Out of My League

by Sarah Sutton

  Chapter Four

  I stood at the cliff behind Walsh’s massive house, the wind lancing across my cheeks, numb to the breeze. I gritted my teeth together, staring into the darkness ahead of me and picturing what it might’ve looked like in the daytime, with the sunlight cresting over the horizon.

  And I guess technically this was more of a pathway that led to the beach below than a cliff, but the drop-off loomed at least ten feet, so steep that a railing had been embedded into the ground to keep anyone from falling over onto the sharp rocks below.

  I’d gone outside in search of air, slipping past the bonfire that attracted laughter and happiness. My hidden spot was far enough away from the flames that the music and voices were a distant hum, static sound that could be easily ignored.

  Everything felt so jumbled in my head, like a gathering of string tied into several knots. After two months together, Scott just dropped me as if he couldn’t care less.

  No, wait—he cared. He cared enough about himself to need someone new. Someone fun. Someone that didn’t need to be fixed.

  My cheeks heated to a near painful degree, humiliation rooting itself deep. That was what I struggled with, really. I was more humiliated than heartbroken. I’d been trying to find a way to break up with him anyway, so that was accomplished, but I wished that it hadn’t been like this. So public, so hurtful. So many people witnessed him dumping me—so many people heard every horrible thing he said.

  And jeez, everyone saw Walsh step in and declare his undying love for me.

  See, this? This was why I didn’t go to parties.

  Stupid Walsh Hunter. Stupid Scott. Stupid baseball for eating my newspaper funding. I wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out.

  All of the air whooshed from my lungs as I realized something. Scott dumping me now meant that he wasn’t usable for my article. Any information and secrets he knew, I could kiss them goodbye. Maybe I could figure out a way to work him into the article, though. Highlight his chauvinistic tendencies, perhaps?

  Who was I kidding? The article was a joke now.

  I reached for my purse, leaning so fully against the metal railing that it dug into my stomach. My journal with my stickers emblazoned over the cover laughed at me, at my compounding failures.

  This notebook, this part of me, was the problem. Looking at it now made everything in me ache. I should’ve left it with Mrs. Gao, given up the shred of hope instead of clinging to my future that was DOA. The pieces of writing inside weren’t good enough to save my class, save my future. Even the fact that I had it at a party was a testament to who I was. Someone who wasn’t good enough.

  And the funny thing was that if I hadn’t come to the party tonight in search of secrets, I probably never would’ve found out about Scott cheating.

  Without giving it a second thought, I pitched the stupid journal over the side of the railing, wishing it would reach the ocean and I’d hear a satisfying splash. But only silence made its way up to my ears.

  I didn’t feel any better. In fact, with the wind brushing against my now-empty palm, I felt even worse.

  “Isn’t that sacrilegious?”

  The voice, throwing a rock at my perfectly built wall of self-misery and despair, made me jump against the railing. I whirled around with daggers in my eyes, ready to throw my glare at whoever dared to interrupt.

  Walsh Hunter stood before me, the boy with epic timing. He looked at me with those blue-green eyes that shouldn’t have been wasted on a guy like him.

  “Go away,” I growled, turning back to face the shadowy beach. I couldn’t see my journal, but surely it’d landed somewhere in the sand. My pride kept me rooted where I was, even though I badly wanted to go find it. “Your face is definitely not one I want to look at right now.” Offense intended.

  “Took me a minute to find you. You picked a pretty dark corner of my backyard.” Walsh came to lean over the railing beside me, looking below. His elbow grazed mine, only a fraction of skin-to-skin contact, but I tugged mine away almost immediately. “So how did I do in there?” he asked, turning to face me. “Pretty believable?”

  “Are you serious?” I demanded, and when I looked at him, I found him grinning. My glare was one that could’ve turned him to stone. “What you did in there was so not cool. And not appreciated. You don’t get to just waltz up, throw your arm over my shoulder like I’m some territory to be claimed, and say ‘oh, let’s bring our torrid love affair to the public. Date me.’”

  Walsh laughed at my impersonation of his voice. “Do I really sound so high-pitched?”

  I couldn’t help myself—I reached out and smacked his shoulder, hard. It only succeeded in making him chuckle, though, and created an ache in my fingers. “I am not laughing, Walsh! You totally crossed a line!”

  Walsh raised his hands level with his shoulders. “Okay, okay, so I should’ve asked. I just thought I was doing you a favor.”

  “I don’t need you to do me favors,” I said fiercely, pointing a finger at his chest. “I am not some damsel in distress. And besides, for your information, I was totally fine in there and didn’t need you spreading lies. Now everyone thinks we’ve been together—that I was the one cheating on Scott with you.” So messed up.

  Though his lips lost their amused curve, his eyes still held onto a glimmer, shining just as bright as the stars. “I think it sounded romantic. Torrid love affair. I like that.”

  My eyes squeezed shut so tightly that I saw stars, jaw aching from grinding my teeth together. Yeah, he’d saved me from Scott’s cruelty, but it wasn’t his right to. I meant what I said. He was no Prince Charming, and I definitely didn’t need saving.

  “I really came to just see if you were okay.”

  “Well, my boyfriend just dumped me in the house of his archenemy because I wasn’t good enough, and I threw my most prized possession into the sea to be eaten by sharks.” Tipping my head back, I let out a small, almost crazed laugh. “You know, I’ve been better.”

  I focused on the constellations above me, at them opposed to Walsh, a breeze rippling from the bay. Focusing on the stars was way better than focusing on everything else. I focused on, despite what just happened, that the night was beautiful. Not too cold, but not too warm. Just right. Such a terrible contrast to the events that unfolded.

  I didn’t even want to imagine what was going on inside. What Scott was doing, who he was doing it with. I just hoped everything that went down gave Edith enough to keep talking to Zach about. That embarrassing ordeal might’ve been worth it if her and Zach got a good conversation out of it.

  I could still hear the music filtering from the house, a faint melody reaching us all the way back here.

  Lost in my thoughts, I had no time to react when Walsh lifted one chino-clad leg up and over the edge of the metal railing, straddling it for a moment before his other leg followed. The toes of his shoes grazed the rusting iron, and his loose grip on the rail was the only thing keeping him from tipping over the ten-foot drop.

  Five fingers released their hold and he leaned back, back.

  For a moment, Walsh didn’t look like he was about to leap to his death. He looked peaceful, with the wind tearing through his hair, brushing it out of his face.

  But then I realized. He was actually about to jump off the cliff.

  “What are you doing?” I screeched, words echoing in the sky. I reached out immediately, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and the wrist that was still in reach. “Are you insane?”

  Walsh tipped his blond head, laughing. He looked like an absolute lunatic. “I’m going to get your journal for you.”

  “Isn’t there a path? Go the normal route, you psycho!”

  “Nothing wrong with taking a shortcut,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s not like I’d die or anything. All I have to do is dodge the pointy rocks. It’s too dark to really see them, but I think I remember where they are.”

  I tightened my grip. Fear of him falling and cracking his head open made my voice shake. “Y
ou’re not funny.”

  “I’m trying to be chivalrous, not funny.”

  “You’re idiotic.” The hand clutching Walsh’s wrist started to sweat. He was just joking—he wouldn’t actually jump. Right? “That’s, like, a ten-foot fall.”

  “It’s twelve, actually.”

  I could practically see him lying on the beach with his head cracked open.

  Walsh swayed further over the cliff, buttoned shirt pulling taut in my grip. “I’ll probably be fine. Hopefully I don’t break anything. Or die. That would suck. Especially at the beginning of summer. What would my mother say?”

  “Or your adoring fans,” I added. If I couldn’t convince him with logic and reason, maybe I could persuade his ego. “They’d fall apart without looking at you every day.”

  “But could you imagine how huge my funeral would be?” His eyes closed as he shifted further over. A gust of wind bit across the two of us, and I could see goosebumps on his arms. “Would you write my eulogy, Sophie? Make it real nice.”

  Sophie. The nickname grated on my nerves. “What would I write about? Just how perfect your biceps are—or maybe your beautiful hair? Oh, no, I’ve got it. Your stunning eyes.”

  “All of those are suitable options, but you forgot to mention my near-perfect batting record. Imagine how many copies you’d sell.”

  I just stared at his serious expression. “You’re so conceited. Has anyone ever told you that? People compliment you, and you lap it up. Like a dog.”

  His smile slanted. “Did you just call me a dog, Sophie?”

  “It’s Sophia,” I snapped in response.

  Walsh grabbed the railing with both hands again, leaning close enough that I could see directly into his blue-green eyes. His breath tickled my skin. Too close. “I don’t know why you’re yelling at me. I’m not the one who cheated on you.”

  A switch flipped in my brain, and any ounce of jovialness I’d experienced a minute ago evaporated.

  But Walsh wasn’t finished. “It was only a matter of time, though, you know? Girls like you and guys like Scott don’t really mix well.”

  Yeah, I was this-freaking-close to changing my mind and shoving him off the railing. This close to committing murder and not even batting an eye. I could probably get away with it, too. We were separated far enough away from the party that no one would see, and no one would believe that a girl like me would be hanging out with Mr. Perfect. Let alone push him off a cliff.

  Instead of committing homicide, I raised my hands from him, backing up. “You know what? Fall to your death. Please. You’ll be doing me a favor.” With my dress fluttering in the breeze, I stomped away.

  Walsh didn’t understand how it felt to be dumped. Really, how could he? Guys like him didn’t get dumped, and that made his presence and his words that much more loathsome.

  “Woah, hey. Hey! Wait up,” Walsh called after me, but I didn’t turn to see if he struggled back over the railing.

  With his luck, he probably looked smooth trying to slide away from his death. Or perhaps his foot slipped, and he ended up falling. Either way, I kept walking.

  “Sophia, wait! Wait!”

  I stalled, and that hesitation was all he needed to catch up, gently snagging my wrist. My world swayed as I whirled to face him. “Wow, you actually got my name right. Alert the media.”

  “You are the media, aren’t you?” He still wore his signature grin—why did he have to have a smile like that? So pretty, so perfect. What, did he practice it in the mirror every day? “And of course I got it right. I know you, Sophia Wallace. You were in my US Civics class. You’re the junior editor of the school newspaper. Won an award for your article on straw recycling in schools.” He spoke as if he’d been rehearsing it, playing each point over and over in his head.

  I was speechless. I mean, yeah, I knew he was in my US Civics class, but the fact that he remembered me? Weird. “There’s no way you knew all that.”

  “Yeah, I had to ask someone what your article was about. I didn’t read it.” Walsh lifted a shoulder, unbothered. “Not really my thing.”

  “What, reading or recycling?”

  “I’m not an animal, Sophie. Reading, of course.”

  I realized his fingers still curved gently around my wrist, the weight of his grip oddly grounding. And even though it was the most basic touch, it still shocked my skin.

  Despite all that, I gave him a pointed look.

  Walsh caught the hint and quickly let go. “Sorry.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, glancing over my shoulder. No one noticed us standing together, too engrossed in building the bonfire higher and higher. The glow from the flames ebbed out toward us, and our shadows mixed together on the lawn. The sea breeze came again, harsher now, and pushed my hair around my face.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me,” I grumbled after a moment, even though it was hard to choke the words out. But I had to add, “Even though I didn’t ask you to. It was still…nice of you.” Gag.

  Walsh’s frown etched into the lines of his forehead. I didn’t know him well enough to read his facial expressions, so I couldn’t read what the sharp look in his eye meant. “Scott shouldn’t have treated you like that. I maybe shouldn’t have intervened, but that wasn’t cool of him.”

  “Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” I sighed, the words ugly and honest in the air. “He’s just one step closer to his achieving his dreams. Scott told me that he wanted to be better than you. That was his goal. To beat you at everything—popularity, baseball.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s been like that forever. So obsessed with beating you or looking better than you. Pretty sure that pretty girl down there is his way of getting a leg-up somehow. Don’t ask me how; I don’t know how to interpret crazy.”

  A line formed between Walsh’s eyes as he watched me, listening closely. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I think he feels like you get everything handed to you. You got captain position. You’re the most popular guy in school, all the girls love you, and he’s only got boring, plain me.”

  “It’s not like I asked Coach to give me the spot,” Walsh scoffed, more under his breath than aloud. “And you’re not plain or boring. Everything he said in there was completely out of line, so don’t believe any of it.”

  Was it out of line? I mean, Scott wasn’t wrong. I never did go to any of Scott’s games. Never had any desire to. We didn’t do anything as a couple. We were polar opposites. “It’s whatever,” I said at last, leaning my head into my hand.

  “What were you two doing together anyway?” Walsh looked at me a little warily, as if fully understanding that this topic is what set me off before. “I just mean, he’s such a jerk and you’re so…”

  I waited but he didn’t go on. “So…?”

  “Nice?” It wasn’t a statement, but then again, I hadn’t been overly pleasant to him.

  But that was the big question, wasn’t it? Why was I with Scott? Scott, who apparently hated everything about me, even down to my glasses.

  “I’m writing an article,” I told Walsh, figuring there was nothing left to lose. “About baseball. Scott was giving me information for it.” Even if he hadn’t known it yet.

  “What’s the article for?”

  To get my funding back. “It was for the Back to School article,” I said instead. “Just detailing the baseball team’s winnings from the summer. But without him, it’s not going to work.”

  “Well, why don’t you use me?”

  “Use you for what?”

  The corners of Walsh’s lips twitched as he looked at me. “For your article. Now that we’re together, I can give you plenty of insider information.”

  “I’m sorry, what? Together?”I blinked. Once, and then twice, his words echoing in my ears. It took three repetitions in my brain for me to understand what exactly he was saying. “We’re not together. We’re not continuing this—whatever this is.” I gestured almost frantically between us, my ha
nd waving in the air.

  Amusement colored his tone, and I wanted to shake it out of him. “Why not?”

  Why not? Was he serious? I could think of a million “why nots.” And for one— “Uh, because it’s lying?”

  “Is it really? Or is it just acting?” Walsh considered it while looking off in the distance, “I always thought I’d be a great actor. I mean, I did pretty great in there, you can’t lie.”

  “No. My answer is no. Heck no.” This guy was delusional. He seriously was. Walsh Hunter, my boyfriend? “Thank you for sticking up for me—you didn’t need to, though, because I didn’t ask you to—but no. I don’t need a fake boyfriend.”

  “Don’t you? It’ll keep Scott’s mouth in check. No way is he going to be a jerk to you if you’re my girl.”

  My girl. Those words made me nearly shudder. “No one would believe it.”

  “Sure they will. I can be pretty believable. I fell so in love with you that nothing else matters.”

  Jeez, just hearing him say that… Dude was off his rocker.

  Just as I went to vehemently reject the lunatic idea again, Walsh’s other words rang a little clearer in my mind. Using him for the article. Using the team captain for my article. Fake dating him would give me the perfect in for my undercover journalism scheme, exclusive access to insider knowledge, and Walsh wouldn’t be the wiser.

  I didn’t need Scott if I had Walsh. And with the captain of the team, the article would practically write itself.

  It sounded horrible, sure, but was it wrong? Truly? This guy got everything he wanted without having to work for it. Using him for my article was only fitting.

  “Why do you want to do this?” I asked, trying to straighten out the last threads of sanity. A fake relationship was a whole other ball game. This was dirtier, messier. I knew my motivation, but what was his? “I get why you did it back there, impulsively helping me out because you thought it was right. But why draw it out?”

  “Hey, telling the truth would make me look bad too, you know. Do you really want me to go back in there and tell Scott we were lying?” he asked, raising his blond eyebrows. “I can do that, but I can’t imagine that’d go over very well.”