by Vera Hollins
“I don’t have a boyfriend!” I shouted back at Blake before I could think better of it. I saw Hayden’s eyes widen, but I didn’t stick around, finally storming into my house.
Chapter 9
MY MOTHER WENT BERSERK when she saw the roses and card, destroying them in rage and dread. She yelled at me, calling me stupid for accepting them, as if I had any choice—as if not accepting them would make things any different. She blamed me instead of getting her act together, refusing to face the fact that Brad wanted her back and would do anything to achieve that.
I called the flower shop, but it was a dead end because Brad didn’t leave his name or contact information. My mother talked to the police and explained the situation, but they told her what I already knew. They couldn’t do anything if there wasn’t an actual threat, so we were basically waiting for his next move. We could only file for a restraining order and hope for the best.
I was supposed to catch up on my school assignments and work on the art blog for the computer project, but I was drained and unmotivated after everything that happened these last few days. I spent Sunday avoiding my drunk mother, who had become convinced I’d lied about Brad being released. She even claimed the flowers were from some random man she’d met. It drove me crazy that she was denying reality, but it was pointless to argue with her. She wanted to live in her bubble, and I couldn’t make her snap out of it.
I begged her to at least get a restraining order, but she refused, sweeping everything under the rug like the problems would magically disappear on their own. She was driving me mad with her inability to do anything but ruin our lives, which was why I needed to distract myself. I’d already applied for Krav Maga classes, and I couldn’t wait to start this Tuesday. I needed this now more than ever.
Monday started in the same gloomy fashion, because once again, I woke up after a restless night. I was cranky, dragging myself around my room as I got ready for another day in Hellhole. There were no more good morning texts from Mateo, but while I was relieved we were finished, it was a reminder of the way things ended between us, and I worried about how he felt. I wished I could message him just to check on him. I wanted to consider him a friend, but I knew that was unrealistic.
I went to the kitchen, but I didn’t have an appetite. I couldn’t starve though, so I made a quick sandwich and gobbled it down. I was on my way out of the house when I caught sight of the note my mother had left on the console table in the hallway.
“My car broke down so I took yours.”
What?
No, seriously. What?
Rage spiraled through me. I darted to the front door and threw it open, taking in our driveway. Her car was here and mine was gone. Dammit!
I couldn’t believe her! She’d taken my car without even giving me a heads up, and now I was going to be late for school. When did her car break down, and why didn’t she say a word about it?
I raked my fingers through my hair, gritting my teeth together. The bus wasn’t an option because the station was far away, so that left only my bicycle.
Refusing to dwell on how inconsiderate my mother was, I rushed to the backyard shed and grabbed my bike.
The weather followed the same pattern as these last few weeks; the extreme cold bit my skin harshly. My hat and gloves did a poor job of keeping my ears and hands warm, and I was already trembling as I pushed my bicycle down my driveway.
My stomach made a somersault when I saw Hayden’s car in his driveway. My eyes darted around his front yard and porch, seeking him, but he wasn’t outside. Would I get to see him?
The cold wind hit me when I started riding, and I shivered, cursing this weather. I was going to be late for school and also catch a cold at this rate. I rode my bike faster, even though I knew I was going to be late for the first period anyway.
Just as I went around a blind corner, turning into an empty street of another residential area, I hit a sharp bump on the road. It punctured my tire, and I wasn’t able to maintain control over the bike. I crashed to the side, my bicycle careening away.
Pain exploded in my hip, and my backpack slid off my shoulder, falling to the ground next to me. My forearm and elbow throbbed with a dull ache, but it would’ve been worse if I hadn’t had my thick winter jacket to soften the blow.
Before I could stand up and get off the road, I heard a car from behind, showing no signs of slowing down. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain that sizzled through me, but the car was already too close to me... No!
I was going to get hit!
The memory of that cruel night flashed in front of my eyes a moment before the tires screeched, and the car skidded to a stop about four feet away from me. I let out a strangled cry, frozen in mid-step as relief turned into surprise because I recognized the car.
I pressed my hand against my pounding heart, my legs wobbly. Hayden jumped out of his Chevrolet Camaro, rage and shock plastered all over his face.
“What the fuck?!” His eyes flickered between me and my bike. “I could’ve run you over!”
I tried to steady myself, swaying a little as old emotional pain mixed with the physical. I looked at myself to see if there were any scrapes, but to my surprise, there were none.
“You would’ve seen me earlier if you weren’t driving so fast,” I muttered and fixed my hat, which had almost slid off my head during the fall. I went to pick up my bicycle.
“How was I supposed to know I’d almost hit an idiot who doesn’t know how to ride a bike?”
I picked up my backpack and bike and sighed when I saw its flat front tire. I hung the backpack over my shoulder. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. I have no clue how to ride, and that’s why I fell,” I said raspily, pushing my bicycle to the sidewalk.
I glanced at him over my shoulder and caught him looking down my body, like he was inspecting it for injuries. Suddenly, the look of disdain was gone from his face.
“Fuck.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shaky exhale. “Are you hurt?” he finally asked, taking a few steps closer to me.
A fluttery sensation twirled in my stomach at his unexpected words. I eyed him carefully. His eyebrows were knitted with worry as he waited for my answer.
“I’m all right.”
He stepped next to me on the sidewalk, and I took a good look at his face. Some of his bruises had faded, but I noticed he looked worn out, like he hadn’t been able to sleep for days. My eyes lingered on his scar for a moment longer before I met his gaze.
“What happened?” he asked, surprising me once more with a sudden change in his behavior. He was concerned about me, and I couldn’t help but feel warm. I glanced at Hayden’s car that was blocking the empty road.
“I hit a bump, and my tire went flat. I’m sorry for almost causing an accident,” I apologized even though it wasn’t my fault. I pursed my lips, feeling bitter because there always had to be some tension or misunderstanding between us.
I could walk to school since I was halfway there. I’d decide later where to fix the tire. I pushed my bicycle, wincing after each step. He let out a heavy sigh, and the next moment, my bicycle was snatched away from me.
“Wha—” I whirled around and gaped at him as he picked it up and carried it to his car. “What are you doing?!”
“I’ll drive you to school,” he said without looking at me.
“What? No! Give me back my bike.”
“Your bike is useless right now. You’re limping, and it’s freezing, so you’re coming with me.”
I couldn’t move, fighting with all these emotions taking over me. He was helping me. Again.
“You don’t need to do this, Hayden. I can manage on my own.”
Why was I resisting him when I felt happy he was doing this for me? My lips twitched. I was a second away from smiling like a fool, but I had to hold it in. I couldn’t get my hopes up.
“Sure you can,” he responded dryly. “But I don’t give a shit about it.”
I frowned when he opened the d
oor. He tilted the passenger seat forward and placed the bicycle over the gray-black leather backseat. I rushed to him. “You can’t do that! It will only get your seats dirty.”
He straightened and looked at me with annoyance. “Who cares? Have you ever heard of cleaning? Besides, where else can I put it? The trunk is too small.”
“As I said, you don’t have to—”
“Will you just shut up and get inside?”
He went around his car, leaving the passenger door open for me. He glanced at me when he opened his door and rolled his eyes because I was gawking at him. I couldn’t avert my eyes from him, and I hated it.
“It’s fucking cold, so stop staring at me and get inside.”
I followed him inside reluctantly, instantly reminded of that night in Hayden’s car after Steven’s party. His pine tree scent caressed my nostrils, and pleasure stirred my insides. I’d missed his smell.
I took off my gloves and buckled up as he started the car. He stepped on the gas and turned on the car’s stereo. Depeche Mode’s “Walking in My Shoes” blared through the speakers, and I noticed with bitter irony how accurately these lyrics represented him.
Guilt gnawed at me. My eyes were on the houses we passed, but I didn’t see them, lost in my thoughts. I’d always been walking a thin line next to Hayden. I’d thought the worst about him, always reaching negative conclusions, and even though I knew of his pain and struggles, my own pain still dragged me down.
He was so close to me now, and I couldn’t breathe normally. I was painfully aware of his hand on the stick shift next to my leg. There was something profoundly attractive about the way he switched gears. So fast and masculine. My eyes slid furtively to his strong hand and went upward over his sexy black jacket, reaching his face. He was focused on the road, seemingly unaware of my staring. My heart beat faster as my fascination with him grew stronger.
Oh God. His closeness messed with my mind. I was staring at him all the time. I had to pull it together. I fixed my gaze on the road ahead of us, determined not to make a fool of myself.
“What kind of idiot are you?” he said suddenly, his voice rough with irritation. “Riding a bicycle when it’s so cold.”
I clutched my backpack, annoyed. “The kind of idiot without a car,” I responded to him in the same manner.
He glanced at me. “What happened to your car?”
“My mother took it because hers broke down.” I sighed. I felt a fierce need to say more. “She didn’t even tell me. She just took it.”
I curled my hands with seething anger. There was so much I wanted to say to my mother, but it wouldn’t change a thing. I closed my eyes, telling myself to let it go.
“I guess the relationship between you two didn’t improve,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No. It’s worse than ever.”
For some reason, I wanted to tell him things. I wanted to tell him more about me, which went against my deeply-rooted reticence. I always had my guard up with everyone, but now, despite all my distrust, part of me wanted to be honest with him and share my deepest feelings.
What was he doing to me?
“My mother refuses to believe Brad is back in Enfield. She thinks I invented him, and I’m tired of trying to reason with her. It’s impossible.” I pushed the words out of me, looking through the passenger window because I couldn’t look at him. I felt extremely vulnerable because this was the first time I shared anything about my life with him ever.
“Why would I make it up?” I continued. “Why does she act like pretending he doesn’t exist would make him disappear?”
I was anxious, gripping the straps of my backpack as I waited for his reaction. He didn’t say anything at first, and I stole a glance at him. Was he going to ignore me?
No, he wasn’t ignoring me. It looked like he was mulling over something. A glimpse of concern passed through his eyes before he finally met my gaze.
“Then don’t try to reason with her. If she wants to pretend everything is okay, let her pretend, but be careful,” he said, returning his eyes to the road.
Sweet warmth flooded my chest. He told me to be careful. “I... I will. Thank you.”
He nodded. “So, Brad didn’t contact her?”
“No,” I replied but then added, “Actually, yes.”
His gaze clashed with mine. “Yes?”
“Well, sort of.” I bit my lip. “He sent her flowers.”
I felt his body tense, his hand gripping the gear shift hard. “Flowers?”
“Yes. The roses that guy brought on Saturday... They were for my mother. There wasn’t any name on the card, but I know they were from Brad because there was a message that said, and I quote, ‘We’ll be a happy family again. Here’s to our next encounter, Patty’. Patty was his nickname for her.”
“Son of a—” He growled. His hand clutched the stick even harder, his raw, bruised knuckles strained. “This explains why you acted so weird.”
So, he did find it weird. “Yes,” I replied quietly.
He began taking deep, slow breaths, and I licked my lips nervously. Was he trying to calm himself down? He never did this before. Did he learn this in therapy?
“Fuck,” he said after a while. “I thought those flowers were for you.”
My pulse throbbed. This had obviously bothered him. I didn’t want him to feel upset because of me, but I couldn’t help but feel thrilled at his jealousy.
I shook my head, managing to keep a neutral expression. “No. They were for my mother. Besides...” I stopped, my heart thumping so hard I felt it in my throat. This was it. I was going to tell him. “Besides, I broke up with Mateo.”
I didn’t dare to move, staring at one spot on the dashboard, blush crawling up my cheeks. Seconds passed, but he didn’t react, and I glanced at him, on pins and needles as I waited for a response. His eyes never left the road, and it occurred to me that maybe he hadn’t heard me.
But then looked at me and frowned when he noticed me waiting for his reaction. “And?”
“And?”
“What are you waiting for? Do you want my condolences?”
I winced. My cheeks grew redder at the sharp, unexpected response. “What?”
“If not, then I absolutely don’t know why you think I should know or care if you broke up with that shitbag.”
I looked away from his derisive eyes; my whole body turned cold. I felt like a complete idiot for telling him.
Really, what did you expect? That he would welcome you with open arms? He thinks the worst of you.
Just because he helped me and didn’t bully me anymore, didn’t mean anything had changed between us. At Mel’s house, he said he wanted to crush me more than ever, so it was foolish of me to expect a different reaction from him now.
But then, he helped me yet again and told me to be careful, which clearly meant he cared. His actions always contrasted each other—black and white. They were always unpredictable, and I didn’t know what to expect next.
We spent the rest of our ride in tense silence. By the time we reached the school, he grew more restless and angry, emanating a dangerous vibe. He turned into the school’s parking lot so quickly I was sure we were going to crash into a parked car or hit a student.
I held onto my seat, fear and adrenaline coursing through me. “Hayden, slow down!” It fell on deaf ears. He swerved right, and I was yanked to the side. “Hayden!”
“Shut up!” he hissed, every muscle in his face taut. Why was he so mad?
He swerved into a parking spot at full speed and then slammed on his brakes with a loud screech. My body jerked forward, and my seat belt dug into me over my jacket, causing a sharp pain.
“Hayden!”
I braced myself against the dashboard and flinched when I looked at him. He was leaning his forehead against the steering wheel, breathing hard. I opened my mouth to say something, but I noticed Maya approach Hayden’s door, and jealousy knotted in my stomach.
She bent and knocked on his window.
She was smiling, but then her eyes found mine, and her smile dropped, her face twisting with shock and then displeasure. Hayden raised his head and looked at her. She instantly hid her displeasure from him with a fake smile and waved. He threw a neutral mask on his face, concealing all his previous distress, and turned off the car.
He got out and pulled her into his arms. “Hi,” he said smoothly.
I didn’t want to stare, but it was impossible not to when their lips crashed together. I was sickened by how passionate it was, but I had to get a grip on myself because he was with her. Choking back my hurt and embarrassment, I put my gloves on and got out of the car.
A few students passing nearby cast me curious looks when they saw me get out of Hayden’s car. Two of them whispered and pointed at me.
I gripped the strap of my backpack and cleared my throat. “Thank you for the ride, Hayden.”
I turned around without waiting for his answer and darted to the school, desperate to get away. This was suffocating me with ugly emotions, and it was wearing me down—
“Sarah,” he shouted after me, and I faced him with a pang in my chest. “Take your shitty bicycle with you.”
He took my bike out of his car in one fluid, effortless motion and dropped it on the ground, its loud clatter creating painful echoes in my mind and heart. He was humiliating me on purpose, looking at me with ice in his eyes that made me feel delusional, like I’d imagined his concern in his car just a couple of minutes ago. I’d already regretted opening myself up to him. How could I even think I could reveal my feelings to him without getting burned in the process?
I couldn’t explain what his deal was now, but as I reached my bicycle on shaky legs and picked it up, I told myself it didn’t matter. I was stupid for thinking things could be different. They could never be different—not like this—and this would repeat over and over again. The wall surrounding Hayden was thick with darkness, pain, and distrust, and it was impenetrable.
He was pushing me down again, and I didn’t deserve it. I did my best to ignore the searing redness on my cheeks and everyone’s stares, my pulse whooshing in my ears as I met his gaze.