Until You

by Penelope Douglas

  “No, I have to get my ass to the counselor’s office, actually.”

  Saying the word counselor had me wanting to upchuck, but it was required for all Seniors.

  “Ah, the what-are-your-future-plans? talk ,” she teased while nodding her head.

  I almost let out a laugh with the way my heart jumped. “The only future plans I have are taking you to see a concert over Thanksgiving,” I said quietly as I pulled two tickets out of my pocket.

  “Oh!” Her eyes widened, and she snatched the tickets out of my hand. “You didn’t! Avenged Sevenfold!”

  “Belated birthday present,” I explained. “I was waiting for them to go on sale.” A grin tickled my jaw as I tried to hold it back. “You like Avenged Sevenfold, right?”

  As much time as Tate and I had spent apart, I still had to remind myself that there was stuff I may not know about her anymore.

  She looked at me like I had three heads. “Like Avenged Sevenfold?” She held out her arms for me to see the black T-shirt—the Avenged Sevenfold T-shirt— she wore under her little, black cardigan. “M. Shadows is my everything,” she teased.

  “Hey.” I partially scowled and partially smiled, pulling her into me. She let out a raspy laugh.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into my lips, pulling me in.

  “You can thank me more later.”

  Pulling back, she playfully shoved my chest away. “Go. Go to your appointment and make plans for a New York college.”

  I barely had time to roll my eyes before she turned around and walked down the hall.

  “So your grades look good. Not great but enough to get into a good school.” Ms. Varner opened a file folder—my folder—and regurgitated the same conversation she’d no doubt spewed at the other three hundred seniors she’d talked to this month.

  I sat there, arms at ease on the arm rests with one ankle resting on the other knee. The air in the room was thick, but I stayed because the principal would harass the students who made these meetings difficult. I sat, I stayed, and I would get out as easily as possible.

  “What colleges are you considering?” she asked, looking at me with concern.

  “Undecided.” I barely unclenched my teeth for my usual one-word answers.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she studied me for a moment before pulling a packet out of the folder.

  “Are you interested in seeing what the career test said about you?” she asked without even looking at me.

  “No.”

  “It said,” she continued as if I’d said nothing, “that you have strengths in leadership.”

  What the…?

  “Like a coach?” I blurted out.

  Me and sports? Me working in a school for the rest of my life earning shit pay. Yeah, that’d be a whole fucking waste of a life.

  She covered her smile with her hand. “No,” her voice cracked with a laugh. “Like the military or politics.”

  Like West Point, Mr. Brandt’s voice came back to haunt me.

  No, maybe owning my own shop someday or running races, but not driving tanks or flying jets…

  Wait…

  “Yeah, okay.” I shook off the images of me in a cockpit. “I’ll think about it.” I stood up to leave with no intention of thinking about it.

  “Jared,” she called, and I stopped. “The test also says you’re a protector, a nurturer...” she trailed off as my eyes widened.

  What the fuck?

  “You might want to consider careers in health care or youth guidance.” And she looked down, almost embarrassed.

  Youth guidance?

  My face probably looked like someone just told me I was born from wolves. When I looked at her, I saw a crazy lady.

  “Get your test checked,” I grumbled and walked out the door.

  A fucking youth guidance pilot?

  And she makes money at that job?

  My head was all over the place now, and I’d lost the calm from this morning. Usually my brain was like a warehouse. Take one box, open it, deal with it, and put it away before I deal with another box. Now all the goddamn boxes were open at the same time.

  Was it so wrong to just want Tate on the back of my motorcycle forever and not want anything else?

  I marched through the front office and yanked open the door leading out.

  “Jared!” I heard my name yelled—no, bellowed—off to my left and turned to see Madoc stomping towards me.

  My shoulders straightened immediately.

  He looked pissed. His hair looked like he’d been combing his hands through it, and his lips were tight.

  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he accused, and I braced myself for a punch that I was sure was coming for some reason.

  What?

  “What are you talking about?” If the counselor’s office was hot, I was in a frying pan now. I pulled the collar of my black hoodie away from my sweaty neck.

  Holding up his phone next to his face, I grabbed it out of his hands and stared in horror as I watched a video of Tate and me having sex Homecoming night.

  What?

  My heart was jackhammering through my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Jesus.

  Hot air poured in and out of my nose.

  We were in the Beckman’s bedroom, and she was on top, completely fucking naked.

  How the hell?

  Madoc had this video.

  He saw her like that.

  My fists balled up, ready to slam him to the ground.

  But… why would Madoc have this video?

  And then another thought occurred to me.

  “Who else has seen this?” I growled, ready to either throw up or thrown down.

  “Um, everybody,” he spat out sarcastically. “You didn’t send this, then?”

  “Of course I didn’t send this! We didn’t record a sex video. Jesus Christ!” I hollered and vaguely noticed students around us hauling ass outdoors when they should’ve been in class.

  He looked down. “Well it came from your phone.” He spoke softer.

  I closed my eyes. No, no, no…

  “Tate might’ve got this video. Shit.” I started for the stairs, knowing she was on the third floor for French, but Madoc grabbed me by the inside of my elbow.

  “Brother, she’s already gone.” He shook his head, and my stomach plummeted.

  My phone was missing, and someone had sent a video of Tate and me to the whole damn school from my number.

  “Jared!”

  I turned and saw Sam running down the hall, jerking his thumb to the double doors leading outside.

  “Tate’s trashing your car, man!” he shouted, breathless.

  Madoc and I didn’t wait. We charged out the double doors only to see a crowd gathering around my Boss.

  Tate.

  I couldn’t see much, but I saw her swinging and felt the sharp slash at my chest every time the metal weapon in her hands hit my car.

  She was losing it.

  How many times could she be humiliated before she crumbled?

  How many times could she be hurt before the damage was irreparable?

  “Tate, stop it!” I grabbed her from behind before she brought the crowbar back down.

  I had no idea what the damage was, but I didn’t care.

  She twisted away from me, and spun around to face me.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  The end.

  The death in her eyes. The absence of emotion. The surrender of everything good between us that we’d built this past week.

  She believed I’d sent that video to the whole school. She believed I’d wanted her to hurt again.

  “Tate…” I tried to speak but couldn’t.

  She didn’t look angry or sad.

  She’d given up on me.

  And I was so paralyzed by that realization, I barely heard her threat.

  “Stay away from me, or it’ll be more than your car getting busted up next time.”

  She walked away, and the
crowd around me hushed, but I had nothing to say.

  I had no fucking clue how I was going to fix this.

  Youth guidance counselor?

  Yeah, right.

  “Give me your phone,” I ordered Madoc as I made my way through the crowd of hushed whispers and nosy-fuckin’-invasive eyes.

  “Man, just leave her alone for now,” he groaned.

  All these damn people. Their eyes were on me, and there were even some hanging out the school’s windows. Everyone had seen this, and someone had probably shot a video of Tate tearing up my car.

  My car. I groaned. I couldn’t even look at it.

  “Phone. Now.” I held out my hand after we’d gotten some space.

  He plopped it down in my hand.

  “I’m going to look for her.” I started dialing Tate’s number. “You stay here and go talk to the principal. Make sure she doesn’t get in trouble for this.”

  Principal Masters was scared of Madoc’s father, and thank God for that. Mr. Caruthers wasn’t just a lawyer. He was the guy whose cases were studied in law schools.

  His weight kept us out of trouble, and now Tate was going to keep her record clean, too.

  I dug in my pocket for my keys.

  “They’re going to know about the video, Jared. He’ll keep her out of trouble, but he’ll call her dad.”

  Shit.

  “Fuck!” I growled, shutting up everyone around me.

  Girls squealed and others backed away.

  That’s when I noticed I still had an audience, and for the first time in weeks, felt the need to hit shit.

  “All of you,” I bellowed, pointing my finger around me in a circle, “erase that video from your fucking phones! Now! If I see anyone with it, you’re dead! Bitches included.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Madoc ran his hands over his face. “Are you trying to get arrested?”

  Fuck ‘em all.

  “If she shows up, for any reason, get a phone and call me.” And I turned around and climbed into my nearly broken car.

  I drove around for about an hour before I worked up the courage to call her father. He might hear it from the school, but he needed to hear it from me first. I’d been calling and texting Tate non-stop, but it time to face the music.

  Tate’s dad picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello?” he asked, confusion filling his voice. I had Madoc’s phone, and he didn’t know the number.

  “Mr. Brandt? It’s Jared.”

  “Jared?” he blurted out. “What’s wrong?”

  I almost laughed.

  Mr. Brandt and I texted. If I was calling, then he knew something was up.

  “Tate’s fine,” I assured him right away, but it felt like a lie. Physically, she was okay. “But something happened.” I paused and then spitted it out. “It’s probably a good idea for you to come home as soon as possible.”

  That tasted like vinegar, but there was no way around it.

  Tate needed her father right now.

  “What the hell happened?” he barked, and I jerked the phone away from my ear.

  I slowly and timidly, using the most sugar-coated language I possibly could, let him know that Tate and I were having sex, a video was recorded of us at a Homecoming party, and it appeared to be sent to the whole school from my phone that I’d lost.

  Yeah, I was going to be shot.

  The heavy silence coming from the other end of the line had me cringing. I kept telling myself to shut up, because at any moment he’d reach through, grab my neck and squeeze until he killed me.

  “Mr. Brandt?” I squinted my eyes like I was bracing myself for a beat down when he didn’t respond. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

  He was silent for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Maybe to the cemetery.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll try there.”

  “Jared,” he piped up again, calmer than I expected. “Find my child. Get her home safe,” he ground out every angry word. “And don’t leave her side until I get home.”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

  “And then,” he added, “I may never let you near her again.”

  My stomach dropped to my feet, and he hung up.

  Driving into Concord Hill Cemetery was like stepping into a dream on shaky ground. I’d been here a lot of times before but rarely without Tate.

  Her mother was buried there, and it was where I’d realized that she was more than a friend. I’d brought a balloon to her mother’s grave and stolen the fossil necklace that Tate had left her mother from here.

  Even though this place was tied to something painful for Tate, I looked at it with good memories.

  My heart started bouncing around my chest like a tennis ball when I saw her dad’s Bronco parked along the side of the lane near her mom’s grave.

  She was safe.

  I let out a breath and pulled in behind her truck, cutting the engine.

  My boots ground the shattered glass under my feet from Tate smashing my windows as I got out of the car, but I barely noticed.

  My eyes were on her, lying on top of her mom’s grave, forehead down to the ground.

  I tried to put myself in her shoes.

  Did I care that people saw me having sex with someone?

  Yes.

  Did I care that people saw my girlfriend’s body? Not just her naked body but what it was doing to mine?

  Hell fucking yes.

  It made what we were doing dirty.

  My chest ached, and I wanted to rip the town apart to find out who did this.

  “Tate.” I couldn’t do any more than whisper her name as I approached.

  She tensed, but she wouldn’t look at me.

  Goddammit.

  Tate, we are climbing out of this fucking mess one way or another, because no one ruins us.

  “Haven’t you won, Jared? Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

  “Tate, this is all so fucked up. I—”

  She cut me off. “No! No more!” she yelled, spinning around and firing her loaded eyes at me. “Do you hear me? My life here is ruined. No one will let me live this down. You’ve won. Don’t you get it? You. Have. Won! Now leave me alone!”

  I lost my words. I lost my breath. My hands went up to my hair, and I tried to figure out how to get control of this. “Just stop for a minute, okay?” I held out my hands and calmed my voice.

  “I’ve listened to your stories. Your excuses.”

  She got up and started walking back to the road. To her car.

  “I know,” I talked to her back. “My words aren’t good enough. I can’t explain any of this. I don’t know where that video came from!” I shouted when she wouldn’t stop.

  “It came from your phone, asshole!” she shot back, twisting her face slightly back to me. “No, never mind. I’ve stopped talking to you.” And she kept charging ahead.

  She wasn’t staying and talking this out. She was damn pissed and clearly wanted to be away from me.

  “I called your dad!”

  That stopped her in her tracks.

  She mumbled something under her breath, but I couldn’t hear it. I probably didn’t want to hear it, either.

  She was still. She was quiet.

  Move, motherfucker!

  “Tate, I didn’t send that video to anyone.” Hear me, baby. “I didn’t even record a video of us.”

  This is yours and mine, and no one takes it from us.

  She was listening, so I kept going for as long as she let me. “I haven’t seen my phone in two days. I left it upstairs at Tori’s party when we were listening to music. When I remembered later, I went back to get it, but it was gone. Don’t you remember?”

  The chill in the air made the sweat on my brow feel like ice, and I watched the wind blow Tate’s long hair around her back.

  As long as she’s not moving away, it’s a good sign.

  “You’re a liar,” she snarled in a low voice.

  Well, that wasn’t a good sign.<
br />
  Taking a chance, I walked up to her.

  Only just this morning, she’d been laughing as my fingers tickled her sides and then whispering my name as I made love to her.

  She had to feel me. Even if I wasn’t touching her, she had to feel me.

  “I called your dad, because he was going to find out anyway. That goddamn, fucking video is out there, and I wanted him to hear it from me first. He’s coming home.”

  The tension in her shoulders slacked, but her head dropped. Almost like she’d given up.

  “I love you more than myself,” I told her, “more than my own family, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want to take another step in this world without you next to me.”

  And as much as I hated to admit that, it was true.

  I loved my mother and my brother. But if it ever came between the three, I would always pick Tate.

  When she didn’t turn around or say anything, I dropped my hand to her shoulder. “Tate.”

  But she whipped around, flinging my hand off her body. Her eyes were guarded.

  I was still the enemy.

  “You have every right not to trust me, Tate. I know that. My fucking heart is ripping open right now. I can’t stand the way you’re looking at me. I could never hurt you again. Please…let’s try to fix this together.” My voice was cracking, and the lump in my throat got bigger.

  “Fine.” She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. “ I’ll play along.”

  Play?

  “What are you doing?” I asked, narrowing my blurry eyes at her.

  “Calling your mom.” She started pressing buttons on her screen.

  “Why?”

  “Because she installed a GPS tracking app on your Android when she bought it. You said you lost your phone? Let’s find it.”

  “School,” Tate almost whispered as she slipped her phone back in her pocket. “It’s at school.”

  “Son of a bitch.” My mother tracked me? I guess that explained how she found me the night at the fish pond. “She’s smarter than I thought,” I said more to myself.

  So my phone was at school. I left it at the party, so that meant that someone from our school had taken it, and they had it on.

  Well, that was dumb.