Scoffing at his indignant response, I start walking toward the gym. He grips my arm, and I’m jolted to a stop. Is murder really illegal? I’d love to test that theory.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he apologizes sincerely, his big, hazel orbs like a teddy bear’s. “I just want to be your friend. I can see I’m annoying you, but a guy can try.”
I close my eyes, already done with this conversation. No one has ever described me as nice. Yes, a guy can pursue a girl, but at some point, it gets annoying.
“Let’s start over.” He drops the hand on my arm, making a one-eighty. “Hey, my name is Toby Hayes.”
I laugh at his corniness, already feeling lighter about the dude.
“Loren Tanner,” I return, shaking his hand like we’re in the fifties.
“Loren,” he repeats slowly, stretching out those two syllables. “I’m still going to call you Sparkle. You’ll learn I have bad habits, and my worst is keeping sentimental tidbits like Sparkle. It fits you and that evil glint in your eyes.” He drops my hand and places his hands in his pockets, acting all coquettish. “Can we be best friends now?” he asks, quirking that brown eyebrow of his. “We’re already inseparable.”
“I can barely stand you, but I’ll give you credit for your inane attempts. You’re on probation, Jockstrap. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Back to that again, huh?”
“It fits. You’re a jock, and until I know you, I’ll probably think the worst of you. It’s inevitable.”
“Get to know me?” He wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
If I could somehow force the ground to open up and consume him, I would.
But he’s a funny one, I guess. If you’re into that.
Shaking my head at him, I chuckle at his disappointed expression. His frown deepens, and in turn, I grab his arm, effectively dragging him off to the gym.
“I think this is what friends do,” I joke.
“I swear you’re an alien, Sparkle. No one drags friends to class.” I shrug, unsure of how friends act. If Ellie is the definition of that sentiment, I don’t want to have any more.
“I do. If you want me as a friend, be prepared for abnormal.”
“Guess I’ll just have to learn,” he says confidently with a smirk.
“Students!” the teacher booms as soon as we enter. Class hasn’t even started yet. “We’re going to change! After, we’ll begin warm-ups.”
Audible groans echo in the gymnasium, students’ shoulders dropping in unison. We split up to the separate locker rooms. I’ve kept to myself mostly in this class and in almost every other one too. Now, I have a feeling Toby isn’t going to let that slide. I’m not ashamed of having goals. What’s the point of living without them?
Last night, I stayed at Ellie’s. Apparently, she packed my gym clothes. I’m emptying my bag that she put my clothes in, realizing immediately they aren’t my clothes. That bitch.
The contents spill out, a pair of her spankie shorts, a tank top, and a bright pink bra. Ellie’s boobs are much smaller than mine. Mine are going to suffocate in this. She’s sabotaging me because I don’t show off my body. I hurry and change, regretting coming to class, almost wishing I ditched. The shorts barely cover my ass, and the top with the bra makes me feel uncomfortable. These teenage boys are going to be gaping, and that thought has me wanting to crawl inside myself.
I exit the locker room, wanting nothing more than to turn around and hide. No one’s in the connecting hallway to the gym, so I’m momentarily safe. As soon as I open those double doors, I’m welcomed with hungry eyes. Wonderful.
“Take a good fucking look, boys. Because if I catch you staring at her ass, you’ll regret it.”
Tobe’s masculine growl makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. He struts up to me, all confident and proud of himself.
“Don’t worry, Sparkle. I’ll kick their teeth in if they touch you.” He smiles at me with honesty in his eyes. “Please don’t kill me for saying it, but you look edible, and I’m going to get stiff in class because of you.”
“Gross.”
“Just keeping it real.” He shrugs and waves me to head toward the coach.
Class starts off like normal. The coach has us doing a fifteen-minute warm-up. We jog three laps then do calisthenics after.
“I lied earlier, Sparkle,” Toby states ten minutes later when we’re doing butterflies.
I peer over at him. “Huh?” I question between pants.
“We can’t be best friends,” he grunts as sweat drips down his forehead. His eyes glide down my body, surely one resembling a sweaty mess.
“And why’s that?”
“I’m not sure I can be a friend to a girl that has me aching all class.”
“Toby...”
“I’m trying to be honest here, Lo. If not, I’d be like the rest of them,” he says, pointing to the other male students. “I don’t want to be that guy.”
“Then don’t be,” I suggest, relaxing. I’m glad he’s just here to be a friend, but I wish he wasn’t so honest.
“Tanner! Hayes! More working, less talking!” Coach yells before blowing his whistle. “Thanks to your friends, you get one hundred jumping jacks. Form a line.”
We hurry to our feet, knowing he’s not playing. Tobe is to my back while some random person is in front of me.
“You know the drill. Count together.”
“One. Two. Three. Four,” everyone shouts together, knowing it’s for the best.
When we get to one hundred, I’m dying.
I said I run. I do. It’s not sweating glitter, but it’s satisfying. This, on the other hand, this is hell.
Coach leaves us to our own recognizance after our jumping jacks. I’m too sore for anything more, but I end up jogging the track.
Toby keeps up with me the entire time. He’s a football player after all.
He also decides it’s time for twenty questions. I’ve got a feeling it’s entirely to distract me from my current exhaustion.
“Favorite color?”
“Lavender.”
“Favorite food?”
“Is that a trick question?” I ask.
“That’s not an answer,” he muses.
“Mexican food in the winter, pizza in the summer.”
“Weird, but okay.” He laughs, keeping in step with my increase in pace.
“What about you, Toby?”
“Electric green and nachos.”
“Interesting,” I say with a smile. Maybe this game isn’t so bad.
“Siblings?” he inquires, bumping into my shoulder. “A sister, maybe?”
“A younger brother, Nate. We couldn’t be any different.”
“Same but an older one. He’s Mr. Popular,” he replies, his face sad. I notice his eyebrows pinched, and his relaxed form is now stiff with our soft jog.
“You’re quite popular yourself,” I try, lightening the mood.
“Not like him... never like him,” he almost barks, his voice darker, more troubled.
Luckily, the bell rings, interrupting our awkward standoff.
“Let’s head in,” I offer.
“I’m going to run another lap,” he utters harshly, brushing past me, leaving me stuck in a stiff position, wondering what just happened.
After I’ve showered and changed, coming back for last roll call, I don’t see Toby. He’s nowhere to be found, and I’m worrying for a boy who’s been annoying me for ages. But something about the way he spoke about his brother has me feeling bad. I’ve never been put up to those expectations, being the oldest, but he must.
THE LAST FEW WEEKS have been awkward, almost unbearable. Neither of us has touched that subject since that day. Tobe and I hang out outside of class, but we’re not as open as before. Not that we got further than his distaste of his brother.
I’m hoping it’ll be better this coming week. His brother is having a party at his parents’ house, and Toby begged me to be his soundboard. I planned on saying no, but my best friend doesn�
��t care about what I want.
It’s always about her.
Ellie’s forcing me to go, so she can have a fun time. Apparently, she wasn’t invited. It’s mostly for the juniors, not sophomores and freshmen. She also apparently has the hots for Toby’s brother, who I still know nothing about. I don’t even know his name, let alone if he’s hot or not.
Yay me.
Sorry I’ve been a dick lately. Just don’t bail on me, okay? Toby’s text comes through, making me feel so much for a person I really don’t know.
Only if you’re picking me up, I respond, knowing he can’t drive yet.
I’ll be there, Sparkle. Thank you for doing this.
I just hope I don’t regret the decision of being his friend—for being anything to him. He’s making me lose focus in class. I’m always worrying about him. This doesn’t fit in my five-year plan.
Attachments.
That’s what happens when you let love in. No matter what form it comes in, allowing that sensation to trickle through your system brings pain and sorrow. It brings an entire collection of emotions that distract you and make you more aware all at once.
It’s dangerous.
It’s even deadly in some cases.
And it thrums through me, warning me that Toby is going to be a huge part of my life. Whether that’s today, next month, or even a year from now...
I’m not ready.
I can prepare for a test larger than the Bible, for college and my future, but for an unrestrained feeling—something that’ll take you hostage without ransom—that’s fucking terrifying. What’s worse, it won’t leave anyone behind. No witnesses, no survivors, just the hope that you can save your soul—or be damned trying.
Yeah, fall in love, they said.
chapter four
One Year Later
Lo
“I can’t believe you haven’t met my brother,” Tobe says, his mouth open like a fool in shock while we walk toward the lunchroom. “He was at that party we went to last year.”
Closing my book to pay attention to his random statement, I mentally claw out his eyes. No one interrupts my reading time. He’s lucky to make it out alive. Books are my sanctuary, my escape. Tobe, above all, knows this. Fucker.
I refuse to recall his brother ever. Even though Tobe and I have been friends for almost a year, we only crossed paths with Jason once. I’ve been to their house, hung out at his football parties and keggers, but the only memory I have with Jason is locked away, locked like a fucking prisoner, hidden in a vault, abandoned on Alcatraz forever. No one can hear the screams, and that’s where the memory belongs.
Voiceless. Pictureless. Desolate. Never to be spoken about again.
“He is two years ahead of us, so I guess it makes sense.” He shrugs, seemingly happy at my uncaring response.
Toby doesn’t know I met him at that party last year. He doesn’t know that it changes nothing, absolutely nothing. Not after the response I got a week later.
I nod, trying to forget Jason. Any memory to replace it would do, really. Nothing comes to mind, though. I don’t want him to be memorable.
Turning to Toby, I shrug.
He still appears perplexed. “You really don’t remember him from that party last year?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” is my bored response.
The nonchalance in my voice and posture is obvious. His smile seems almost too satisfied, like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.
“Of all the times we’ve hung out, we’ve never met,” I lie, hoping he doesn’t see through the bullshit.
“You’d be a first. Everyone seems to know Jase.”
When he said Jase instead of Jason, it hits me harder than the bitterness from that party. I do know the rumors about him. Or rather about his reputation.
It’s hard to not know Jase Collins. Collins. Why not Hayes? I’ve never asked Toby about their non-shared last name.
I’ve never been a fan of Jase. He’s nothing like Tobe. He’s a man whore, and Toby is practically a saint in comparison. Jase is always so sure of himself, always thinking he’s the biggest and baddest dude out there. A cocky bastard.
But Tobe used to be.
Jase is a dirty blonde. He’s built like a man, strong and virile. He’s not a dusty brunette boy like Tobe, and he easily has twenty more pounds of pure muscle on him. He would be attractive if he wasn’t a total dick.
Lies.
“You’re so wet, Peaches.”
The memory smacks me where it hurts. He’s always been attractive.
I thought Toby was a jockstrap when I first met him, but his brother is the epitome of the word.
Dick.
Fuckface.
Man-that-confuses-women-with-a-mere-touch.
Stop. Forget him. Forget that night.
His ego has its own zip code, and no one can keep up. He’s constantly with a popular chick, always a new one on his arm every week. I’m waiting for Ellie to be his next fling. She’s always eye-raping him anyway.
He’s the douche who always has his hands up all the cheerleaders’ skirts. Believe me, I’ve seen him with those girls. Met him even before that imagery. We had our first encounter at that stupid party last year, but there’s no way he could remember. He was trashed. Plus, I’m nothing. Just another weak moment for him.
Another fling under the stars.
Abandoned like the memory.
Though, in that moment, I thought he was different. Imagined he could be something other than another high school cliché, but I was wrong. Jase proved that.
Shaking my head, I pretend I didn’t just think of that horrible night and turn back to Toby. He rubs a hand through his hair seeming absolutely shocked that I don’t know Jase.
“What about him anyway?” I ask, faking some curiosity. If I shut it entirely down, he won’t believe me. If I ask too much, I’ll seem interested. He never talks about his brother, it probably seems realistic for me to somewhat care.
“He asked about you, asked if I’d introduce you.”
That stops me in my tracks, I halt before hitting the doors to the cafeteria. My gaze scans Toby’s face, searching for clues, trying to find something, maybe a reaction, a hint of amusement, or even a lie. Yet, he stands there, nothing but normal Toby-ness reflected in his face. I want to ask—ask if he’s jealous, ask why the hell Jase cares about me, and mostly, what did Toby tell him about me?
“Why?” is all I get out. There are too many options, so many possibilities and variables to this revelation, and none of them sit well with me.
“Why what, Sparkle?” he teases, a hint of jealousy flickers behind the façade of joking.
It’s not news to me that Toby has feelings for me, not news to anyone. It’s in the way he watches me, the adoration that shows in his eyes, and the way he doesn’t talk about his dates—or better yet, his fucks—to me. Almost like he’s trying to protect me or to give me the opportunity to love him.
I do.
Love him, that is.
I just don’t want to ruin this concrete relationship we’ve gained. He’s my best friend. I’m comfortable with him. With us. He’s the knight in the darkest of nights, but he’s my best friend, and he’ll stay in that category. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d move mountains for me. He is always here no matter what I need. Whether it’s a tampon, chocolate, or an ice cream run, he shows up. It’s how I like it. It’s how I keep him close without the risk of ever losing him.
Nearly forgetting my lack of response, I smile at him.
“Why does he care?” I prod, not knowing if I want an answer or not.
“I don’t have a clue. He asked me about you specifically, and I told him you weren’t interested,” he responds almost angrily.
His pinched expression pisses me off. No one owns me or makes decisions for me. Toby did that, made the decision without asking me. Not that it’d be a different response, but him taking that choice away from me isn’t acceptable.
“A
nd you came to that conclusion all by yourself?” I challenge.
I’m no longer the demure girl he met a year ago. If there’s one thing this friendship has brought, it’s a huge confidence boost. He’s toughened me up, made me all around stronger, and if he thinks he can control who I talk to, he’s sorely mistaken.
“You don’t fuck and leave,” he all but bites out, the harshness bitter and resentful.
His bulldozing behavior pisses me off. I get that he’s jealous, but there’s no reason for him to be a dick. And he’s definitely being a dick.
“Yeah?” I ask condescendingly. “How would you know? I might just want a quick fuck. That’s what you do, isn’t it? I can do it just as easily.” I scowl at him, the heat flaming my neck and creeping up my cheeks, making me feel flustered and even more frustrated with this entire conversation.
In truth, I can’t have sex without a connection, and since Tobe is the only person I have that connection with... I’ll probably die a virgin.
Toby gets really close to my face, far too close for our just friends boundaries, but he doesn’t back down. His hand grips my elbow, his other trailing my cheek.
“You deserve better than that, Sparkle,” he whispers, a hint of regret laces his voice.
His scent hits my nose. He smells like solace, amber, leather, and a citrusy fragrance that’s entirely Toby. I can’t tell if his regret is from the argument or something completely different and unrelated.
His thumb traces my cheek, and it’s comforting. Our entire friendship is comfortable. He’s that warmth I need, the solidarity I crave, and the person I can depend on.
He’s my always.
But he’ll never be my forever.
I’ve become codependent with a man I keep at arm's length, a man I’ll never allow myself to love. He deserves more from this, but I can’t seem to let him go.
I can never be what he needs—what he deserves.
“Maybe I don’t,” I huff, pulling away.
I’m stubborn. He knows this. What he doesn’t realize is that this will never happen. We will never become more than friends. I refuse to risk what we have for what would end up being the end of us. Our love isn’t one that you could write down. It’s not one that you’d tell the world about. It’s confusing and comfortable. It’s simple and overwhelming. It’s good and bad and a making for an unhappy ending.
Inhale, Exhale Page 3