by Ella Fields
“You already do being on that thing all the time.”
I glared at him and then at my phone. “I’m not that bad. You should see Kayla.”
Dad grunted. “How’s her dad?”
“Probably still a dick.” I looked up when Dad didn’t respond and saw his thick brows arched high and his familiar green eyes aglow with disapproval. “You know it’s true.”
Kayla and I had been friends since kindergarten, but as we got older, our personalities just didn’t mesh anymore. Yes, I could be a bitch. I preferred to call it being real. Kayla, however, took things too far and refused to look at her own shortcomings. Of which there were too many to count.
The day I’d been saddled with Willa and Peggy during art class for a project in junior year was the day that opened my eyes to what real friendship looked like. And so, unfortunately for them, I’d slowly forced myself into their little duo, wanting more of that normalcy.
Dad shook his head and set the paper down.
Though I doubted he meant for it to be, his timing couldn’t have been more perfect as Mom came breezing into the room in a red summer dress, her hair in a thick chignon.
“Oh, you’re going?” she asked as Dad pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.
The action reminded me of Lars, and I took a hefty dose of caffeine.
I didn’t want to compare the two. My father adored my mother; he just lacked the time to show her, especially when he knew he couldn’t make her happy no matter what he did. She, however, thought differently.
She’d once dragged me on a stakeout. Twice, actually. Once when I was twelve and again right before my sixteenth birthday. Convinced he was having an affair, she’d rented a car with cash and made us sit in the hospital parking lot in wigs and oversized sunglasses until his shift ended, and we’d watched him drive off.
She’d pounded the steering wheel after following him to the convenience store, where he picked up the cheap cigars he liked, and then drove straight home.
The second time had opened my eyes. It was then I’d realized she had hoped he was, for that would mean the lack of attention, the way she longed for someone else, wasn’t entirely her fault.
I drained my coffee and took my phone to my room, stuffing it and my makeup bag inside my backpack before heading to the garage and climbing inside my car.
The lot was almost full, students in green plaid, starch green cotton, black pants, and socks dotting the school grounds as they headed for the looming doors of the giant structure.
For as much as I detested some of the folk who attended the cesspit of money and lies, I couldn’t deny that the old ivy-draped monstrosity of a building was rather captivating. Just looking at it, the lush emerald lawn and the vibrant gardens, could sometimes curb the distaste I felt when I arrived at school.
Sometimes.
Well played, money grabbers.
Peggy was already walking across the grass with Willa. I didn’t bother trying to catch up. I was wearing heels, so anything other than a brisk walk was out of the question.
I took my time heading inside, ignoring the catcalls from a few guys on the football team and the sneering curl to Kayla’s lips as I passed her and my old friends.
A minute later, with my notebook tucked to my chest and perfect lipstick, I shut my locker and came face to face with her pinched expression. “Kayla.”
“Daphne.” Her eyes flicked over me, and she sniffed. “You didn’t sit with us yesterday.”
“Oh? Whoops.” I went to move around her, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Whoops?” She laughed, the sound like nails down a chalkboard. “What the hell?”
“Who cares where I sit?” I tugged my arm free of her hold. “If we were really friends, we’d be so regardless of who I ate lunch with.”
Kayla’s mouth gaped open. “You can’t be serious right now.”
That response only confirmed what I already knew—what took me years to finally see—so I shrugged. “Exactly. Is that it?” The bell sounded. “Gotta go.”
“No,” she said, and I paused, tilting my head as students rushed by us. She smiled, a serpent veiled behind a pretty face. “You’ve dug your grave now, Morris.”
“Morris?” I asked, laughing. “Too funny. I’ll just keep rolling in it then, all the better to unsettle you.”
“Willa and Peggy aren’t like us,” Kayla hissed. “What exactly do you think you’re doing? You’re going to ruin your reputation.”
I smiled and leaned closer. “Being friends with you was doing that just fine all on its own, so please, stop talking.” I straightened my blouse and fluffed my hair. “And have a nice day.”
I felt her eyes on my back and almost tripped when I saw Lars a few lockers down from mine, assessing me with a sucker between his lips.
Something moved across his face, but I didn’t hang around to see what it could be, and continued on to class.
Mrs. Truncheon prattled on, flicking through screens while we tried to keep up, but it was useless, as always.
I found it better to do what I could and then piece it all together if I needed to. Which wasn’t always necessary.
Biology was the only class Lars and I had together, and five minutes before the bell rang, I gave up on wondering what he was doing three seats over and allowed myself to stare.
He was drawing, I knew that much, though he was capable of doing it in such a way that Mrs. Truncheon wouldn’t realize he wasn’t actually taking notes.
His head was lowered, hair askew, and his pen flying. What he was capable of drawing in pen had me curious, but after seeing what he could do with a marker and spray paint, I had little doubt it’d be anything short of brilliant.
His knee bounced beneath the table, and my own reacted in kind before I stopped it and dragged my eyes back to my book. He hadn’t tried to call me since yesterday. Not even a text. If this morning’s long look was anything to go by, then maybe he’d decided to back off. Finally.
Something heavy filled my stomach, my hands, and my eyes when I tried to process that.
It was for the best.
I liked him, and I wouldn’t lie to myself about that. But there was no need for it to be anything more than that. Was there?
I shook my head and scribbled a bunch of circles at the bottom of my page. No, I knew what it was like to almost lose your heart to someone you couldn’t actually have a future with.
With Lars, I didn’t like my odds of being able to turn the tables the way I’d done with Ellis and escape relatively unscathed.
For as much as Lars Bradby thought he was obsessed with me, I knew just how easily a girl might become obsessed with him too.
I looked up when I felt his eyes on me and snuck a sly smile his way. Teasing, casual, and enough to let him know there’d be no hard feelings. We’d had fun, and we could’ve continued if he didn’t have this driving need to push my boundaries into flecks of rock.
He didn’t return my smile, and instead, he narrowed his eyes before running the end of his pen over his bottom lip.
My eyes dipped and then my stomach as I remembered with an almost blinding clarity how it felt to have that lip rub against mine, between them, and all over my skin.
When his teeth clamped over the pen, my mouth snapped shut, and he shook his head, returning his attention to his work.
The bell sounded, and I hurried to pack my things and get out of there. It was the last class of the day, and I was annoyed that meant I’d be left with that quizzical, assessing, knowing look of his until I saw him again tomorrow.
Peggy was out in the hall, and I waved, but her gray eyes darted behind me, and she bit her lips as she moved on to her locker.
Frowning, I glanced over my shoulder and found Lars stalking toward me.
A reminder sat tight over my tongue, ready to snap at him, but he continued past as if he didn’t even care I was there.
“You okay?” Peggy asked, her light brows furrowed as she changed out her
books.
I cleared my throat, not trusting my voice. “Yeah, fine.”
She studied me, then looked at where Lars stood at his locker, and I gave her a glare that said I wasn’t talking about it.
She sighed and waited for me to grab my things before heading for the doors.
We said goodbye outside, and she bounded to Dash’s car with her blonde curls bouncing while I continued to my own.
Dash and Peggy had been best friends since they were in diapers, and I had to wonder if the two stark opposites would be as close as they were if that weren’t the case. Where Peggy was buoyant light, Dash was ever-gray smog and the cynic to her positivity. Somehow, they just worked, but now that Byron Woods, lacrosse team member and Kayla’s ex, had taken a liking to Peggy, I had a feeling that things were going to change.
Willa, climbing into Jackson’s truck, waved to me before shutting the door. She had her own car but often rode to and from school with him. I didn’t need to ask why. Anyone with a decent set of eyes could see how those two looked at one another. In a way stepsiblings should probably not look at one another.
I tossed my bag inside the car, about to get in, when a hand grasped mine.
Rough hands opened it, slid something inside it, and I frowned down at the paper, then up at Lars, who was chewing his lip. “Hi, Cotton.”
“What’s this?” I asked, about to unfold it.
He moved in to swipe some hair that’d knocked into my face from the breeze, and I bristled, shoving his hand away. “Don’t.”
“So I can touch you in private, but not out here in the open?”
Though he was right, I didn’t like his accusing tone. “Usually when people are just messing around or hanging out, they don’t go making big statements of it.”
“Right,” he said, slipping his hands inside his slack pockets. “And you think I’m just messing around.”
“Lars,” I said, my frustration ringing clear.
With two steps, he’d trapped me against my car, eyes hard and dark as they gazed down at me above his stiff jaw. “I’m no one’s dirty fucking secret, Daphne.”
“I never said you were.”
He laughed, cold and shiver inducing. “You didn’t have to.” Taking a step back, he glanced at the paper, then at my face, and swiped a hand down his own. “You know what? Fuck it.” His hand slapped at his side. “When you get over yourself and whatever stupid issues you have, you know where to find me.”
“What the fuck?” I asked after his retreating back.
He didn’t turn around and continued over the grass to where his bike sat around the side of the school.
Ten minutes later, his words still seated at the forefront of my brain, I parked beside Mom’s car in the garage and bent over the console to grab my things.
The paper was on the passenger seat where I’d tossed it before speeding out of the school’s parking lot.
With something swelling in my throat, I unfolded it and found a drawing of my name, the beautiful script surrounded by thorns, barbed wire, and bleeding roses.
My eyes welled, and I dropped my head back against the seat, closing them.
Little weeds sprouted through the cracks in the short pathway that led from their mailbox to their small red brick home. Soft light glowed behind the yellow and white drapes. White paint cracked, peeling off the railing of the porch, and discolored tiles led the way to the door.
I hit the doorbell, but nothing happened, so I opened the screen door and knocked on the wooden one behind it.
A moment later, it creaked open, and Lars’s mom stared back at me, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “He’s not in.”
“Okay, well …” I took a step back, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”
“Stay,” she said, then gentled it by adding, “He’d be upset with me if he knew I just let you leave. I’ll call him.”
“No, really it’s …” I stopped, my brows rising. “Wait, why would he be upset with you?”
She smiled, and it was both warm and cynical. “You don’t mince words, do you, girl?” I blinked, and she laughed. “Come inside. It’s getting dark out.”
I did, unsure why but knowing I had to.
I moved into the kitchen behind her and parked myself at the dining table in the same seat I sat in last time while she pressed her phone to her ear and finished drying a frying pan. “You have a visitor,” she said, then tossed her phone to the countertop and raised the frying pan to a hook. After she hung it from the ceiling, it swung for a beat next to various other pots and strainers.
“You don’t strike me as a stupid person,” she said out of nowhere and flicked on the tea kettle. “I’m Glenda.”
I crossed my legs, trailing my nail over the seam of my jeans. “Daphne, and I’m not stupid.” I grinned. “Thanks.”
Glenda laughed, the sound scratchy but pleasant. “Then you know very well why that boy of mine would be upset if I’d just let you get on home.”
I looked down at the table, images careening through my mind of the toast we’d eaten there and what had transpired afterward. “I just came to apologize for something.”
“Uh-huh.” She grabbed two mugs. “Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please. Black.”
A pleased sound left her. “My kind of woman.”
A moment later, she was sitting across from me, stirring sugar into a mug that read Best Mom Ever.
“Cute,” I commented, gesturing to her mug.
Glenda paused with it halfway to her mouth, then inspected it with a wistful smile. “Seventh grade Mother’s Day store.” She shook her head. “He’d get me one every year, knowing how much I loved my coffee, until I told him I like other things too.”
I wrapped my hands around my solid black mug. “What did he get you then?”
“Well,” she said, taking a sip and licking her lips, “I told him I like to read and watch some TV, so he bought me these bodice rippers that are older than me.”
I laughed at that. “He didn’t get embarrassed?”
Glenda traced her finger around the rim of her mug. “No.” Her eyes lifted to mine, solid brown. “If that boy of mine cares about someone, he’ll do whatever it takes to please them and not think twice.”
I was beginning to think she was right, and that maybe, just maybe, I was being foolish. The only problem was, I wasn’t sure how to admit that, or if I even wanted to.
Taking a sip of coffee, I decided to keep the subject safe. “Were the books good?”
Glenda snorted, lowering her coffee. “Some of the best I’ve ever read.”
We continued to talk about our favorite historical romance novels, then she went to grab them for me.
The door opened when she returned and dumped a pile on the dining table. “Oh, I can’t possibly take all these.”
“Then just pick a few and take more when you bring them back.”
The confidence in which she’d said those words struck me hard, and I drained my coffee in an effort to help steady myself.
Lars stopped in the arched entryway, swinging a set of keys around his finger as he studied us with bloodshot eyes.
Glenda looked over her shoulder and tutted. “Are you high?”
“Just a little weed, Ma. Not like I’m blackout drunk or anything.”
She threw her hands up and shot me a bland look. “He’s all yours.”
I gave her a grim smile, thanking her for the books as she left the room.
Lars jerked his head toward the hall behind him, and I followed him to his room, closing the door behind me. There I watched, leaning back against it, as he kicked off his skate shoes and pulled some change as well as his phone out of his pocket and dumped them onto the nightstand.
“Why are you here?”
I licked my teeth, my eyes bouncing over the messy corners of his room. Shirts lay in a pile at the end of his bed, schoolbooks strewn over the floor in front of his closet.
“Daphne.”
Taking my time,
I let my eyes connect with his dark, questioning ones. “You don’t want me here?”
He exhaled a breathy laugh, rubbing his hand over the back of his head. “You can’t say it, can you?”
I fluttered my lashes as he floated closer. “Say what?”
Taking my chin, he tipped my head back, his gaze a feather tickling my eyes, lips, and cheeks. “That you’re sorry.”
“Because I don’t even know if I am,” I admitted.
His brows lowered. “Then why bother coming here?”
I licked my lips, then wrapped my hand around the thick wrist beneath my chin and moved his hand to my waist. “Because I felt like I had to.”
Lars sighed and squeezed my hip, pressing into my body. His head fell next to mine, thudding softly against the door. “You’re fucking with every part of me, but I can’t bring myself to stop you.”
“Is that why you went and got high?”
He laughed this sinister laugh I’d never heard from him before. Low, deep, and delicious. “Cotton,” he rasped, his mouth coasting to my shoulder to skim the skin next to the straps of my tank. “I get high whenever the fuck I feel like it.”
“Is that a lot?” My voice had turned quiet, too soft.
He hummed, then nudged his nose against my cheek. “I’m tired. Lie down with me.”
My stomach bubbled at the thought of what was to come, but as we settled onto his bed, my legs tangled with his and his lips stuck to my forehead, horror washed over me, popping every single one.
Horror and euphoria.
Almost instantly, Lars fell asleep, and I was left to soak in this strange place on my own until I did too.
What could’ve been minutes but was hours later, my eyes fluttered open with a start, and I felt an arm tighten around me. “Chocolate or candy?”
Confused, I croaked out a laugh. “And why do I need to choose?”
Lars yawned, sitting up, and I heard the scratchy sound of his jeans being pulled back on.
“What are you doing?” I rolled over, smacking at the nightstand for his phone. It was one in the morning. “You have messages from …” I squinted. “Ruthie, Mila, and Raven.”