The Masks We Wear: High School Bully Romance (Emerald Falls Series Book 1)

by Lee Jacquot

  Her words warm my body, swelling my heart, and for a second, I forget about everything else. She is all that matters to me. I don’t have time to waste with her. Every moment needs to be filled with her love, advice, or even just her presence. Because soon... she won’t rememb—

  “Mrs. Hanes.” A woman in scrubs stands at the door, clasping her clipboard to her chest.

  My mother sighs before patting me on the knee twice and stands. I watch her dandelion dress sway at her ankles as she follows the nurse through the hall, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

  The door closes behind her, and minutes pass before my eyes slowly drift back to my computer. I have my list of materials for the project, and the only thing left to do is talk to the head custodian about using an old room. The morning custodian says she works the later shift, so I’ll need to stay after school sometime next week. Other than that and a few tweaks to the script, all that’s left is the research part.

  Reopening my computer, I flit through a few more websites, scribbling notes as I go. The color spectrum… how humans perceive light. Color… how our brain transfers data.

  Every color affects different living species in multiple ways, each one dependent on other things such as mental health, empathy capacity, and processing abilities. At some point, I even start to make connections with colors and Alzheimer’s patients.

  My brain sketch with labeled parts is almost complete when my phone vibrates in my pocket. The irrational hope it’s Lily sets off a hundred butterflies in my gut, but I instantly stamp them out.

  Why the fuck would I want to hear from that horrendous bitch?

  Remy: Come to the game with me tonight. Pleaseeeeee.

  My eyebrows furrow as I ignore my shoulders’ slight deflation and focus on the real surprise here. Remy has never gone to a football game.

  Me: Why?

  I tap the edge of my phone, tempted to call her and see if she’s sick. I’ve seen her almost every day, but knowing her, she’s read herself into sleep-deprived ramblings.

  Remy: Just come. It would help if you got out.

  Does she consider going to the game ‘getting out’? Memories of William and I flash through my mind, and I wince at a few. Looking back, more than a few of them are cringe-worthy.

  Me: I can’t Remy, I have to work on this project. I’m behind as it is.

  It’s not a complete lie, but I’m definitely using it as a scapegoat. I glance at the time. My mom should almost be done, leaving me enough time to stop by the home improvement store for the LED lights.

  My phone vibrates again.

  Remy: You can’t even work on your project alone. It takes two people. If you come, I’ll help with the script.

  I squeeze the phone tighter, the light flutter of hope dancing through me. Her offering does relieve some of the guilt I would have had asking. Still, Lily is a cheerleader, so she’ll be there, and I don’t want to see her if I can help it. No, it’s not worth it.

  Just as I open my messages to text her back, my mother reenters the lobby. Her mouth stretches in a smile as she walks toward me, arms open for a hug. I dutifully oblige, engulfing her in my embrace.

  “Good session?” I ask, releasing her.

  My mother’s eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lighting, instantly rekindling the warmth in my heart. “It was amazing, honey. Now let’s get Spencer from school early and get him some ice cream. You know he loves ice cream.”

  Bile hits the back of my throat, and I struggle to keep it down as my lips stretch into a dull smile. Not only does she think I’m Dad, she thinks I’m Dad from a time they were still together... when everything in my life was perfect.

  When I didn’t know Lily.

  I swallow the burn and nod, my voice barely a whisper as I lead her out of the office doors. “Sounds great.”

  When these moments happen—the times she forgets who I am… it never gets easier. I thought it would. Maybe I would get used to it and learn to cope. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth. It gets harder. It feels impossible to understand how your own mother can look at the son she spent eighteen years raising and not recognize him. No part of me is ingrained deep enough in her mind to help her remember my existence.

  It’s like losing someone who’s still here—mourning their loss, just for them to return from the afterlife before fading away again. Then it happens over and over until you’re not sure you can do it another day. But you do. Because the days she remembers… those days are everything.

  I feel stuck—lodged in quicksand. I’ve struggled against it for so long, and now I’m waist-deep. Alone...forgotten. The endgame is clear. Now I just have to decide how fast I want to get there.

  After securing her in the passenger seat of her smart coupe, I slip my phone from my pocket.

  Maybe just this once; I need to forget for a little while too.

  Me: See you at 6.

  Remy rotates in the mirror, inspecting her outfit of choice. Jeans I didn’t even know she owned hug her wide hips, lifting her ass to a perfect perk. Her small waist is on full display under the tight AC/DC shirt that’s slightly ripped and hanging from one shoulder.

  Her eyes catch mine in the reflection, and she twists around, a rose blush tinting her cheeks. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

  I decide not to lie since it’s apparent she’s stepping out of her comfort zone. The real question, though, is for who?

  “Honestly, Remy, you look hot as fuck.” I smile, leaning back on her fluffy futon, propping my arm across the back.

  Her smile widens, and her cheeks push up, nearly causing her eyes to close. “Thanks, Spence.”

  My heart stutters. Only one person has ever called me that. Hearing it now from Remy feels... unfamiliar. I clear my throat, shoving the feeling back into the hole it belongs in.

  Remy puts her school ID around her neck and shoves on a thin jacket. She tilts her head while looking at me, eyebrows raised, and I notice she’s all but bouncing. I stand and move toward the door at a snail’s pace.

  She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “Come on already!”

  I yawn, stretching as I put my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go. Get this over with.”

  Remy socks me in the bicep, forcing a laugh from my throat. She threads a hand through her dark hair, her eyes softening.

  Being around Remy is easy. It’s carefree and smooth sailing, with no drama or secrets lurking in every corner. I once played with the idea of what it would feel like to be with her. Be with someone so unproblematic. But my body doesn’t hum with the same high it does with…

  No. I shake the disturbing thought away. Fuck her.

  We load into my truck and make our way toward the game. The ride is refreshingly pleasant as Remy flips on the radio and immerses me into a full-on private concert. Her infectious laugh fills up the cabin as she struggles to hit the high notes. It melts away the tension of my morning, and for the first time in a week, happiness floats through my body.

  We pull up to the stadium, and when I pull into a spot, I pause, turning toward Remy. “So, who’s the guy? Am I allowed to know or?”

  That same pink tint from earlier paints her face. She shifts, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, and bites into her bottom lip.

  “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me...now,” I joke, turning the ignition off and opening the door. I whip around and open her side, holding my elbow out to support her as she hops out.

  We join the large crowd swarming into the stadium. Tonight’s game is against our rivals on the east side of the city, and it seems as if all thirty-five hundred students are here.

  Remy agrees to find seats while I grab us some hot chocolate from the concession stand. Luckily, everyone hasn’t made it down yet, so the line isn’t too long. I pull my hoodie up and scroll on my phone while I wait, reading another article on color, when I hear her name.

  “Have you seen Lily?” The frail redhead in front of me huddles close to her friend. Her cheeks are
rosy, matching her Rudolf nose.

  The friend nods. “Yes, that bitch is so freaking pretty it’s sickening. I can’t wait till the halftime show. You know it’s going to be epic.”

  My chest tightens, and an ache spreads from the pounding organ.

  I don’t care about her. Not anymore.

  Repeating the short mantra, I bury my attention in my phone, doing the best I can to ignore the girls and the throbbing between my temples. After about fifteen minutes, with our hot chocolate in tow, I find Remy seated next to the band—far from where the cheerleaders are stationed.

  The game actually turns out to be a nail-biter. Defense on both sides keeps either from scoring, and the offense can’t seem to push through. I notice the way Remy sits up a little straighter when Blaze gets the ball or how she gasps when he gets rocked by the opposing team, but I keep my mouth shut.

  When halftime comes, the score is still a big goose egg on both sides.

  “I’m going to grab us some nachos.” Remy stands and disappears in the flow of people probably doing the same.

  I unlock my phone and finish the article I was on. Tonight isn’t so bad. The cool fresh air is nice, and the game is pretty entertaining, to say the least. I spread my legs, leaning an elbow on my knee as I open my text thread with William. He wants to take a road trip to visit, and I know I can’t keep putting him off.

  His ass misses me, and I’m not sure our FaceTime tutoring sessions are doing much good. The boy has it made with money and doesn’t think he needs a fucking brain to run his family’s potato distribution company in Idaho.

  An announcement echoes through the stadium, and I realize the band is on the field. “And for your halftime entertainment, the Emerald Falls very own reigning Regional Champions, EFH cheer squad.”

  Everyone in the stands erupts in a furious cheer, rising to their feet as the girls walk across the field.

  My heart picks up pace, but I force my eyes back on my phone, staring at the text when the drums begin their percussion. I do well for a few minutes, but then I feel her. My nerves light up, and a string of goose bumps trail down my arm even though I’m wearing a damn hoodie.

  When I look up, Lily’s the first thing I see.

  She illuminates the space around her, and everyone else seems to disappear. Her hair whips around in the wind, twirling around her neck and falling between the valley of her breasts. Her hips move to the beat of the band, her arms whirling around, curling around her body, accentuating her curves.

  She’s half goddess, half hell, and she lights my fucking heart on fire.

  Lily’s eyes lock with mine, and just like that, every thought I’ve had, and the resilience I’ve built over the last six days, disintegrates in her flames.

  The air thickens, leaving me struggling to swallow. The knot in my throat grows and soon breathing becomes harder. She keeps my gaze, rolling slower and jutting her ass out more, while like a dipshit, I greedily eat it up. My dick struggles against the zipper of my jeans, and I think if I clench my teeth any tighter, I may crack my molars.

  It feels like ripping two strong-ass magnets apart, but I finally break eye contact and head for Remy. A new revelation washes over me, heating my face to a painful temperature.

  Why deny it? Whether I want to or not, I do care. Too goddamn much.

  And it pisses me the fuck off.

  EIGHT

  So he can’t come to school, but he can come to a football game? Something he’s never been interested in before?

  The audacity. His ass knew I would be here tonight.

  Irritation rolls in my stomach, and I chew the inside of my lip a little too hard, tasting the bitter blood on my tongue.

  Tonight’s game is packed, and while I have our routine on repeat in my head, it all comes to a stop when I feel him set foot in the stands. The fine hairs on my neck stand at attention, and the air blows a little warmer, despite the string of clouds moving in. When I look back, I find him without much effort, sitting next to that Remy girl.

  I suck my teeth. Fine, since he wants to come to my turf and ignore my presence entirely, I’ll put on a show. It’s halftime, and the announcer summons us to the field.

  We saunter onto the grass, and I ignore the hundreds of eyes on me, focusing on just one. And the second those amber orbs lock on mine; it’s on.

  My hips flit to the sound of the drums, soaking up every ounce of attention he gives me. The attention I should have had over the past five days. I find it intoxicating that despite what I did, he can’t seem to break away from me. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t come to school. Because even though he doesn’t want to, he’s attracted to me now, and it eats him up that he won’t get me.

  I’m not sure if it’s satisfaction, rage, lust, or a combination of the three, but a tingle radiates through my body before nestling in my pussy, driving my body to pick up the pace. My hands slide down my curves and up again, showing him everything he almost had. Everything that was at the tips of his fingers.

  A shiver descends my spine, and even though it’s strange how euphoric it feels, I live in the moment. Reveling in the way he lights my body up without even knowing.

  Until suddenly, he snaps his eyes closed and walks away. As if he’s bored with the view.

  The act hits me in the chest, leaving a hole in the dead center, allowing the nip in the air to flush the desire out like being dumped in a cold bath. There’s nothing I hate more than becoming invisible and being left behind.

  I bite back the burn in my throat and jump into the counts.

  Screw him.

  After what feels like the longest game of the season, I drive home, Lo-Fi flowing through the speakers. It’s well past ten, but even in the dark, the low-hanging clouds loom over, ready to spill their belly on the earth below.

  I hurry home, parking in the driveway, and run to the front door, hopeful I make it inside before the downpour starts. But the light pouring out from the front window stops me in my tracks. My heart bottoms out, hitting my hollow stomach, instantly making me nauseous.

  She’s home. She’s never home.

  I stare at my keys, considering where I might go. Blaze is probably buried balls deep in somebody, and Amora is most likely just as busy. My eyes flash to the dark house behind mine, but I don’t let them linger too long.

  Letting out a slow breath, I meander to the front door. Maybe I left the light on while rushing out this morning. It’s true my mind hasn’t been able to focus in the past couple of weeks.

  A violent tremor takes hold of my hand, causing me to drop my keys twice. Finally, I’m able to unlock the door, pushing it open as quietly as possible. If she is here, I might be lucky enough she’s passed out, and I can slip into my room.

  My face jerks to the right, a sting radiating across my jaw. My hand snaps to the tender spot before I spot her, standing in front of me in a deep red robe. Her dark hair is mussed, and streaks of mascara decorate her flushed cheeks.

  “You dumb bitch. Where the fuck have you been?” My mom’s voice slices through the air, hitting me square in the chest.

  I close the door and push past her. If I can get up to my room and just shut the door, I’ll be fine. Two feet is how far I make it before I’m yanked back by my ponytail. Her slurred words ring in my ear. “I asked you a question, you fat little slut.”

  Maybe if she was ever sober, or better yet even came home, at all, she would remember I cheer. It’s like she only remembers the fact when she’s telling me I won’t make it into Kentucky.

  “I was at the game,” I say through clenched teeth. My body struggles against the need to slam my fist in her stomach, but I don’t want to clean up the vomit she’ll inevitably hurl after.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you were, pinche puta.” She releases me, shoving me against the banister. My hands reach out immediately, grabbing on and using it to propel me up, taking the steps three at a time, ignoring the sloppy slurs she yells behind me.

  Running inside my room, I slam the d
oor closed and lock it before pushing my back against it, sliding to the floor. Every part of my body shakes, a dangerous mix of anger and frustration sloshing through my veins like sludge.

  I count my breaths, forcing my brain to slow its erratic thoughts. I haven’t seen her in over a week—I guess my luck was bound to run out.

  Luck. Luck was when I was young, and she stayed cooped up in her room, only coming out to eat. Luck was when we did interact, and I only had to endure pops to the back of the head or a belt across the leg. Or when my dad was here to make sure she didn’t hit me too hard. I ran out of that luck about five years ago…

  Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I laugh; it’s humorless and trickling with the sadness I wish I could let go of but never do. Instead, I always let it fester in my gut until I throw up and wonder when I’ll ever be good enough for her.

  At last, my tremors start to ease when a flicker of a light grasps my attention.

  It’s him. A sudden wave of calm washes over me, soaking up the anxiousness and steadying my breath. Pushing to my feet, I move to the window, careful to stand in the shadows of my room so he can’t see me.

  Spencer’s curtains are open, giving me a full view of him pacing his room. He’s on the phone, and from the looks of it, thoroughly pissed off. He grabs the hem of his hideous pea-colored sweater before dropping it and threading his hand through dark locks. As he massages the nape of his neck, his eyes suddenly snap to my window, and my heart stops.

  I hold my breath, inching closer to the middle of the window. For some reason, I want him to see me—need him to. An idea sparks in my mind, and I act fast, scared I may think better of it before I actually do it.

  Sliding open the pane, I peek my head through. The air is moist and smells like it’s only seconds away from filling with rain.

  Slipping onto the sloped roof, I ease myself down on the ledge. The drop isn’t but about ten feet—an easy stunt to a frequent flyer. I fall, bending my knees slightly when my feet make contact with the soft ground.