by Nora Cobb
He leans his head on the table. “Because I wasn’t sure how I felt about you at that point.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you show up at the party with me and Jacob, and then you go off with Anthony.” He screws his face up in disgust. “Anthony. I could understand Jacob, but Anthony? You women have no taste.”
Speechless, I don’t know what to say. But I know what he must have felt. Lucas is the jock from a rich family, and Anthony is a poor loser who smokes weed behind the art building.
“You’re upset when I hang with Arielle,” he says, “but there you are doing it to me.”
“That’s not the same.”
“You’re right, but the results were the same. Turnaround is a bitch. Right, Natalie?”
My hands are shaking as the waitress puts our plates on the table. My green salad looks like a bouquet of lettuce accented with perfect vegetables—all ready to be posted on Instagram. Meanwhile, Lucas’ sandwich looks like it was photographed before they sent it out. He tosses the bun to the side and cuts into the grilled chicken with his knife. He watches me as I pick at the greens with my fork.
“Sorry,” he says, “I know I should be too upset to eat, but I’m starving.”
“That’s okay,” I lie. “But I saw you with Arielle that night.”
“It was the calm before the tsunami, earthquake, and tornado, all in one big bang. She was putting on a show for you. While you were upstairs with Anthony, Arielle was dumping me.”
I drop my fork, and it clatters to the floor. It lies there, and I stare at it as if an inanimate object could have its feelings hurt. Instantly, the waitress places another one on the table, but I don’t pick it up. Shaking my head, I take small mental steps and start with the first thing I can think of.
“Anthony wasn’t upstairs with me. It wasn’t you?”
Lucas frowns at me as he takes another bite off his fork. “No, Natalie, I was downstairs getting my ass dumped by the woman my parents told me I was going to marry after graduation.” At first, his tone is flippant until his eyes grow wide with concern. “Are you okay?”
Holding my hand over my mouth, I shake my head. Lucas tosses his fork down onto the table, causing it to spin. He grabs hold of my arm. Quickly, Lucas helps me stand up, and we move away from the table.
“Is she okay?” Someone asks.
“Does she look okay?" He shouts. "Get a glass of water.”
Lucas almost carries me towards a private bathroom down the hall. I rest against him as my knees shake with each step. He swings open the door, and the sight of bright white tiles hurt my throbbing head.
“I knew it wasn’t you," I gasp. "But deep down. I hoped.”
“You have no idea who you were with?” Lucas helps me onto a bench by a mirrored wall. His expression is full of sorrow and he knows that I’m not playing for sympathy. I had hoped that the person I had been with would be the one, but this can’t be right.
The tears are streaming down my face. “Fuck. Could it have been Troy?”
Lucas exhales as he leans his head back, stopping it on the wall. “Maybe not. Maybe you're mistaken?”
“A mistake? He pulled my panties out of that box, and you said that you didn’t know they were in the box until he opened it.”
His eyes are desperate as he stares into mine. “And you asked Jacob?”
“Of course, I fucking asked Jacob!” My scream reverberates against the smooth tile walls. I choke back a sob that threatens to close my throat, and Lucas holds me tight in his arms. Feeling his strong arms around me, I know...I know it wasn’t him. I know the way Lucas touches me, and it was different.
“Natalie, I’m so sorry for everything.”
But his words can’t keep me from crying in ragged sobs. Lucas holds me close. If he didn’t, I would have run as fast and hard as I could back to my old home in West Lake, where I was safe before my life went horribly wrong.
There’s a timid knock on the door, and we look at it, scared that if it opens, the world will come flooding in.
***
A voice on the other side asks, “Is everything okay?”
Lucas releases me, and I waver, gripping the bench. I need to hold onto something. He opens the door a crack, and the hostess is standing outside.
“Does the young lady need assistance?”
“She’s had some bad news. I asked for a glass of water?”
“Certainly.”
Lucas shuts the door, and he looks down. I’m huddled on the floor, my body tilted against the sink.
He strokes my hair off my face and demonstrates the compassion that I didn’t know he was capable of anymore. “Natalie, it will be okay. Jacob and I will find out.”
“I don’t know. How would he know that I was in the bedroom?” My head shoots up as I stare into Lucas’ eyes. But I don’t say it. I can barely say it to him, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. “Anthony wouldn’t have told him?”
“Well, someone must’ve told him.”
There’s another knock on the door, and I lower my head to hide the chaos of tears on my face. I don’t want to be seen, not like this. Lucas comes back with a glass of water, and slowly, I sip it. The coolness rushes through me, and I sigh deeply, trying to center my mind back into my head.
“If Troy did it, why would he do it if he’s with Arielle?” I ask.
“Who knows,” he replies tensing his jaw. “But Arielle better never find out.”
CHAPTER 4
Natalie
I have no classes with Troy, so talking to him privately is going to be a lot harder. Baseball season starts in the spring, but all the jocks train year-round, and they hang out in the fieldhouses on the far end of the fields. It’s like their sanctuary—the official boys’ club. No girls allowed. The girls’ locker room is located in the basement next to the gym, but the boys are expected to change in the red-brick fieldhouses. The coaches think it builds character to make the boys jog across the field in their gym clothes through the rain and the snow. Someone needs to teach Montlake about what builds character. Someone like me.
Concealed, I wait by the entrance to the art building and watch Troy cross the field and enter the fieldhouse alone. Running, I head for the fieldhouse. I hope he’s not in the middle of changing as I push open the heavy wood door.
Troy must think I’m another jock because he doesn’t bother to look up as I walk in. Silently, I watch him pull his tee-shirt out of his gym bag. I just don’t get him. He’s a walking ad campaign for the All-American boy - blond hair, blue eyes, and a muscular build. He looks as wholesome as whole milk, but this boy is rotten to the core. What the fuck happened to him to make him so mean?
Well, it’s now or never. I clear my throat, and he looks at me with a scowl. Like I have the nerve to be there because I do. I walk in further, and look down the aisle of lockers, checking that no one else is around. Troy smirks as he pulls off his white oxford shirt. He flexes his built muscles, but I’m not interested in a free show. I'm not interested in a freak.
Moving toward him, I jump right into the accusations. “That night...how did you know I was meeting Anthony upstairs?”
Troy laughs loudly as he tosses his wrinkled shirt onto the bench. He opens his locker, and I pray that he’s going to keep his pants on.
“It wasn’t difficult to figure out by the excited look on his pathetic face,” he replies. “And the tiny bulge in his pants. I knew what was about to happen. You’re lucky that I got in there first before that loser.”
My eyes narrow as my hate flames. “You’re a pig. You’re disgusting.”
“I might be the pig, sweet lips.” Troy leans against the locker and flexes his biceps which make his pecs bounce. “But you shouldn't pretend that you didn’t like playing in the mud with me.”
Shame flips my stomach, and I can’t look at his half-naked body without blushing. I still hope that it's a mistake, and he wasn't pressed against me in the dark. Why didn’t I turn on the
light when I entered the room? Why him? I did nothing to lead him on. Troy would never be my choice.
“I was turning you on that night.” Troy sits on the bench, spreading his legs open the way guys do. “I’ve never heard a girl moan so loud before, and that was just a taste. Do you know how hard it was for me to stop myself?”
“Shut up!” I scream as I cover my ears. Troy may have touched me, but he’s not playing with my head.
Standing, Troy yanks my hands off my ears. He holds my wrists tight as I try to pull away. Pulling and yanking, I try to break free. I shouldn’t have confronted him alone.
“Why waste yourself on that loser?” He tugs me closer. Heat is rolling off his bare chest, and the nasty pig is aroused. Twisting my wrists out of his grip, I pull away quickly as he laughs, amused by my struggle. “I did you a big favor.”
“You’re the fucking loser.” I put distance between us. I want to howl and scream but my voice cracks instead. “You’re the one who has to trick a girl into fucking you.”
Ignoring me, Troy reaches into his locker and pulls out a sweatshirt. He pulls it over his head, and the smirk is off his face. He sits down as he laces up his sneakers. I'm thankful that he’s not changing his pants.
“You could have left,” he says thoughtfully. “But you weren’t going anywhere because you wanted me. If you still want it, we can do it, and I won’t stop until we both finish together.”
A blazing red light that only I can see flashes across my vision. My body takes over as my common sense shuts down and I lunge at him. My open hand smacks Troy across his left cheek, and the unexpected impact twists his head to the side. His shocked expression should be the screensaver on my phone. Of course, the slap doesn’t hurt him. He's only stunned.
“You’re a real fucked-up bastard,” I rock back and forth on my heels. Grinning like a maniac, I’m wondering if I can get another hit in. A wave of relief floods through me as I literally take the upper hand.
“Did that turn you on, sweet lips?” Troy blinks his glassy eyes. “Beating a man? I like it when girls play rough.” He growls then rubs his cheek.
His left cheek is red where I hit him, but Troy isn’t fazed. To him, that hit might as well have been a mosquito bite. He smiles at me with a leering grin that twists his face into something wild. Something dangerous.
“What is wrong with you?” I step farther back this time. “Why do you act this way?”
Troy stands up to his full height and looks down his nose at me. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head and cracks his shoulders. “Mommy didn’t breastfeed me," he replies. "So, I’m thirsty for the experience.”
I don’t know how I'm allowing this conversation to happen.
I lift my hand again, but this time, Troy catches it quickly. He yanks me against him. Against the same body that pressed against mine in the dark. I don’t want this. I don’t want him. I struggle against Troy as he tugs me into a kiss. This is not what I want. But I part my lips, and then I wrap my teeth around his lower lip and take a hard bite.
With a flick of his wrist, I’m off him. Troy holds me by my coat collar away from him like a cat holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck. Glaring at me as if I’m the one not acting right, he checks his mouth with his other hand for blood.
His voice is hard, with a threat that should be taken seriously. “Do that again, and I’ll make you pay.”
“Ditto, bitch.” Now, it’s my turn to sneer.
But Troy’s look of alarm and disgust melts into nasty lust as he runs his tongue over the spot where I bit him. Is he turned on by this? Is this foreplay to him? Gross.
“You know, Natalie, I can tame you.” He lets my collar go, and I jump away. “Once you’ve had me, you won’t have to go from man to man.” He looks sincere.
I stare at the smug bastard. I promised myself that whoever I was with that night would be the one. But not him...it will never be Troy. My index finger is straight up into the air. “Stay away from me, you sick fuck. Never touch me again. Do you understand?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Troy shakes his head once, and with a solemn expression, he replies, “Do you understand that I get off on a challenge? And you’re that.”
“Why? I don’t want you.” My wailing voice fills the locker room, bouncing off the metal lockers.
“But Lucas and Jacob do.”
Oh god. Troy won’t quit because of them. It has nothing to do with me. It makes sense now. I never paid attention to him the way I did Lucas, and later, Jacob. I ignored Troy, and that’s an insult he won’t forgive. He’s going to make a point by using me to hurt them.
In desperation, I pull the last card from my sleeve. “I’ll tell Arielle if you don’t leave me alone.”
“Tell her what?” He looks at me as if I’m the dull knife. “That you’re stealing another one of her boyfriends? Natalie, do you know why the squad is leaving you alone? It’s because Arielle is content, and I told her not to waste her time anymore. Sure, you might get a rude comment or a stare, but that’s nothing compared to what they’ll do if you’re back on their radar.”
Shit. He’s right, but I’m not making any trade-offs.
“You just stay away from me, Troy.” I swipe my bag off the floor. “You’re a sick fuck.”
A slow smile lifts his rosy lips. “Just had to get that word in there, sweet lips.”
Two juniors walk into the fieldhouse before I can spew verbal venom into his mocking face. I don’t recognize them, but I know that look. They’re staring at me like I’m topless and ready. The smirks slide off their faces when they see the scowl on Troy’s. They hurry toward the showers, and I better go before the rumor starts that we had a four-way — fucking private school.
Undeterred, Troy takes a step into my personal space. Placing his index finger underneath my chin, he whispers, “Let’s talk outside.”
“Fuck you.” I slap his hand away. “I’m done talking to you.”
Not looking back, I grab my backpack and run out of the fieldhouse, climbing the three concrete steps and leaping onto the grassy field. Troy's twisted laugh chases me through the exit door. Walking quickly, I hug the edge of the practice field and stare at my shoes as I hurry toward the parking deck. It’s after four, and the sun is sinking behind the distant hills. Hardly anyone is around, though I can hear someone shouting and laughing like a lunatic in the quad. The noises aren’t directed at me, so I don’t bother to look. It’s probably some asshole freshman trying desperately to be cool. Or another student that hates this place as much as I do.
I open the heavy metal door that leads into the deck when two firm hands grab me and pull me away from it. I'm spun around like a spinner, and Troy’s face swings into view. I drop my backpack on the ground, and Troy pins me quickly to the rough concrete wall of the deck. Reacting savagely, I flail about and hit any part of his body I can reach.
Troy holds me at arm’s length, and his face twisted in anger. “Stop it. Stop.”
He holds me like a child throwing a tantrum in the mall. My breaths are coming fast, but I stop. I'm breathing heavily, as my arms are held firmly in his outstretched hands.
“Calm down,” he says. “You had your say, and now it’s my turn. No tricks this time.”
I gulp cold air into my lungs until I can hold no more. My body slowly releases the adrenaline, but I don’t trust Troy despite his pensive expression. I’ve never seen him look grim until now. But my knees remain bent just in case I need to run or kick.
“You need to hear my side of the story.” His voice is quiet.
“You have a side?” I arch my brows in disbelief at anything Troy would say to me right now.
He shakes his head as if I’m the difficult one.
Trembling, my hands flatten against the hard concrete, and I ground my nerves into the earth as he starts to tell me his version of what happened.
“The night you were roofied at the loft, I wasn’t the only one in on it. Sure, Jacob walked in. But only because
he knew Lucas wanted to fuck you that night.” He smiles a crooked smile. “And I thought I would help.”
“Help?” My voice screeches like a car colliding into a wall of glass. “Help? You mean help yourself, you pervert.”
His tone turns serious again. “Natalie, Lucas told us all about your sessions in the woods.” His gaze drifts down my body. “He was tired of you not letting him go any farther. He wanted something to help you relax. So I helped.”
“By spiking my drink?”
Troy shrugs his shoulders, and apathy masks his face. The realization sinks slowly into my thoughts. He doesn’t see me as anything. I’m just someone to fuck and throw away. I get it completely. I’m just a pawn in his game with Lucas and Jacob. My hands curl into fists. I want to hit him until his thick head accepts me as a living, thinking, and feeling human being.