Eclipsed: A High School Bully Romance (Del Sol High Book 3)

by McKayla Box

  I start to say something, then realize what's important.

  I look at Mercy. “I was there. I'll explain when we're done with her.”

  Mercy nods, and I'm relieved that I don't see anything but support in her expression.

  “So you were there,” Reese says, gloating. “At least you aren't lying about that.”

  “I was there, but you couldn't be further from the truth about why,” I say. “So you shut your mouth now or I'm going to shut it for you. And you can be sure I'm not lying about that.”

  Reese takes a step back from me.

  At least she believes I'm not lying about punching her in the mouth.

  “What the hell is all this about?” a voice asks from behind me. “Does Reese need more help spelling her own name?”

  I smile because I know that voice.

  Brooke and Dylan come up alongside Mercy.

  “No,” Brooke says. “It looks like she probably just needs some advice on her wardrobe.” She looks down her nose at Reese’s floral romper. “Because...gross.”

  Reese's face goes pink, but she glares at me. “Your little gaggle of bitches here can't save you, and they'll turn on you again as soon as they realize what a liar you are.” She leans closer to me. “Still are.”

  My hand swings before I can stop it. My open palm catches her flush in the side of the face and the sound it makes seems to echo across the parking lot.

  She recoils and her own hands fly to her face.

  My palm stings from the contact.

  Her shoulders are bunched up and she's covering her face. Bree and Fallon are frozen in place.

  Dylan laughs. “About fucking time someone did that.”

  Reese slowly pulls her hands away from her cheek. There is a bright red mark on the side of her face that is roughly the size of my hand. She looks at her own hands like she's expecting to see blood or something.

  Then she looks at me. “That's assault. You just assaulted me.” Her voice is a high-pitched shriek. She looks at Fallon and Bree. “You saw that.”

  They both hesitate, then nod.

  “I didn't see shit,” Dylan says.

  “Me neither,” Brooke says.

  “All I saw was you hassling Nola,” Mercy says.

  I have never loved them more than I do right now.

  “Your word against ours,” Mercy says. She holds up her phone. “And I have it recorded. So good luck.”

  Reese glares at her then me, her eyes filled with hate. “You're not gonna get away with this. Just like you aren't going to get away with trying to use Archer to get Heath.”

  “Do you have a concussion?” Dylan asks. “Because you aren't making any fucking sense.”

  “Oh, I will,” she snarls. “Just you wait.”

  “I'm telling you, Reese,” I say. “You are so fucking wrong here. You don't know what you're talking about. And you better stay out of it.”

  “Fuck off,” she says, then looks at her friends. “Let's go.”

  The three of them go shuffling off, their heads close together, whispering and throwing hateful looks back at us.

  I take a deep breath. “Thanks. For backing me up.” I look at Mercy. “Did you really record all that?”

  “No,” she says bluntly, a wide grin spreading over her face.

  “Are you kidding me?” Dylan asks. “That's the best thing I've seen all year.”

  “Seriously,” Brooke says.

  I haven't spoken to either of them since the Winter Ball and it's weird to be standing with them. I'm surprised that they took up for me as quickly as they did.

  “I told them we talked,” Mercy says, reading my confusion. “I told them we're cool again.”

  “We're not cool,” I say.

  All three of them look confused.

  “I owe you two the same apology I gave Mercy,” I tell them. “I owe that to you.”

  “You don't owe us anything,” Brooke says. “Mercy says you guys are good. If you're good, then we're good.”

  Dylan nods in agreement.

  “No,” I say shaking my head. “You deserve to hear the truth from me. Not an excuse. Just the truth.”

  “Well, we haven't exactly been asking you for it,” Dylan says. “We were just as happy to keep our distance. That isn't our fault. That's ours.”

  “Whatever,” I say. “I just know that I owe you the truth.”

  Dylan throws an arm around my shoulders. “We'll have plenty of time for that. After we tell the entire school how you bitch-slapped the biggest bitch at Del Sol.”

  Chapter 33

  I spend most of the morning trying to make a decision.

  When I finally do, I pull my phone from my bag, lay it beneath my math book that I'm supposed to be working on and scroll through my texts to find the name I want. I hesitate, then type out the message.

  Can we have lunch?

  I have to wait almost three minutes for a response.

  Why?

  Because I want to talk.

  About?

  Things.

  What things?

  I don't wanna do this in text.

  Okay.

  Okay what? Lunch?

  Yeah.

  Where?

  Choose.

  Can you use more than one word?

  Yes.

  Funny. Football field. Bleachers.

  What are we eating there?

  I'll figure it out. Just be there. Please.

  Okay.

  I put my phone away and try to focus on the math I've been avoiding since the start of the class.

  But I can't.

  Because now I have to worry about lunch.

  Chapter 34

  Archer is already in the bleachers when I get there.

  He's stretched out on his back, lying along one of the benches, his hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the sky. A few months ago, I would've bounded up the stairs and straddled him, teasing him with what he might be in store for later.

  But now, all I do is hold up a bag. “I brought food.”

  He turns in my direction, but doesn't sit up. “Great.”

  I climb the metal stairs and sit down on the bench above him. I hand him the bag. “I had it delivered.”

  He takes the bag and finally sits up. He opens it and looks inside. “There's just one.”

  “Yeah. For you.”

  “You're not eating?”

  “Not hungry.”

  He frowns. “Then I wouldn't call this lunch. What the fuck are we doing here, anyway?”

  So much for small talk.

  “Did you forgive your parents?” I ask.

  He frowns at me. “What?”

  “Did you forgive your parents?” I repeat. “For lying to you?”

  “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “I'm just asking a question,” I say.

  “Maybe you should go ask Heath.”

  It's like a kick to the shins and I look away for a few seconds. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “About what?” he says. “I'm just making a suggestion.”

  “Don't be an asshole,” I say, looking back at him. “And if you're letting Reese get in your head, then you're dumber than I ever thought.”

  “If you're going over to Heath's house, then you're sluttier than I ever thought.”

  So she's already gotten to him and planted the seed.

  I should've hit her harder.

  “What did she tell you?” I ask.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it fucking matters,” I say. “It really fucking matters. Because she's just trying to make sure you stay angry with me by lying to you, and you're falling for it.”

  “So you weren't at his house?” he asks.

  “It's not what you think.”

  He smirks. “You don't know what I think.”

  I shake my head. This is turning out to be a bad idea. I want to talk to him because I think he's the only one that really understand
s what I'm going through. He talked to me about it at the beach, and I want to know what he thinks. I'm so confused about everything and I thought he would be the one person who would really understand where I'm at with everything that has happened.

  But I apparently overestimated him.

  “Do you really fucking think I have any feelings for Heath?” I ask. “Do you really think that? No matter what she told you. And you know how full of shit she is and what she thinks of me. So are you honestly telling me that you believe her over me when it comes to something like this?”

  He doesn't say anything.

  “You can't honestly believe that everything with you was some grand plan to make Heath jealous,” she says. “It's ludicrous. It's insane. There's no possible way you really think that. Please tell me I'm right. No matter what you think about me, please tell me I'm right about that.”

  He doesn't say anything.

  And I laugh. Because it's all so ridiculous.

  “So, let me get this straight,” I say, still laughing. “You think that I left your party with Heath back at the start of the year and then lied to you about what he did to me in that car. And that I just somehow knew you'd be along to pick me up and take me home. And then for months, I pretended to be in love with you, while still pining for...him. And, now, after we've broken up and everything is fucked up, you think the thing I care most about is getting together with...Heath fucking Rogers?”

  He sets the bag down and leans back on his hands. “No. Not really.”

  “Not really? What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means I don't know shit about anything anymore,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “It means I don't understand anything. Do I really think you like him or that you put some bullshit scheme together to get with him? No.” He pauses. “But you haven't denied you were at his house yesterday and you haven't explained why.”

  “I haven't denied it because I was there,” I say. “Let me guess. Reese told you she saw us fucking or something, right?”

  “Stop.”

  “Did he have me bent over a table?” I say. “Or was I riding him on his couch?”

  “Stop.”

  “Oh, no. Wait,” I say. “I think yesterday was when he was doing me on the hood of his car.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Seriously. Stop.”

  “Then you stop thinking like an asshole,” I say. “You fucking know better, and it's insulting that you're acting like you don't.”

  He stands up. “And yet you still won't tell me why you were there?”

  “Why do you care anyway?” I ask. “We're done. We're over. So what does it matter why I was there?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  I stand up, too. “This was a mistake. I'm going. Enjoy your fucking sandwich.”

  I stomp down the bleachers, my feet banging against the metal stairs.

  “So you're just leaving now?” he yells.

  “Yep.”

  “And you still haven't said why you were at his house,” he says. “Guess that tells me what I need to know.”

  I reach the bottom of the stairs and whirl around. “You dumb, fucking asshole. I wanted to have lunch with you because I needed your help. With figuring shit out with my parents. You were the one who I thought I could talk to because you would understand this. But, instead, I get this bullshit. So fuck you. I don't need any of this.” I start to leave, but then stop. “And you wanna know why I haven't told you why I was at his house?”

  He stands there, looking down at me, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Because I shouldn't fucking have to,” I finally say. “So fuck off, Archer. Just fuck off.”

  This time, I do turn and walk away.

  Because I can't stand the sight of him any longer.

  Chapter 35

  Mercy drops me off after school and there's a car in the driveway that I don't recognize.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Mercy asks.

  I haven’t told her about my conversation with Archer, and I haven’t told her about Jay Rogers being my father. Part of me wants to stay in the car and just spill everything, but I don’t have the mental energy for it.

  “I’m good,” I tell her. “Just need to work through some stuff on my own,”

  She nods. “I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thank you.” I smile. “That means more than you know.”

  She glances at the car in the driveway. “Your grandparents get you another new car or something?”

  I smile. “Doubtful.”

  I assume it belongs to a friend of my grandparents, maybe someone from the club, or something like that.

  “See you tomorrow,” I tell Mercy, and watch as she drives off.

  I paste a smile on my face as I walk through the door, prepared to engage in some brief small talk with some of my grandparents’ friends.

  But when I walk into the house, I stop dead in my tracks.

  Because Jay Rogers is sitting on the sofa, across from them.

  I can't turn fast enough to leave before they see me.

  “Nola,” my grandmother says. “You're home.”

  Both my grandfather and Jay stand.

  “Hey, sweetie,” my grandfather says.

  “Hi, Nola,” Jay says, holding up a hand.

  “Hi,” I say, frozen in place.

  There are coffee mugs on the table between the couches, and it looks like they've been there for a while.

  “Jay came over to...talk,” my grandmother says. “Maybe you should come have a seat with us.”

  I don't feel like I can say no. I set my backpack on the kitchen chair and walk toward the living room, moving as slow as if I’m wading through wet cement. I hesitate when I get there and my grandmother moves over so I can take her place next to my grandfather. She goes to the sofa that Jay is on. I tentatively sit and the rest of them follow.

  “Jay called me earlier today,” she explains. “He asked if he could come over and I told him I thought that might be a good idea. For all of us.”

  My grandfather puts his hand on my shoulder. “But if you're uncomfortable with this, we don't have to do it right now.”

  “I'm happy to leave if this is making you at all uncomfortable, Nola,” Jay says.

  “No,” I say. “It's okay. I'm just...surprised.”

  “Surprised is probably a very appropriate word in a lot of ways right now,” my grandmother says.

  We all sit there quietly for a moment before Jay clears his throat.

  “I called your grandmother today and I wasn't sure that was the right thing to do,” he says. “I didn't want to betray your confidence after our conversation yesterday. But I wasn't sure what else to do. I don't want to force any contact or conversations on you that you don't want. And I want you to be able to tell me if I'm overstepping my bounds.” He pauses. “From what you're grandparents have told me, you are very capable of making your own decisions, and I think it's best if you sort of point me in the direction you want me to head in.”

  “Okay,” I say, unsure of what he really means.

  “I wanted to make clear a couple of things, though,” he says. “I truly had no idea about your mother. If I had, you wouldn't have found out about me yesterday. I promise you that.”

  “I know,” I tell him. “I talked to her last night. She told me you didn't know.”

  “I just didn't want you thinking that I'd walked away or anything like that,” he says. He looks at both of my grandparents. “I wanted the both of you to be clear on that, as well.”

  They both nod, but don't say anything.

  “And I guess I just wanted to say...” He pauses and rubs at his chin. “I just wanted to say that I will take whatever place in your life you want me to have. If you don't want me to be in it, I'll accept that. But if you do want me in it, in any capacity, I'm here and ready for that. I had a long conversation with my wife last night and she understands. She was incredibly gracious about
the entire thing. So there's no obstacle there.” He looks at me. “I know that you're in good hands here with your grandparents, but I'm willing to take a role in your life if you want me to have one.” He pauses again. “And just so you know where I stand, I would very much like the opportunity to have some role. Whatever you choose for it to be. But I don't want you to think I don't care. I want to make that plain to you. I would like to be part of your life going forward. And if you choose for that not to happen, I assure you, I'll respect that.” He smiles at me. “I'll be disappointed, but I will respect that.”

  I'm caught off-guard by everything he's saying. It's the exact opposite of what I'm used to from my mother. So I'm not sure what to say.

  “You obviously don’t have to decide today,” he says. “I don't mean that at all. But I didn't want it to linger or have you wondering how I felt about it. I hope that knowing where I stand might help you get things clear for yourself. I'm not here to pressure you. But as I told your grandparents, I just didn't want you wondering about me. I'll be around when and if you need me to be around.”

  “Thank you,” I manage. “I...this is all still pretty new. I'm not sure what I want. I think I just need some time.”

  He nods. “Absolutely. I just wanted you to know how I felt. And I did tell my wife because I felt I owed her that and because I needed to talk to her about it.” He pauses. “But I didn't tell Heath. I'm not sure if the two of you are friends or what your relationship is, but I didn't think it was my place to tell him yet until you decide...where we stand.”

  I'm really confused by the fact that this very nice man could've had a son like Heath. They seem like polar opposites.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Yeah, I haven’t said anything to anyone. I didn't know how you felt, so I didn't want to make anything weird for you.”

  He smiles and nods again. “I appreciate that. But you don't have to worry about me. I will follow your lead.” He pauses. “You know, it's very odd. After your mother just stopped talking to me, my confidence was sort of broken. I met my wife shortly thereafter and the strange part is that...she and I made the same mistake your mother and I did. We were careless and she got pregnant. The good thing was we loved each other and we committed to one another. It wasn't perfect, but we got through it and we managed to get through college. Our parents were supportive and helped, and we navigated everything. But we had Heath and I think both of us thought we were lucky to get through that experience the way we did and so we focused on him and never really considered having a second child.” He pauses. “If your mother hadn't cut me off or had told me about you, I'm not sure what would've happened. But I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have met my wife or had my son.” He smiles. “I was up all night thinking about that, and now I feel like it's sort of a blessing. Because I still have my son. And maybe I'll have a relationship with a daughter, too.”