The Bad Boy's Dance

by Vera Calloway

  “Why do we have to read Romeo & Juliet again? I don’t think it’s a play significant enough to warrant us having to read it twice in our high school careers,” I said, indignant.

  He perched on an empty desk and rested his chin in his palm. “Well, why don’t you think it’s sig+nificant enough? What constitutes significance to you?”

  The rest of the class had perked when I spoke, finally paying attention now that something interesting was actually happening. Refusing to let my fear of public attention get the better or me, I plowed on. “It’s not significant enough because, even if you agree with the content of the play-which for the record I don’t, it’s only one play that doesn’t teach us any life lessons. Something significant would leave us with meaning and understanding of a new concept we hadn’t even known before. The only thing Romeno & Juliet taught me is that hormonal teenagers will do anything for a good lay.”

  A round of laughter met my last sentence, and I sat back. Mr. Montelone rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Interesting stipulation, Miss Robello. Let’s see if I can prove you wrong over the course of this unit, hmm?”

  The bell rang then, dismissing us before I could tell him that moon cheese would be sold in grocery stores if I ever appreciated Romeo & Juliet. Gathering my things, I haphazardly stacked my textbooks in my arms. My fourth period was too far away for me to stop by my locker, and I already slouched enough without sticking these bricks in my backpack.

  I maneuvered through the hallway carefully. The jingle signaling the last two minutes of passing period sent most of the remaining crowd rushing into their classrooms. Only a few more doors to go when-

  SLAM!

  My books were knocked straight out of my hands and sent flying over the hall. Sighing, I straightened to find Klein sneering at me. “Watch your step, loser.”

  Kelsie, one of Brenda’s trusty sidekicks, materialized at his side. “Honey, leave the poor thing alone. Her life is already pathetic enough,” she simpered at his arm.

  A second later, another hand shot out and knocked Klein’s books to the floor. “Watch where you’re going, douchebag,” Dana snapped.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the cop’s daughter. How’s your daddy doing, Dana? Find another woman to whore around on him?” Kelsie asked vindictively, sugar oozing from her words.

  Dana paled, and like with the cupcake incident in the lunch room, my protective side reared its head. I stepped up as Dana was gathering herself. “You don’t speak to her that way, you hear me?”

  Kelsie laughed, putting her hands on her hips arrogantly. “Or what?”

  “Or we’ll just have to inform little Klein over here about last year’s incident, hmm?”

  We all looked up at the new voice that had spoken, and there was Asher, leaning against the lockers, scowling down at Kelsie. She quailed visibly, and Klein tensed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “What’s he talking about, Kelsie?” Klein demanded.

  “N-nothing, honey. Let’s just go,” she muttered, her head lowered. She had no problem messing with me and Dana because we were low on the totem pole, but Asher would crush her beneath his shoe.

  They hurried to class, tail tucked between their legs, and that’s when I realized how late I was to class. “Shoot!” I mumbled, dropping to the ground to gather my things.

  Dana helped me while Asher watched us with barely concealed amusement. “Oh no, it’s okay, we’ve got it,” Dana said sarcastically.

  He shrugged. “I figure my Good Samaritan role has been filled for the day. Now you two try to get to class in one piece, I’ve got some business to take care of.” With a mock-salute, he vanished down the hall. Damn, I’d wanted to ask what the ‘incident’ with Kelsie was. Knowing her, she’d stepped out on Klein or at least attempted to.

  Dana and I looked at each other. “That guy is trippy,” she noted, handing me the remainder of my textbooks. “He’s hot one second, and a freaking Arctic boulder the next.”

  You have no idea.

  Shrugging, I bumped her shoulder in thanks. “What does it matter? Let’s just get to class before we’re officially truant.”

  My fourth period teacher held me for a few minutes during lunch to scold me for my extreme tardiness, but he let me go after I apologized profusely and promised to bring him a box of Kleenex.

  Plopping into the bench across from Dana and Caleb, I stuffed a fry into my mouth. Caleb was on his phone once again, and Dana was poking the chicken on her plate with a fork.

  “Okay, I am 99.9 % sure that something inside this chicken just blinked at me,” she said in disgust.

  Caleb grinned. “It’s got the hots for you, Dana. C’mon, take a bite- hey, ow!” he protested when the fork landed in his cheek.

  They continued their bickering while I kept a mental tally of how many times Dana stabbed Caleb with her fork, until a commotion caught our attention. Students were streaming into the courtyard, leaving their food left untouched.

  “What’s going on?” Caleb wondered, pocketing his phone.

  “Let’s go find out,” Dana replied excitedly, gladly deserting her questionable food at the table. Caleb and I trudged behind her. I spotted a caramel drizzled brownie left alone on a table and accidentally tripped and stuffed it in my mouth.

  “What?” I said in response to Caleb’s disapproving glance. “It’s not like they were guarding it or anything.”

  We had to elbow aside several people to reach the front. I would have been content in the back, but Dana was not one to let drama pass her by. We reached the front, and oh a sight we did see.

  “Whoa…” Caleb murmured.

  Asher lifted Brett up by the collars of his shirt and shoved him, sending him flying into a tree. Before the guy could make a move, Asher was lifting him again.

  Swinging, Brett landed a punch on Asher that had me cringing, but the crazy boy didn’t even look affected. He merely circled his jaw for a second before executing a series of moves that were too fast for me to see, and resulted in Brett crouching on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and his arms circling his stomach.

  Nobody was intervening. Brett’s friends were on the side, too stupefied to make a move, like they had been with Tristan. Nobody was stopping Asher, and I could understand why. He was in his zone, the zone that had him labeled a criminal. He was lethal, fierce, and unstoppable.

  And if left to his own devices, he could very well demolish Brett. I knew for a fact that strapped under his jeans was that small pistol he’s shown me in the woods, and no doubt his shoes his a knife. He didn’t want to seriously harm Brett.

  He wanted to teach him a lesson.

  Asher reared back to deliver a move that I was certain would cripple Brett for months.

  Don’t do it, you stupid girl. You don’t know what you’re getting into.

  But, per usual, I was too obstinate to listen.

  Rushing forward, I stepped in front of Brett just as Asher snapped his arm. The blow was powerful, and I was in the air for a few seconds before hitting the ground with a thud.

  There was a beat as Asher registered what had happened, and the horrified look that swept over his face made me want to console him. He dropped besides me, lifting me so my head was on his chest, and my shoulders rested on his lap.

  “My God, are you crazy? What is wrong with you?” he asked in frustration. “Damn it!”

  I was too busy trying to breathe through the pain to answer. Asher’s panic was substantial once he realized this. “I killed her. Oh God, I killed her.”

  I lifted a finger, indicating that he should give me a second. Dana and Caleb chose this moment to unfreeze. Caleb would have lunged at Asher if I weren’t currently being cushioned by him. The only person restraining him was Dana.

  “Don’t!” I growled at him. Caleb glared at me, but thankfully kept his trap shut. “Ugh, that hurts. Can someone slap me next time I do that? Please? Also why does everything smell like cookies? Am I dead?”

  I sat up,
rubbing my stomach absently. Huh. It had been awhile since I’d had a punch that powerful. A part of me wanted to lift my shirt and check out the bruise and compare it to my past ones.

  It was her. It was the Ivy that Jared had loved. It was the Ivy who let herself get thrown around like a rag doll for ‘love’.

  I thought I’d killed her.

  “Ivy?” Asher asked gently, reaching forward to clasp my cheeks and direct my blank gaze to him. “Why did you do that?”

  Because I need you to think twice before you throw a punch. I need to you to hesitate before you put yourself at risk.

  Swallowing, I met his cobalt eyes, letting the tranquility they brought wash over me.

  “Because it would have hurt you more than him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Stop Bleeding On My Couch

  “You get up.”

  “No, I asked you first!”

  We’d spent the past fifteen minutes arguing over who should go to the kitchen and make smoothies. It was Wednesday afternoon, and Dana was sprawled besides Caleb on my living room floor, watching reruns of The Vampire Diaries.

  “I shouldn’t have to get up since you’re making me suffer through this,” Caleb complained, gesturing to the T.V.

  “How can you be ‘suffering’ through anything? We get the Salvatore brothers and you get Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline to ogle at. Perfectly fair,” Dana rebuffed, rolling onto her tummy.

  Caleb pointed at me. “How about we make Ivy go?”

  “Um, sorry pal, owner’s rights. This house is mine tonight, and I am its ruler. I serve no one!” I said gleefully.

  They rolled their eyes simultaneously. Over the past 48 hours, I’d blabbed that line constantly to them. My parents were going to a business party in Los Angeles and were spending the night, since they’d taken Jodi (who was famously know for being fussy on planes). Paul had returned to his university for an important psychology seminar, and Spencer was off boozing it up with his friends.

  Which meant I had the house to myself all night.

  Caleb had immediately suggested a party until I reminded him of my last drinking experience. I was simply grateful my Ke$ha impersonations hadn’t ended up on YouTube.

  “Enough! Everyone, to the kitchen!” Dana commanded, standing and pointing. She sent us her patented Death Glare when we didn’t budge, so with heaps of grumbling, we found ourselves standing in my kitchen.

  “Do any of you know how to make a smoothie?” I inquired.

  Dana peered into my fridge and removed a few things. “It can’t be that hard.”

  “I’ll get the blender!” Caleb declared.

  We plugged in the blender and waited while Dana threw in a variety of fruits, sugar, milk, cinnamon, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and ice.

  “Think she has any idea what she’s doing?” Caleb muttered to me.

  “Not a clue.”

  Which is why, neither of us were really surprised when the blender exploded, splattering goo over the kitchen counter and our clothing.

  Caleb swiped a finger over the goo on his cheek and sampled it.

  With a shrug, he grabbed a spoon from the drawer and scraped some goo from the counter tiles.

  “What?” he said in response to Dana and I’s stares of disgust.

  Dana looked at me. “This is why they aren’t allowed out of the farm.”

  “I still don’t understand why you won’t let us sleep over,” Dana sulked, flopping next to me on the couch.

  Removing her shoes from my lap, I unceremoniously dumped her onto the ground. “Because you destroyed my kitchen?”

  She sat up, patting her hair. “Not even! And we cleaned it up, okay?” she huffed indignantly.

  “Caleb,” she implored. “Get her to invite us to sleep over. You have the charm of a goldfish, but sometimes fish are cute.” With a glare in her direction, Caleb tried to give me a stern look, but failed miserably.

  Dana was right. We’d cleaned the kitchen pretty easily, and Caleb helped by pretty much licking everything edible- or inanimate, anyway- in sight. The reason I didn’t want them to sleepover was because I needed me time. For the past few weeks it had been nothing but drama, Asher Grayson, mischief- and did I mention Asher Grayson?

  One night to myself wasn’t asking too much, surely? By the way Dana and Caleb were making such a fuss, you’d think I asked them to go run along the Hudson River in their birthday suits.

  “Fine! I know when I’m not wanted!” Dana clamored to her feet. With another huff worthy of the greatest dragon, she grabbed Caleb’s sleeve and dragged him to the front door.

  I tackled them in a hug before they had crossed the threshold. “Don’t be mad,” I said, giving her my best puppy dog.

  She patted my head like you would an unruly toddler. “I can’t be mad. You still haven’t returned my Ed Hardy shoes and my grey jeans.”

  Wow. Three cheers for friendship, everyone.

  “See you tomorrow, Ives,” Caleb bid me goodbye as he ducked into the warmth of Dana’s car. It had started to snow delicately, and I could already feel the gooseflesh rising on my arms.

  “Remember,” Dana started sagely, placing her hands on my shoulders and giving me a shake. “I’m only a phone call away if you decide I was right and that you don’t have the balls to spend the night alone.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly. “But I’m a big girl. Now buzz off before the snow falls for real.”

  With a last wave, Dana and Caleb sped off, hopefully beating the snow home. Hauling my favorite blanket from the hall closet, I retreated to the sofa. Nothing particularly good was on, so I settled for watching old ABC family movies.

  I must have dozed off halfway through the movie, because I woke up tangled in the blanket, half my body thrown from the couch. Rubbing my forehead, I straightened, trying to disentangle myself from the octopus blanket.

  Suddenly, a loud knock startled me from my efforts. Someone was at the door. Was that what had woke me up? Distractedly, I stood and took a step forward, only to end up flat on my face, having tripped over the cursed blanket.

  Freeing my legs, I darted to the window, but I couldn’t see past the shadows. Who would be here at this hour? According to the clock, it was a bit after midnight, and the snow outside was falling heavily. It was no-man’s weather.

  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to be the dumb chick in the movies that opened the door for a serial killer. Slinking into the kitchen, I grabbed the metal bat my Dad kept hidden in case of burglars and crept towards the door.

  Another booming knock almost scared the blood right from my veins. Swallowing away the cottony taste of fear in the back of my throat, I somehow made it to the front door. Now maybe if my limbs would stop shaking like a newborn calf, that would be great. “Who is it?” I called, trying to sound tough and unafraid. I’m pretty sure I just sounded like a yowling cat.

  Silence. Then a heavy thunk, like the sound of a body leaning against the door. “It’s Asher,” the serial killer said.

  What? Why was Asher here?

  I threw the door open and was met with a tall, shadowed figure. I fumbled to switch on the porch light.

  “What happened to you?” I gasped.

  Asher was bruised and bloody. His shirt was shredded, blood was caked on his skin, and I could see open gashes bleeding from his body.

  He stepped forward before faltering, stumbling to the side and sliding down the doorframe to the ground.

  Holy guacamole, what am I supposed to do? Quick-what’s that medical show Mom hates?

  After a few seconds of gawking at him, crouched in a bloody mess on my porch, I bent down and braced my knees. Hooking my arms around his shoulders, I somehow managed to lift him enough to drag him over the threshold. Now it was the journey to the couch. Asher was completely inanimate. The only indication that he was conscious was the slight twitches of his eyes.

  “C’mon, Asher,” I mumbled. “Work with me here. We’re almost to the couch. Just stay…stay awa
ke. Okay? Just stay awake.”

  Don’t ask me to testify how I hauled Asher to the couch. He was super tall and muscle-bound, but somehow my wiry frame supported him. The first thing I did was lay him back against the cushions and remove his shoes.

  Then I took a few minutes to close the door and freak the hell out.

  Who did this to him? I’d seen the way Asher threw around Brett like he was a sack of potatoes. Heck, he’d accidentally punched me! If there was anything I knew with certainty, it was that Asher Grayson was lethal. Taking him down was no easy feat.

  And, more importantly, how did he end up here, of all places? It was extremely difficult to drive in the snow fall outside, and it would have been near impossible in his condition.

  Um, Ivy? He’s practically dying on your freaking couch. Worry later!

  Right. I scrambled to the bathroom, fumbling for the first aid kit the size of Asia Mom kept stowed away for emergencies. We had almost everything in there, one of the perks of having a nurse as a mother.

  I had never been so grateful to see a white box before. Asher was still lying prone when I returned. Where did I start? There were so many cuts and gashes! If only Mom was here, she’d fix this without breaking a sweat.

  Hesitantly, I moved my fingers in his hair, tracing his scalp for any head wounds. Nothing, thank God.

  His hair was really soft though.

  This next part would be more difficult. “Asher?” I spoke, patting his cheek lightly. His eyelids flickered. “Can you sit up?”

  When he didn’t respond, I sat back on my heels. Okay, I can be mature about this. I was eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake, and Asher was nineteen. We were adults.

  Pushing my inner ten year old aside, I gripped the sides of Asher’s shirt. It was short-sleeved and black. How he hadn’t frozen to death was beyond me. I wiggled the shirt up a few inches, and fell to the floor on a choked yell when a pale hand flashed forward to grasp mine.

  “You scared me!” I said accusingly. Asher looked fully awake now, and that familiar smirk was plastered on his face.