by Ella Fields
It was the one thing I’d hated most about this school, the one thing I’d groan about to Mom after I’d first started here, and she’d told me something that would stay with me.
Those with tiny minds need mindless bullshit to talk about, or else their positions in the world might falter when they realize they’re nothing but dust on a shelf of ginormous books. Dust must remain dust for the world to notice what’s beautiful and wholesome.
The people who attended this school were anything but, including myself, but you wouldn’t catch me talking shit about some girl I’d spent time with in the way Byron Woods had.
I could be a downright asshole, and I knew it, but there were lines I refused to cross.
Daphne had rocked me, thrown me off balance so sufficiently that I was still trying to make sure I was right side up.
I’d sank so deep inside her after homecoming that I knew she was probably still feeling it. If I was, then she had to be, but fucking her slow and deep in her crisp, clean bedroom until the sun graced her sweat-misted skin wasn’t enough.
Not for her, and definitely not for me.
I dragged the red tip over the g one last time, then inspected it before capping the marker right as the bell sounded.
Outside in the hall, I rushed to where Daphne’s locker was, hoping to catch her before she left. We’d seen each other briefly after school yesterday. I’d had to work, so I’d been able to do nothing but kiss her senseless for ten minutes before watching her drive away.
Talking to Peggy and Willa, Daphne leaned against her locker, her bag already over her shoulder. As I neared, the other two glanced at me, then waved and took off.
Daphne eyed me with a curious sparkle in those green eyes when I stepped right into her space and slouched against the locker next to hers. “Hi.”
She smiled. “Hi.”
I wanted to kiss her, but the teacher walking by kept that urge at bay. I looked down at the paper resting atop my books, then handed it over.
Daphne’s eyes were slow to leave mine as she unfolded it. When they looked down, they widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. “What?”
“That’s not really an answer,” I said, feeling my chest squeeze with too much air. “That’s a question.”
She swallowed, gently folding the paper. “Picasso, homecoming is over.”
Moving forward, I bent down to quickly brush my lips over the corner of hers. “Not for us. Meet me at my place for dinner Friday night.”
“This would have cost you your entire week’s wage,” Mom said, grabbing the lasagna out of the oven.
“Worth it.” I set the plates down and then made sure the gold and silver helium balloons bobbing along the ceiling stayed put, careful not to crush any of the rose petals I’d laid out. From the front door to the kitchen, from the kitchen to my room, the pink and red petals blanketed the worn floor.
Mom tutted, cutting a slice of lasagna out of the pan and placing it in a container to take to work with her. “Who knew my boy could be such a romantic.”
I pursed my lips, wanting to argue that, but chose not to. “Well, I messed up.”
“I’ll say,” she said, laughing under her breath.
“So I’m merely trying to prove to her that I know I did, epically, and that it won’t happen again.”
Mom knew all about it, well, without the finer details. She knew I’d jumped to conclusions and made a fool of myself and Daphne by asking Ruthie to homecoming out of spite.
She didn’t give me too hard a time, though, and simply wished me good luck with fixing it.
Luck I’d needed and finally seemed to have on my side.
“Tell her I’ve got that new one by Sylvia Potts too when she gets here.”
“Ma.” I flashed a scowl at her.
“What?” She licked the spoon she’d used to serve herself some lasagna, then dumped it into the sink. “She’ll want to know.”
I sighed and finished setting up the table with the candlesticks I’d found in the thrift store downtown.
Mom lit a cigarette, then bent over to light them for me, before heading to her room to get her things ready for work. “Don’t forget to clean up, Mr. Romance.”
I snickered, but said, “You know I won’t.”
She left ten minutes later, and I put the lasagna back in the oven to keep it warm while I showered.
I was rubbing a towel over my hair when I heard Daphne arrive and quickly stuffed it over the rack. I pulled a shirt and my briefs on, then hobbled down the hall, cursing as I messed up the petals while trying to wriggle into my jeans.
Puffing out a huge breath, I opened the door and dragged a hand through my wet hair. “Hi.”
Daphne was wearing a baby yellow sundress with little red flowers on it and a pair of white heels. Her hair was down, the ends curled, and her face bare save for the black coating her lashes. Her green eyes raked me up and down, and then she cocked her head. “You look a little flustered.”
A laugh shot free, and I opened the door wider. “I’m a bit of a novice, I’m afraid. So get your ass in here before I chicken out and take you to McDonald’s.”
Her smile lit my chest aflame. She stopped in the small entryway; her gasp tiny but audible. “You weren’t kidding.”
I creeped in behind her, my hands finding one of their favorite places, and molded to the curve of her hips. “I think the food will be better at my homecoming.”
When she remained glued to the spot, I gently took her hand and led her over the petals and through to the kitchen.
“Balloons …” She trailed off, stopping for her hand to glide over their gold strings.
I turned her slightly, then rushed to where I’d left my phone on the shelf and set the timer.
“Oh, my god.” She laughed, her hands hitting her flushing cheeks as I raced back, my arms trapping her to me as I grinned down at her and the camera went off. Seeing Daphne blush was such a rarity, such a beautiful sight, that I was beyond ecstatic to capture it forever.
“No hands this time,” I said, running back to hit the timer again.
Still, she laughed, her smile and the sound a thousand suns blazing their way into my soul as I joined her again. Unable to help it, I grabbed her face and kissed her. To hell with the photos.
“What’s that smell?” she exhaled.
I kept nibbling at her bottom lip. “Lasagna. We also have fries and potato skins.”
She hummed against my mouth. “More carbs.”
“It’s not homecoming without them.” I took both her hands, walking backward to the dining table. “Or you.”
Daphne let go of my hands, staring down at the table. And that was the first time I’d seen her eyes well with tears.
Unfortunately, it’d be far from the last.
Daphne
I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, shouldering my bag.
Mom set her latte down. “Your father mentioned you having some kind of boyfriend.”
I took a bite and shrugged. “Something like that.”
Mom huffed out a laugh, then ran a blood red nail beneath her matching lips. “Congrats.”
I frowned. “Thanks?”
I went to leave, confused and running late, when her next words had the apple clouding over my tongue. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Swallowing, I drew in a deep lungful of air, and turned back. “Why would you say that?”
She didn’t even bat a long lash. “Because we rarely get the things we want most, and even when we do, it never lasts.”
“I know Mondays suck, but come on.” I tried to laugh, blinking several times. “That’s a little too pessimistic.”
“Call it what you like,” Mom said, snatching up her coffee and crossing the kitchen. “Labels and desires don’t change how the world works. It’s still a cruel bitch.”
Left in a plume of perfume and uncertainty, I climbed inside my car a minute later, determined to shake it off with some Taylor Swift.
My mom wa
s the epitome of the word hater.
Never in her life had she seemed truly happy for someone, not even herself.
Her best friend gets engaged after leaving her ex-husband who abused her? Fake smiles and cautious optimism.
Dad tells her we’re going on a family vacation to France last year? She says it’s not a vacation when one’s offspring is in attendance.
She gets hired to appear inside the front cover of last month’s edition of Vogue? It’s not the front cover, so it’s nothing to celebrate.
For every positive, she’d find a negative.
I loathed to think I’d been barreling down the same dark path she was now lost to.
As the cove’s traffic halted at the lights in town, most people stopping by the local café to grab coffee before work and school, I tossed my apple core out the window.
A car horn blared at me, the driver yelling out the window, “Tosser. Think of the planet, why don’t ya?”
“Think of this, asshole,” I muttered, raising my middle finger and keeping it there until the light turned green, and I took off.
I steeled my shoulders, intent on ignoring the annoyance that came knocking on my skull as I drove into school and found only one spot left at the far end of the lot. I squeezed my car between a truck and a Range Rover, then shimmied out the door, tugging my bag with me.
Lars had shown me that I was right to guard my heart with thorns and barbed wire, yet he’d also shown me it was okay to let someone creep inside those barriers. He’d said he was falling, and maybe I was too. Maybe that’s what the fear of not having him as my own was all about. Maybe it was okay to fall and to make mistakes while doing so if the other person was falling alongside you.
The rumor mill had settled some, but Peggy wasn’t satisfied when she caught some idiots still snickering or eyeing her for too long.
Willa and I, as well as the rest of the cafeteria, watched as she hauled Byron to a table of their own and gave him what I was sure was an official breakup.
At least, that was what I thought it would be. I frowned when Peggy retook her seat beside me at our table, blowing some blonde curls from her face.
“Are you okay?” Willa asked.
“So not okay.”
I bit my lips and rubbed her back, wondering where the hell Dash was.
He’d been suspended for the fight with Byron in the parking lot, but I was guessing he should’ve been back by now.
A commotion by the cafeteria doors had my head snapping up and my hand stilling as Lars stormed out of them.
I’d seen him walk in not long after me, but he’d been cornered by Annika, and between what happened with Peggy and Byron and the way he’d been giving Annika barely a side glance as she’d stood by his table, I hadn’t thought much of it.
I’d apparently missed something, as Annika stared after Lars with what looked a lot like fear paling her oval face.
I sent him a text as we filed out of the cafeteria and headed to class, asking if he was okay, but as the bells continued to blare, and we reached our last class for the day, I gave up on waiting for a response.
I soon found out why he hadn’t in the hall as whispers and gasps shook the narrow space.
“Hey, Daph, if you’re done with Annika’s baby daddy, call me,” Danny said, gesturing with his hand to his ear. He and his friends laughed as they backed down the hall.
Usually I’d bristle or flip him off, but I did none of those things as Willa came racing over to us, her eyes wide. “You heard?”
Baby daddy.
He’d knocked her up?
A million questions zigzagged through my mind, and as each one of them went unanswered, my chest grew tighter and tighter, and my eyes began to burn.
My peripheral caught Lars throwing his bag over his shoulder, walking toward us.
My mouth dried and my lips parted, but no sound came out. I couldn’t even bring myself to move.
I didn’t need to. He continued to the doors, his head lowered and his stride hurried as if he hadn’t left something behind.
My phone lit for the tenth time. A text from Kayla, of all people, asking if I’d heard.
I didn’t answer, but I scrolled through my contacts, my thumb hovering over his name.
Took you long enough.
Maybe it took me too long.
Maybe there was more to this than what the student body knew. There had to be.
Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Annika was definitely pregnant, and I didn’t think she’d lie about who the father was.
I dropped my phone, and my arm fell over my eyes. The burn was scalding, pushing at my eyelids when I shut them.
He hadn’t called. He hadn’t even texted.
And I had no idea what to do in this fucked-up situation.
I could text him, sure, and maybe even call him. But I knew with every fiber of my being that he wouldn’t talk to me right now and confirmation of that would only make me feel worse.
A knock sounded on my door before it was pushed open. Dad was at work, so I knew it was Mom before she even opened her venomous mouth. “Petra made dinner. You still haven’t eaten it.”
“Not hungry.”
“Healthy is beautiful, not starving,” Mom reminded me once again. She padded closer, and I could feel her stare, my arm still covering my eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t feel well.”
She was silent a beat. “You were fine this morning.”
This morning was a different life, and now I’d been propelled into a new one. One I wanted to escape from. “People can get sick within hours, Mom.”
“Watch your tone,” she said, then paused. “Oh, it’s about him, isn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything, which was probably the worst thing to do.
A low, insidious laugh trailed her footsteps to the door. “I hate to say I told you so …”
As soon as the door shut behind her, I turned and threw my head into my pillow, unable to stop the trapped sorrow from tumbling free.
Lars
Numb was a feeling that fit well with darkness.
Annika’s admission and the fear in her eyes as she’d spat the words, “I’m pregnant, and it’s yours,” were a living nightmare that wouldn’t grant any reprieve.
The way she’d hurried over to me with that fake smile in place as she’d tried to get my attention, and when I’d continued to ignore her, she’d bent low and hissed them in my face.
Stop, rewind, repeat.
I’d almost fallen off my seat, shock and laughter bubbling in my throat as her stricken face paled even more, waiting for me to say something.
And say something I had. “You’re lying.”
“Why the hell would I be lying?”
By that point, I was on my feet, away from Jackson and Raven who were busy watching Peggy and Byron. “Did you mess with the condom?”
Her laughter was so cracked, so defeated, that I knew without a doubt that her next words were true. “Do you think I want to end up stuck with a guy who has no money?”
That was the first time I’d ever actually felt the ground wobble underneath my feet. Unbalanced and disorientated, I’d stared at her, my hands tingling and my stomach churning while she’d waited for me to speak.
I’d said nothing else before stalking past her and out the doors of the cafeteria.
How or why I’d stayed for the rest of the day was beyond me. Class was a blur. How I’d even gotten home was a blur, and although every day that’d passed since then had become less so, the haze of disbelief still hadn’t left. I had a feeling it wouldn’t for a while.
Mom had found me at six the next morning asleep by the toilet with my cheek pressed into the cool brown tiles. I couldn’t tell her, but I didn’t have to.
She found out the day after, and she hadn’t spoken to me since.
That was two days ago.
I hadn’t spoken to Daphne in five.
The two most important w
omen in my life, and I couldn’t find any fucking words to offer either of them.
I’d known the condom broke, but Annika had said it would be fine, which I’d taken to mean she was on the pill.
How fucking naïve, careless, and drunk I’d been.
Annika had already had her three-month ultrasound, and that was apparently why she’d deemed it necessary to finally tell me. When she’d texted me through a photo of a gray blob swimming in black, nothing happened. If anything, it only made me angrier with myself.
I’d texted her back, asking why she hadn’t told me before now.
Her response? Because she only found out a month ago and didn’t know what to do or how to tell me.
A month ago.
A month ago, Daphne and I had only kissed.
A month ago, I was still dreaming of her in every way possible.
A month ago, those dreams hadn’t yet become a reality.
If she’d told me then, would Daphne and I have continued to grow closer? I didn’t think I wanted to know the answer to that. Any reality where I didn’t get the girl I’d wanted for years was one I didn’t want to exist in.
She probably hated me. Daphne. Probably wanted to cut off my dick and feed it to my ass without lube.
I couldn’t blame her. I stared down at its lifeless imprint against my briefs, disgusted with how it’d chosen wrong.
I’d fucked up.
I’d fucked up so hard, there was no way to un-fuck myself.
I woke in a cold sweat, panting and unable to breathe.
Sitting up, I tried to place my surroundings. My room. The shimmering bronze peeking through the slit in the curtains and falling over the tangled bedding in two lines said it was likely late afternoon.
I coughed and reached for the water on the nightstand and missed. It crashed to the floor in sharp splinters.
“Fuck.” I bent my knees and lowered my head between them, trying to breathe.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
“Lars?” Mom.
I couldn’t answer.