look really go
od. His mesmerizing eyes are a swirl of color as they shift from blue to green, and I struggle to stop a sigh from escaping.
“Jay,” I exclaim as I shoot him an apologetic smile. I wave my hand, dismissing the mistake, “I’m sorry, I thought you were . . .”
“Cole. I get it,” he says through a clenched jaw, which surprises me. He’s never been like this around me. Usually whenever Nicole’s far, far away he’s super nice and friendly to me. I wonder what’s wrong with him. Maybe that moron he calls his stepbrother did something yet again.
“W-what’s wrong?” He seems to have not heard me the first time so I repeat myself. “Jay? What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and it seems like he’s finally remembered what he came to me for. “I’ve heard you’re coming to Jared’s party tomorrow.” He doesn’t sound pleased and I try to remember if I know any Jared. Then like a lightbulb switching on inside my head I realize that he’s the jock who’s throwing the party for Cole. The party I’m reluctantly coming to terms with attending.
“I guess I am,” I say hesitantly and I see the disapproval clearly on his face.
“Why, Tessa? You’ve never come to any party before—why now?” he asks sourly, and I recoil in hurt. Barely restraining myself from shouting that it’s because of his psychotic girlfriend, I take a deep, calming breath and remind myself that this is Jay. He’s probably only doing this out of concern. Of course it might appear strange to him that a girl like me would go to a party, and he’s just checking if something’s off. I want to tell him about how my best friends are actually looking forward to going, about how my baby Range Rover is in danger, but we’re not exactly close; it would be a little awkward to rant in front of him. God forbid he starts thinking of me as a bigger lunatic than I already am.
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m missing out on an essential part of the high school experience,” is what I tell him instead.
