by CJ Adler
“Stop doing that.” He glowers at me, pulling me along after him as we exit the store, only for us to run into the sexy, hot manager dude on the way out.
I mutter a shy hello to him.
Jay, judging by his smirk, seems to find my coyness hilarious. He doesn't get that I somehow always embarrass myself in front of this manager guy.
Mr. Manager smiles warmly at me. “Hey. Long time no see. I think the last time I bumped into you was when you were crying—”
I cut off manager dude before he reveals too much in front of Jay. “I love you!” I blurt out, reacting quickly. I grab Jay by the hand as fast as humanly possible before forcefully dragging him after me.
“What was that about?” Jay asks once we're out of earshot.
“Nothing. Just my future husband,” I say, brushing off the whole ordeal. I continue to rattle on nervously. “So, as fun as today has been, I think it's about time we go home, well, go home separately, not that you'd go home with me, or that I'd go home with you. Wow, it is cold. Are you cold? I'm cold—”
“Aqueela, shut up for a sec'!” Jay raises his tone in the hopes of capturing my full attention, cutting off my rambling. His eyes soften a fraction as his gaze flickers over my face. “Why were you crying?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about. Like I told manager dude, it was just wind because it was a windy day, city of wind and all, wait no, that's Chicago, but maybe we should also be called the city of wind—” I trail off once I realize the trash that I'm sprouting, “—because you know...we have a lot of wind,” I conclude dryly.
Jay nods before speaking up. “Other than the ferocious wind blowing that day, why else were you crying?”
I sigh, knowing that there is no way out of this one. I either come clean or...
“Just drop it, Jay. It was nothing. Just female hormones,” I insist, trying to change the subject.
Unfortunately for me, Jay is stubborn and relentless in his pursuit. “You wanted us to be friends and I agreed, but now it's your turn to let me be a friend. That was the deal. Now stop lying to my face and tell me why you were so upset that day.”
“There are some things that friends share with each other and then there are things that friends never share with each other; this is the latter,” I tell him sharply, knowing fully well that he is no expert in the friend department.
He frowns slightly, taken back my harsh tone. “Fine. Have it your way,” he says quietly, turning his back on me as he begins to walk in the opposite direction.
“Jay, wait!” I call after him, suddenly feeling guilty. He turns around to face me with an expectant gaze. “Where are you going?” I ask softly, wanting him to stay for a little while longer.
“Consider us not friends until you can talk to me,” he answers before he starts walking again.
This time, I don't try to stop him. Instead, I suck in a deep breath, the memories that I've tried blocking now resurfacing at the reminder. Slowly, I roll up one of my sleeves and glance down at the latest scar tainting my skin.
“You need to tell someone about that.”
I jump when I see Mason standing behind me. I glare at him, in turn. “First off, don't sneak up on me, and secondly, get lost. I didn't need you back then and I sure as hell don't need you now.”
Mason cocks his head to the side, observing me from head-to-toe to check if I'm coping. “You look like a mess.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter almost inaudibly.
“Clearly you're not sleeping. Self-inflicted insomnia perhaps? Quite frankly, it's not healthy. You. Need. Help.” He takes a daring step forward me, boldly emphasizing the last three words.
“I can handle myself,” I argue, persistent. “You. Need. To. Leave.”
Mason studies me for a second longer than necessary. “I didn't come all this way to just leave,” he clarifies. “If I'm leaving, then you're coming with me,” he commands and before I can protest, he is already dragging me away with him.
***
I find myself beside Mason on the Bensten's doorstep.
“I'm not going in there,” I say, stubbornly crossing my arms over my chest.
Mason ignores me and continues to try and convince me to go inside and confide in Bells. He's doing it in the hopes that Bells will persuade me into reporting the abuse to the authorities. That way, I can be removed from Yolanda.
But then, who will take me in? Where will I go? My father has, on several occasions, made it crystal clear that he wants nothing to do with me. I know of no one willing to take a seventeen-year-old in. Of course, there are my grandparents, but they live far away and are practically insane.
Mason's warm brown eyes fill with anguish as he glances down at me in desperation. “Please. I'm begging you, Aqueela. Please just speak to someone about this. It doesn't have to be me, or even Bells, but you need someone to help you get through this.”
“I'm perfectly fine, Mason!” I snap at him, tired of arguing, mostly because he is winning. “And it wouldn't help if I told Bells now in any case. She's not talking to me, or have you forgotten? After the stunt you pulled in the cafeteria the other day, she is convinced that there's something going on between us.”
Mason falls quiet at hearing the latest revelation.
Suddenly the door swings open, only to reveal Bells with a surprised look on her face when she sees the two of us on her doorstep. She glances back and forth from Mason to me. “What do you two want?” She huffs, clearly still annoyed with us.
The idiot drags me through the mud with him. I should not have to be on her bad side right now.
Mason shoots me a look but I pay no heed to it.
“Nothing,” I answer Bell's question, turning on my heel to leave.
Mason tugs me back, eyes still on his girlfriend. “Can we come in?” he asks, only for her to slam the door shut in his face.
***
I grin when I see Jay sitting in his usual place under my tree.
I approach him with a smile, holding out a jar of butterscotch cookies to him. “Cookie?” I ask, trying to patch things over and restore the start of a friendship. Without Bells, I have no one to turn to. In fact, the only one I seem to have is this brutal outcast himself and I can only hope that he isn't as brutal as he makes himself out to be.
“Really?” He arches a brow at me. “You honestly thought that would work? I don't even like butterscotch, you do,” he reminds me, not that I needed any reminding—it was worth the shot. I regret nothing.
Seeing as I know little to nothing about Jay, I decided to bake my favorite cookies as an apology in the hopes of him liking them. If not, it would still be a win- win situation for me. I get to stuff my face with the butterscotch cookies when I'm all depressed as a result of him not liking the cookies.
“That's my point. I don't even know what snacks you like and here you are demanding for me to tell you about something that I haven't even shared with anyone yet,” I explain, needing him to understand.
“Anyone but Mason right?” he asks, catching me off guard.
I'm taken aback. “How did you—”
He cuts me off with the answer. “I realized that what I was asking was unfair to you, so I went back to find you, but then there was Montry and the two of you were disputing over something serious.” He shrugs. “So I left.”
“I'm just going through some problems,” I reluctantly open up. “That's all. Mason found out by accident. Nothing serious.”
“Alright.” He nods, weighing it out in his head as he leans back against the tree.
“We good?” I ask him.
“Look,” he starts, distancing himself on instinct, “I got problems too. Too many to count. I don't want to drag you further down. I don't know if I can ever pull off friends.”
“What's the real problem?” I question, sensing that there's more to his story.
“You're lying,” he says bluntly. “I can tell that it's something serious, and I'm prepared to handle it.”
&
nbsp; “I'm still not prepared to tell you.” I sigh, already able to see where this is going.
“Let me help you,” he insists. “I got this.”
“No.” I shake my head without having to think twice. “I can't.”
“Then don't expect me to stick around.”
***
I ring the bell five times before Bell, herself, opens the door.
“I come bearing gifts!” I say aloud and hold the jar out to her, a sheepish yet hopeful grin on my face.
She takes one look at me before the door slams shut. She opens the door a second later, grabs the cookies from me, and then bangs the door closed a second time.
At least, someone accepted my cookies.
I ring the doorbell a few more times before she finally opens the door again, having given in. “What?!” she asks, exasperated.
“Why can't we be friends?” I hum, not missing a beat.
She rolls her eyes before moving out the doorway so that I can come in. “Mason explained everything. You don't have to say anything. I just need time to register it all.”
I raise a weary eyebrow. “What did Mason tell you exactly?”
“He told me about the fight between you guys. He said that there's nothing going on. He told me that you're dealing with something in your life that he accidentally found out about. He's just trying to help you through this and overcome it, whatever it is,” she says, her curiosity evident in her tone.
She's fishing like a fish outta water.
“I asked,” she admits. “But he refused to reveal anything, told me that it wasn't his secret to share. So, if you're wondering if we cool, we are indeed cool, doesn't change the fact that you can't find it within yourself to open up to me.”
I'm kind of surprised to hear that Mason went through all the trouble to clear my name and mend my friendship with his girlfriend. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't appreciate it. “Bells, I'm sorry,” I apologize for keeping it from her.
“You don't owe me an explanation.” She embraces me. “I jumped to conclusions all on my own. If anything, I owe you an apology. I just wish you felt that you could tell me...” She falters in her words when I slowly begin to lift my sleeve. Her eyes widen in shock at the sight of my arm traced in white scars. “Oh my gosh! Aqueela, what happened?!” she asks, now in hysterics.
“Yolanda,” I say quietly, quickly pulling my sleeve back down.
“Your stepmom did this to you?” she asks as if struggling to wrap her head around it.
I nod, confirming it. “Don't be mad at Mason. He was only trying to help,”
I say weakly, feeling vulnerable with the news out in the open.
“I know,” she acknowledges. “And I'm not mad.” She pats my back in a comforting manner. “We'll get through this together, m'kay? I'm here with you all the way.” .
***
Two days later...
“See. I told you it will all get better with time. Don't you feel like a huge burden has been lifted off of your shoulders?” Bells asks as we make our way to the cafeteria.
Distracted, I glance to Jay's locker hoping to see him, but he's nowhere in sight, nor has he been for the past two days. I can't help but feel responsible for his absence.
“Thanks for being here for me, Bells. It means the world,” I say, sincere, as we sit down at her table.
“Sure.” Bell smiles warmly. “So, how's Jay? You two friends yet?” I shake my head. “Not anymore.”
I sigh. She has a knack for changing bad subjects to worse subjects.
“Okay...” she drawls out, not wanting to prod, “how about you and Max then?”
I groan at the reminder.
She giggles in amusement. “I heard he's been looking for you. Everyone is claiming that you two are fakes, and with good reason. He is still hopelessly trying to save the MMA fanbase, but they're dropping like flies.”
“Max gives me migraines. I don't even know why I agreed to the MMAs in the first place. I'm going to put an end to this. I'm not cut out to be a warrior,” I confess, a shot at my ego.
Mason comes walking in, bending slightly to place a kiss on Bell's cheek.
He gives me a once-over before holding up a shirt. “Thought you might want to see this. Max just went to the extreme.”
My jaw drops at the sight. I didn't think he was serious.
Bells pulls her own shirt out of her bag, a sheepish smile filtering over her lips. “I was just about to show you.”
I glance between the two identical T-shirts, stunned to the core. “Max is selling shirts with my face imprinted on?!” I all but shout. “And without my permission too?!”
Mason presses his lips into a thin line and nods at me. “Indeed. Except, he gave ours,” he gestures from himself to Bells, “for free because, apparently, we're your biggest fans.”
“It's not funny!” I hiss at him, only for him to crack out into laughter, proving me wrong.
Bells leaves us be, standing up to refill her water bottle.
Mason wastes no time in asking me the dreaded question. “Am I correct in assuming that you've finally told Bells?”
I nod. “Not that it's any of your business, but that I did. So you can go back to not caring now. I will gladly welcome it.”
“Phew! Thank goodness!” He blows out a breath of relief, pretending to wipe a bead of sweat off of his brow. “That's great news on my part. Now I don't have to spend any more time with you than I already have to.”
The dynamics haven't changed too much, but yet, his insults still feel forced. I make another vain attempt at starting an argument. It's the only way I know how to speak to him. “So, you're my biggest fan?” I tease. “Totally saw that one coming.”
He doesn't respond with a snide remark, instead, he smiles faintly at me.
“I've always been your number one fan, you've just never realized it.”
I take in his words and shake my head at his unusual sweet side, not appreciating his pity. My eyes dart over to Bells, wishing for her to be back already. It's just plain awkward trying to converse with her boyfriend. We're too different.
“Later, loser.” Mason winks at me, moving to the end of the table to speak to Laiken and his other buddies before they all stand up and leave.
Bells returns with a peppy grin, instantly lifting my spirit with her cheerfulness. “So, tell me why you even bothered to join the MMAs in the first place,” she asks as she takes her seat again before glancing around, in search of where Mason disappeared to.
I shrug. “Jay was mad at me that day, kind of like now. I was feeling down, so when Max mentioned MMAs, I jumped at the opportunity to get my mind off everything,” I explain, well, try to. I'm not quite sure myself as to why I joined the MMAs.
Bell stares at me, skeptical. “You mean, to get your mind off Jay?” I nod. “I guess so.”
“Since when do you give a damn if people are mad at you, unless, of course, you care for these certain peoples?” She raises her eyebrows at me, biting back a grin.
“Since always. Duh,” I lie, not having anything else to say to that.
Bell laughs softly before a kind smile washes over her features. Her eyes brighten as she leans toward me knowingly. “Aqueela, I think you might just have a thing for JT.”
“Jay,” I correct her absentmindedly. “He doesn't like being called JT.”
Chapter 15
Rise of the Rebellion
“I swear, Aqueela Lawson, you better be kidding or I will hurt you,” Max says from in front of me, his brown eyes swirling up in irritation.
“It was a mistake, Max. I never meant for this to get out of control,” I tell him truthfully.
“You're fake breaking up with me?” he asks in a dejected tone.
I nod at his question. He needs to stay in his lane.
His hand clutches into a fist before it's sent flying in my direction. I close my eyes and shield myself with my hands. “Just not the face! My face is my job! My face is my job!” I mimic C
eCe from New Girl.
“Sike!” I hear him laugh.
I peek through the gaps in my fingers to see that he's dropped his fist, a grin on his lips as he openly chuckles at my reaction.
“First off, your face is not your job, and second, did you really think I was about to punch you? Please. I would never get into a fight with an MMA champ. I'm actually relieved because I don't want to do this MMA thing anymore either. You didn't have to do anything while I worked my backside off all day. For the coach, it is utterly exhausting,” he explains, sympathizing with himself.
“Thank goodness, otherwise you'd leave me with no other option other than to punch the living daylights out of you,” I threaten him.
Max smirks in delight and raises a challenging eyebrow upon hearing this.
“You think you can take me?”
I hold my fists up in front of him, taking up a boxer stance as I pretend to punch, bobbing up and down on the balls of my feet. “I don't think I can take you. I know I can take you. Square up and come at me, bro!”
Max holds his hands up in surrender. “Wow. Tame yourself. Don't unleash the beast in me. We cool? We cool? Or do I gotta activate stealth mode?”
“You wanna fight, huh, you wanna fight, let's go!” I shout, circling him, ready to pounce and attack if necessary.
“Okay, that's it. I'm leaving before I lose an eye or a limb, and knowing you, probably something worse.” He grins, clearly used to my simpleton antics.
He leaves the room and I smile to myself. It's good to have the old Max back, the one that's crazy, but not so crazy to the point of being a psychopathic trainer.
When he pokes his head back in through the door, I realize that I've spoken too soon. “Oh, and Aqueela, just because I'm not your trainer anymore, doesn't mean that you should stop watching those carbs.” He winks teasingly at me.