Faking It: A Small Town College Bad Boy Romance

by Hunter Rose

  “What’s going on?” I ask, stepping closer to Vanessa.

  She walks away from me, and I follow her down the hallway.

  “Leave me alone,” she says abruptly. “You’ve done enough damage with your stupid bet and all.”

  No. Shit. The music in the club stops. All I hear is the beating of my racing heart. A bead of sweat works its way across my forehead and down my temple. Have you ever experienced your world crashing down around you? Because that is how I feel: my heart plummets to my feet, and my throat grows dry.

  I turn to Tony, who beams at me.

  “You asshole,” I say, running after Vanessa who is almost out of the hallway, racing towards the front entrance.

  Tony and Hailey follow. I can’t believe what’s happening. Vanessa pounds through the front doors and jolts down the front steps towards a cab that’s just pulled up to the valet station.

  “Vanessa, wait! Let me explain!” I yell as I run after her.

  She just keeps moving, pulls open the cab door, and zooms off without looking back. I swivel back towards Tony and Hailey as they walk up behind me, smiling broadly.

  “How could you? What are you even doing here?” I hiss at Tony.

  “Hailey wanted to come and talk to Vanessa. You can thank her for that one.” He smiles, pointing a finger in Hailey’s direction.

  My anger sparks deep within my chest and radiates through my entire body. I look at Hailey, who seems tinted red, I’m seeing through such rage. The air comes out of my lungs in short, fast breaths. “You bitch,” I say, rushing up to her.

  “Oh, please. She needed to know. How could you, Trace?” She flings her hair behind her back.

  Tony tries to not laugh, which only fuels my anger more.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? How did you even know?” I ask.

  “Tony told me the other night at the club.”

  My eyes land on Tony’s guilty expression. I rush toward my car to get away from the scum they are. Tony and Hailey follow behind me.

  “Really, you two? It’s best you leave me alone,” I say, threatening them.

  “Dude, don’t be mad. It was bound to end anyways. I’m letting you out of the bet early. No harm done,” he says as we reach my car.

  I spin around and grab Tony by his bright yellow shirt. I pin him up against the door of the Cobra. “No harm done? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I want to punch him, but I need to get to Vanessa. Besides, he isn’t worth it. I hop in and tell them I’ll deal with them later. Yanking my phone out of my pants, I dial Vanessa’s number. It rings and rings as I speed down the road towards her house. Her voicemail picks up, and I click the phone off.

  Driving down her street, I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of Maxine’s car in the driveway. Maxine swings the door open after I knock.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you,” she says, blocking the doorway.

  “Please, you have to let me explain,” I say, begging her to let me pass.

  “Trace, oh Trace.” She shakes her head as she crosses her arms over her chest. “You screwed up. Now leave her alone and give her time.”

  “You have to let me see her, please.”

  “Go home, Trace.” She tries to shut the door as I wedge my foot in the opening. I need to talk to Vanessa. Finally, the door slams in my face.

  I sulk back to the car and climb inside. Texting her to please let me explain, I start the engine and drive.

  The phone remains silent; I check it every second or so.

  I head up the driveway to my house and shut off the engine. Both of my fists slam down onto my steering wheel. What do I do? I need to get her back. She was amazing with my family, chatting up my sisters, making them laugh with her classic charm. Vanessa needs to be a constant in my life, and I won’t stop until I have her. Maybe before all of this I wasn’t ready, but after meeting her, now I know I am. I’m kind of done with the kinky sex with strangers, partying all hours of the night, and never caring about anyone’s feelings but mine—all that has changed.

  The couch calls my name, and I flop onto it, still in a state of disbelief. Darren enters the living room and smiles.

  “You okay? You look like someone just killed your dog,” he says, grabbing a seat on the chair.

  “Feels like it.”

  “What happened?”

  “Fucking Tony told Hailey about the bet, and she told Vanessa. Now Vanessa won’t even talk to me.”

  “And how is that a bad thing?” he asks, kicking his feet over the side of the chair. He is in gym shorts and looks like he has just woken up.

  “Dude, shut up. I really like this girl,” I say, running my fingers down my jaw.

  “Are you serious?” His honey-colored eyes grow wide as he stares at me.

  “Yeah, I am. I really like this girl.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I kinda always thought Tony had a thing for her.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask.

  “Just something he said after you left the party after the poker game. He said something like ‘now she’ll see what it feels like’.”

  “See what what feels like?”

  Darren rubs his nose. “Fuck if I know.”

  “Well, I don’t want to see that jerk anywhere near me right now,” I say, pushing myself off the couch and heading down the hallway to my room.

  Launching myself onto the bed, I blast my music through the earbuds and try to formulate a plan of action to get her back.

  I need to see her. I need to make her understand. Fuck me.

  “Hey, Trace,” comes Tony’s voice from the other side of the door.

  “Go away.”

  “Let me in. I’m sorry.”

  I jolt out of bed, my anger back in full force. Flinging the door open, I give him my best death stare.

  He puts his hands up to his chest. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think Hailey would tell her.”

  “Oh yeah? Why not?”

  “Uh, ‘cause I kinda thought she and I had hit it off,” he says, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

  “You’re such an idiot.” I lean away from the door and return to the bed. Tony walks in and leans against the desk.

  “I didn’t realize you really liked her. I mean, not like this. Yeah, when I made the bet, I was upset with her for turning me down. I thought you would date her and then break her heart. Stupid thing of me to do, but I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Well, I’m sure I broke her heart or her pride or . . . I don’t know. I’m sure I broke something.”

  His eyes show regret and remorse.

  “I really am sorry. It just all got out of hand.”

  “I will say I never planned on actually liking her as much as I do.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I know she likes you, and you are Trace fucking Weston. You can get any girl you want.” He laughs.

  I don’t share his enthusiasm, but just shrug my shoulders.

  “Yeah man, I guess.”

  “Look, I’ll handle Hailey.” He pushes away from the desk and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Oh yeah? How?”

  “I won’t give her the D.” He smiles.

  “You think she wants your dick?”

  “Well, she can’t have yours, and now she can’t have mine—I’m sure it will piss her off.”

  “Whatever. I don’t even care,” I say, waving a hand in the air. “I don’t care if she falls off the face of the earth.”

  Tony smiles, apologizing again as he leaves the room. I grab the phone again and try to call Vanessa.

  22

  Vanessa

  Heading home with Maxine, we curse Trace’s name the entire way. Then, I hide out in my room, my safe space. At least in here, I’m calm. I lie on the bed, trying to block out all feelings and emotions.

  Maxine enters a while later, saying Trace had stopped by to explain. Pfft. Explain. Please.

  When Hailey had entered that bathroom of the country club, I could
tell her smarmy smirk and devilish eyes had sought me out. It’s like she was on a mission to ruin my life.

  However, I never expected anything like this. The whole thing of Trace dating me was because he lost a bet on the night of the party, right when he’d made a spectacle of himself and pushed all the chips across the table.

  I’m an idiot. A complete, naïve idiot. Trace doesn’t do girlfriends. He was only fulfilling a bet. Makes sense, but still. I want to scream and punch people. Maybe random people or maybe just Trace. A stupid freaking bet. I hate him. Okay, maybe hate is a strong word, but I dislike him so very much.

  Maxine enters the room with a mug of tea. “Here. I made this for you. Would you rather have ice cream?” she asks, handing me the cup.

  “No, I don’t want anything.” I take the tea and place it on the nightstand.

  “Honey, I know you’re upset,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I huff at her and roll my eyes. “You think?”

  “I still can’t believe he used you. I thought he was really into you. I had never seen him act this way with a girl before.”

  “Yeah, well, he wouldn’t have acted any way toward me if he hadn’t been dared to.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Still, I think that boy is twitterpated over you.” She smiles.

  I raise my eyebrow. “Twitter-what?”

  “You know, from Bambi. He has a crush on you. He raced over here to talk to you.”

  “Well, I am never going to talk to him again.” I cross my arms tighter over my chest.

  “Fine. I don’t blame you. I’m just saying maybe you should hear him out.”

  “No.”

  “Okay, well, listen, I have to work tonight. Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?”

  “Like, do you mean am I gonna grab a razor and end myself in the tub? No, hardly. I value myself a little more than that.”

  “God, Vanessa, I wasn’t thinking that. I was just thinking are you gonna put on loud, angry chick music and write mean poetry about him.” She laughs.

  “That sounds more like my speed.” I take a few sips of tea.

  “That’s my girl.”

  She gets up and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  I return the cup of tea to the nightstand and grab my notebook.

  Angry girl music and poetry sound like a great idea, and I grab my pen and write.

  Every poem starts out the same way: complaints of a broken heart and a stupid mind. I look at the latest poem-in-progress and crumple the paper.

  I listen to the words of BTS blaring through the speakers and think of how sick of everything I am. So sick of Trace’s lies—what a great actor he must be to make me believe he cared. He really should go to Hollywood. That way, I would never have to lay eyes on him again.

  I head over to my desk and thumb through my poetry project. Each poem is laced with Trace innuendos. Seeing the poems I’ve written about him and their corresponding emotions makes me want to vomit. Every emotion is a mix of wonder and euphoria.

  I throw the project onto the bed and decide a nice shower might help calm me. Breathe and relax. In through the mouth, out through the nose, or however that goes.

  My comfy, pink pants and tee are my outfit of choice, given my mood. Stir crazy and scatter-brained, I pace my room. Trace had asked me to be his girlfriend, and I had been so happy at the notion. Now, my anger and frustration boil. I keep running through the house, pulling my hands through my wet hair. I know I need to find a way to calm down, but I can’t. My heartbeat picks up, and my face becomes flushed.

  I look at the clock on my phone and see it’s 9 p.m. I’m hoping a snack will do the trick and smooth my pent-up energy.

  Eating my food, I call my mother to let her know everything is alright. The last time I talked to her, I filled her with worry by talking about a stalker.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say into the phone.

  My mother’s voice carries through the phone, and I instantly miss her; her baking delicious treats for me, her constant companionship. Should I move back home? I left home to get away from Eric, just to end up hiding from Trace.

  No, I won’t run anymore.

  She fills me in on Eric’s punishment. He violated the restraining order I had against him. My mother asks me if we want to press charges.

  I tell her I will need time to process everything, and she agrees. She tells me his father is keeping a close eye on him and won’t let him out of the house. They are trying to help save him by making him more active in their church. This is punishment enough for him.

  I hang up with her, assuring her I will call more often. Then I turn my music up on full volume and immerse myself in writing. I barely hear my phone when it rings.

  I grab the phone and answer, “Hello.”

  “Nessie, hey, it’s me, Jordan.” He sounds out of breath.

  “I know. I saw the caller ID. What’s up? You okay?” I put my pen down and stand up.

  “No. I mean yes, I’m okay. Listen, I called Eric to kind of talk to him about everything. Well, he swears up and down that he didn’t attack you in the bathroom.” He says in one long breath.

  “Wait? What? Jordan, you’re kind of breaking up.” The phone becomes static, and I can barely make out what he is saying. I pace my room, trying to find a better reception spot where the line will clear up.

  “I’m on my way to your house . . . Ness, I don’t think . . . there might be someone else trying to hurt . . .” The line goes dead, and I look at the phone to see the call has dropped. The doorbell rings, and I rush to the front foyer and turn the security system off.

  I open the front door and am startled by who I see. I choke up when I see his attire: a black hoodie covering his body. A lump forms in my throat, my jaw clenches, and I blink rapidly. Heartbeat raging in my chest, my legs wobble. I feel rooted to the spot and try to scream, but he muffles it with his hand. I bite down hard on his fingers as the other hand crashes something hard against my head. My knees buckle, and my world turns to darkness.

  23

  Trace

  Sitting in my room, watching the clock tick by is driving me insane. I have to call her. I have to make her see that I want her. I’m so pissed at the world right now, I can’t think straight.

  I decide to write her a poem. Maybe speaking her language will help when I do see her.

  With a pen and paper in hand, I set out to write the one thing I have never written before. After about fifteen attempts, I throw the pen across the room. My phone rings, and I cross the room to answer.

  I don’t recognize the number.

  “Trace, it’s Jordan.” He sounds frantic.

  “What’s wrong?” I sense strong fear in his tone.

  “It’s Vanessa. I came by her house to tell her I don’t think Eric was the one who attacked her. But when I got here . . .” He takes a breath.

  “What, Jordan? Is she okay?” I ask, throwing on my shoes.

  “Her front door was open, and she is gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean as in she’s not here. I called Maxine, and she is leaving work to come home, but no one knows where she is.”

  “Okay, where are you now? Are you still at her house?”

  “Yeah, I’m freaking out. Maxine’s father is on his way, and I think he called the cops.”

  “Okay, good. Stay put. I’m on my way.”

  I rush out of the door and grab my keys. Eric wasn’t the one who attacked Vanessa? In my hurry, I never asked Jordan how he knew Eric wasn’t behind it. Either way, Vanessa is gone, and I need to find her.

  As I rush out the front door, I notice Tony watching me.

  “Where you going?” he asks, putting on a t-shirt.

  “Vanessa is missing. I think someone might have kidnapped her.”

  He grabs his shoes and runs to catch up. “Oh, shit. Seriously? Well, you’ll need my help.” He looks worried, and I can see he wants to help. I yell a
t him to hop in the car as I start the ignition.

  The streets appear deserted under the glow of the streetlights. While Tony asks over and over who can be behind everything, I rack my brain, thinking about the same thing.

  When I come to a stop at a red light, I suddenly have a flashback to being at the country club.

  “Oh, shit. I think I know who did this,” I say to Tony, pulling into a parking lot.

  “Who? How?” He has confusion written all over his face as he waits for me to fill him in.

  The Cobra’s interior closes in on me; I feel so claustrophobic. I hop out of the car and start to pace around, trying to figure things out. Tony exits the car and places his hands on my shoulders.

  “Dude, you need to calm down and think. Who is behind this?” he asks.

  “At the club, I didn’t really notice.”

  “What? What happened at the club, Trace?” He tries to help me sort through my potpourri of thoughts. I stare at him and take a deep breath.

  “Okay, it’s Mr. Roberts. It all leads to him. The way he’s been after my father’s job, the cat scratches . . .” I say, cracking my knuckles.

  “Cat scratches?”

  “Long story.”

  “Mr. Roberts? That guy who works for your dad? Why would he do this?”

  “I don’t know, but he creeps her out. Hell, he creeps me out. It has to be him.”

  Tony drops his hands from my shoulders as I pace around my car.

  “Where would he take her?” he asks, letting out a deep breath.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well think, man. Has he ever said anything? Or your dad? Do you think your dad put him up to this?” Tony looks down at his feet.

  “Don’t even mention my father. No way would he do this.”

  “Sorry, I’m just trying to think from all angles here.”

  Tony’s eyes show his fear and worry; he kicks a pebble on the ground.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Let me think.”

  I revisit everything that has happened in the past weeks, since I first met Vanessa. My mind races. I remember my meeting with Mr. Roberts when he had first met her, how I told him that I had saved her life in the ocean. Then something clicks in my mind.