by Rachel Leigh
“What’s the big deal, Dad? I was just asking him about the neighbor.” I pick up a basketball lying in the grass and dribble it around. Dad grabs the ball out of my hand. “What the hell?”
“First of all, if you ever disrespect anyone in this family like that again, you can go back to Las Verdes... alone. Second of all, quit trying to stir up trouble. Third, I heard what you said, and if you ever speak about another lady in that context again, I’ll take it upon myself to feed you something... my fist. I don’t know what your intentions are with Blakely Porter, but I think it’s best that you steer clear of her.”
“No intentions. Just trying to get under the boy’s skin.” I really don’t have any intentions with her. At least not yet. She’s hot and all but that mouth on her drives me fucking crazy. She’s cruel, feisty, and unusual. She’s a female version of myself, and if anything ever did happen between us, we’d probably tear each other to shreds and burn down the house in the process.
“Good. Keep it that way. Now, I want you to get your ass in that house and apologize to Val.”
I do as instructed. Dad’s been through a lot, and he deserves this happiness. I don’t want to be the one to bring him back to that dark place. It took years for him to walk, or rather crawl, out of it. I haven’t seen his eyes light up the way they do now since before the accident. It was a hard time for both of us. I never showed my emotion out of fear that it would hurt Dad more. Instead, I grieved in silence.
The house emptied quickly. Knox and his friends headed the dance where Dad and Val were chaperoning. I look out my bedroom window, even though B’s curtains are pulled shut and she’s not there anyway. No way Queen B would miss the opportunity to doll herself up and socialize with the rich and the snobby. Just as I’m about to walk away, I catch a glimpse of a shadow walking along the driveway at the Porter house. A hairless cat? No, a small dog, probably a chihuahua or some little ankle biter. That’s when I see her. Her hair down, strands glistening under the night sky. No dress, no heels, no makeup.
She’s not at the dance. It doesn’t make any sense. Chicks like her live for this stuff. I peel myself away from the window and walk down the hall into the forbidden bedroom. A neat and tidy room with the bed made perfectly. His mom probably makes him clean it daily. He’s such a tool. His walls are lined with shelves of numerous trophies and awards.
A poster of Gigi Hadid in a bikini tosses away any suspicion that he was batting for the opposite team. Not that I would care, I just wouldn’t be surprised. I open his laptop. Password required. Damnit. I try a couple random words that come to mind. Ravens, football, douchebag.
No luck.
I look to the left of his desk and see a picture of him and B, he’s on his back on the floor, bench pressing her. Her ass in the air and his fingers in her thigh. He wants her, I know it. They might claim to be just friends, but there is no way in hell this guy spends this much time with a girl like B and doesn’t try to get it in, or at least jerk it to this picture every night. I’m half tempted to take it myself for the night and return it with my jizz all over her pretty face.
One last attempt.
Blakely.
Bingo. I’m in.
I click through some shit just to see what this kid’s into. His search history is full of sports and a couple porn sites. He’s probably still a virgin. I click on his last site. Fully clothed chicks making out. Definitely a virgin. I let out a laugh. This kid doesn’t know what he’s missing. After I finish snooping through his personal space, I pull up his contacts list on his iCloud account, find the number I’m looking for and punch it into my phone. I go back into his web browser and type in a nice porn site for him, leaving it up on the screen.
Me: No dance tonight?
I hit send.
Not even thirty seconds later, a response.
B: Who the hell is this?
Typical response from the Queen.
Me: Go to your bedroom window?
I perch myself on the ledge of the window and wait. Staring at my phone, glancing up and then back to my phone when she doesn’t show.
Me: Quit being stubborn and just do it.
I look up from the phone and there she is. Her curtains around her face, hiding her body. All I can see is her sad eyes.
B: How did you get my number? Better yet, what do you want?
Me: Why aren’t you at the dance?
B: Why aren’t you?
Me: Fuck all that noise. I’d rather die a slow death than mingle with those highbrows. Your turn.
She doesn’t respond. I look up and see her wipe her eyes then pull the curtains shut. She’s been crying. I’m not sure why, but it has an unsettling effect on me. The realization that someone as cold as Blakely is actually feeling something other than hatred is captivating, but also gut wrenching. A few minutes pass, but I don’t move. I grip the phone and wait. She’ll respond, I know she will.
Ten minutes later, she does.
B: None of your business.
I should have expected that.
Me: Look at us having something in common. Who’d have thought?
B: We have nothing in common. Lose my number.
I can’t help but grin at her attitude. I love that she doesn’t take my shit, probably because I don’t give her half of it. I almost feel guilty being harsh to this girl. She’s obviously hiding some deep wounds in that thick skin. She just won’t admit it. The cruel ones usually feel pain the deepest. I should know.
My next move is gonna be a tough one, and she may not budge, but the possibility that she could, makes it all worth the effort.
Me: Get your ass dressed and meet me outside in five minutes.
B: You really are delusional. Either that or you’re asking for a bitch slap.
Me: Four.
One last look—her curtains are still closed. Risking rejection, I still make my way downstairs. I grab a bottle of wine from the wine cooler and a couple glasses and throw them into my backpack, no carefulness involved as they clink together with each step. No one will even notice. There are at least two dozen bottles, and the good stuff, not that dollar store shit.
I start up my car that’s parked in the garage, in my space, so it can warm up. Technically, it’s Knox’s, but I stole it from him. I make it a point to beat him home every night after practice, just so I can park there. I step out of my car, smiling in spite of it each time.
Me: Two.
I’m waiting in the front yard between the two houses, our house looking like a camper next to her castle. Still a thousand times better than the box I occupied in Las Verdes. It’s been five minutes, and she still hasn't come. I know women take a while to get ready, so I give it five more.
After five more minutes, I sit down in the damp grass. Staring at her house, waiting for her to walk out.
Twenty minutes have passed and I’m starting to feel like the world’s biggest fool. I pull myself up, and instead of feeling hurt, I feel anger. Feeling bad for the girl, I thought maybe I’d get her out of the house, so she wasn’t sulking alone on the night of the homecoming dance. A gesture I normally wouldn’t even consider. But being the heartless ice queen that she is, she couldn’t even acknowledge my act of kindness. Not even a lame excuse. I know she saw me sitting out here. Probably texting all her girlfriends and cracking jokes about it.
Me: Yeah, fuck you, too.
I shut my car off, after wasting all my gas letting it run, just so her sorry ass wouldn’t be cold. It can be sixty degrees out and that girl still shivers.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my joggers and I’m sure she’s sending some snooty remark about how I need to get a life.
B: Where are we going?
I wouldn’t be surprised if she was watching and gaining satisfaction from me wasting my time on her. Once she noticed I had given up, she had to prove to herself that she could make me wait longer. She’s either a sociopath, really fucking mean, or terribly slow at getting dressed. I vote the first two.
Me: Times up. Lost your chance.
B: Quit being a little bitch and tell me where we are going so I know what to wear.
Me: If that ain't the pot calling the kettle black.
B: You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me or I’m going to bed.
Screw that. I’m not playing her games. My kind streak has passed, and she left the skid marks on my heart to prove it.
B: 20 seconds
Fuck.
I wanna see her.
I don’t wanna see her.
B: 10 seconds
I hate her.
Yet, I’m mystified by her.
Me: Just a ride. Dress warm.
She just made me her bitch, and she knows it.
Chapter Nine
Blakely
When I saw his pathetic face looking from his phone to my bedroom window, I knew I had to just suck it up. He may think that I don’t have a soul, most people do, but every once in a while, I feel something that even surprises myself.
I woke up this morning with a mountain of regret and a pounding headache. Last night was intense. I didn’t think I had that much to drink, but apparently, it was enough to make me do a strip tease for my new neighbor. I know he enjoyed it, even if he’ll never admit it.
I step into my black Ugg boots pulling them overtop my ripped skinny jeans and pull my Ravens hoodie over my head. As I reach for the handle, I second guess myself. He‘ll likely be a jerk, just to try and prove that he has balls. He’ll probably try to kiss me, at which point, I’ll pull away and probably say something rude that I may or may not regret. Jasper isn’t bad looking by any means. He’s actually one of the better looking guys at Redwood. He’s just not my type. I’m very specific on what I want and he is not it. Levi Maddox has it all. Every single check on my list. Well, almost every one, aside from his personality. I take my boots off and walk back into the corridor by the living room. Then I find myself inside them again. Before I allow myself to think anymore, I open the door and step out.
Jasper is leaning against the hood of his car. Legs crossed in front of him and his face on his phone. If I was feeling underdressed before, I’m not now. He’s sporting a pair of black sweats and a solid black hoodie that matches his almost black hair and his eyes. At least he coordinates.
“Hey there. Glad you finally made it. I’ve only been waiting for an hour.” He walks over to the passenger side and opens the door for me.
I should thank him.
I don’t.
“You’re lucky I made it at all. After watching you cry on my grass for thirty minutes, I didn’t really have a choice.” I climb in and shut the door. Taking in the brown leather seats and the musty old car smell. Definitely not a classic, more like an elder.
Jasper throws his head back in laughter. “You’re so dramatic. I was not crying.” He looks over at me as I pull my knees to my chest. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You’re in for a hell of a ride.”
“In this thing? Can you even get this thing to go the speed limit?”
“As a matter of fact, I can. She may shake a little, but most ladies do when I’m driving them.” He winks, and I have to force myself not to smile. Not because I don’t want to, because I don’t want him to know that he’s the one who put it on my face.
“Just drive, asshole.”
I look out the window and see my reflection in the mirror as a car drives by with its high beams on. A sad girl—with a smile.
I’ve always had a hard time expressing emotions, unless it’s anger. My therapist says that I deflect. There is a constant nagging need to take control of every situation, due to the fact that at one point, I had no control, no voice. Today, I use my words and my actions to keep the demons at bay. No one will ever understand, but I don’t need them to.
“Can you tell me where we’re going?” I look over to Jasper who is tapping the steering wheel and humming along to The Foo Fighters.
He stretches his arm in the backseat and grabs a folder. Setting it on his lap and glancing from the road to his lap, he pulls out a paper and hands it to me.
Greek Mythology Project.
“You’re fucking kidding me. You’re taking me to do homework on a Saturday night. The night of the dance for that matter.” I toss the paper back at him as he pulls down a dirt two-track. “Oh, I see. You plan to murder me out here and hide the body, along with our project paper. Ok, that’s better. At least we aren’t doing homework... on a Saturday.” I let out a sigh.
“You and your mouth.” He chuckles, shaking his head and then shifting the car into park. “It’s a pretty simple project, really. We just pick a constellation, research the mythology that surrounds it, and present it. Easy peasy.” He grabs the paper from my hand and tosses it in the back seat then points to the sky through the dirty windshield. “Tonight is the perfect night to start. The sky doesn’t get much clearer than this.”
The location is breathtaking. A perfect view of the sky above and rows of power lines behind us. I climb out without even saying anything, just so I can take in the view. I walk forward to a steep ledge that overlooks the valley.
“This is one of my favorite places to go when I need to get away. What do you think?” Jasper says, startling me because I didn’t even realize he was there.
“It’s nice.”
“Nice,” he huffs. “That’s all you think of this?” He takes a step back and tilts his head to the sky. “You are a robot, aren’t you?”
I don’t humor him with a response.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
“What secret is that?” I sit down on the grass, but he pulls me back up. “What are you doing?” I growl, before I realize that he’s laying a blanket down. He sets down his backpack and pulls out a bottle, popping the top and pouring us each a glass. He’s a bit of a romantic, I’ll give him that. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. The closest I’ve been to any sort of romantic gesture is when Dan Roland wrote me a poem in the seventh grade. I gushed over that piece of paper for months.
“That you have a heart.”
“Everyone has a heart, Jasper.” I take a sip, and it’s pretty good.
“That we do. But no two hearts are the same, we all feel at different depths. You show the world that yours is shallow.”
“Maybe it is.” I shrug, trying to brush it off.
“I think it’s a lie.”
“Did you bring me out here just so you can analyze me and tell me how I should feel, or shouldn’t feel?” I twist my head, furrowing my brows. I don’t need a psychoanalysis, especially by someone who is practically a stranger to me. Even if he did just see me naked last night, but that’s beside the point.
“No, I brought you out here because neither of us had anything better to do and I thought it would be a good time to get a start on our project. What better place than this?” He looks up and waves his hand across the sky, and that’s when I see it. Or them, rather. Every star in the sky shining down on us. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. “Lay back.” He pulls me down as he lays flat on the blanket.
“It’s… It’s beautiful.” I turn my head to face him.
“Right? I love it here.” He props himself up on his elbow and looks at my face to take in my reaction.
“I’ve never done this before.” I cross my arms over my chest. My own way of shielding myself.
“Looked at the stars?”
I shake my head, no. It’s true. In the eighteen years of my life, I’ve never laid outside and looked at the stars. I knew they were up there; I’ve seen stars before in passing, but I’ve never really looked at them. Until now.
“See that W in the sky. That one’s ours.” Jasper points. I look but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Do you see it?”
“No, I don’t see a W.” I laugh. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“Northeast.” He points. “Have you ever done a connect the dots drawing?”
“Look at it like that. Don’t look at the cluster. Connect them. The fainter ones, that’s Perseus. Behind that, the brighter ones that make a W, that’s Cassiopeia. That’s our constellation.”
“I see it. I think I see it, anyways.” I jump up, still looking at the sky. I point, “She’s a beauty.” I look down and our eyes catch, his dark eyes reading me like I’m a textbook. Suddenly, I feel inadequate, vulnerable rather.
“Why that one?”
“She’s the queen. Why not?”
“And where is her king?”
“Behind her, always behind her.”
“You seem to know a lot about astronomy.” I sit down beside Jasper, who is now lying with his arms folded under his head.
“I’ve always been fascinated by it. I mean, look at it. What’s not to be fascinated about?” He lifts his arms to the sky. “All of that up there, it has to mean something. Don’t you think?”
“I guess so. I’ve never really thought about it. Tell me more about Cassa…”
“Cassiopeia. Well, she was a queen. That house shaped connection behind her, that’s Cepheus, her king. Cassiopeia was a very vain woman who thought she was more beautiful than anything. She probably was, but her vanity got her in a lot of trouble, her daughter Andromeda was also punished for her boastfulness. Sometimes you see a W, sometimes you see an M, that's because she dangles, or hangs upside down, in danger of falling out.”
Next thing I know, I’m lying down with my hands folded under my head, watching him talk. His words echo in my ears as I watch his mouth move. His perfect lips speaking with passion and knowledge. Unaware of what he's saying, I watch his stomach move up and down with each breath and feel the urge to put my hand on his chest just to feel his heartbeat.
“Her king, he’s got her back. He suffers from her behavior but he doesn’t go anywhere. That’s the way it is when you’re in love, I suppose. Don’t ya think?”