Deceitfully Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  “That’s a foul!” I shout, pushing up to my feet and dusting myself off.

  “This is street ball, Moneybags. There are no rules,” Diddy grins with either something yellow stuck in his teeth or never having owned a toothbrush. Shrugging, I now understand anything goes, so they’d better watch out.

  ∞∞∞

  My heel connects with a shin at the same time as I swing my elbow into his cheek, allowing me to pluck the ball from his fingers and score my fourth basket. I can taste the blood from my split lip and will have a few bruises on my torso tomorrow, but I feel so much better. Our match has turned into a brawl which doesn’t seem to have any limits, judging by the knee that almost caught me between the legs. Snatching the ball, I run around the court ducking out the way of punches. A crowd has gathered on the other side of the fence cheering for their homeboys, even though they are clearly losing.

  There’s only two oafs and Diddy left, the rest are sitting alongside the court nursing split heads or possible broken ribs. Looking down at the ball gripped in my hands, my knuckles are swollen with splatters of blood decorating them, none of which are mine and I briefly consider needing a shot. Who knows what I might contract from a bunch of gutter rats that smell like they haven’t seen a shower before? Although, I’m starting to smell quite ripe myself, sweat pouring down my face and stinging my busted lip.

  Diddy runs at me, his eyes blazing with a rage I understand all too well, but I spin and kick out his legs from beneath him anyway. A mountain of a man, who I reckon is deceivingly younger than he looks, tries to block my way. His movements are sluggish so a simple fake left is enough to fool him without the need for violence. Nearing the basket, I leap into the air for a slam dunk when the last player still in the game ploughs into me. The ball leaves my fingertips as his heavy weight throws me into the metal pole holding the hoop. My back makes an unnerving crack, his forehead slamming into the pole and knocking him clean out. The ball made it to the basket, my eyes tracking it spinning around the hoop. Looking like it’s about to fall the wrong way, I shove my shoulder against the pole causing a judder that sees it slipping inside. Boos and jeers fill the air, but nothing can wipe the smile off my face for now, pushing sleeping beauty from my legs so I can stand. Diddy approaches me for a customary handshake, even in the slums.

  “Good game,” I snigger, clasping his hand. There’s a hint of mirth in his eyes, his lips lifting at one corner. He hands me the game ball begrudgingly as would happen in a real playoff, not that I’ll be keeping it.

  “Yeah man, that was something alright. Come for a rematch one day, we won’t hold back next time.” I laugh as a loud whistle distracts me. Garrett is glaring at me through the dissipating crowd, his jaw clenched and hazel eyes furious. Axel is by his side, stroking his fingers along Garrett’s inner arm to keep him calm. Telling him I’ll be right out with a sigh, Diddy quickly snatches the ball roughly from my grip. A scowl of disgust contorts his features as he takes a step back like I’m suddenly contagious.

  “Actually, don’t come back here. We don’t play with their kind.” He gestures towards Garrett and Axel with his chin, his whole team practically snarling at them.

  “Oh, I’m not-” the words die on my tongue, wondering why I care what this parasite thinks of me. My breathing grows heavy and my fingers curl into my palm, ready to show this asshole just want I think of his small-minded opinions. Garrett has the same reaction, his voice booming through the fence.

  “What’s that, small fry?” Straightening his shoulders, he makes a move to enter the court, but Axel stops him. After a few tense moments, Garrett allows himself to be pushed back a step. The crack of a whip echoes through my mind, the guy I knew having completely morphed into a pussy. The old Garrett never backed down from a fight, or cared about anyone else for that matter. “Get in the fucking car,” he growls, spinning on his heel to stalk away. Axel reaches for him but he sidesteps, keeping his fists clenched by his sides.

  “Hey,” Diddy captures my attention again, resting a hand on my shoulder that I immediately shrug off. “You seem like a stand-up guy so let me offer you some advice. There’s two kinds of people in this world, those who add to society and those who mock it. You’re either with ‘em or against ‘em, what’s it gonna be?” My mind registers this pinhead is trapped within the limitations of his tiny mind, but his words sink in on a personal level. Never mind Garrett and Axel, It’s clear to anyone with eyes that I’m in neither of those categories, so what the fuck does that mean for me?

  Axel

  “I’m out,” I say, handing my remaining stack of coloured paper money over to a smug Meg. I’m the second one to have been made bankrupt by her red, plastic hotels filling the top and right edges of the Monopoly board. If Lacrosse doesn’t lead to a career for her, Meg could definitely climb the ranks in real estate or find herself in a corner office with a city view on Wolf Street.

  Trying to catch Garrett’s eye, he continues to ignore me, as he has since leaving town. The entire journey back, he blasted his music so we didn’t have to talk about what had happened. In my head, there’s no issue. I don’t give a shit what people say or think about me, it can’t be worse than what I already think about myself.

  Rising from my position on the hard floor to stretch my long legs, I leave Meg, Avery and Garrett playing in the living room while I head into the kitchen. Pulling a carton of juice from the fridge, I lean against the counter to watch Huxley push food around his plate with a fork at the dining table. I’m eager to comfort him, but I honestly don’t know how to since he’s been so easy to fly off the handle lately. Lifting his chocolate brown eyes and noticing me watching, Hux grumbles as he stands. The chair screeches in protest as he pushes it back and abruptly exits the room, leaving me to clear up after him.

  Once I’ve disposed of his cold, untouched pasta and washed the plate, I leave it to dry and head upstairs myself. Stretching across the mattress in the room Garrett claimed for us, I unplug my phone from its charger and unlock the screen. There’s not much I can do without any internet, but my old-school Tetris app still works. Losing myself in the game, I don’t realise how long I play for until I hear the sounds of multiple bedroom doors in the house closing for the night.

  Rolling from the bed, I decide to head for a shower since I’m not tired yet and I’d wait for Garrett to return anyway. The ensuite is almost as big as the bedroom, which makes sharing it much easier. There’s an overly large tub in the centre of the space, facing towards the huge glass plane that is the far wall. The sea stretches across the horizon, thousands of glimmering stars covering the midnight blanket above. Being this far from the busy city life I’m used to gives me a break from glaring artificial lights and noisy crowds. A part of me would gladly stay here for good, no stress or pressures, no college work.

  Even my nightmares have eased since arriving here, although I’m not sure if it has so much to do with the surroundings as it does with the man that’s been sharing my bed permanently for the past few weeks. I’m trying to guard my heart, knowing Garrett isn’t one for commitment and there’s a very real chance I’ll wake up one day and he’ll be gone. But the way he looks at me sometimes steals the breath from my lungs. He knows me better than anyone else. What I need and what I want at all the right times.

  After brushing my teeth in the sink, I switch on the shower and strip out of the knee-length shorts and polo top I wore for a beach stroll earlier. Entering the cubicle and closing the glass door behind me, I relish the cool spray of water raining down upon my shaved head. Taking the sea mineral body wash from the plastic shelf attached to the tiled wall, I squeeze the blue liquid down the centre of my chest before rubbing it across my body. Spreading the lather to the back of my neck, I try to conjure happy images in my mind before the impending horrors awaiting me in my dreams.

  Every scenario I can imagine, from a basketball game to luscious green parks or five-star restaurants, Garrett is in each one with me. With his wide smile and adorab
le dimples, brown hair that doesn’t have a favoured side to rest on, and the light hazel hue to his irises. But more than his looks, Garrett’s humour brightens my days and his easy acceptance of my troubles make me feel comfortable to be with him. He doesn’t judge or care about pasts; Garrett accepts everyone for who they are without a second thought.

  Stepping out of the shower, I turn the dial to switch off the water. Pulling the top brown towel from the folded pile on a nearby shelf, I rub the rough material over my head and head to the mirror hanging on the far wall. The only part of me that could be deemed as slightly interesting would be my eyes, and I would change them in a heartbeat if I could. They are the sole reason I still hate to look at my refection as I always see that weak, 14-year old boy staring back.

  Turning away when I can’t bare to look at myself any longer, I pad back to the fluffy circular mat that sits beside the bathtub. After drying off the rest of my body, I secure the towel around my waist and exit the room. Garrett is waiting for me in our room, shifting nervously on the other side of the bed separating us. Clothes are laid out on the covers, which he gestures to before scratching a hand into his floppy brown hair.

  “Don’t over think this. I hate labels. Just get dressed and meet me on the porch,” he says bluntly, shifting towards the foot of the bed to meet me halfway. Joining him in the middle of the room, I look around curiously.

  “Is this a da-” Garrett’s hand covers my mouth to stop me from talking.

  “What did I just say?” He steps forward to stare into my eyes, with a dangerous edge to his hazel ones. He seems strangely on edge; his body language is rigid and breathing slightly laboured. Stepping back and lowering his hand, he holds up his palm with all fingers stretched out.

  “Porch, 5 minutes.” With that, he disappears through the doorway in a rush. I stare after him for a moment, then down to the clothes he’s laid out on the bed. Nothing fancy, a pair of navy tracksuit shorts and plain grey t-shirt. Pulling the items on, I throw the damp towel into the laundry basket in the corner and sit on the edge of the bed to wait the full five minutes as requested.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrett flustered as he’s usually the most confident of us all. He hides himself deep inside to stop others from seeing his vulnerable side, even I barely see it. Waiting an extra minute for good measure, I leave the room and head down the staircase. It’s almost midnight so the rest of the house is silent, only the groan of the wood beneath my feet penetrating the air. Passing through the living room and kitchen, I emerge onto the back porch where a faint flickering light catches my attention.

  Small lit candles trail the banister leading to the built-in porch swing. A thick blanket covers the seat with a bowl of popcorn placed in the centre. Garrett walks up the steps, a metre-long indent in the sand behind him tells me he’s been pacing for a while. Avoiding my eye contact, he points to the swing for me to take a seat but I remain where I am. Holding my hand out for him, his eyes flick to mine with a nervous shine to them.

  “We don’t have to-”

  “I want to,” he says quickly. Taking my hand, we walk together to lift the blanket and settle ourselves beneath it. The bowl is resting in Garrett’s lap where I would expect it to be as we face the landscape in silence. It’s too dark to see the sea, but the sky looks like a monotone Jackson Pollock painting, flecks of light filling the space up above.

  Gare’s hands lift the bowl and move it into the middle of us, equally resting it between our touching thighs. Looking up at him in shock, noticing he will not take his eyes from a particular candle on the timber railing in front of us. To anyone else, this would seem like the lamest evening ever, but I realise what’s happening here. Garrett doesn’t willingly share food, nor does he do dates or commitment. And in one single move, he’s offered me all three.

  Without pausing any longer, fearing he may think I’m freaking out inside the way he clearly is, I snuggle down further to rest my head on his shoulder and take a cluster of popcorn. Popping it into my mouth, it crunches loudly between my teeth. Only after I’ve taken the fourth piece, does Gare’s body start to soften and he joins me in his midnight snack. I dare not tell him I’m not a big fan of popcorn, nor am I hungry but I keep on eating, knowing this is about more than food.

  “I don’t do romance or flowers, and I rarely sleep with the same person more than once. I’m an asshole that pushes people away so I can never be hurt again. I don’t like to count on others and I’ll probably fuck this up too. Really soon. But you make me want to be better. I want to be with you, like all the time. As a proper…”

  I’ve remained still this entire time, not wanting to give him any reason to stop talking but now I risk a glance upwards. His face is illuminated in an orange glow, his jaw tight. “Boyfriend?” I supply for him when I realise he’s not going to say it. Without moving his eyeline, Garrett gives a single stiff nod which causes me to smile.

  “Is this about what those assholes said?” I ask in a low voice.

  “No, this is about me. It’s time I re-evaluated certain aspects of my life, mainly the part with you in it.” Sitting up, I take the bowl and lean forward to push it under the seat we are swinging gently on before turning back to face him. Taking his cheeks in my hands, I force him to face me despite the effort he puts into trying to resist. Pushing my lips against his, the connection of our mouths instantly allows him to relax beneath my touch. His dimples deepen under my fingertips as I pull back, his easy smile back in place.

  “The day you can say I’m your boyfriend without it causing you such strain, I’ll be right here waiting.” I wink. A breathy laugh fans over my face as he leans his forehead against mine. We huddle under the blanket for the rest of the night, our limbs tangled as we force the night’s cool air to stay out. By the time the sky lightens to a mix of mauve purple and rose pinks, Garrett’s soft snore sounds above my head. Nudging him, we collect up the blanket and sneak back to our room before the rest of the household wakes up.

  Garrett flops onto his side on the bed, allowing me to be the big spoon for once. Normally I’m the one to sleep the most, but I don’t even feel tired right now. Thoughts from his mini pre-rehearsed speech last night keep floating around my mind. I’ve never suggested to Garrett that I want big romantic gestures or needed confirmation of what he is to me. Just knowing he is there for me to lean on and isn’t ready to ditch me quite yet is more than enough.

  I’ve never expected him to tie himself down and I know he will never be a one-partner kinda guy, but that’s fine. He’s here when I need him the most. He knows more about my past than anyone and still sees someone worth loving. And I suppose a secret part of me fell for him long ago, before I even came out. Those feelings have blossomed and grown at a rapid rate since we left Waversea, which is probably why I’m almost dreading going back. I don’t want to lose everything we’ve built between us. The connection we have, the security and the compassion. Fuck, who am I even kidding? I’m in love with Garrett – and if he retreats back to his old ways when we return to college, it will crush me.

  Meg

  Extending my arms into warrior pose, I feel the stretch in every part of my body. My shoulders, my core and my legs all hum with the delicious burn yoga provides. Avery’s fingertips nudge mine in the same pose, a smirk on her face in the fading sunlight. “What, beach isn’t big enough for you?” I joke, slapping the back of her hand with mine. The sand shifts beneath my toes, cool air descending after a scorching hot day.

  Placing our feet together, we bend forward in unison to hold our ankles. We’ve done yoga together on the beach every day since Avery arrived, her presence being a god-send in an otherwise dull place. The sea laps gently near our feet, a white line of foam leading the water towards us. Standing upright, I make a prayer sign with my hands and raise my right leg, tucking my foot into my left thigh. Stretching up with my arms, I stand in the tree pose with the shifting sand testing my balance.

  “Arrrgh, Captain MegLeg,” Garrett
’s gruff voice sounds from behind me. Turning my head curiously, he has one eye closed and is pumping a fist across his front.

  “Were you dropped on your head as an infant?” I ask, seriously worried for his future.

  “More than likely,” he replies normally, dropping his pirate act. It’s only now I notice he isn’t alone, Axel and Dax are crossing the beach behind him carrying a huge log between them. Avery has dropped her pose too, her eyebrows creasing inwards. “We’re making a campfire, wanna help?” Avery and I gasp in excitement at the same time, offering to find driftwood from across the beach. Strolling along the water’s edge, we chat and giggle together while filling our arms with wood that’s washed ashore. Thankfully, the sun has ensured none of them are damp in the slightest. I take the larger pieces while Avery hunts for smaller ones, only turning back when we can’t bend to collect anymore without dropping them all.

  Returning to our original spot, Dax is arranging a circle of stones to form our fire pit. There’re now two thick logs lying opposite each other on either side. Garrett has a paper bag in his hands as he emerges from the house, Axel carrying a large bucket of ice and beer bottles behind him. Placing our wood to the side of Dax, goose bumps start to line my arms as the sun dips behind the horizon.

  “I’ll fetch some blankets,” I say, turning towards the house and pausing. Last time I went in alone, Wyatt snuck up on me and I’m not looking for a repeat. Glancing over at Avery, she’s started to help Dax make a stick tepee for the middle of the fire. “Aves, would you like to help me?” I feel awful dragging her away from Dax when even a blind person could see the connection those two have, but there will be loads of time for them later. Especially when they’re cuddled under a blanket.

  Nodding without hesitating, she joins my side and walks with me into the house. Entering the kitchen door, we can see Huxley sitting on the sofa gazing at the plain wall again. He clearly wants to be involved, otherwise he wouldn’t leave his room but the version of him I originally met is a distant memory. There’s no cheeky grin or laughter lines on show, just blank stares and thinning muscle. Avery leaves me to go to him, sitting on the coffee table so he has to look at her.