She's With Me

by Jessica Cunsolo

  “Hey, Ethan.”

  He pauses, looking at me with a bored expression. “Oh, it’s you again.”

  Deep breaths. You can do this.

  “Listen, I guess we got off on the wrong foot. See, I don’t really care about the video, I was just . . . nervous.”

  “Nervous about what?” he snorts, not really paying attention to me.

  I’ve always been a good liar; I’ve been doing it for too long. Time to put it to good use. I stand closer to him, leaving about two inches of space between us.

  “I don’t really care about that video. I needed a reason to talk to you, and the video gave me one.”

  “What—what do you mean?” He gulps, forgetting about his books and open locker.

  “What I mean is that I used the video as an excuse to talk to you. I’ve always thought,”—don’t puke, Amelia, you’ve got to sell it—“that you were the cutest guy in this school. I just never thought you’d talk to me.”

  Don’t puke, don’t puke, flirty smile.

  His eyes zone in on my girls, which are dangerously close to his chest, and his cocky smile is back. Must . . . resist . . . urge . . . to break his nose. He seems to believe me pretty easily, despite me threatening him yesterday.

  “Well, I am pretty hot,” he smirks, still not taking his eyes off my boobs.

  “The hottest.” I trail my hand down the side of his back, subconsciously restraining myself from jerking away from him. Douche bag. It’s for the greater good, Amelia, I tell myself.

  “What do you say I take you up on that offer?”

  His eyes widen. “What?”

  I give him a flirty smile. “You heard me. It’s after school. I’m guessing you have nowhere to go. I’ll do it now.”

  He doesn’t even question my change of attitude, practically fumbling to grab his backpack and put his lock back on, eager to get a blow job.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, this is actually happening, it’s happening,” he repeats slowly.

  “I know a place; it’s private.” With a suggestive wink, I walk down the hall and he scrambles to follow me.

  We get to the janitor’s closet that I scouted this morning. The door opens with ease and I discreetly pull out the wad of paper, trying not to do a giddy happy dance that it held all day. The halls are practically empty by now, everyone wanting to get out of this hellhole as soon as possible.

  I take a deep breath. Too late to back out now, Amelia. Trying to keep my racing heart steady, I push open the door.

  “I can’t believe this. I’m going to get a blow job from a hot senior girl.” Ethan walks into the small closet.

  Idiot.

  With zero hesitation, I swing the door shut, which locks with Ethan still inside. I laugh as I hear Ethan banging on the door from the inside of the closet.

  I mean, seriously. I gave him a whole speech yesterday about how I would never do that and how degrading it was to even suggest it. Walking away, I smile to myself in victory, looking down at his phone in my hands. I swiped it when I ran my hand down his back. He was too busy ogling my boobs to even realize I’d taken it.

  I may be willing to use what I’ve got, but I’m not about to sell my soul to the devil.

  Back at his locker, I quickly undo the lock. He was so distracted by me that he left his laptop in his locker, exactly what I wanted to happen. Grabbing the computer and turning it on, I slide down the locker to sit on the floor.

  Perfect. He doesn’t even have a password on his phone or laptop. I snort out loud. He made this so easy for me it almost isn’t fun.

  Almost.

  Quickly scanning his open Facebook, I’m confused when I can’t find the video anywhere. It’s not on his profile; it’s not on his computer’s saved files. Why isn’t it here?

  “You won’t find it.”

  The sound of his voice makes me jump. Caught off guard, I reflexively snap the laptop shut. Aiden’s standing over me.

  “Huh? Won’t find what?”

  He sits beside me on the floor and leans against the locker. I hate that I notice how close he is, and how good he smells.

  “I got him to take it down and delete it. It’s gone.”

  I drop the innocent act. “It’s gone?”

  The corner of his lips twitches into a smirk. “If you would’ve listened to me earlier when I was trying to talk to you, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now with a stolen phone and laptop.”

  “I was going to return them—”

  “Where is Ethan anyway? How did you get his stuff?”

  “I locked him in the janitor’s closet,” I say casually, like we’re discussing the weather.

  Aiden laughs, and I have to force myself not to stare. It’s the first time Aiden’s genuinely laughed out loud around me. It’s nice. He should do it more often.

  “Wow,” he says. “I can honestly say I didn’t see that coming.”

  Just then, the extent of his words registers with me. “Wait, you got him to delete the video?”

  He runs his hands through his hair, looking as close to embarrassed as Aiden—with his stoic face—could be. “You freaked out about it, so I figured it was important to you.”

  He knew how much it really meant to me before everyone else, and helped me without me even having to ask. He wasn’t even there at lunch when everyone else realized I was still bothered by the video. I guess he isn’t as hard or cold or has a heart made of ice like he wants everyone to think. He actually cares about his friends. Wait, he considers me his friend!

  “How’d you get him to take it down? He was a total ass when I asked him.”

  “I told him that I didn’t appreciate my face being on the internet.”

  My eyes widen. “That’s all you said to him?”

  “Sometimes, the reputation does all the talking for you,” he says darkly.

  Wow. I literally twisted Ethan’s wrist and he didn’t even budge. Aiden gives him a subtle hint and he scrambles to oblige. The curiosity is killing me. I have to ask. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I freaked out like that?”

  “No. I’ll find out eventually. You can count on that.” He stands up, brushing off his pants. “You should probably let Ethan out of the janitor’s closet now.”

  With that, he walks down the hall without a good-bye, leaving me to stare at his retreating back. He’s guarded and doesn’t let a lot of people see who he actually is. He scares people away with his tough, uncaring act. Or maybe it’s not an act and that’s who he really is. But if he really doesn’t care about anyone, like he wants us to think, why go through the effort to get that video deleted for me? I think that his permanent scowl and frosty attitude are defense mechanisms—a way of keeping people at arm’s length. For some reason, he doesn’t want anyone around him, and doesn’t want them to get too close either. Only the Boys, who have practically grown up with him, actually know him, the true Aiden—the man behind the impassive, unimpressed mask.

  Or I’m just completely overthinking everything and Aiden’s just a huge asshole. But one thing I know that’s true about Aiden is that he’s very perceptive. You think I’m hiding something, Aiden? What are you hiding? I stand up and put the laptop back in the locker. I guess it’s time I let Ethan out of the closet.

  I needed the video down, and I did what I had to do. I always do what needs to be done, but I do it on my own terms. Ethan screamed bloody murder when I let him out of the janitor’s closet, but when I said that I’d tell Aiden if he ever talked to me or bothered me again, he shut up pretty quickly. Dodged another bullet, and again with Aiden’s help—it was becoming a bit of a habit, and I wasn’t sure at all how I felt about it.

  11

  It’s been a week since I locked Ethan in the janitor’s closet and I’m sitting cross-legged on Charlotte’s bed, our chemistry and calculus books and notes scattered
all around us.

  She looks up from her spot on the bed. “Remind me why I want to get into science when I’m older?”

  I look at the clock: it’s almost midnight. I sigh. “Because you want to better the human race with your knowledge of science and medicine?”

  “I’m seriously regretting that decision,” she mumbles and flips through her notebook. “It’s a Friday night and we’re sitting here studying.”

  “You say that like it’s unusual for science students to study on a Friday night.”

  I received another failed calculus test earlier this week, and we just had a quiz today. I was prepared this time, but I’m positive I flunked it too. Charlotte’s in a different calculus class, but it’s all the same material, so she’s been trying to help me.

  So far, we’ve been studying chemistry and calculus together every day after school until late, and I’m not any closer to understanding this gibberish than I was before. I don’t think Charlotte really knows what she’s doing either.

  “I know, but I just wish our lives were a little more exciting. We could at least do something other than study one day out of the week,” she complains.

  “What? Investigating the qualitative and quantitative nature of chemical systems at equilibrium isn’t exciting enough for you?” I tease.

  “We could’ve gone to the movies or something. Even the guys are at that party.”

  “I know, I can practically hear the music from here.”

  Some jock from King City High who lives a few streets over from Charlotte was hosting tonight. Mason, Noah, and Chase tried to convince us to go with them, but after the last party I went to, I firmly decided I’d rather study. Charlotte agreed, and Annalisa proclaimed that since we weren’t going, she wasn’t either—she and Julian went out on a date instead.

  When Mason, Noah, and Chase tried to get Aiden to come, he said “Busy,” without elaborating, which I totally didn’t understand. They do everything together, especially party. It was already bad that Julian wasn’t going, but now Aiden wasn’t either.

  Mason and Noah bugged him to go, but Aiden gave them a stern drop-it look and said, “You know why.”

  When he did that, their eyes widened in realization, as if Aiden explained everything perfectly with that one look and three words.

  “Well, I’m done studying, let’s just go to bed. Sleep here tonight?” Charlotte asks me.

  She’s been inviting me to sleep over every time I’m at her house, and I’m running out of excuses why I can’t. I want to sleep at Charlotte’s, and my mom probably wouldn’t find out if she wasn’t home; it’s just that I literally can’t sleep at Charlotte’s. My pills are in my nightstand back at my house, and without them, I won’t be getting any sleep.

  “Sorry, Char, my mom’s expecting me to be home.” My mom’s on an overnight flight; she wouldn’t even know if I went home or not.

  I feel bad lying to Charlotte, but I don’t want her to know that I need pills to get to sleep. Even with the pills, I don’t do much sleeping. She’d think I was weird if I couldn’t sleep, so I got out of bed and started working out at 4:30 a.m.

  She frowns at me. “Are you sure? I don’t snore or anything.”

  I laugh at her as I pack up my stuff. “I don’t doubt that, I just need to get home,” I say. “I’m not the greatest sleeper.”

  After I reassure Charlotte that I have to go home multiple times, she finally allows me to head downstairs. Her older brother is at a party and her parents are at some fundraiser, so we don’t bother trying to be quiet as we head downstairs.

  At the door, we talk a little more while I put my shoes on. As I reach for the doorknob, the doorbell rings. My hand freezes on the handle, and Charlotte and I look at each other.

  “Are you expecting someone?” I whisper.

  Charlotte shakes her head. The two of us stare at the big wooden door that separates us from whatever is on the other side of it. “It’s past midnight. My brother’s crashing at his friend’s house and my parents wouldn’t ring the doorbell.”

  The doorbell rings three more times. We take a step back from the door and stare at it, unsure about what to do.

  Then, “Charlie! It’s me! Open the door!”

  Thank goodness: Chase. Charlotte opens the door quickly and he stumbles in. “Charlie! Amelia? What’re you doing here?”

  He slurs his words so much that we can barely understand them. He’s disheveled, and sways back and forth in the doorway.

  “How drunk are you?” Charlotte moves to catch him as he stumbles again.

  “What? Me? I only had a little,” he slurs, hiccupping at the end. “Okay-y-y. I might’ve drank a teensy bit too much.”

  “Damn it, Chase. I told you not to mix energy drinks and alcohol! It makes you think you can keep drinking and then you get drunker than ever.” Charlotte scolds him as he leans on the wall, free of her support.

  “You’re right, Charlie. You’re alwayyyss right. That’s one of the things that makes you so great,” he slurs, and looks at her with unfocused eyes.

  “How did you get here?” I look outside. “You didn’t drive did you? Or get in the car with someone drunk?”

  A lazy smile spreads over Chase’s face and his eyelids droop. “I walked! The party’s, like, right over there.” He makes a noncommittal hand gesture. “I may be drunk, but I know drinking and driving’s a big no-no. Ha-ha. Nonno. I sound Italian. That’s how they say grandpa, right? Noo-noo.”

  “Yes, Chase. Italians call their grandfathers nonno,” Charlotte says slowly, like she’s speaking to a child.

  Chase laughs. “Even when I’m drunk I’m still smart! But not as smart as you, Charlie. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known. And prettiest. You’ve got the nicest smile I’ve ever seen. And you smell so pretty! Like vanilla and strawberries.”

  Charlotte gives Chase a confused look while he’s talking, and I try to change the topic before he says something he regrets. “Why did you come here, Chase?”

  “Weeeelllll, a bunch of Silvers crashed the partayyy—”

  “What! Where are Mason and Noah?” I interrupt him, worried for my friends and thinking about the last time the Kings and Silvers clashed.

  “Relaaxx,” he slurs. “Nason and Moah are fine. The crashers were cool. The Silvers that we all hate are at the Tra—oops.” He stops himself before he finishes.

  “Where are the bad Silvers, Chase?” I ask him, not even sure if he’s a reliable source since he got Mason’s and Noah’s names mixed up.

  “I . . . I . . . what do I know? I’m drunk? Remember? Maybe you’re the drunk one!” He laughs.

  “What do the Silvers crashing the party have to do with you coming here?” Charlotte tries to bring him back on track.

  “Oh yeah! Anywayy. These Silvers are cool, ya know? Like, they’re just chill. But they brought their girlfriends with them. And I was lookin’ around and thought, wow, ever’one has a girlfriend. Even Noah was hooking up with some chick and Mason was talking to some girl.”

  A little pit of jealousy rises in my stomach when he says Mason’s with a girl. I don’t know why, but I feel it. I know we’re just friends. That we’ll only ever be just friends, but the attention I get from Mason is nice; it makes me feel normal.

  Chase continues, looking at Charlotte. “And I thought, they all look so happy. I could be happy if I just grew some balls and said how I really felt. I’m soo stupid for not telling you that I—”

  “Chase!” I interrupt him, seeing how close he is to making a mistake that he’ll regret in the morning, “I’m leaving now, anyway. How about I drive you home?”

  I don’t give him the option as I throw his arm over my shoulder and start walking him away from the door. He’s so drunk he just goes along with it.

  “Bye, Char,” I say quickly. “Call you tomorrow.”

 
We’re at my car and I’m half shoving Chase into it when he notices where he is. “But, I can’t go yet, Amelia. I finally decided I’d man up and tell Charlie that I love her.”

  Charlotte has already closed the front door. “I know you do, Chase, but you might want to think this through when you’re sober.”

  How Chase feels about Charlotte is pretty noticeable if you look hard enough. He’s always sitting beside her, teasing her about her name, and making sure she’s okay. The one missing piece to the puzzle is how she feels about him. We’ve never talked about it, and so it makes sense to me that Chase should think it through, especially if he’s about to announce to his best friend since childhood that he’s in love with her when he’s decidedly less than sober.

  I deposit Chase in the passenger seat and jog around to the driver’s side. “If you puke in my car, you’re dead.” I start the car and pull out of the driveway.

  “I have thought it through. Not the puking. About telling her. All those couples are sooo happy. I wanna be happy. Charlie makes me feel that way and I wanna be with her.”

  “Chase, even if you did decide to tell her, you shouldn’t do it while you’re drunk.” I sigh. “I’ll just get you home and if you still want to tell her, you can do it tomorrow.”

  “I can’t go home. I told my parents we weren’t drinking since last time Noah got a concussion.”

  “Okay, then where were you supposed to stay?” I’m not patient enough to deal with a smashed Chase. “Where—”

  I look over at the passenger seat to find Chase already passed out. “Ughh, why me?” I complain out loud to myself.

  Pulling over, I grab my phone to call one of the Boys so I can drop Chase off at their house. Mason and Noah are probably still at the party—they don’t answer my calls. Julian’s phone is off, and Aiden’s rang once then went straight to voice mail. Jerk. I call again, and this time it skips the ring entirely and goes into voice mail, meaning he turned his phone off. I guess I’m taking Chase to my house.