by Anna B. Doe
“Andrew...”
My hand covers my rapidly beating heart.
“I-I...” he stutters, making me lift my gaze from his shoulder to his eyes. Andrew Hill doesn’t stutter. He’s the leader, the ruler. He rarely ever has to say something before people try to make his wish come true. “That didn’t come out right.” He scratches the back of his head. “Sorry.”
His silent words surprise me so much I’m left without words.
“I just...” He shifts weight from one leg to the other making me frown. If I didn’t know better I would think he’s nervous. But why would Andrew Hill be nervous around me? “Derek’s a mess.”
“Out of all people, he sent you to talk to me?” I cross my hands over my chest in defiance. “I’m not interested.”
I try to walk around him, but his big body is in my way, surrounding me, caging me in. “No! He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“What? You need homework or something?” I start going through the books in my hands. “If that’s it, just take it and leave me alone.”
“No! God dammit!” His hands bang against the locker on both sides of my head. Before, an outburst like that would make me shake. My voice would become weak and I would do my best to become invisible. Not today. “Will you just shut up and listen?”
My eyes grow wide, and I nibble at my lower lip, but that’s the only reaction I give to his tantrum.
Through the years, he’s been a lot of things. Egocentric asshole. Selfish idiot. Cocky bastard. But never crazy intimidating.
“I came on my own. Derek... he’s a mess. You should go and talk to him, give him a chance to explain. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine.”
“What?”
“Just ... Just give him a chance to explain.”
He takes a step back from me, his hands falling to his sides.
“Why are you doing this?” I look at him, completely confused. “I thought you hated me.”
Andrew looks at the floor, shaking his head.
“I always hated what you could do.”
“And that is?”
“Take my best friend away from me.”
With those words left hanging in the air, he turns around and walks away from me. He doesn’t turn around to acknowledge me when I call his name.
What the hell just happened?
“What do you mean you’re not going?”
I want to roll my eyes at Jeanette’s pursed lips and narrowed eyes that are shooting daggers at me, but I contain myself. At least until I turn around and start rearranging the stuff on my desk.
For a girl that prides herself for being a loner and not needing anybody, she is starting to spend a lot of time surrounded by people, telling them what to do and messing with their lives.
“I told you before, I’m not going to the game…”
“And did we make you go? No, so...”
“… and I’m not going to the party,” I continue like she didn’t say anything at all. “I don’t want to see him or be around people who know him. Chances that he’ll be at the party with his new Barbie doll are big. I don’t have to watch that.”
I won’t let him break my heart over and over again.
The last two days at school, after Max and Brook got me out of the bed and after the incident, have been… hard.
There was no avoiding Derek. We have too many classes together for that, and it’s like destiny keeps throwing us together—bumping into each other in the hallways, occasional brush of our hands as we passed by each other, sitting close by…
In how many pieces can a heart break?
Because every time I see him, another tiny part of my heart shatters.
My heart would squeeze painfully and skip a beat. My breath would get stuck in my throat, and for a few short seconds, although to me it seemed more like an eternity, I would forget how to breathe.
He never said a word. That’s what surprised me. Thursday, when we got to school, I could see bruises on both Derek and Max, but neither of them said a word.
Gossip running through school hallways was a completely different thing. Everybody was talking about them and me.
Everybody.
There were rumors that the two of them fought over me, which wasn’t a lie, not completely. But other stories were entirely made up. They were saying that I hooked up with Max behind Derek’s back and then, when he found out about it, they had a fight. Another story that was running around the school was about Derek, Sophie, and me.
Snickering laughs followed me everywhere. Glares and rude comments were inevitable, especially from the girls.
“You have to go!”
“It’s your birthday, Lia.” Brook enters my room and jumps on the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We are not letting them take that away from you.”
“We can celebrate here just fine.” I shrug nonchalantly. My birthdays were always celebrated with family only. “Mom made cake. Chocolate cake. If you want I can get you a slice.”
“No thank you. What you can do is take this and go to the bathroom to change.”
Sighing, I turn around and come face to face with two determined, you-are-going-to-do-as-we-say, women.
“Bathroom. Now.” Jeanette shoves the bag she’s been holding since she came to my house into my hands. It’s big enough that it can contain half of my closet, and it’s quite heavy. What the hell is she carrying inside?
“It’s your 18th birthday. You are not going to stay in the house,” Brook agrees.
The two look at each other, frowning, before returning their attention to me. I guess we entered a parallel universe where these two can actually be friends. Or are they frenemies?
Like I said, Jeanette was acting really strangely since that time we all hung out.
“I don’t…”
“Want to go to the party.”
“Or see Derek,” Jeanette adds and rolls her eyes at me. “We know. But you are going. We’ll get you drunk, and you can do something crazy, like dance on the table or make out with some random guy.”
“That’ll piss Derek off, for sure.”
“I don’t want to…”
“Bathroom!” they yell in unison and point their fingers at the door.
“Ughh.”
“This was really not a good idea,” I complain, pulling down at the hem of my ridiculously short skirt.
“How is this not a good idea?” Jeanette closes the driver’s door and locks them behind her. “It’s Halloween, and this is a Halloween party. The only night in a year when you can be whoever you want to be.”
Jeanette is completely comfortable in her own, equally short, dark blue skirt showing off miles of long, sleek legs. A red corset is hugging her thin waist and pushing her breast up. Golden bracelets on both wrists and a headband slash tiara complete the Wonder Woman look. Yes, you heard me right.
I knew she was smart, but I never knew she had this geeky side to her that is into superheroes.
“I didn’t exactly choose this.”
Once again I pull down my skirt, but it seems like every time I pull it down, it raises more and more up my legs.
“Well, complain to Brook. She was the one who said you were into this kind of stuff.”
“That’s because she is!”
They continue arguing as they move towards the front door of Andrew’s house.
Brook is going as Harley Quinn, and she went as far as to put on a blond wig with blue and pink tips. Her shirt is showing off her pierced belly button, my gift for her sixteenth birthday, and her shorts are so short they seem more like panties. The only thing saving her from walking around half naked are the black fishnet stockings, which don’t hide much at all.
“Lia, explain to her that you love Harry Potter,” Brook looks over her shoulder at me expectedly. “And hurry up.”
Sighing, I look down at my bare legs. I have knee high boots on, but there is a lot of skin left in the open between the top of the boots and hem of my skirt.
�
�Of course I love Harry Potter.”
The only problem is, this costume has nothing to do with the books or movies. I guess this is supposed to be a sexy version of the uniform, but I don’t know how to do sexy. Awkward, clumsy, and uncomfortable are more like me.
The upper part consists of a white shirt with a red and gold tie, Gryffindor colors, of course, over which is a corset. The skirt is black and falling down mid-tight. I also got a black hat and cloak. I like the cloak. The sleeves are tight on the upper arm part and then become larger as the fall down my forearm. But it’s also so short!
Just like the last time, the house is filled with people, only this time they are superheroes, vampires, werewolves, fairies, angels, demons, bunnies... you get the picture.
The music is as loud as I remember. There is food and drinks.
Everything is … like always.
Like nothing had happened.
And for them, it didn’t. This is just another Friday night. Just another party where they’ll drink and talk to their friends, maybe dance and make out with somebody until the night is over.
Then, they’ll repeat it all over again next week. And so on.
“Here you go, birthday girl.” Brook smiles at me and puts one red cup in my hands, she herself, nursing the other.
I look down at pinkish liquid.
“What is it?” Whatever it is it can’t be worse than beer. I bring the cup to my mouth. It smells sweet, like some kind of berries. Blackberry? Or is it raspberry?
“Something special, just for us.” I take one small sip and let the cool, sweet liquid run down my throat. The taste of alcohol is barely there, so I take another careful sip. “But don’t let it fool you. The sweet things can knock you on your butt faster than you can say pinktail.”
“Pinktail?”
“Pink cocktail. It’s my own creation.”
I look back down to my glass and then slowly lift my eyes to meet hers. Her makeup is heavy with lots of eyeshadow, red lipstick, and a small heart painted under her right eye. “You did this?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t put in anything poisonous,” her eyes harden as something behind me catches her attention. “I’m saving that for someone special.”
I peek over my shoulder and see Derek coming our way with Max close at his heels. They’re both unmasked if you don’t count the Wolfs hoodies they are wearing.
“Let’s go dance.”
Brook grabs my hand and starts pulling me behind her. She does the same to Jeanette who’s been in the kitchen trying to dig out something without alcohol to drink. She is our DD for the night, so she is stuck with water.
“Brook, you know I…”
“Bottoms up.” She doesn’t let me finish. She tilts her head back and drowns what’s left of her pinktail down her throat. “Your turn.”
I look at the cup and then back at her.
We are standing at the edge of a makeshift dance floor. Everybody is dancing, singing, and having fun. They are young and they’re enjoying it to the fullest.
What was I thinking before? How is everybody enjoying themselves like nothing happened? Maybe I should follow their example and do the same. For one night, maybe I should just forget. So I tilt my head back and drown what’s left in the cup.
Derek
“Do you see them?”
“They are still where they were five minutes ago,” I mutter taking the beer he offers me. “This was your brilliant plan?”
The other day he said to leave everything to him and to think about what I’m going to tell her. How I was going to explain and I don’t know what other shit.
“Hey, now.” Max lifts his hands in the air. “I said I would bring her here. I didn’t say anything about making her talk to you. That was supposed to be your thing. If it wasn’t for me she would even be here.”
“That wasn’t even your doing. It was your sister’s.”
We’ve been standing against this wall, keeping an eye on the girls for close to two hours now.
I could have gone in the middle of the crowd and drug her away from her friends, but I didn’t want to make a spectacle out of her or me. We are making enough of the spectacle as it is.
Staring down another guy that came too close to her to my liking, I can feel people gawking at me, just waiting for all of this to blow up in the air so that they can get their dose of drama and new material for gossiping over tomorrows’ brunch.
“I had it planned, but first I have to get her to talk to me. Or at least come close enough to listen.”
Brook pushes a new cup in Amelia’s hand. She takes a swig from it, drinking more than a half, before they continue dancing and laughing.
“She’s drunk.”
“Fancy of you to notice, dumbass. Wasn’t your sister supposed to be in on all of this?”
“She brought Lia here.”
“You are an idiot, Sanders.”
“Takes one to know one, King.”
I continue watching them for a few more minutes, slowly drinking my water. I’m jittery, but I can’t have a drink to loosen up my nerves.
Amelia is more than half drunk, so I can’t let my guard down. My brain needs to be clear and sharp if I want to accomplish anything.
Brook is dancing with Amelia, and Jeanette is standing in the opposite corner, a bottle of water in her hand and indifferent look on her face. There is some guy in a Batman suit next to her, trying to get her attention, but I would be surprised if she heard half of it, if any at all.
“What’s her deal?”
Sanders’ gaze follows the movement of my chin. He chuckles when he catches his sister walking away from still chattering guy. “She doesn’t do losers. Smart girl.”
The swirl of pale red catches my attention just in time to see Amelia give a turn and crash into a cowboy. She looks over her shoulder and gives the stupid fool one of her sweet, sexy smiles.
His hands are glued to her waist, but she doesn’t brush him off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave her some lame excuse like, ‘I don’t want you to fall down’. I know I would probably say something like that just to have my hands on her a few seconds longer.
Although I can’t hear it, I can see her laugh at something he said. The way she tilts her head backwards, touching his bare chest and exposing her pale neck. The way her chest rises and falls and her shoulders slightly shake in glee, and how she puts her hand over her mouth. She always does it. As if she wants to hide her smile from the world.
Her hands cover his and she lets him sway with her to the beat of the music. All I can see is red.
“This is going too far,” irritated, I shove my half-empty bottle in Sanders’ hands.
Cowboy. Why would somebody from Michigan dress up as a cowboy anyway?
When people see me striding their way, they part to make space for me to pass through. Anger and fury have been boiling inside of me for long enough, and this guy just crossed the damn line.
No one puts hands on my girl.
No one.
I come behind them. My hands land on cowboy’s shoulder and with one strong tug I have him facing me.
The guy, whoever he is, isn’t from Greyford, but that doesn’t give him any excuse.
I stare him down through narrowed eyes. “Move your dirty hands off my girl.” My voice is a low growl. I'm barely holding onto my control, the urge to punch something, preferably him, is so strong I can feel an itch in my clenched fists.
“What the hell…”
“Do as he said.” Sanders comes and moves in between us. “You don’t want his fist to connect with your pretty face, now do you, cowboy?”
Turning around, I forget about the two of them and concentrate on Amelia who’s looking at me with a mix of shock and fury. “What do you think you—”
“We are getting out of here,” I interrupt her. My fingers curl around her wrists and I pull her closer to me. “You don’t want everybody to stare at us when we have our talk, do you?”
“We don�
�t have anything to talk about.”
Her words are little slurred, but her brown eyes still have sharpness in them that awakens every time she’s really pissed.
Seeing her get all worked up makes one corner of my mouth lift in amusement. She’s so close to me that her chest is touching mine, and I bend down to whisper in her ear, “Try again, little one.”
My hushed words make her shiver, and I can feel every slow tremble.
Enjoying her discomfort and reaction to me, I continue talking to her ear. “So what will it be? Here, so that everybody can watch and hear what I have to say, or do you want to go someplace just with the two of us?”
“I hate you, Derek King.”
It should hurt me hearing those words, but it only makes me chuckle more. She can say whatever she wants to, but I can see the truth in her eyes.
“So you like to say.”
I hate you... Those words sound exactly the same as they did years ago when she uttered them for the first time.
“I really do.” Amelia looks me in the eyes. After a few fast blinks brown eyes focus on me. “I hate you.”
How messed up you’d think I am if I said those words excite me? Because they do. Every time she says those three words I feel my blood run just a tad faster. Excitement tingles in my bones, and I want to show her how wrong she is.
I touch her forehead with mine. Our noses are brushing against each other. With eyes wide open I let myself fall into those brown depths. “I hate you too.”
“Then why are you doing this?” Her hot breath is touching my lips, tickling me softly.
My hands cup her cheeks, holding her still. “Because the line between love and hate is thin,” I murmur softly. “So-fucking-thin. And I love you more then I hate you.”
Her sharp intake of breath rings in my ears.
I give her a second, maybe two, to process my words before I kiss her.
The kiss is slow and deep. I want to breathe her in. To fill every empty hole she left in me that day she saw me and Sophie and then left without giving me a chance to explain.
My tongue caresses hers while my hands get lost in her soft curls. The stupid witch hat falls off her head, but neither of us does anything to stop it.