Unraveling Blake Earnshaw Book 1: The Rich Prick

by Keilan Shea

  “You’re not as ditzy as you look,” Earnshaw says.

  Mia opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again. She’s mimicking a fish. With all that makeup, her flush is hidden, but I remember the red color that permeated her skin whenever she was flustered as a kid. She sputters, “You’re not the Disney Prince everyone thinks you are.”

  “Old news. Ladies prefer bad boys and the games that come with them. Teagan does.” He tightens his hold on Mia, who only halfheartedly tries to wriggle out of his grasp. “I bet Chloe does, too.”

  Large hands slam down on the table—in front of me. I jolt, but the bulky body at my back is familiar enough, so I tell my pounding heart to cool it. “Shut up,” Johan says and doesn’t move; his arms lock me in. “Don’t involve Teagan. She didn’t do anything with you and she isn’t going to. She’s with me.” He turns to the members of my cheer team who have boyfriends. “And what about the rest of you? What do you have to say for yourselves?” He turns to their boyfriends. “And you. If you’re over each other, break up. This starstruck stuff is bullshit. None of you even know him. Maybe it’s better not to since he’s openly cheating on his girlfriend.” He casts his gaze out farther, to those who are hovering, mostly the school cheerleaders who didn’t beat my All Star Cheer team to Earnshaw proximity.

  This is the Johan everyone’s fallen in love with, the knight in shining armor. Johan is more of a Disney Prince than Blake Earnshaw will ever be. As if on cue, the taken Tempests scatter, returning to their neglected boyfriends.

  Johan locks onto Earnshaw and continues, “Flirt somewhere else, Gilded.”

  Earnshaw squeezes Mia. “But I have a temporary Tempest girlfriend.” He pauses. “What’s your name again?”

  “It’s Mia, prick.” She shoves him and retreats with Eve and Zoe. Several others follow their lead. Good for them.

  “Leave,” Johan says.

  “Quarterback, are you also king of the school?” Earnshaw asks.

  “What? I’m not sure how you Gildeds work, but we don’t have a king.”

  “How primitive. Your influence goes far beyond your clique, though, so you’re as close to a king as this school has.” Earnshaw sighs. “Am I banned from your party tonight?”

  “No, but if you cause trouble, I’ll kick you out.”

  “You’ll do your best to, anyway. You didn’t have much success in the parking lot.”

  “Are you trying to make everyone hate you?”

  I have to wonder the same thing. Earnshaw could have ruled the school alongside the most popular Tempests, but he’s likely made enemies of all the sports teams today, and I’m sure the rejection will spread with the way he’s stomping on his reputation.

  I thought I had the Earnshaws figured out, but now I wonder if Jeffery told Harvey the truth. His son is a mess and he’s just investing in Raindrop as he does. If there’s nothing else to it, fine, but it doesn’t change anything.

  “I’ll be on my best behavior,” Earnshaw says. He throws that cocky grin over his shoulder and departs with his fingers hooked onto the pockets of his silky black trousers. They’re straight-up dress pants. This general look must be his version of casual, somehow; he’s wearing that pricey watch again. At least he isn’t wearing a suit jacket or a tie. He’d insult the mathletes with his hot-nerd impersonation. Not that he’s terrible at math …

  Sarah breathes out a shaky whistle and rests her head on my shoulder; her hair tickles my face. “I think I held my breath since you sat down. Blake was haughty before, but low-key—until you arrived. He turns absolutely wicked in your presence. Did you piss him off somehow?”

  “I said no.” Earnshaw set himself up for this one. “I didn’t say anything before because I don’t want to start a fight.” My contempt is no worse than anyone else’s. I’m portraying a stable Teagan, not the rage-blinded Teagan who hit him in the face with a rock.

  “Damn. He and Chloe must have had some fight over that kiss scene. I don’t know why, though. It’s the chastest kiss you’ve ever seen, and it was for a TV series. It isn’t real. Even Blake’s fangirls know that. Chloe’s specifically said she won’t do anything more than that for her role as Cassandra because of her loyalty to Blake and because she’s a good girl. But … maybe she’s changed her mind and plans on doing more.”

  Sarah frowns. “This is going to get messy. Maybe don’t get on social media for a while. Or even deactivate your accounts. You saw how Eve was acting. There are some crazy Blake Earnshaw fangirls out there.”

  I haven’t checked my accounts since the accident, and now I have a valid excuse not to.

  “Let’s stop talking about him,” Johan interjects. “Lunch is going to end before we’ve had a chance to eat.”

  Sarah puts on her poker face. “Did you talk to Will?”

  “Yeah, and I tried to do what you said. He didn’t confess to anything. He kept asking me why you won’t talk to him, turning the conversation around. I had to bail so that I wouldn’t say or do anything you don’t want me to.”

  Sarah’s shoulders slump. “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’ll get this figured out eventually.”

  “Let me know when you do, because I’m not going to let this slide either. In the meantime, you want to go out for lunch with Teagan and me? Will should be heading this way. He said he bought you a box of chocolates. He stored it in our coach’s fridge this morning so it wouldn’t melt and went to grab it after I left.”

  “Aw.” Sarah quickly hides her smile with her hand.

  “Don’t fall for that act,” I say. “You know what you saw.”

  Sarah tries to straighten her expression, but she overcompensates. Now she looks like she’s sulking. “I’ll be strong. I’ll make him confess before I accept those chocolates. If he doesn’t, I’ll still accept them—because delicious—but I’ll maintain the silent treatment. I’m not easy.”

  “That’s my bestie,” I say.

  “You two go ahead. You have some catching up to do.”

  I give Sarah the sincerest hug I have in me. “See you later. If you need anything, call or text.”

  She returns the embrace tenfold. “Come to cheer practice after school. I know you forfeited the season, but maybe we can work something out. Coach will want to see you, at least.”

  “I will. I was planning on it.”

  Sarah pumps her fist, and then she pushes me into Johan. “Go and have fun!”

  Johan wraps an arm around my back, resting his hand on my hip. “Annie’s Diner? Or is that off-limits now?”

  “Why did you take Mia there?”

  “I didn’t. She said she wanted to go there.”

  “Then it’s still our place.”

  Johan beams at me. He usually excels at lightening any mood because he is so light. Casual. Carefree. His appeal used to work on me, but today, since the day I shut him out, he makes my darkness darker, casting a shadow so long it could reach the other side of the world.

  CHAPTER 9

  At Annie’s Diner, Johan and I order to go. We get our usual meals: burgers, salads, and smoothies. Then Johan drives to our little patch of dense forest that’s been saved downtown. There are a few of these, but most of downtown is sleek buildings among systematic plots of domesticated trees, shrubs, and flower beds.

  I eat slowly despite Blake Earnshaw having cut into our lunch hour. Driving ruined my appetite and the burger is too much. Meat, mainly red meat, is hard to swallow; it’s like coagulating blood. I can choke down my salad because grainy dirt isn’t as repulsive.

  “You can have my burger,” I say as I stick my head out my rolled-down window to inhale the fresh forest scent. This grove’s tall aspens and blue spruces block out the sun. During the hottest part of summer, the temperature is nice here. During the coldest part of winter, when snow is piled high on the ground, it’s almost warm here. This is a secluded place, a chunk taken out of Corey’s vast expanse of quiet forest.

  “You
sure?” Johan asks. “I think you could use it, Tea.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “If you say so.”

  While Johan finishes my burger, I sip my smoothie. It’s strawberry, my favorite fruit. It’s screw-up-your-face sweet, but I can get past that, and it doesn’t upset my stomach too much. Maybe I’ll ask Harvey to buy some strawberries and yogurt later. If it’s something I’m guaranteed to eat, it’ll be a step up from the hit-and-miss bites of meals and random snacking.

  When my smoothie is gone, Johan holds out a mint dispenser and asks, “Want one?”

  I take the oblong tablet, rub off a bit of the white powder, and think about Earnshaw and his “hard drugs.” They could resemble this mint, so unassuming. I place it on my tongue and endure the sting.

  This is a prelude to kissing.

  Johan leans in and I turn to meet his lips. They devour me, so I know he’s wanting. Nothing has changed that.

  My stomach twists, cramps, and I wonder how I’ll fake being the Teagan Johan wants when kissing makes me want to jump out of my skin. I shiver, break out into a cold sweat, when his hand finds the hem of my top. My hands find his short hair.

  He stops kissing me. “Are you going to get mad if I touch you?”

  I swallow. “Why would I get mad?”

  “In the parking lot, you didn’t want me to. Are you really okay?”

  He isn’t saying what he’s thinking, for once, about how I acted at the memorial service. That was the last time I saw him before disappearing. I was so out of control that he can’t broach the topic. We’re all acting like everything’s normal, but no one has forgotten how I screamed and cried and ran away with Mom’s, Dad’s, and Corey’s ashes.

  My hands shake, but I drop them to his nape and press my fingers against his skin so that he won’t notice. The sooner I get this over with, the better. “What if I have a scar? A hideous one you didn’t see when you visited me in the hospital.”

  “Then you have a scar? I’m not sure what the question is.”

  “Would you still want me to be your girlfriend?”

  “I love you, Tea. A scar doesn’t change that.”

  I take his hand and place it on my waist. Cautiously, he lifts my top, fingers trailing my stomach. When he pauses, when his breath hitches, he’s found it. I pull Mom’s locket and my top over my head and set them on my lap. He can’t see the full extent of my scar since I’m wearing a modified bra, but enough is showing. It’s healed, but the wound was I-shouldn’t-have-survived bad. The skin along the scar is puckered. The inner part is indented, a canyon, and blatant against the ridges, like mountains, that outline it. I could get some work done, but a scar like this is always going to leave a mark. Making it less noticeable doesn’t change anything.

  Johan works his jaw, unable to form words. I’m making history today. Until, finally, he says something that makes him sound like a Californian surfer. “That is gnarly.”

  “Yeah,” I say while replacing Mom’s locket and my top, “it’s a real beauty mark.” I press my palm flat against my chest, stamping an impression of Mom’s locket onto my skin.

  Johan turns forward to place his hands on the steering wheel. For an entire minute, he stares out the windshield, unblinking. The urge to jump out of his truck and run as far as I can, until I find the forest and get lost in it again, is strong, but I’d return to my Prius first. I need Corey’s slingshot and Dad’s jacket.

  “Are you coming to the party?” Johan asks.

  My head jerks toward him. “What?”

  He continues staring out the windshield. “The party. You heard about it, right? Are you coming?”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  He glances at me, kisses me quickly. “Come.”

  “You can barely look at me.”

  “That’s not true.” He locks his blue eyes with mine. “I was thinking … I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, Tea, but I wanted to be. I still do. Let me prove it to you.”

  My heart flutters. It’s not those butterflies that swarm your stomach when you get your first kiss. It’s aching. All of the butterflies flying into your rib cage to die, piling and compacting into a solid block of concrete.

  “You mean it?” I ask.

  “Come to the party, and then you can tell me if I mean it.”

  He still wants me. He’s like Harvey. He won’t let me go. I should tell them I’m poison, but they won’t believe me. They’ll tell me it wasn’t my fault. They’ll try to help more, and I can’t take that.

  I slip my hand into Johan’s as he uses his other to steer, backing us out of our grove and onto the road. I squeeze harder than I should. “You better show me a good time,” I say.

  “The best.” He offers a small almost-shy smile. “It’s good to have you back, Tea.”

  CHAPTER 10

  School ends. The urge to crawl into my Prius and drive to Harvey’s is strong. I could use a nap before I have to show face at the party tonight, but I told Sarah I’d go to cheer practice and Harvey is expecting the same.

  I take my time.

  When I enter Gym C, Sarah greets me before I can take five steps; she was sitting on the floor near the doors, waiting to ambush me instead of warming up with the others. She’s wearing a sweatband and formfitting workout clothes. Her flat, muscular stomach is on display. Mine writhes at the thought. Her dark skin is flawless.

  “There you are,” she says while knocking her hip into mine. “You ready to kick some ass—or get your ass kicked? Coach Brown never goes easy on us.”

  “Because we’re winners,” I say. “You’re winners.”

  “We. We’re still a we.”

  “She won’t let me rejoin the team.”

  “Don’t say that. This is our last year as Tempests.”

  “I’m rusty.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not like you took a year off. It’ll be fine.”

  Sarah’s always been an optimist, but I’m betting on Coach Brown denying my “request.” This team is for people serious about All Star Cheer. If I want to get myself into shape for next season, which she’ll encourage even though I’ll have to join a gym outside of Raindrop to continue, I should train on my own to prove it. She might offer some one-on-one reconditioning, but it won’t involve wasting the others’ time.

  “You brought clothes to change into, right?” Sarah says. “You would die in jeans, and your top is impractical.”

  “I didn’t. I only planned to talk to the coach today.”

  “No, no. That’s no good. You have to show her you’re serious. I took home the clothes you left here, washed them and everything. They’re in your locker, so get changed.”

  My chest constricts. “It’s not necessary, Sarah.”

  “I’m your best friend. I’m looking out for you. Trust me.” With her arm locked around mine, she marches me to the girls’ locker room, which is empty, and doesn’t stop until I’m standing in front of my locker.

  “Did Will find you at lunch?” I ask.

  Sarah sits on the metal bench near my locker. “Yeah. He’s not going to confess his crime. I have to accuse him, tell him what I saw. Refusing to speak to him isn’t working. If he won’t even confide in Johan, then he must not be sorry about it at all, huh? But if he doesn’t love me anymore, why the chocolates?”

  I mirror Sarah on the bench and press my back against hers. “Because of Johan. Football would be hell for him if it got out that he cheated on you.”

  “Why not break up with me then?”

  “He’s greedy.”

  “Yeah … Get dressed. Coach Brown is gonna be pissed if we’re not in the gym when she arrives. I’ll leave you to it.” She starts humming a tune I’m not familiar with to pump herself up as she skips off. Knowing Sarah, it’s likely some superhero’s theme music. She religiously watches the premiere of every DC and Marvel movie.

  I wait until I hear the door close to shake my head. I showed Johan my scar today, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready t
o show my team. Ex-team. My sweaty fingers slip on my combination lock. I try it a second time and get into my locker. Sure enough, one set of workout clothes is sitting inside. I pick them up and smell Sarah’s flowery laundry detergent. This outfit is like Sarah’s. My stomach will show. Coach Brown doesn’t care what we wear to practice as long as it keeps us decent and stays out of our faces. Right now, I wish she required us to wear something that covers our stomachs too, like the current All Star Cheer competition rules.

  Calm down. Get dressed. My body goes through the motions. This isn’t hard. What does it matter if they see my scar, anyway? As long as I act like myself, confident, ready to do all the things I used to do, what they think doesn’t matter. I only have to pretend until graduation. Maybe a little longer. The exact date isn’t important. The point is, it won’t be much longer.

  My fingers are glued to Mom’s locket. I can’t convince myself to part with it, but I can’t wear it inside the gym or there was no point in changing. I bite my lip and tap my locket-loaded fist against my backpack. There’s a pocket that’s empty, ready and waiting for me to let go. I use my other hand to pry my fingers loose and tuck Mom’s locket inside the pocket. Then I slam the locker shut. The resulting clang echoes throughout the empty room, the dull thump, thump of my soft-soled shoes as they hit the concrete floor its only disturbance.

  A mirror stops me in my tracks. My stomach is bad enough, but the scar gets worse as it creeps up the left side of my chest. Most higher necklines coupled with my modified bras don’t show off this part of it. This sports bra reveals everything. I trace the puckered and indented skin anywhere its visible. Then I stare at the worst of it: my very lopsided boobs. This too could be improved with follow-up cosmetic surgery, but I’ll never look the same as before.

  This scar is a stigma.

  I practice taking deep breaths the way my ex-therapist taught me. They don’t help. I’m lightheaded and my heart pounds in my ears as I stagger out of the locker room. Coach hasn’t arrived yet, but my old team is still stretching and warming up as expected. Not a moment wasted. I fall to the back, behind Sarah, who’s invested in a conversation with Eve. My prep routine is like second nature, though I haven’t done it in months. I’m not as flexible as I used to be, but my muscles loosen up some as I go. It feels kind of good, and I almost forget about everything else but the familiarity of the spring floors.