by Tiffany King
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” I said, flushing at his admiring tone.
“Are you kidding me? We’ve all dreamed of putting Matthews in his place. You made history. It was so epic.”
I giggled at his words. “Epic?”
“Hey, trust me. If anything ever was epic, that was it.”
“Well, I'm glad I could inspire everyone,” I teased.
He laughed out loud at my words, making the other students turn to look at us curiously. I couldn’t help wondering if they thought it was tactless for me to be fraternizing with the person whose father had changed my life so drastically.
I sobered up at the thought. What was I doing? Sure, I no longer blamed Maddon for the accident, but it still didn’t erase the fact that his father had committed a heinous crime.
“Does it matter what they think?” he asked quietly, somehow reading what I was thinking.
“How'd you know that’s what I was thinking?” I asked intrigued.
“Your face is like an open book. I can tell every emotion you’re feeling by the way your eyes look,” he said intensely, making me wonder if he really could see through the mask I had erected.
I shifted back in my seat. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of him knowing me in a way that seemed so intimate. The silence between us stretched uncomfortably, and eventually he turned back around in his seat while I fiddled around on my phone.
I let out a huge sigh of relief when the hour ended and we could escape the oppressively thick silence between us. Scooping up my stuff in one movement, I fled the auditorium after throwing a halfhearted goodbye at him.
I sank heavily in my car seat, shaking slightly from being around him. Unlike the week before where I shook uncontrollably from anger, this was something entirely different. He somehow managed to work his way under my protective shield which was ironic since he was a big part of why the shield was there in the first place.
She was gone by the time I made it to the parking lot. “Mother f,” I said, pounding a fist against the roof of my car.
“Real slick, Maddon, why don’t you just tell her you sneak into her house at night and watch her sleep,” I muttered to myself, sliding the key into the door lock.
“Talking to yourself at such a young age can’t be a good thing,” a voice dripping with honey said from behind me.
I turned around to face the one person I had been trying to avoid for weeks. “Hey, Miranda, how’s it going,” I said, leaning against the car.
“Fine. If you consider hooking up with some guy at a gig and never hearing from him again, fine,” she said, all the sweetness gone from her voice.
I sighed. “Look Miranda, I thought you understood when we hooked up. It was just a one-night thing,” I said, hating that I even needed to explain this. I had been very careful not to make any promises the night we had been together.
“Yeah, but I thought we shared a connection,” she said, sticking her lower lip out in a pout that just a couple months ago I would have considered sexy.
“Really?” I asked her, pointing out how awkward it was afterward when we had nothing to talk about.
“Well, it was good during wasn't it?” she asked, grasping at straws.
“Of course it was,” I said, not wanting to be a dick. “I’m just not ready to settle down.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun once in a while,” she added, stepping close to me so she could run her hand up my arm. Her perfume swirled around, but it no longer appealed to my senses.
“Look, now’s just not the best time for me,” I said, stepping to the side to break the contact.
“You sure? You seem upset. Maybe I can help,” she said with the honey back in her voice as she placed her hand on the back of my neck so she could drag my lips to hers.
I broke the connection before our lips could meet. “Look, I didn’t want to hurt you, but there’s kind of someone else,” I finally admitted.
“That’s okay, she wouldn’t have to know,” she said brazenly as she pressed her body against mine.
“Come on, Miranda, I said no.”
“Fine, your loss,” she said, backing away in a huff. “Don’t think I’ll be this generous when you come crawling back.”
“Not likely,” I muttered to myself as I climbed into my car. I had to laugh at the irony of the situation. One girl was throwing herself at me while the other was running from me. Now, if I could get them to flip-flop…
“Last day,” I said to myself as I headed to detention. I could do this. One more day and both he and I could resume our separate lives. For some reason, I felt oddly sad about it, but I shook it off. “There’s nothing to be sad about,” I tried to convince myself as I claimed my regular seat in the auditorium.
“Hey,” Maddon said, coming in right after me.
“Hey,” I answered, smiling slightly. “Last day for you, huh?”
“Yep. Freedom is within my grasp.”
“Lucky you,” I said, trying for sarcasm. “I’ll probably be all by myself the next two days,” I said, indicating the empty room. “Looks like I’m the only person dumb enough to get in trouble the week before winter break.”
“I could keep you company,” he said, lightly tapping the back of the seat with his drumsticks.
“What? No, that’d be insane,” I said. “Who’d come to detention if they didn’t have to?”
“Well, I didn’t mean I’d keep you company here,” he said smiling.
“Very funny, you’re a regular old comedian,” I said, making a grab for one of his drumsticks. “Why do you carry these around all the time?” I asked. “Are you trying to look cool or do you really play?”
“Baby, I’m cool regardless, but I do play,” he said in a husky voice.
I wasn't usually a fan of being called “baby,” but something about the way he said it didn’t seem as bad. It was actually kind of hot.
“Ha, whatever helps you sleep at night junior,” I said, trying to sound normal.
“Junior?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at me.
“Just trying to keep it real,” I teased.
“That’s fine, because we both know I’m all man,” he said, striking a pose.
I couldn’t help but giggle at how ridiculous he looked.
“Anyway…” I said, holding up the drumstick.
“I guess I carry them around because I feel lost without them,” he answered in a more serious tone. “They’re about the only constant thing I have going in my life right now.”
My stomach turned at his words. His honesty was a brutal reminder of what we had both been through, but at the very least, I still had Mom and Megan.
“Besides, the chicks dig ‘em,” he said, trying to lighten the mood back up.
“Do you miss your dad?” I asked out of nowhere.
He looked shocked, and I instantly wanted to retract the words. What the hell was I doing dredging this up?
“Sorry,” I said, looking down at my hands.
“No, it’s cool,” he answered. Then he reached over unexpectedly and grasped my hand in his. The warmth of his hand completely enclosed mine, making my pulse race erratically. “No Kassandra, I don’t miss him. I wish he was the one who had died,” he said intensely.
“You shouldn’t say that,” I said, surprised by his honesty.
“Why? It’s true,” he said, releasing my hand.
“I don’t know. It’s just, he’s your dad. You know, ugh, I don’t know what to say.”
“I get what you’re trying to say, but he’s a drunk and a loser, Kassandra, Plain and simple.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad for him. My grief for my father shadowed me every second of everyday, but at least my memories of him were filled with love and guidance.
“Don’t be. You’re loss is greater than mine.”
“That’s why I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to gently pat his hand that was resting on the back of his seat.
“How do
you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Feel sympathy for me when I don’t deserve it. How can you be so kind and compassionate?”
I snorted in an unladylike manor at his words. “Kind and compassionate? Obviously, you didn’t know me before,” I said, brushing off his ridiculous comment.
“I saw you around school before it happened. I have a pretty good idea of the person you were,” he said.
This was one of those moments where my previous reputation was kind of embarrassing. Not that it should matter if he knew how shallow I had been, but for some reason it did. “So you know I was a bitch,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“I know you hung with a bunch of bitches is all I’m saying.”
“Don’t kid yourself. I was the queen,” I said, a little louder than necessary.
“Just because you hang out with bitches doesn’t make you one,” he said, matching my tone.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, finding it ironic I was trying to convince him of what a bitch I used to be.
“Oh, come on. You’ve seen the guys I hang out with, right? Tell me you don’t have some kind of preconceived idea of what kind of person I am.”
“I don’t know,” I lied, not wanting to offend him.
“Yeah, right,” he said, letting me know I hadn’t fooled him.
“I’d say you were a stoner.”
“Exactly, but would it surprise you to know I’ve never—ever done drugs, or drank any booze, or even tried smoking for that matter?”
“Seriously?” I asked amazed. I wasn’t a fan of drinking, but even I had done my fair share when I was with Lacey. I hated the taste, but it was all part of playing the popularity role.
“Yeah, seriously. My dad drove my mom away because of that shit.”
“Your mom left?” I asked, feeling like a heel.
“Yeah, years ago, right after my fifth birthday.”
“What?” I asked incredulously. What kind of mom leaves he son behind with an abusive alcoholic father.
“It was no biggie,” he said, trying to sound tough.
“Right,” I said skeptically.
“I survived,” he shrugged. “Besides, we were talking about you.”
“We were?” I asked, trying to sound dense.
“Nice try, Charlie Brown. Yes, we were talking about you. Just because you surrounded yourself with airheads didn’t mean you fit the mold. Pretending you’re something doesn’t mean you’ve succeeded.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, glancing at my cell to check the time. I was surprised the hour had gone by so quickly. He was easy to talk to.
Maddon and I stood up together and he trailed me out of the building.
“Kassandra, I’m serious,” he said, tugging on my hand to stop my forward motion.
“Why does it even matter to you?” I asked, feeling exasperated that he was pursuing the issue.
“Because, I don’t like the idea that you think so little of yourself,” he said.
“Why?” I said, throwing his hand off mine in frustration.
“Does it matter why?” he asked in a pleading voice.
“Oh, forget it,” I said, stomping off in a huff. I mean, seriously, what did he want from me?
“Kassandra, wait,” he said, jogging to catch up to me as I unlocked my car.
“Why?” I asked, repeating my question from earlier.
He sighed loudly and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Because I like you,” he finally said, meeting my eyes.
“You don’t even know me,” I whispered.
“I know more than you realize,” he said, withdrawing his hands out of his pockets and stepping close to me. “And what I know is pretty amazing,” he added, inches from me.
I took a half step back until my back was pressed up against the door of my SUV. “This is wrong,” I said as my heart galloped out of control.
“Why?” he asked, bracketing his hands on either side of me, pinning me against the side of the vehicle in a non-threatening way.
“Because just a week ago I still detested you.”
“Fair enough, but do you still detest me now?” he asked, accentuating the word.
“No,” I said quietly, confused at the emotions he was evoking in me.
“Give me a chance,” he said.
“But your dad…” I said, voicing the reason we would never work.
“My dad’s done enough to us. Why should he get the chance to continue dictating our lives?” he said, placing his right hand on my shoulder. He slowly moved it down my arm, making it tingle. His hand continued to travel down until he was clasping my hand in his.
“Give me a chance,” he repeated, bringing our clasped hands up between us.
“This is insane,” I whispered.
“Maybe, but in a good way.”
“What if you find out I don’t live up to this crazy illusion you seem to have about me?” I asked.
“Kassandra, you’re just going to have to trust me on this,” he said, leaning forward to kiss the knuckles of the hand he held.
I shivered as his breath left a trail of heat against my skin.
“Okay,” I finally conceded.
“You’ll go out with me tomorrow night? he asked, kissing the palm of my hand. My knees went weak as I sagged against the car door.
“Where?” I finally squeaked out.
“My band jams every Thursday night on some property Drake’s family owns. We can grab a bite to eat afterward.”
“Okay,” I said again, sounding like a parrot.
“Should I pick you up?” he asked.
Reality sank in at his words. There was no way I could bring him home. My mom had just recently started to function again. I couldn’t imagine how she would handle me dating someone who should be considered the enemy.
“Don’t over-think it,” he said, studying my face.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Told you, you’re an open book to me,” he said, stroking the side of his hand down my face to emphasize the point.
“Whatever,” I said, enjoying his hand on my skin way more than I should. “I’ll meet you there,” I said, finally breaking the contact as I opened my car door. “Text me the directions,” I added, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“How do you know I have your cell phone number?” he asked, placing an arm across the top of the door.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
He laughed out loud. “Okay, I do have it, but it’s not like I’m a stalker or anything. Besides, I got it from your Facebook profile.”
“I didn’t know we were Facebook friends,” I said puzzled.
His grin said it all. “I guess you could say I’m handy with computers,” he said, laughing at my expression.
“Right,” I said, suddenly curious if he was the Facebook phantom I had seen on Lacey’s page.
He closed the door before I could ask him any other questions.
I slowly pulled out of the parking lot feeling surprisingly okay with my decision. Even if everything about the situation would look wrong to others, and my mom would have a coronary if she ever found out, agreeing to go out with him felt like the first real thing I had done in forever.
***
By the next morning, I guess the ether had worn off because my optimistic attitude was long gone and I felt like a complete traitor for going out with him. I had made a promise to myself after dad died that I wouldn’t do anything for selfish reasons ever again. And yet, I was considering going out with Maddon and ignoring the feelings of my mom and Megan. What kind of person does that make me?
All day I struggled with the decision to go or not. I didn’t want to betray my family, but in the end, I wound up giving my mom some vague excuse about going out, knowing she probably wouldn’t question it.
“That’s fine, dear. I can’t remember the last time you went out,” she said, playing Go Fish w
ith Megan, which was a trial since Megan didn’t speak. The majority of the game centered on flashing the card you were seeking.
“You sure you don’t need me tonight?” I asked, looking for an excuse that would end the battle raging inside me.
“We’ll be fine,” she repeated a little defensively. “Go have fun.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re sure.”
“Kassandra, go.”
I grabbed my keys and purse off the loveseat where I had left them and planted a kiss on top of Megan’s head. “Ask for that one,” I said, tapping one of the cards in her hand.
“Hey,” Mom said, trying to sound indignant.
“Love you Mom,” I said laughing as I gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, which was a ritual I had felt I was too old for by the time I was ten, but had reinitiated once the accident happened.
“Drive safe and text me when you get there.”
“Gotcha,” I replied before closing the door behind me.
My smile disappeared once the door separated us. This was crazy. I should turn around and go back inside, I told myself, and yet, my feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they continued to propel me toward my car.
By the time I reached the garage where Maddon’s band was playing, I was a complete mess. I sat with my head resting on the steering wheel for a moment, gathering myself when a tap on the driver’s side window startled me. Looking up, I saw Maddon on the other side of the door.
“Too late to turn back now,” I mumbled to myself as I opened the door and stepped out into the cool Florida winter breeze.
“Hey,” I said, standing in front of him.
“Hey yourself. Are you okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” I said, looking up into his eyes that were as dark as the night around us.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“I’m still not sure it was the best idea,” I answered truthfully.
“Hey, you showed up, I’m happy,” he replied huskily in my ear.
His close proximity made it even tougher to breath. I had dated plenty of guys over the years, but had never felt so many conflicting emotions at once. My mind told me that we shouldn’t be together, but my body and heart protested otherwise.