Bad Kind of Love

by Remi Rose

  “I can’t believe you just ran into Wes.” Josie leers down at me completely mortified. Stopping at her locker, I wait for her to open it.

  “Wes?” I question, taking matters into my own hands and opening her locker myself, while she continues to stare at me like I have two heads.

  “Yah, Wes. The new guy. Super-hot, soon to be extremely popular and our new quarterback.” She goes on as I find a pink top shoved at the bottom of her swim bag.

  “None of that crap means anything to me. He looks like every other jock in this school.” I lie. Looks wise, he was way above the guys at Westwood, but I would never in a million years admit that out loud.

  Closing her locker, we walk down the hall to the girl’s bathroom. Locking myself into a stall, I peel the damp shirt off my body and toss it into my bag.

  “I’m guessing you don’t know who Wes’s dad is then, right?” Josie announces from behind the stall door. Confused by her question, I start to pull my arms through the thin material of the shirt.

  “No. Should I?”

  “Well, you met him this morning.” She chuckles as I halt my movements.

  Was she talking about Mr. Fitzgerald? Surely, she couldn’t be.

  “Now we know where he gets his good looks from.” She sighs dreamily.

  Huh.

  Interesting.

  Mr. Fitzgerald had a son. And they couldn’t look any more different than each other. A golden boy with charming and godly features who had the devil for a father.

  Ok, maybe not the devil. But in my head, that’s what he would look like. Alluring and sinful.

  Once I’m fully dressed, I step out of the stall and notice Josie checking herself out in the mirror. Her long auburn hair stuck straight down her back, almost appearing a copper color in the right light. A baby blue dress fell just above her knees, flowing out at the bottom, while the top stuck to her chest. A pair of black rimmed glasses were perched above her small nose as she scanned her body head to toe in front of the mirror. By the scowl across her face, I could tell she didn’t like what she saw.

  Join the club.

  “You look fine.” I reassure her because she did. She was beautiful even if she didn’t believe it herself.

  “Thanks.” She grinned before turning to face me. “Pink looks good on you.” She teases, knowing pink is my least favorite color.

  “Yah, whatever. I should’ve taken up the golden boy’s offer.” I peer down at the bright pink fabric. So much for staying invisible.

  “Yah?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I know what you’re thinking. Just, no.”

  “What?” She raises her hands up in defense, grinning ear to ear. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

  “Sure you weren’t.” I grumble. “When was the last time I had a boyfriend or even spoke to you about a guy in that way?”

  Her eyebrows come together as if she’s trying to think of an answer. “Never.” She finally comes up with.

  “Exactly.”

  ******

  The rest of the day went smoothly, no run-ins with Wes or bitchy cheerleaders for that matter. After the final bell rang, I shot out of my chair, eager to get out of here. Following the crowd of students out of the classroom and into the hall, I made a beeline for the front doors. Once I stepped foot outside Westwood, I felt as though I could breathe again. Everything about school made me tense, even the atmosphere felt different from inside the building to outside. It's as though someone flicks a switch the minute you set foot inside the school, and your state of mind immediately turns to shit.

  The sound of laughter soon catches my attention. It’s a loud obnoxious kind of laugh that makes you want to bang your head against something, and I have a strong feeling I know who it is. With the football field off to the right of the school, I notice Vicky and some other cheerleaders desperately trying to get the attention of one of the football players. Giggling and waving their manicured hands, they finally peak his curiosity as he jogs over to them. Watching closely, he peels the helmet off his head revealing sandy hair and aqua eyes that will forever be seared in my head. Scoffing, I knew he’d be like every other jock at this school. Entitled, arrogant and most of all privileged.

  I watch as Vicky lays on the charm, twirling a strand of her dark curls while squeezing lightly onto his arm. This was her type of game, and she knew how to play it well. Giving her the same dreamy smile he just gave me hours ago, I can sense him succumbing to her allure. Rolling my eyes, I continue to stare until Wes lifts his gaze from Vicky. As if he could feel someone watching him, his eyes capture mine.

  Shit!

  Scrambling off the school sidewalk, I haul ass through the parking lot to my car.

  I was caught.

  I was caught red handed gawking at their little exchange and I could feel my heart racing like a V8 engine.

  Reaching into my bag for my car keys, I wrap my finger around the brass material and quickly unlock the door. The minute I fall into the seat, I slam the door closed and rest my head onto the sweltering steering wheel.

  Get your shit together, Becca.

  You don’t have time for distractions… And men are the absolute worst kind. Go to school, graduate and leave this place in the dust.

  Stick to the plan.

  I mentally repeat the words in my head like a prayer. When my heart began to beat at a normal pace again, I finally put the car into gear and leave this crappy first day of school behind me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Becca

  I was stuck working on the busiest Saturday of the year. The last day of summer, and the hottest day on record in decades. While most teens were at the beach or living it up in the sun, I was stuck here. And to make matters worse my prick of a boss was working too, breathing down my neck because apparently my scoops were “too big”.

  We were bombarded by customers left and right. By eight o’ clock, the crowds died down and we were officially almost out of ice cream. My feet were killing me and I was drenched in sweat.

  How does that even happen in an ice cream shop?

  Scrubbing down the ice cream and sprinkled covered counters, I hear the dreaded sound of the bell go off from the door opening and along with it, laughter.

  “Hey guys! Welcome to Cool Times.” Jerry announced a little too eagerly behind the register. A few seconds pass and I feel a pair of searing eyes burning through my head. Lifting my gaze, I notice it’s Jerry, glowering at me with a sour look across his face. Motioning his head toward the front door, I let out a huff and peer over at the customers.

  “Welcome to…” I start to pronounce when my eyes land on familiar faces.

  Fuck.

  “Becca?” Vicky’s amused voice rings in my ear like a bad song. Eyeing me up and down, she lingers on the ice cream cone hat with a grin across her pink stained lips. What really sends my heart into a frantic mess is the group of people surrounding her.

  But a familiar face with aqua eyes stands out from the rest of them.

  Wes.

  Fidgeting under his intense stare, I feel a flush creep across my cheeks. Unlike the rest of them, he wasn’t smiling or giggling. If anything, he looked pissed.

  As Jerry takes their order, one after the other, I set their ice cream on the counter, avoiding their entertained stares.

  “Nice hat.” Vicky mumbles as she grabs her sundae. Next to her, Wes frowns peering up at me apologetically. Ignoring her completely, I’m seconds away from squirting chocolate sauce down her satin top when Jerry interrupts my thoughts.

  “Becca?” He shouts annoyed. Wincing, I slowly turn around. “See that sticky ass mess over there?” Pointing to a table near the back, there’s a puddle of pink ice cream melted all over the floor.

  Nodding, I already know what he has up his sleeve.

  “Well?” He shakes his head. “It’s not gonna clean itself.”

  I inwardly groan, as the vein in my arm twitches with anger. One of these
days I was going to snap, but right now I needed the money. As much as I wanted to snap back, I held it in.

  Heading into the back, I grab the mop bucket and wheel it out until my eyes wander over to the spot I have to clean. Directly across from it, Vicky and her crew are all sitting.

  “Problem?” Jerry interjects, moving his gaze from me and the table full of my peers.

  “No. Not at all.” I squeeze the mop handle a little too rough, to the point that it stings.

  “Good.” He grins before peering back down at the register.

  Taking in a much-needed breath before I make my way to my own social demise, I start wheeling the bucket. With my chin down, and bangs hanging low, I saunter past their table without a hitch.

  No rude remarks or laughter.

  Strange.

  Once I make it to the sticky mess, I pull out the mop and start wiping the checkered floor left and right. With my back facing them, I continue the back-and-forth motions of the mop till I see a pair of rhinestone sandals enter my line of vision.

  Lifting my eyes, I catch Vicky staring down at me with a devious gleam. Before I know it, she was dumping over the last of her melted down sundae, splashing it all across the freshly cleaned floor and onto the tops of my chucks.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Oops.” She tilts her head while shrugging her shoulders innocently. But she was anything but.

  Hearing a burst of laughter from behind her, I’m seconds away from attacking when a loud voice breaks in.

  “Vicky, what the fuck?” Wes jumps in, appearing irate as he takes in the scene before him.

  Still frozen in anger, I can't seem to ignore the need to roam my eyes over his large frame. Dressed in a dirt-stained shirt and athletic shorts, he looks like he just got done playing a game of football. His hair was disheveled and the small cut above his lip made me think it was a rough one at that.

  “What?” She chuckles, taking a step closer to him. “It’s not like this place is clean anyway?”

  Leering down at her as if he’s about to rip into her, I quickly jump in.

  “You’re right.” I add. “Once your skank ass leaves, it’ll look immaculate.”

  Her mouth instantly drops, stunned by my confession while Wes observes me with a look of admiration. I wasn’t one to lash out, but Vicky Thompson was seriously asking for it.

  “Damn V…” A deep voice adds from behind Vicky. Peering over her shoulder, I notice it’s Nate, another football player, who’s holding back laughter.

  “Shut up, Nate.” Vicky growls before turning her attention on me.

  “You better watch yourself, O’Connor.” And with that, she turns around and tosses her cup onto the floor, purposely missing the trash. Everyone trails behind her out the door except Wes, who’s still standing at my side.

  “I’m sorry about that. That was shitty of her to do.” He apologizes, running a hand through his messy hair. Going back to mopping, I shrug my shoulder.

  “Not your fault she’s a bitch.” I grumble. Feeling him watch me closely sends my heart into a nervous rhythm.

  “Well, apparently I suck at choosing the right friends.” He chuckles. When I don’t return the laughter, he immediately stops and coughs into his hand.

  “You seem to be doing okay. Two weeks in and you're already friends with the It crowd.” I continue mopping with my head down, not risking the chance to look up and get caught in his captivating blues.

  “I don’t care about any of that shit. They asked if I wanted to hang out and I said okay.” He drops his shoulders. “Beats sitting at home.”

  “With Mr. Fitz?” I snorted. I wouldn’t blame him. Being stuck in a house with his brooding dad didn’t sound like the best way to spend a Saturday night. He probably teleported back to hell or was planning ways to be even more of an asshole teacher for when Monday came along.

  “You know my dad?” He questions. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him sit up a little straighter.

  “Yah, he’s my English teacher.” I grunt, lifting the mop and dropping it back into the bucket of soapy water. “Hate to break it to you, but he’s kind of a jerk.”

  With my hands still wrapped around the handle, I peek up under my lashes to see a slight grin across his lips. “I haven’t noticed.” He jokes. “He’s complicated to say the least. Always has been.” His eyes seem distant as he stares out the window before turning his attention back to me. “What? You don’t have an emotionless dad who says fewer than three words to you at a time?” He smiles sarcastically.

  “My dad’s stuck in the slammer, so sadly, I know all about that.”

  His smile drops and so does the vibe in the room. “Shit.” He stammers shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

  “It’s fine. He’s been there for a while now.” I awkwardly shuffle my feet. “And stop apologizing. I don’t need your pity. As you can see, I’m doing just fine.” I motion my arms around the building. “Plus, it makes you look soft.”

  Before he has a chance to respond, I’m wheeling the mop away satisfied with my statement.

  “Soft?” He half laughs half shouts, his voice laced with confusion. Coming to an abrupt stop, I contemplate if I want to continue our conversation.

  He was a distraction and by the way I skidded my feet across the floor to acknowledge him, he was hard to ignore.

  “You’re too nice.” I force out before I can even process it in my head. “The world is a shitty place filled with shitty people. The perfect recipe to get fucked over.” Looking over my shoulder, I make sure I have his eyes on me. “Being nice is a waste of time.”

  “Pessimistic much?” He throws out there, holding my gaze in a standoff.

  “More like a realist.” My gaze drifts from his, to the group of bystanders watching our interaction closely. “You better get going.” I nod my head towards Vicky and her friends. “Staying here talking with me much longer will surely drop your social status a few notches.” I start to move again when I hear the sound of footsteps coming up on me fast.

  “You know, everyone’s been nice as shit to me, welcoming me to Westwood, offering to show me around the school, sit with them at lunch, everyone but you. You try to avoid me at all costs.” He stops in front of the mop bucket, blocking me from moving any further. Shocked, I stare at him in disbelief and bewilderment. “Why?”

  Was he really asking me this right now? While I’m at work, wearing an ice cream cone on my head. How could he even take me seriously with this thing on?

  Like perfect clockwork, Jerry called my name, snapping me back to reality. Wes never wavered his eyes off mine, like he was trying to find the answer in their depths.

  “Look.” I whisper low enough to where Jerry wouldn’t hear. “I’m a nobody, and want to keep it that way. If I were you, I’d avoid me too.” And with that, I wheel around him, centimeters away from brushing our shoulders together. His fresh smell wafted through the air and hit my nostrils, dissipating the moment I scurried past him.

  As I was about to enter the back room, Jerry shot his foot out in front of the rolling bucket, stopping the wheels altogether. “Work isn’t the place to socialize. Do that on your own time.”

  With my head down, I can sense that Wes is still here and heard every word that Jerry spat. A rush of rage and embarrassment coursed through me as I stared down at Jerry’s ugly brown boots that were bouncing up and down waiting for my affirmation.

  “Hey, are you the person in charge here?” Wes announces, catching me completely off guard. Twisting around, I find him leaning against the counter leering at Jerry.

  What the hell is he doing?

  “That would be me. Who’s asking?” Jerry stands a little taller while staring back at Wes like he’s trying to size him up.

  “Yah, hi I’m Wes.” He shoots his hand out for him to shake. Jerry glances down at it and hesitantly grabs it.

  “What can I do for you, Wes?”

  “I was just seeing if you guys were hir
ing? I just moved here from Cali and could really use the extra cash.”

  What the hell?

  No way was I going to work with Golden boy.

  No fucking way.

  “Jerry...” I interrupt, but am completely cut off when he raises his hand in the air to shush me.

  “Have you ever worked at an ice cream shop?”

  I didn’t like where this was headed. Not one bit.

  Giving him a megawatt smile, he answers. “No sir, I haven’t. But I have worked in construction, so I’m not afraid to get dirty.”

  Gulping, I had a feeling he wasn’t lying.

  “Don’t you have football?” I quickly add causing both their heads to turn in my direction. “Can’t let the team down by having a job. Right, QB?”

  Tugging on his lower lip, he slightly drops his head, suppressing a laugh. “You’re right. But I have my weekends off.”

  As I stand with the mop handle still in my hold, I wait for what seems like hours for Jerry to say something.

  “You know. We could use the help on the weekends. Why don’t you come in next Saturday? Becca will train you.”

  My mouth drops low as I gape at the both of them.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “Awesome, thank you. I’ll be there” Wes grins, directing his attention on me. “See you at school.” Tossing me a wink, he says goodbye to Jerry and stalks out of the building with a confident stride in his step.

  Still trying to process what the fuck just happened, Jerry spins around, giving me his signature dickhead leer. “I don’t pay you to stand around all day.”

  You barely pay me at all.

  I wanted to say, but refrained.

  After wheeling the mop back, Jerry left soon after, leaving me to clean up and close everything down.

  Typical.

  After shutting off the light, I double checked everything before locking the doors and walking to my car. The short walk was always eerily quiet at night, with nothing but a lamppost to light my way, I picked up my pace. Sliding into the car seat, I pull out my phone and send Josie a text.