Fake It 'Til You Break It

by Meagan Brandy

Thankfully, all my things are in my locker, so I take a quick shower and prepare for class.

  Stupid leadership means I can’t get away from my thoughts, but instead I’m forced to the same place it all imploded last night.

  I have to sweep in with the rest of my classmates and clean up what’s left of the mess now that all the vehicles and personal items have been moved or picked up. The only way we get to keep going with these types of traditions is if we leave shit how we find it.

  There are about fifteen of us in total, so we’re all on the field cleaning the left-over garbage and taking down all the banners and balloons we had hung up yesterday morning. I don’t know who came back and cleaned up all our shit, because it wasn’t me, but there’s no sign of spilled enchiladas and our table and everything else is gone.

  I hunker down and work as quickly and silently as possible, and before I know it, I’m sweating.

  “Dang, Demi.” My friend Ava laughs. “You got this entire half by yourself.”

  I laugh, wiping my hand across my brow. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot on my mind. I want to stay busy... and for this day to end.”

  She hesitates before asking, “Wanna talk about it?”

  There it is.

  My arms fall, the garbage bag in my hand spilling over the edge, and instant tears roll down my cheeks.

  Because no, I don’t want to talk about it.

  I want to sit and not talk.

  With Nico.

  “Demi?”

  A heaviness in my chest has my heart pounding harder.

  “Yeah.” My voice comes out scratchy, so I try to clear my throat, but when I swallow it stings.

  I lose my breath.

  I pull my gloves off, tossing them into the bag and look at Ava. “Do we have more water?” I rasp.

  Ava’s forehead tightens and she nods, jogging off.

  I twist with her, following behind with slower steps. Sweat beads across my neck and I lift my hair, fanning myself.

  My eyesight grows fuzzy, so I stop walking, blinking a few times.

  My teacher walks up right as I start to stumble, and he gently lowers with me as I fall to the ground.

  Ava uncaps the water bottle, handing it to me, and I take a few small sips, fighting for a deep breath.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” Mr. Course asks.

  “About as much as any of us.”

  He nods. “You eat?”

  I pause to think and then shake my head.

  “Okay, let’s stand you up, and get you to the nurse. I’ll run to class and grab you something from our stash.”

  Mr. Course calls for campus security on his walkie talkie and a few minutes later, the little golf cart is speeding across the field.

  They help me onto the back and off we go.

  Trent is in the hall when we cruise by and he rushes toward us.

  “Dem? What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I say, looking away from him, happy security keeps going.

  Against my protest, the nurse calls my mother, and shocker, she’s home, and even more surprising, shows up at the school only minutes later.

  “Demi?” she asks expectantly.

  “I’m fine. No sleep and no food apparently does this to you.”

  Her eyes thin and she steps closer, opening her mouth to bitch, I’m sure, but then the nurse walks in again.

  My mother turns to her. “We’re stepping outside.”

  “Of course, Ms. Davenport.” She smiles at me. “Feel better, Demi.”

  My mother speaks the second we’re planted in her car, away from prying ears, but still in the school parking lot. “I didn’t know you had an event last night.”

  “You don’t know much, Mother. You’re never home.” I look out the window.

  She ignores my response. “How did you expect to get through your classes after staying up all night?”

  I tense, realizing where this is going. I look at her.

  When she hesitates, I roll my eyes and lay my palm open between us.

  She drops the pill, already in her hand, in mine, nodding to a fresh, unopened bottle of water that happens to be sitting in her cupholder.

  After a bit of a stare off she guesses, “Is this about that boy? Did something happen?”

  “Nothing happened. Everything is fine.” I take a deep breath, reach for the door handle, and push it open.

  “What are you doing?”

  I swallow, looking back to her. “I ate in the office, I’m feeling better, so I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “Demi.” She frowns. “The pill.”

  I turn to her, setting the pill on her dash and level her with a hard glare. “Hand me another one of these and I’ll finish the year living with Dad.”

  I slam the door shut and head back inside.

  I don’t go to class.

  “Thought that last one was perfect,” Trent says as we step inside the locker room after practice.

  He’s right, he threw a bomber, a hell of a pass.

  I slowed my game and let the fuckin’ thing drop.

  I shouldn’t have come back for practice today.

  Opening my locker, I ignore him, set my helmet inside, and start unclipping my shoulder pads, bending to shimmy them off.

  Hands grip the edge of my gear, and I jerk away, tugging them over my head completely.

  I glare, moving to work on the belt of my practice pants.

  “This how it’s gonna be, man?” Trent throws his locker open, dropping his helmet inside. “Not gonna talk to me, don’t want my help, purposely drop passes?”

  When I don’t respond, he dares, “Maybe I’ll have to throw to Hammons more—”

  When my head snaps his way, he closes his mouth, looking away as he unclips his own shit.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles a moment later.

  I grab my bag, leaving my pants open, shirt off, and cleats on. I slam my locker closed before getting in his face.

  “You shouldn’t have fucked Demi either,” I hiss, shoving his ass into the metal as I pass him.

  The second I step into the fresh air, my shoulders fall and I head for my truck.

  I throw my shit in the back and drop against the seat.

  I fuckin’ hate fighting with Trent. It’s rare we argue, and when we do, it’s over stupid shit we can laugh about later, but this is different.

  I know it’s not fair for me to be pissed about something from years ago when I’ve spent the last few dating Josie or hooking up with other people, but I am anyway.

  The thing is, if he’d have told me this then, I might not have her now.

  Do I have her now?

  I pushed her away, but she tried not to let me. She tried to keep me there, and I walked off regardless.

  Just like I did with Trent years ago.

  After my dad left my mom, I dropped all my friends and stopped conversing with adults I knew.

  My mom was miserable, and I was partially to blame for it, so I told myself I was supposed to be unhappy and alone, too, but Trent refused to go.

  He fought me, literally a time or two, when I’d try my hardest to get him to back off, but no matter how shitty I was, he never would.

  He knew I was bleeding on the inside and he was too good of a friend to walk away, and he has been ever since.

  His sleeping with Demi doesn’t change that, but it fuckin’ sucks and I can’t stand thinking about it.

  I can’t help but believe it’ll always be right there when I look at him or her, or them together, the image of him with her.

  A thought hits, and I call someone I’d never expect to.

  She answers on the first ring.

  “Nic?”

  “Hey, Krista. You still at practice?”

  “No, I just walked in my house, hang on.” There’s a light shuffle, and the sound of a door closing before she asks, “Are you okay?”

  I scoff, and her soft laughter floats through the line.

  “Yeah, I
had a rough night, too,” she admits. “I feel better now though, always do after I talk to Trent. I take it you haven’t yet?”

  “Nah, not yet.”

  “Demi?” she asks.

  I scoff a light laugh. “Does gettin’ my shit handed to me count?”

  “When it’s coming from Demi, I say yes,” she jokes. “She doesn’t lose her cool all that often...only when something means enough for her to. Or someone.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” I lick my lips, my eyes closing. “Is it weird?” I rush out before I change my mind.

  She knows exactly what I’m asking. “Not anymore, but it was. Sometimes it was pretty bad, if I’m honest, and I’d get super insecure. She had already given him what I wasn’t ready to, so I felt pressure, but as soon as Trent realized it, he went out of his way to change it.”

  “Does it make you jealous, when they talk, or do you get mad or curious when they’re alone?”

  She’s quiet a long moment before she says, “I don’t, but is that what worries you the most? The possibility that she could want him again?” She pauses. “Because if it is, Nic, I think you might want to take a second to consider how she must feel about the girls you’ve been with. That was her first time and two years ago. Who was the last person you were with and how long ago was that?”

  Fuck man, she’s right.

  She saw me with Sandra, knows I left Josie because I was cheated on, and I told her about Miranda, then she was forced to watch me dancing with her.

  “Nic?”

  I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t say any of that to take away from what’s happened. Trent should have told you a long time ago, and if not that, then Demi should have before you two started dating. It wasn’t fair how they went about it, and I’m sorry you found out how you did.”

  I nod, sighing into the line.

  “Now, tell me the truth, how much of an asshole were you?”

  I laugh and she follows.

  “Talk to them, Nic. If you’re hurting, they are, too. That sucks for everyone.”

  “Thanks, Krista.”

  I hang up, take a deep breath and drive home.

  I head straight for the shower when I get inside, but my mom’s soft hums has me poking my head back out and walking to her room.

  Concern pulls at my gut when I find her on the floor, surrounded by papers, a loopy smile on her face.

  I drop beside her. “Ma?”

  “Nikoli,” she rasps, her palm coming up to slide down my cheek. “You’re home.”

  “What is all this, Ma?”

  Her hand falls, and she looks to the mess. “He’s promised to take care of us.”

  I pull back, slowly pushing to my feet. “What’d you do, Ma?”

  “Your father. He came with papers from lawyers, had everything ready for me, wasn’t that nice of him?”

  “No.”

  Tears fill her eyes and she smiles weakly. “He’s letting us come live with him. Isn’t that great? We’ll be a family again.”

  “Please, no.” I run my hands down my face and get back on my mom’s level. “Tell me you didn’t give him the house? Tell me you didn’t sign anything without me here?”

  She tilts her head. “You know he only comes to see me when you’re gone.”

  “Fuck!” I start pacing the room. “He screwed you, I know it.”

  “No, no... he loves me, Nico. He’ll take care of us.”

  I shake my head. “Like he’s been taking care of us, Ma? He steals from you, and keeps you so doped up you don’t even realize it.”

  She looks to the wedding ring she refuses to take off. “He’s good to me, makes sure I have the medicine I need.”

  “You aren’t sick!” I yell. “Not in the way he’s made you believe.” I drop beside her, grabbing her hands gently. “Ma, you lost your husband, and it broke you. You’re sad, depressed, and that’s okay. I get it, I swear. I tried to find someone to help you, remember? But you only wanted him, and he used that to control you.”

  “You’re wrong. He cares. He pays our bills.”

  “With your money,” I stress gently. “And now you probably just gave him control of everything.”

  “It’ll all be okay, son,” she whispers, her eyes growing tired, whatever fucking cocktail he cooked up for her when he was here obviously kicking in. “He promised me.”

  I glare at her, having so much more to say, but unable to let the words out.

  She’s fucked up, he’s in her head, and she doesn’t want to know the truth.

  What’s she gonna do when I’m gone next year?

  I wasn’t sure how I’d leave before, but I really can’t get out of here if she has no place to go.

  That’s got to be why he’s doing this.

  Her head tilts up a little, and she smiles at me.

  I swallow my sigh, moving forward to scoop her in my arms, and gently place her on the bed.

  She pats my cheek, her eyes already closed. “My sweet, sweet boy, I love you so much.”

  My chest grows tight.

  I want to shake her, hug her, her to hug me back, instead I look down at her from the bedside.

  “Love you, Ma,” I whisper, but she doesn’t hear me.

  She’s already knocked out.

  I turn off her light and bypass the shower, stumbling my way down the stairs, and out the back door.

  Before I realize what I’m doing or where I’m going, I’m already shoving open the gate connecting Demi’s yard to mine.

  I spot her instantly through the large window, little and perfect and not quite mine.

  She’s in her kitchen, pulling something down from the cupboard when her head snaps my way, her eyes locking on mine through the glass.

  She takes me in, still half dressed in my gear, and worry clouds her eyes.

  I need you, baby.

  She rushes for the sliding door, pushing it open right as I reach it.

  “Neek—”

  I cut her off by slamming my mouth into hers.

  Her lips tighten a moment, but she gives in the very next, letting me take what I want from her.

  What I need from her.

  Every little bit she’ll allow and more.

  Her arms wrap around me as I scoop her up and walk us backward toward the stairs, kicking my cleats off as I step.

  I drop her on top of the small table near the foot of the stairs so I can kiss her better, dive deeper into her mouth, and then she tears away, dropping her head back as she gasps for air.

  I let my lips fall down her jawline and to her neck, where I suck gently.

  Her little hands slide up my back, her fingers spanning out against me, pulling me in.

  She’s so welcoming, so ready to give—and she doesn’t even question us despite everything—that it’s overwhelming and my head falls to her shoulder.

  I grip her hips, squeezing slightly.

  Her hands loosen, one making a lazy path up and down my back, while the other slides past my cheek, and across my fade. She lightly brushes her fingers in repetitive, soothing movements.

  I lift my head, locking eyes with her perfect green ones.

  Words aren’t needed, she can see as I can, the hurt we caused each other. The unnecessary pain we didn’t have to deliver and can and will move past.

  She’s mine and I’m hers and that’s what matters here.

  I’m standing here with fucked emotions and a weighted mind.

  I need her and no kind of fight would be changing that fact.

  Demi knows and slowly raises her hands over her head.

  I lick my lips, tug her to the edge and meet the skin of her waist with my fingertips.

  I don’t take my eyes off her as I trail them up purposely, torturously, slow.

  Her deep breaths quickly switch to short pants, her face giving the illusion of pain, when it’s need coursing through her every vein and all I’ve done is run my knuckles along her ribs.

  When I get to her bra line,
I lean forward, and her lips part. I lift her shirt so it’s blocking her face, stealing her sight as I blow warm air across her breastbone, smirking when goosebumps rise in response.

  She loses some patience, and helps the thin cotton over her head, tossing it to the side.

  Her palms land on my chest, and she drags them down, then back over my pecs before leaning in. Thick, warm lips press against my skin, and my hand shoots up to close around the back of her neck.

  Her eyes pop up, the emerald within them hardly visible she’s so stirred up, and she slips her fingertips into the band of my boxers.

  Her eyes fall, tracking her own movement as she pushes my practice pants to my thighs, then brings her feet up to help them the rest of the way down until they’ve fallen to my ankles. I kick them somewhere behind me.

  Her greedy hands quickly slide across the front of my boxers, cupping my dick with a light squeeze causing me to flex in her grasp.

  I groan, slide my palms around her ass, and lift her again, her legs quickly latching on.

  I spin us, carefully climbing the stairs with her in my arms while she lets go to unlatch her bra and tosses it aside.

  A raspy giggle leaves her when I stop dead, hitting her back against the wall with an urgency I’ve never felt as I quickly bring my hands up to feel her better.

  I bring my mouth to her skin, wrapping my lips over her nipple and tugging until it pops free.

  My eyes snap to hers. “Mine.”

  “Yours,” she moans, grinding against me and I apply pressure with my hips.

  She slips her hands between us, pushing my boxers down and I pull back, forcing her to watch me as she does it.

  That has her slowing her movements, but still, she keeps going.

  I let her legs fall, but she keeps her back plastered to the wall, not dropping her eyes as we push my boxers down together.

  My dick springs free between us, the head brushing where her jeans end at her waistline, getting the tiniest taste of the feel of her skin, and my thighs clench.

  “I’ve thought of this,” she admits with a breathy whisper, her untried senses on full fire. “Imagined it.”

  “Me too, baby. More than I’ll admit.” I move in again, but she has other ideas.

  She nudges me away gently, and takes backward steps down the hall, unbuttoning her jeans as she goes.

  She’s eager, it’s easy to see, but she pulls at her restraint, and when her eyes fall from mine, it’s in a slow savoring appraisal. One I’m guessing she’s in favor of, if the way her steps falter when her eyes meet my hard and ready cock for the first time tells me anything.