by Nora Cobb
Without thinking, I hurry upstairs to my room. The only bedroom left unlocked. I open the door and hear music inside. My face is in a scowl as I prepare to tell whoever it is to get the fuck out and go back downstairs where they belong. My bedroom is off-limits.
But when I see him, I don’t toss him out.
“Jacob.” My sulk disappears into a soft smile.
CHAPTER 2
NATALIE
Jacob is lying stretched out on my bed with his muscular arms folded behind his head. His dark hair is almost in his eyes, and his phone is propped up on his broad chest. His Timberlands are off and on the floor beside my bed. He looks so cozy and cute, wrapped in my new pink comforter. An attractive man in my bed is tempting me. I lock the door and jump in right next to him.
“What are you doing in my room?” I ask, hugging him tight and wrapping my arm over his solid chest. “Are you hiding from me or waiting for me?”
He smirks. “What if I’m hiding from you?”
“You wouldn’t do that to me.” I poke his chest.
“No, I wouldn’t.” He pulls me into a quick kiss. “But I accused some guy of stealing your uncle’s shit when I arrived. I almost beat up his ass until Beth told me it was all packed away.” Jacob sighs. “I really wanted to kick his ass because he gave me lip. But they talked me out of it. I must be mellowing out.”
I nuzzle next to him, and we watch some weird compilation video of football passes set to hard rock music. We don’t speak as the unspoken tension in the room amps up. I must have a talk with Jacob before Troy searches the house for me and knocks on my bedroom door.
My heart pounds in my ears as the anxiety builds. Do it now. Like a Band-Aid, I have to rip it off.
“I slept with Troy.” I blurt it out and wait for the explosion.
Underneath me, Jacob’s body tenses up, and his muscles coil into a hard knot. His chest rises then falls underneath my cheek. I hold onto him, hoping foolishly that if we don’t make a move and continue to stare at the tiny screen, nothing will change between us.
Jacob takes his phone off his chest, shuts it off, and tosses it onto the bedside table. I won’t look up at him, and I sense that Jacob isn’t looking at me either. Maybe I shouldn’t have blurted it out. Maybe I should have worked up to it. But I didn’t want Troy to tell him first. Though, he may have already told. Troy may feel differently about me, but he still likes to brag.
Jacob’s hand wraps around my wrist, and he firmly pulls my arm off him. He sits up on the bed, but he still won’t look at me.
“I thought you might have.” He looks at the window, as if he’s speaking to it. “I pretty much guessed it.”
“Did Troy say anything?” I stare at the canopy above my bed.
“He didn’t.” Finally, Jacob looks at me. “In fact, he didn’t mention you at all. He barely spoke about Tampa, and when I asked, he wouldn’t look me in the eye. Sort of what you’re doing right now.”
He shames me, but I still can’t meet his gaze.
“It’s okay, Nat.” Jacob lies down again, and my body shifts toward his weight. “I know we aren’t exclusive.”
“It’s not that.” I try to explain, but explain what? “You all mean so much to me. I’m only committed to the three of you.”
His eyebrow arches as he puts his hands behind his head again. Timidly, I lay my head back on his chest and hear his heart pounding. The beats are as rapid as if he’s been running a fast mile, but he’s lying still. Jacob’s body is motionless, but his mind is in turmoil.
“Jacob,” I whisper, “tell me that it’s okay.”
His mouth is a hard line, and his breathing is labored. Panting, he’s keeping his initial reaction under strict control. But that’s the problem; he can’t control everything, least of all my heart, and neither can I. I want Jacob as much as ever, but my heart is divided into pieces. I turn my face away. It would be easier to pick one, but how can I? I would mourn the loss of the other two.
His hand touches my hair softly. And I look into his dark eyes. My eyes plead with him to tell me that it’s okay, and to say I haven’t lost his love because of Troy. What I feel for Troy has nothing to do with us, but I don’t dare say it aloud. The wounded look in his eyes makes me think that he wouldn’t understand. I can barely articulate my feelings to myself.
“Maybe,” I say, “I should have told you first, but I didn’t plan it.”
“No, but he probably did,” replies Jacob. The corners of his mouth turn down. “It’s okay, Nat. Troy always wanted you. As badly as Lucas and me. If it hadn’t happened now, it would have happened later. There’s a pull between all of us. I guess it’s because we need one another, even more now.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to rationalize it,” I reply, “What I did.”
“Can’t do that, Nat, especially when it comes to your heart.” Jacob sighs, “I’m going to want you no matter what.”
I crawl closer to him and wrap my leg over his solid thighs. I don’t sense passion in his strong, lean muscles. I feel resignation. I don’t want to lose Jacob, but I don’t know what else to do. I know what I feel is right, even if I can’t explain my actions. I know I need them all, and they need me. I know I could never love one more than the others, but I don’t know how to convince any of them of how I feel.
“Talk to me,” I whisper, placing my hand on his warm chest.
Jacob frowns and averts his gaze, but he places his hand over mine. “I feel like I’m losing you, along with everything else I’ve lost.”
Scared, I place my hand on his cheek, and his stubble pricks into my soft skin. I run my fingers along his square chin and pull Jacob close, so he has to look at me.
“That’s not true,” I tell him desperately.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s like a string of dominoes—one fell, and now they’re all going down.”
I hold Jacob tighter, as if my movements can convince him that I’m not slipping away. I curse myself. It was too insensitive to tell him the way I did. He’s lost so much in the last month. His status has shifted from golden boy to outcast. His father’s disowned him, leaving him without money or connections. He may not be able to afford the tuition to college, even with Coach Stanford’s help. And now, I tell him that I’ve slept with Troy. A boy that I hated and despised is now my lover. What have I done?
There’s the sound of running up the stairs, and someone tries the locked door. The doorknob twists and turns with rapid speed. The person gives up when it doesn’t open. On the other side, a girl giggles, and then laughter trails off down the hall. No doubt it’s a couple trying each doorknob to find one unlocked. They won’t find one. The bathroom door slams shut further down the hall, and the unexpected bang makes me jump. Any other time, I would’ve gotten up and told the couple to go back downstairs. The upstairs is off-limits, but I can’t leave Jacob. If I end this conversation too soon, we will never get this moment back. A wedge will keep us apart.
“Funny,” he says, rubbing my back. “We used to be like that.”
My heart sinks. “Like what?”
“Eager to be together.”
I sit up and look him in the eye. “Jacob, I love you. I will always love you. No one will make me feel less for you. But I’ve lost a lot, and it’s not just about love. I feel safe with the three of you around me. I feel like I can make it in the world—I feel untouchable again. I lost that certainty when my parents died, but I feel it again when I’m with the three of you.”
For a moment, Jacob looks at me steadily with his distant eyes. Sighing, he sits up and pulls me into him. He wipes the tears off my cheek with the edge of his thumb.
“Natalie, I’m sorry,” he says, “I was feeling bad for myself. I’m not used to being like this. I guess I just needed a moment to feel shitty.”
“You’ve lost as much as I have,” I reply.
“I love you, and that’s what I want the most. Your love.” Jacob presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.
I close mine, and we hold each other sitting in the middle of the bed. Jacob has never spoken so openly before about his fears. He’s always hitting something or glowering at someone, but he trusts me. He expresses honestly how he feels, without fear that I’ll judge him. It makes me treasure him more.
Jacob’s lips touch my hair gently. He pulls me near until I can feel every muscle in his solid, lean body. Desire starts to kick in stronger than ever and builds inside me as I lift my mouth to his. His lips part, and so do mine. His eyes flash with desire as his mouth closes over mine softly at first, and then more fiercely as my whole being responds to him with need. I’m swept into a whirl, and the house goes still. Nothing surrounding us matters except the strength of his body and the pressure of his lips on mine.
He tugs up the hem of my dress, but I grab his hand and hold it still.
“I’m hosting a party,” I explain. “Maybe later, if you’re staying.”
He places his hand on my waist instead.
“So, what are your plans for prom?” he asks. “Will you go with me? Or are you bringing the trifecta?”
“You are so silly.” I lean into him and hold onto his neck. “So far, the trifecta hasn’t asked me yet. Only you’ve asked.”
“Will you go with me then?” he asks. “I promise to smile.”
“Of course I’ll go with you,” I reply. “And you can scowl all you want.” I peck his lips quick. “You look sexy when you glare.”
“Not the image I want on the football field. I’ll have to work on it,” he pauses. “So, Troy and Lucas haven’t asked you yet?”
“Nope.”
“See there,” he smirks, “I’m still your first.”
Jacob’s smile barely raises his mouth, and his eyes look uncertain. He has more on his mind, but he’s ready to change the subject. He slides off the bed and starts to put on his boots.
Watching, I start to panic at the thought of him dumping me. I want to reassure him that we will never lose that spark we have. I want Jacob to feel certain of our love. I’ll always want him.
“Yes, Jacob,” I whisper, rubbing my hands down his muscular back. “You’ll always be my first.”
He smiles, this time for real, as he pulls me into his arms. “I’ll always love you more, Natalie.”
CHAPTER 3
NATALIE
By Monday, my party is posted all over social media, of course. It is getting hits from more people than attended. As I walk into the cafeteria, I receive nods and smiles from everyone who came, and almost everyone did. Those who didn’t look sorry, or annoyed, that they missed the party of the semester. There will be others leading up to prom, and I’ve received a few invites with urgent requests to attend. I guarded my cell number very cautiously all term. Blocking unfamiliar numbers was a necessity, but that was old me. New me shares my phone.
Beth and I sit down at the first table, joining Lexi and Cora. The boys sit at the second table, and occasionally, join us. Lately, though, we’ve been divided according to sex. Lunchtime is the time that we discuss prom at the girls’ table. It’s less than a month away, and then graduation. Montlake is almost over. It will soon be in the past. Where it will stay forever.
“Your party was epic,” smiles Lexi. “No red or gray dress code. People are already copying it for their parties.”
“But we did it first,” adds Cora. “Others can only follow the trends.”
“Speaking of trends,” interrupts Beth. “What’s the theme for prom again?”
Cora is on the student planning committee, and she’s already proved that she loves a big, flashy party with hordes of well-dressed people. Though my house party was a success, people are still posting photos from her South Beach bridal shower. Cora has started a thread leading up to her wedding date, which is still unannounced. And together with Lexi and Beth, she’s posting a vlog sharing fashion tips and must haves for brides-to-be. With over 10K YouTube subscribers, it’s wildly popular, though it has nominally useful content. Unless you have a trust fund to spend.
***
Cora and Lexi always sit facing the entrance into the cafeteria. I’ve always suspected they liked to be seen, but today, they’re on alert. They stop discussing Vera Wang gowns in mid-sentence. Wide-eyed, Lexi’s mouth forms a circle while Cora’s forms a grimace.
Beth and I look behind us as Arielle enters the cafeteria alone. We watch in silence as she walks past the first table without a side glance. If I didn’t know her face so well, I’d never have recognized her. Her short skirts and high heels are gone, and so is the heavy, but carefully applied makeup. Her face looks softer without makeup. She’s wearing slim denim jeans and a boho peasant blouse with colorful embroidery, carrying a Dunkin’ cup. Her blonde hair isn’t curled into her signature lion’s mane. It’s in a practical ponytail. Without the artifice, Arielle is still attractive, but this girl doesn’t look like the bitch we know and hate. And as much as I detest her, and I do, I can’t figure out why Arielle didn’t dress like this all the time.
“Omigod,” Lexi leans in and lowers her voice, “Did anyone know that she was back?” She looks over her shoulder as Arielle orders lunch at the counter. “She’s been gone for maybe two weeks, at least.”
“What a mess,” sniffs Cora. “She could at least put on some makeup.”
Lexi shrugs her shoulders. “That’s her punishment—looking like she slipped off the bottom rung of the social ladder.” Lexi is still communicating with Arielle via text. Some relationships refuse to end. “The last time her father was pissed,” she continues, “he took away her makeup and gave all her clothes to the cleaning staff. Arielle had a fit when the maids showed up to work wearing her shoes. She made them give it all back.”
The girls laugh, but I’m uncomfortable. That feeling of fear always starts in my stomach when individuals begin to form a mob. The steady whispers morph into white noise in the cafeteria as the rumors start to spread from mouth to mouth then table to table. My skin crawls as my brain cruelly reminds me of what I had to endure at this bitchy school. And I remember that they weren’t always my dearest friends.
I hate Arielle, but I hated being bullied by these kids much more. It makes me cringe to watch it start all over again.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “Like prom.”
Beth presses her lips together and gives Lexi a quick look. I might have missed it, except my senses are on high alert as if I’m the one who’s about to be taken down. Arielle leaves without an incident, and the tightness in my body relaxes. My taut muscles are sore from holding my body motionless, like a rabbit concealed under a leaf in a field surrounded by wolves.
***
Gossip makes me uneasy, but some things I listen to. Ms. Petrenko has filed a wrongful dismissal suit against the school, which is being taken seriously by the school board. At first, Principal Cromwell blows it off and labels her a disgruntled former employee, but the suit picks up steam. Ms. Petrenko has backing from a few wealthy parents who had been waiting for Cromwell to fuck up. He has his pets, but what about the students, like me, that are barely tolerated? It isn’t like we get a discount off our tuition for being treated like shit. Scorned students run home to tell their parents about the lawsuit, and it builds traction until it’s mentioned at a recent community meeting. In other words, Cromwell is going to get bent and screwed over.
Cromwell gossip doesn’t bother me, but the verbal abuse hurled at Arielle does. She made my life a misery until Anthony, surprisingly, took her way down. I’ve got plenty of reasons to dump abuse on her, but I don’t join in with her tormentors as she walks stiff-lipped down the hallways. I can’t be that hateful. It isn’t in me.
Sure, Beth and I superglued condoms to her locker, but that was in retaliation. And in the mornings, she’d give it back to me in overload. But not now; she’s pinned down and unable to strike out at anyone. The bitch is defanged and on sunrise-to-sunset curfew. Arielle is no threat to anybody. It’s over, and where�
�s the challenge in that? I won’t kick Arielle while she’s down. What’s the point of getting into the mud with her to take a cheap shot? But it doesn’t stop the other students, who Arielle picked on and tormented for years.
I used to avoid taking the quick route to English class, past her locker. But now that she’s been abandoned by her underlings, I can sail past her without a dirty look or nasty remark. I thought I had it bad. Each time I pass by Arielle’s locker, someone has taped up a screenshot of her sucking Anthony’s cock. They use clear packing tape; the type of sticky tape that maintenance has to scrape off with a razor blade. Obscenities are written across the pictures with speech balloons of what Arielle is supposedly saying while doing the deed. “Yummy, I swallow,” or “Cover my face with your tool,” are written in fluorescent Sharpie markers.
There are words written across her photos that I didn’t know existed.
