Shattered Love (Blinded Love Series Book 1)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Welcome to growing up in the Internet age.

  Nasty posts and cruel tweets dominated my social media. Savannah was the leader, but lots of people I didn’t even really know started copying her, displaying mean memes and spiteful tags. It was devastating. I became so sick to my stomach by the assaults, I stayed curled in my bed most of the vacation. I talked to Stevie a lot, just to keep my head above water and not drown in my own tears. But I didn’t admit even to her the thing which hurt the most was I hadn’t heard a word from Hunter.

  When school began again I had convinced myself kissing him was the worst choice I had ever made. With most of the school using me as a pincushion, he was the last thing I had time to think about. My certainty lasted till Monday. Fifth period.

  I ignored the crunching nerves in my abdomen, but it was harder to overlook the shaking of my hand as I tried to hold my pencil. I had seen him hanging out by the bleachers with his friends on my way to the library at lunch. Waiting for him to enter the class transformed my nervousness into annoyance.

  Just get here. Then it could be over—the initial seeing-each-other-for-the-first-time-since-going-at-it-on-the-therapy-floor-then-ending-up-in-a-holding-cell encounter. You know, like most first dates.

  My hand rattled over the paper as I tried to distract myself by working on the history report due before the next upcoming holiday break. But I could write no words: Hunter had walked in.

  I sighed, stirring in my chair, keeping my head down, pretending I hadn’t noticed his entrance. Nothing about him blended in with the walls or other students. As much as he tried to appear to be nonexistent at school, he couldn’t. Not to me. Not anymore.

  Under heavy lashes, I watched him. He wore faded jeans and a short-sleeved, steel-grey T-shirt, as if he were defying the cold air outside. A blue cap coved his head, hiding his eyes from view. But once again it only seemed to pinpoint his strong jaw and mouth. The same lips I could still imagine on mine, moving, exploring. I shook my head, dislodging the thought, trying to prevent the heat from creeping up my body.

  Hunter strolled down the aisle and, against my better judgment, I looked up. Under the shadow of his hat I saw his eyes. For the briefest moment, his gaze darted to me, but snapped away with quick speed. He pressed his lips together and his shoulders constricted around his neck. He passed me, dropping his books on his desk and sat down, quickly opening his notebook and turning all his focus on it.

  My heart pounded in my chest, impelling the disappointment from my thoughts. This was what I wanted also. To pretend it never happened and cut all ties with each other.

  He clearly thought it was a mistake. Like I did.

  Right?

  My head involuntarily dropped to my desk with a thud of frustration. The moment it hit, I snapped it back up, hoping he didn’t see me or think it had anything to do with him.

  Lately my emotions had been leaking through and were out there for everyone to see. As if years of keeping them still and under the surface, even when I wasn’t aware I was doing it, was no longer a talent I possessed.

  I tried to concentrate on the class, but Hunter held way more sway than Mrs. Ambose. He sat behind me, which created a difficulty in glancing his way unnoticed. When my pencil dropped, or anyone spoke, I let my gaze fall briefly on him. All I saw was the top of his baseball hat, his gaze never leaving his paper.

  Okay. Stop, Jaymerson. He does not feel the same.

  The problem was I didn’t even know how I felt. I couldn’t deny I longed for him to look at me and give me an indication to how he was feeling. Embarrassed? Ashamed? Remorseful?

  When the bell rang and he darted from class before most others had even closed their books, I made a decision: I was going to forget all about what happened with Hunter Harris. Concentrate on staying out of trouble, getting my grades back up, and running off to college the first moment I could.

  I jumped wholeheartedly into my plan in the following weeks, using all the breaks to study in the library and do extra credit in my health and science class, the only one I still somewhat enjoyed.

  My fall from grace had lost its novelty to some people. I was not lucky enough, however, to go unnoticed by my old friends or those trying to be part of their group. The daily viral assaults on my different accounts became too much. I ended up closing all of them, something I kept from my parents since they couldn’t do anything about it. Hopefully with no outlet for them to insult me directly and football season gaining more of their attention the closer they got to the state finals, the more the jabs would diminish.

  Stevie helped me get through. She had moved her schedule to accommodate mine, to Justin’s dismay and delight. He saw how much we supported and helped each other, but he also saw how distracted and inattentive we were with the actual exercises.

  “I’m not kidding. I’m happy you’re helping each other, but I will separate you if you don’t finish your reps,” Justin hollered at us, preparing the mat with bands and weights for our next round of strength training.

  Stevie scoffed, knowing he would never follow through with it.

  “He will torture us more though.” With my arms behind my head, I lifted my head off the yoga ball, crunching up.

  “True. But that’s later.” Stevie did a tiny curl forward.

  “You mean in two minutes from now.”

  “Like I said. In the future,” she reaffirmed. “Anyway, before he rudely interrupted us…as he seems to do a lot when we are here,” she grumbled in mocking bewilderment. “I’m worried about you. All my work on you seems to be dwindling slowly.” I did another sit-up, ignoring her. She rolled forward on the ball. “I’m serious, Whiskey.”

  “Sorry I haven’t been arrested lately. Taking a break from the jail scene,” I said.

  She crossed her arms, then squinted. “You know it’s not what I mean. You are sliding back into your old habits again.”

  Indignation drove my spine straight, sitting up. “What are you talking about?”

  “You. You’re becoming the boring shell of a girl again.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The fact you’re getting pissed at me right now tells me you know it’s true.” Stevie moved her finger, motioning around me. “Behind that extremely smart brain of yours, you can feel it happening. You’re letting your true character die.”

  “What if this is really me?” I snapped, sitting straight on the ball.

  She licked her lips, a newly pierced eyebrow hitching up. “Would you be so angry with me if I weren’t right?”

  I opened, then shut, my mouth.

  “You have been miserable lately. Angry, irritable, vacant, but doing everything you think is expected of you. I see you shutting down again, letting them win.”

  “Who wins?”

  “The Savannahs of this world, your parents, even Hunter.”

  I stared down at my hands the moment she said his name. A steady fury burned in my lungs. He left me alone in hostile waters. I doubted he got hounded on social media, if he was even on it. Nor was he laughed at and ridiculed in the hallways. He stuck to the safety of his friends, far from the inner circle of the school. I gritted my teeth, realizing my anger wasn’t at him. It was at me. I put my head in my hands.

  “This is why you have me.” Stevie patted the back of my head. “To hold up a mirror every once in a while. I adore you, Whiskey, but I really love the girl you were becoming. Feisty, strong, living life.” She leaned over, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “And can I say with a really nice ass?”

  A snorted chuckle leaped from my throat.

  “No, I’m not kidding. It’s amazing. Who knew exercise would do that?”

  “Suzie-amazing?” I twisted my head to peer at her.

  “Oh, well, let’s not get carried away.” She winked. “Her ass is epic.”

  Laughter released from deep inside me, and immediately the muscles along my shoulders relaxed. Stevie was right: it was easy for me to fall into the rut of living under the radar, not ca
using trouble, or upsetting the flow of everyone around me. But it really didn’t make anyone happy. Most of all, myself.

  “Because of this slight setback, you’re going with me to a party Friday night.”

  “Oh, am I?” I retorted with a smile.

  She nodded. “It will be fun. I promise.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Friday was the last day of school before the holidays. The teachers were grinning with elation, and the students were bouncing in their seats. Finals were over and everyone was ready for the break. When the bell rang, the class moved toward the door like a wave and exploded in ear-piercing laughter and cheers.

  I was especially looking forward to getting away. Not to have to face Hunter or my ex-friends on a daily basis made me giddy, and I could sense a big grin spreading across my face.

  Stevie told me to be ready by eight thirty. We’d go get something to eat, then head to the party. She said it was low-key, nothing fancy. It sounded perfect to relax and hang out with people I didn’t know. No one would know my recent past, or have any knowledge of Colton, or my harsh fall from the inner group. I’d only be a girl at a party.

  The rain had tapered off to sprinkles by the time Stevie picked me up.

  “Ready to go, Whiskey?” She was dressed in black skinny torn jeans, a rocker tank top, leather jacket, and heeled, suede booties. Thick black eyeliner embellished her eyes. Her blonde hair, black and purple underneath, was loose and un-brushed. It always fashioned her more like a sexy rocker chick than unkempt.

  “Yep.” I slipped on a scarf and coat disguising a formfitting black sweater, skinny jeans, and my usual knee-length boots. I curled my long hair, but the damp weather layered it into waves.

  We grabbed pizza at my favorite spot, and I let myself think of Colton. We had come here all the time. It reminded me mostly of the night at the lake.

  Around ten we drove to a house off Main Street, near downtown, at the east end and the lower-income side. The place was a small ranch-style house. Clean but chipping paint and warped wood gave it an antique appearance. Chairs and an old sofa sat on the porch where some people mingled, smoking and talking. Cars of all types filled the driveway and bled into the street parking. Two were even parked on the lawn. Muffled music pumped from the backyard. This wasn’t the type of neighborhood where people would call the cops for loud music.

  It was a far cry from the party where most of my school would be tonight. It wasn’t even a question that every one of my old friends would be at Jason’s tonight. Carrie would have it professionally decorated for the last party of the year because every Christmas to New Year’s their whole family left for the Bahamas. It was comforting knowing there would be no chance I would run into anyone from that group.

  I got out of Stevie’s white hatchback Corsica and followed her up the path.

  “How did you hear about this party?” I pulled my jacket tighter around me, sudden nerves scratched at my calm exterior. Going into groups always unnerved me. I used to have Colton as a human shield, and he happily gobbled up the attention.

  “You don’t think I still have friends or connections here?” She hit her chest as if I insulted her.

  “With you I don’t doubt anything.”

  “Learning well.” She patted my arm. “The crowd here is a little older. I can almost promise you won’t run into anyone you know. Now relax and have fun.” She wiggled us past the crowd on the porch and walked inside.

  Immediately I wanted to peel away my coat. The room was full of bodies, the room temperature close to a sauna. People of all of shapes, races, sizes, and hair color milled through the room. The music filtered in from the backyard. Various liquors, beers, and wine bottles occupied the kitchen counter. A bowl of chips and salsa was the only food item on the table. Twinkly white Christmas lights were haphazardly strung around the house. The main space held a sectional and a La-Z-Boy, which were occupied with people conversing and laughing. The front area was packed with bodies, and with an invisible line between it and the open dining room/kitchen, which was crammed with even more individuals.

  No one gawked, made a snide remark, or whispered about me. It was awesome.

  “Stevie,” a girl of Asian descent cried from the kitchen, throwing up her arms and waving. She had short-cropped hair, a tattoo on her neck, a nose ring, bright red lipstick, and wore all black except for the Santa hat on her head. She was pretty and petite with cords of muscles flexing her biceps. She could kick my ass.

  “Hey…you.” Stevie waved back.

  “You don’t know her name, do you?” I mumbled.

  “No.” She kept her face forward as the girl made her way to us. “She’s in my phone as Mulan.”

  I clapped my hand to my mouth, trying to cover my laugh. “You are awful.”

  “Hey, you should be thankful I care to remember yours.”

  “You call me Whiskey.”

  “Yeah, close enough.”

  I snorted. Stevie had a way of constantly making me laugh. “Probably because you’re not trying to sleep with me.”

  “I actually like you too much to put you in that group now.” She winked at me. “Too bad. You could have been fun.”

  “Shut up.” I knocked my shoulder into hers.

  She laughed, opening her arms to greet Mulan, who leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, her eyes sparkling with joy. I suddenly felt like the baby-pink crayon in a box of neon-colored ones.

  It wasn’t like I wanted to dye my long caramel hair black or green or get a nose ring, but the sweet, dismissive girl in the mirror didn’t match the girl inside. She was rapping against the cage, wanting to fly free.

  “This is my friend, Whiskey.” Stevie motioned to me.

  Mulan’s black eyes rolled slowly over me, a slight hitch in her upper lip. Oh, man, she really was going to kick my ass.

  “Friend. Only friend,” I clarified. Mulan seemed a bit possessive of her toys.

  “Hi,” she said, then turned back to Stevie. “Want a drink?”

  “Of course.” Stevie turned to me. “You want one?”

  “I’m going to be our designated driver. I’ll take a soda.”

  Stevie nodded. She knew drinking and driving was not something I would even remotely consider.

  “I was going to have one, then water.”

  I shook my head. “Give me your keys. I’m not a huge fan of beer or liquor.”

  “You sure? The whole point was for you to have fun.”

  “Yes. And I still can enjoy myself.”

  She placed the keys in my palm. “Next time I’m being the good one and you’re having fun.”

  “Fine. We’ll tag team it.”

  “Tag team who now?” Mulan stepped up.

  “Not that kind of tag-teaming.” I shook my head.

  Mulan huffed and turned toward the kitchen as we trailed behind. Stevie stopped to greet quite a few people as we moved deeper into the room. People she knew from when she went to school here.

  “Here. A closed can of regular soda.” Stevie handed me a Coke. “If you can’t get drunk, you might as well get so pumped on sugar you’re hanging from the chandeliers with me.”

  “I love we set such lofty goals for ourselves.”

  “It’s good to have a higher calling.”

  I cheered her glass and took a sip of the overly sweet liquid. “Ick.” My parents weren’t big on us drinking soda in the house so we usually had natural sparkling lemonade or juice. This tasted like I had put a dozen sugar cubes on my tongue.

  Mulan’s friends moved in, stealing Stevie’s attention as they asked her about her accident, and how she liked New York. She tried to keep me involved, but quickly the conversation got away from me. As they switched topic to some naked woman’s art show in the city, my attention drifted to the small bonfire in the back.

  People hung out near it, drinking and being silly, wiggling their butts to the music. A guy squirted some lighter fluid on it, sparking it high. My gaze landed on him, taking in a f
amiliar flat brimmed hat, black T-shirt with a marijuana symbol on it, and tattoos.

  I froze. Shit. Jones. Hunter’s best friend. Is Hunter here? A bead of sweat lined the back of my neck as my eyes darted over every person I could see. Doug stood across from Jones, throwing in a chunk of wood, a beer in his hand. Oh no, no, no! There was no way they would be here and he wouldn’t. I wasn’t sure if I were experiencing a zing of excitement or the effects of caffeine and sugar in my system.

  “Stevie.” I grabbed her arm. “Whose house is this?”

  She bit her lip. “I think his name is Duke, or Don, or Dom…”

  “Doug,” I stated. Crap. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  It was the first time I’d ever seen her look rueful.

  “Stevie!” I hissed.

  “I didn’t know for sure. I know his friend Dwayne.”

  “Doug.”

  “Whatever. I know he hangs out with a lot of these people. So…I might have figured...” She held up her hand. “But I didn’t know if he would be here. I swear.”

  “You promised I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew.”

  “I said I could almost promise.”

  I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. I wanted to be mad, but I wasn’t. I wanted not to care he was here, but I did. I especially did not want to be searching for him, but of course I was.

  “I’m sorry. You mad?”

  I exhaled. “No.”

  “I personally think you need to talk. Fight, kiss, have sex…I don’t care. Just figure it out. You have been especially tense and grumpy.”

  “It’s not because of Hunter.”

  She tipped her head. “Maybe not entirely, but a good chunk.”

  I was terrified, but mostly afraid he wouldn’t want to talk to me. We needed to chat so I could move on. Let it go.

  “Go, girl. I’ll be here for you when you’re ready to leave. Or need to flee from some uptight security guard.”

  I nodded and walked from the kitchen, pulling on my jacket. A few people were heading out back, and I attached myself to them, using them as a cloak. I scanned the space, trying to distinguish individuals in the darkness. He wasn’t there. Hunter was distinctive. His physique was tall and extremely fit with broad shoulders and a narrow, toned waist, and as Stevie put it, an ass that made you want to lick frosting off it. None of the guys here came close. Being with Colton so long, I could pick out the twins’ forms instantly. And Hunter had an even more distinguishing way of holding himself. A primal sexual magnetism and quiet confidence Colton never had.