by Eva Ashwood
It makes me feel a lot warmer toward Peter. I might not feel much spark with him, but at least I feel normal. Balanced. Sane.
The entire week seems to drag, and I feel constantly on edge, like I’m waiting for some disaster to strike.
And on Friday, it does.
I’m in Anthropology 101, fidgeting in my chair like always as I struggle not to react to Reese’s presence beside me, when Professor Sykes drops a bomb.
“You’re going to be teaming up for an important assignment,” he says, writing names on the whiteboard. “Keep in mind that this is the most vital task of the year, and your performance will constitute half of your grade this semester.”
My heart begins to pound as I watch him scratch out names on the board. Fuck, no. He already made my life hell by trapping me in a seat surrounded by my worst enemies. There’s no goddamn way he’ll force me into doing a group assignment with them too. Professor Sykes isn’t that cruel. Fate isn’t that cruel.
Well, Professor Sykes doesn’t actually know what he’s doing.
But Fate?
She’s a fucking bitch.
He’s already written down over half the names in the class, and neither the guys’ nor mine have come up yet. My stomach turns into a hard knot as I realize he’s grouping people according to their seating assignments.
I feel Reese turn toward me, and when I glance at him, his green eyes are sparkling, lit from within. I can’t figure out the emotion behind them, and I quickly turn away, gritting my teeth. When I look back toward the whiteboard, sure enough, written under the heading of Team Six is: Reese, West, Trent, and Emma.
“Now, I’d like you to get together with your team for the remainder of class and discuss your approach. I’ll be handing out packets that explain everything in detail,” Professor Sykes goes on.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Trent turn to me, and unlike Reese, he’s not smiling at all. There’s fire in his eyes.
Everyone in the room begins to rearrange their desks so that they’re facing one another, and as I do the same, I feel my entire body tense up. I’ve been avoiding prolonged, direct eye contact with the guys, and now, I won’t be able to hold off any longer. All around me, I hear the other groups chatting and laughing, but Team Six remains silent for some time.
“Is everything alright?” Professor Sykes asks as he comes to our group and hands out our packets, no doubt sensing the tension amongst us.
“Everything is great,” Trent replies darkly.
I look over and meet West’s eyes. He scares me the most out of the three of them, even though I think Trent hates me more. West terrifies me because he tries to keep everything inside until he can’t possibly contain it anymore—and then the tension snaps and bursts out of him, and it’s anybody’s guess what the fallout will be.
West, of course, doesn’t say a thing in response to my look. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or more worried.
Reese glances down at the pages that have been handed to him and shakes his head. Does that mean it’s a super tough assignment? I don’t even dare look down to check. It’s hard enough acing any project, but in a group like this, it becomes nearly impossible.
This can’t be happening. This just absolutely can’t be happening.
“Trent, I’d like you to be the team leader,” Professor Sykes finally says, still eyeballing us like he’s wondering if he’s made a mistake. Or maybe he did do this on purpose, as some sort of sick anthropological experiment.
“Of course.” Trent lifts his chin arrogantly.
I’m not surprised. Trent is kind of the leader of the pack. He was back in high school too. He’s the most stubborn of all the guys, and he was the original source for the bullying. Reese is the smartest, if you ask me, but he doesn’t always show it. West is just… well, West.
After Professor Sykes leaves, the silent tension falls over us again. Every so often, Trent laughs to himself malignantly, and West is staring at me like he’s trying to burn a hole in my fucking skull.
Finally, my mouth snaps open. I just can’t take it anymore. “We can’t sit here during the whole class, not saying anything.”
The buzz of friendly, relaxed voices around us seems to drive home my point, but Trent just shrugs.
“I think we can.”
“Come on, man,” Reese says, trying to calm him down. Even I can tell he’s already riled up.
“This is serious, Trent.” I almost stumble over the last word, realizing as I speak that it’s the first time I’ve said his name aloud in years.
“You don’t realize how serious it really is,” he replies, all kinds of meaning in his voice.
“This is bullshit,” I mutter under my breath, seething with anger. I lean forward, lowering my voice a little. “I don’t know what you all came here for, but I’m here to learn and I intend to succeed. I need to pass this class. Maybe your parents can afford an extra year of tuition if you flunk out of a 101 class, but that’s not in my plans, okay? I want us to do well on this.”
“Yeah? Well, we don’t always get what we want,” West grunts, and I’m taken aback that he’s spoken at all.
“That doesn’t mean we stop trying,” I insist.
“Do you really think I’m gonna forget the past for the sake of an anthropology assignment, Emma?” Trent scoffs.
“He has a point,” Reese adds, nodding toward him in solidarity.
How is it that I can never tell what side Reese is on? He taunts me and he stands with his boys, but when he looks into my eyes, I still see something that looks almost… soft.
“I’m not asking anyone to forget about the past.” I grit my teeth. “I certainly fucking won’t. I’m just saying that in this classroom, we create a neutral territory, okay? There’s a lot of fucked up history between us, and we can’t make that go away, but we can drop it for a couple hours a day in order to focus on something bigger than ourselves.”
Silence follows, and I let it hover over us as I wait for someone to give me an answer. There are so many other choice words I’d like to use, like “grow the fuck up” or even “man up.” Or maybe “go fuck yourself, you fucking assholes.” But I know if I say any of that, I can basically kiss my college experience goodbye.
West and Reese look to Trent to see what he wants to do. They don’t follow him like sheep or anything, but they’ve always seemed to defer to him when it comes to me. Which makes no sense to me, because I turned them all down when they asked me out. It’s not like I hurt him specifically.
“Yeah. Fine. We can do that,” Trent finally says.
From the look on West’s face, he’s totally pissed off that Trent has relented. Reese, on the other hand, seems pleased.
“Alright, let’s get this thing rolling.” Scrubbing a hand through his golden brown hair, he leans over the packet Professor Sykes dropped off.
We sit there for the rest of class and hash things out. I’m trying to make direct eye contact with them so that they know I mean business; that I’m separating our outside lives from the time we spend together in this class. Despite my best efforts, the men are still darting thunderbolts into my eyes every time that I look at them. I focus on my breathing and try to keep myself as calm as possible. In the end, the struggle pays off, because by the time Professor Sykes releases us from class, we have a preliminary plan for how to undertake the project successfully.
I’m so relieved that I grab my backpack quickly and start to bolt for the door, eager to have lunch with Leslie and take my mind off things.
“In such a hurry,” I hear Trent mutter.
There’s an angry taunt to his voice, like he wants to make sure I know that the torture will begin again each day as soon as Professor Sykes lets us out of class—and it will probably be worse to make up for lost time.
I don’t respond to his words. I don’t stop or even look back.
Honestly, I am in a hurry, because I don’t want them to follow me. I just want to eat my damn lunch in peace.
&
nbsp; That’s my plan anyway, but as soon as I barge out into the hall, I almost collide with Peter, who’s walking past on his way toward the main entry doors.
“Oh, hey, Emma.” He grins brightly, catching my arms to keep us both steady.
“Hey,” I reply, turning around to see where the guys are.
Sure enough, they emerge from the room right behind me, brushing past me to enter the hall but making no move to walk away. Dammit. I’m not going to have any chance to escape.
“Got any plans for lunch?”
As Peter speaks, I see the boys circle around behind him, as though watching the whole thing go down like it’s a theatrical production. They all look just like they did at the party when they saw him with me, except now their emotions have multiplied tenfold.
And maybe that’s what goads me into action—the realization that as much power as they have over me, I have some power over them too.
I might not quite understand why, but this is getting to them. It’s getting under their skin, making them as unhinged as I feel so much of the time now.
A wave of anger washes over me as I see all three guys standing there, staring at me like they might just attack me. And for fuck’s sake, they have attacked me already, so I decide to fire back and hit them first this time.
Walking right up to Peter, I go up on my tiptoes and place my lips on his, giving him a soft kiss.
“Yeah, I do have plans for lunch. I was planning on having lunch with you,” I say with a smile after I pull away.
A look of pleasure blooms across Peter’s face, and I slip my arm through his, prompting him to lead me toward the quad. I don’t even need to turn back and see the guys at this point. Their stares burn into my back like lasers, and a laugh bubbles up in my throat. It’s probably nervous laughter, because nothing about this is funny but I do feel a little high.
“What’s up?” Peter asks with a smile.
“Nothing.” I clear my throat, relaxing my features. “Just excited for lunch. That was a long class.”
As we step out into the warm fall sunshine, I feel my phone buzz and reach into my backpack for it, figuring it’s probably Leslie asking where she can meet me.
UKNOWN: Well played. I could tell that was fake, tho. Are you always that bad at faking it?
There’s no name attached to the text, only a phone number. After moving to Seattle, I got a new phone and changed my number, because I was tired of the onslaught of cruel texts from all three of them. Since I don’t remember what any of their numbers are, I reason that it could be any one of them. From the tone, my guess is that it’s from Trent. But considering that West has a unique hold on me that the others don’t, I wonder if it’s him.
“Jesus,” I mutter. Refusing to respond, I stuff my phone into the side pocket of my backpack.
“What’s wrong?” Peter cocks his head.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Just a sales text.”
When I glance back up at the brown-haired man, he’s smiling at me yet again, and it makes me wonder why it is I’m not passionately in love with him yet.
Then a terrible thought comes to mind.
Is it because he’s a nice guy?
8
Reese
A few weeks pass, and Team Six has to meet outside of class twice a week. At this point, I’m thinking about Emma non-stop. I can’t stop looking at her, can’t stop thinking about her, and I fantasize about being alone with her. But I can’t do that because every time that I’m with her, West and Trent are there.
Another thing I can’t get out of my mind is that guy I keep seeing her with. Who the fuck is he? I asked around, and his name is Peter, but I haven’t been able to find out much more about him. He’s not anybody special though, I know that. Emma can’t possibly be serious about him.
I think Trent is seriously angry about that asshole too, because he’s been taunting Emma a lot lately. For one thing, I see him following her when she’s with that other dude. And he’s also been fucking with Emma by constantly switching up the dates and times of our group project meetings so she has to run around like she’s in a scavenger hunt. When Emma finally finds us, it looks like she’s almost in tears. It breaks my heart when that happens, but instead of intervening, I remind myself of the fucked up shit she did to Trent, and I feel more okay about it.
Still, sometimes I want to pull her aside and just tell her to give up. I want to tell her to move on with her life and get out of this school. I don’t think that she would though. Emma seems really determined to make this happen, and for that reason, I just hold my tongue.
This particular day, we’re meeting in a private conference room in the library. Students can rent it out for school projects and stuff like that. As the three of us sit here and wait, Trent glances up at the clock, looking seriously pissed.
“What the fuck?” He scowls, drumming his fingers on the table.
“She’s lost, man,” I tell him, reminding him that he changed this particular location three times in one day.
“Still, this is ridiculous.”
I look over to West, who’s sitting with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks no less amused. None of us say anything else, and the only sounds in the room are the clock ticking on the wall and the muffled sounds of other students roaming around the library. Finally, I see Emma run up to the glass door, out of breath. She’s wearing a soft blue sundress, and my damn dick perks up immediately.
“Sorry,” she mutters, not looking up as she sits down and puts her backpack on the table. She’s won’t look at any of us, but I can tell she’s feeling a mixture of shame and hatred that Trent keeps putting her in this situation.
“How many times are you gonna say you’re sorry?” Trent drawls.
“You’re right.” Emma’s back stiffens, and her head whips up. “I don’t have to say it at all.”
“Don’t. Because it’s fucking annoying.”
“How about giving up the childish behavior and focusing on the task at hand?” An angry flush creeps up Emma’s chest as she opens her backpack and places a folder onto the table.
“Are you calling my behavior childish?” Trent asks with an amused smile.
“Yes! Childish and vindictive, you fucking asshole!” she snaps.
“Yeah, well, I can think of some shit you’ve done that was way more vindictive than anything I’ve done,” he counters.
The room goes dead silent. This whole time, West and I have been watching the exchange like a tennis match, and now it feels like there’s seriously no more oxygen in the room.
“Okay, okay, let’s focus,” I say, trying to be diplomatic. Somebody’s gotta be Switzerland, right?
“I think that we should definitely do more research on the primate’s survival skills, and how these skills were unique, unlike any other species.” Emma starts flipping through her notes, her voice changing to a more business-like tone.
“I think we should just jump ahead to the cavemen,” Trent says, tapping his pen on his folder as he stares at her with a dark look. “How they would drag women by the hair into the cave and then procreate the species by fireside.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Emma slams her stack of papers down, her emotions boiling over.
“You guys, come on.” I roll my eyes. I love Trent, but he can be a serious fucking asshole sometimes.
“This is insane,” Emma goes on, nearly in tears. “Do you want to fail this class, Trent? Because that’s what it seems like. If I have to go to Professor Sykes and tell him what’s happening, then I will! I’m not letting you drag me down with you!”
“Calm down, little girl.” Trent flashes a dark grin.
“You’re calling me a little girl?”
“You already called me childish.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have called you that. I should’ve called you a spineless, ball-less, spoiled little baby!”
The room goes silent once more, then Trent begins to grab all his things, getting up
from his chair. His face has gone totally still, the way I know it does when he’s trying to hide strong emotions.
He stands right next to Emma’s chair, towering over her as he stares down at her. “It’s funny. Considering you had the courage to do to me what you did, I’d say you’ve got the biggest balls in the room. Does it shame you much?”
Before she can answer, he pushes the glass door open and is gone in a second.
“Guess that’s the end of the fucking meeting,” West finally grunts, getting up from his seat and heading for the door too.
It’s just me and Emma alone in the room, and I feel a little bad for her. I’m also such a damn glutton for punishment that I can’t help but savor this moment of being alone with her. She’s on the verge of tears, and a weird fantasy pops into my head about comforting her. Going up to her and wrapping my arms around her waist, then bringing a hand up to her cheek to brush away a tear.
Since I’m definitely not going to do any of that shit, I sit here instead and watch her clean up her papers. She doesn’t look at me, but I know she’s keenly aware of my presence.
“What did you expect to happen, Emma?” I finally say, my voice low. “You had to know coming to Clearwater would be like this.” I want to counsel her as a friend, but I still have to keep my distance, knowing what she’s done.
“No. I didn’t expect any of this, Reese, because I didn’t know that you guys would be here.” Emma looks up and finally makes direct eye contact. “I didn’t ask for this, and I don’t even deserve it. But it’s not going to be like last time. I’m stronger now, so you guys can do whatever the hell you want. I’m. Not. Fucking. Leaving.”
“You don’t deserve this?” I say doubtfully.
“No, I don’t deserve this. I’m sorry if I hurt Trent, or any of you, but it doesn’t fucking justify any of the shit you did to me—that you’re still doing to me! I know all three of you want me to run, but I won’t. I’d die before I run.”
I stop and watch again as she fills her backpack with her things. Damn, she’s so different than she was back in high school. She’s much stronger now, and I have to admit I’m impressed. For some reason, it actually makes her more beautiful than she was before. How is that even possible?