Ruin Me

by Madalyn Boucher

  I downed another shot before gathering my belongings and calling a cab.

  Thirteen

  Hayley

  Helping Lacy get ready was a complete nightmare. I made sure to use waterproof everything in case things went south. Her choice of outfits were extremely promiscuous and revealing, indicating that she was hoping to catch his attention in all of the wrong ways. I forced her to wear one of my favorite shirts with a scarf and black jeans. She looked respectable and attractive.

  “What if he thinks I’m too young and immature? He sees hot girls at college everyday! Let me wear a shirt that shows my boobs!” I shook my head and ignored her. I looked down at my clock, realizing it was a quarter after five.

  “You’re the same age as half of them,” I reminded her. Lacy was the older person in our graduating class at nineteen.

  “You’re late, aren’t you?” Lacy asked. I shrugged my shoulders, not concerned. I hadn’t been a particularly good friend to Lacy and now was my chance to redeem myself. I finished curling her hair, forced her to stand up and inspected what I had done. Perfect.

  “You look amazing. Now take me to work!” I demanded. She quickly posed in front of the mirror before jumping up and down, clapping her hands together. It killed me to see her so excited. I knew how this was going to end for her.

  I was disappointed to find that Mr. Foster was not in his office. I asked one of the workers, Alex, where he was and he told me that he wasn’t coming in today. I decided that I was better to not ask further questions and get to work.

  Nick’s face was consuming my thoughts and I was beginning to hate it. Every idea that popped into my head was somehow linked to him. I felt the need to share any stupid or random conspiracy that ran through my mind with him. About an hour of silent cleaning went by before the door to the room flew open. Mr. Foster slammed it shut, threw his bag down and angrily removed his coat. He left his grey winter hat on, making him ten times more attractive.

  “Hi,” I greeted him. He spun around in his chair and stared at me, not saying a word. His eyes were intense and angry, his mouth was pulled back into an annoyed scowl. His eyebrows were crumpled, and his entire body was stiff. “Are you okay?” The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. I shouldn’t have been so invasive; it was a tragic flaw that I had acquired at an early age.

  “Have you ever been sent down to the principal’s office for something that isn’t true?” he asked me. His voice was sharp and angry, intimidating me. “You probably haven’t. You seem like a good kid.” I shrugged my shoulders and waited for him to go on. “How about rumors? Are there ever any rumors about you that aren’t true?”

  “Of course,” I told him.

  “Doesn’t that just piss you off?” The intensity in his voice increased. “Hayley,” he began, “it makes me mad.” My heart dropped at the sound of my name coming from his mouth. He had said it plenty of times before, but this time was different. All of the anger that was building up inside of him seemed to fill itself into the six letters my name contained. I stared at him; my stomach filled with butterflies. I had no idea what to do or say. He slouched forward, resting his head in his hands.

  “Mr. Foster…” I began.

  “Nick,” he corrected.

  “Nick.” It tasted funny coming out of my mouth. I had never called a teacher, or any adult, by their first name. “What happened?” He rolled his seat closer to me, the smell of alcohol assaulting my nose.

  “Can you be honest with me?” I nodded my head quickly. “There have been rumors, haven’t there? About me.” I looked down at the ground, nervous. I felt uncomfortable answering this question. What was I going to say? “Hayley,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard some rumors here and there.”

  “What are they saying?” I wanted to lie or leave. But I knew that neither were an option.

  “Well…” I started. “Some students say that you…you know…have…” I struggled to find the right words. “It’s just that some kids say that you’ve engaged in…inappropriate relations with other students and whatnot.” I stressed the word relations, hoping to get my point across.

  “That’s what I thought,” he sighed. “I have been at this school for a month, Hayley. One month. And do you want to know how I woke up this morning?” I bit my bottom lip. “A student told their parent that I had been fucking one of her friends. A fucking freshman, Hayley. When the fuck have I even been near a freshman?” His tone was exasperated. "I had a very interesting phone call with the principal. It was quickly disputed, thank God.” He threw a piece of paper into the trash can. Anger was radiating from him.

  “You’re young, and attractive.” I began. “And girls in high school are very…vindictive. They see that you are unobtainable, and it makes them mad.”

  “I like the way you talk,” Mr. Foster―no, wait―Nick complimented. I could feel my face becoming warm. “You sound mature.” I thanked him and resumed my work.

  Every now and again I would slightly turn my head so I could see him working. His face stared intently down at the papers he was grading. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as he continuously clenched and unclenched his right hand. He rarely checked his phone and when he did, he would slam it back on the table. I was fascinated by him. Every quirk, every noise, every tap of his pencil intrigued me. I wished that I were more courageous; I wanted to get to know him. Truly get to know everything about him.

  “Where are you from, originally?” I asked, rolling my chair over towards him. I crossed my legs Indian style and waited for him to answer me. He gave me a puzzled look and then smiled.

  “Aspen.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.” I choked on my own spit.

  “Single, taken, or married?” I croaked.

  “Married,” he answered. My heart instantly dropped. Why did that affect my mood? I bit my bottom lip and began thinking of another question to ask; another way to redeem myself. I couldn’t let him know that the fact that he was married bothered me. That would most definitely freak him out. “I’m kidding. I’m single.” I pursed my lips together, resisting the urge to smile. “How about you?” he asked. “Are you dating any of Denver’s finest?”

  “Absolutely not,” I answered.

  “No? Why is that?” I didn’t like this; why was he asking the questions? I was always the questioner.

  “Immature,” I answered.

  “How so?”

  “What is this, Twenty Questions?” I asked.

  “You’re the one who began asking me questions,” he argued. “But you know what, since you said something, let’s play. I’ll keep score.” He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote both of our names down. Nick: 2, Hayley: 3. “I haven’t played Twenty Questions since high school.” I smiled at him, happy that I was going to receive new pieces of information about him.

  “Did you do anything fun Friday night?” he asked me. “Well, after I sent you home. I’m sure you had fun when you were with me.” I felt myself grow nervous at the thought of Ryan and I together.

  “Um…Not really.” He waited for me to explain further. “I got super drunk and made some poor life decisions.” My words came out quicker than I anticipated.

  “And?” he asked. I looked down at my shoes, not wanting to continue. “Hayley, I can guarantee you that I’m not going to say anything. I’ve been there and done that, trust me.” I continued to look at my shoes. “So, you don’t like drinking?” he asked.

  “I had never been drunk before,” I admitted. “But my best friend convinced me to go over there, and it was a disaster. Everyone was shit-faced.”

  “I’m assuming you’re talking about Miss Evans.” I nodded my head and smiled. “She does seem like a wild card.”

  “You have no idea,” I told him.

  “I was going to fire you tonight.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that I had to make sure I had heard him correctly.

  “What?” I asked.


  “I was going to fire you.” I watched as he took another drink out of his water bottle. I grabbed it out of hands and brought it to my nose. Whiskey.

  I handed the drink back to him and gave him a confused look. “Did your drunken state cause you to change your mind, or are you going to fire me?”

  “Definitely not going to fire you.” He closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair. “You’re fucking killing me.” I had to strain to hear what he said, and even then, I wasn’t sure that I had heard accurately.

  I tried to act as if my feelings weren’t hurt. “Why did you want to?” My voice sounded small and juvenile.

  “Because you’re fucking killing me, Hayley.” He leaned closer to me, his voice turning into a whisper. The smell was more pungent than it had previously been. “You keep biting your damn lip,” he groaned.

  “W-what?” I asked, confused.

  “I should be doing that to you,” he whispered, his voice husky and pained. He gathered things and left the office, slamming his door behind him. My brain struggled to understand what had just transpired.

  It finally hit me.

  He had flirted with me.

  An hour after he was venting about being accused of flirting with students.

  Fourteen

  Hayley

  September came and went. Lacy and I were finding a routine; hers being five hours at work and the rest of the time intertwined with Taylor. Ryan and I had begun hanging out more frequently, but my feelings for Mr. Foster had grown with time. We hadn’t indulged in any further conversations regarding the my lip, but something was happening between us. Gears were shifting, turning, grinding between us. There was a tension that neither of us were choosing to acknowledge, and it set us both on edge.

  I worked four nights a week, and he was there for the majority of my shifts. I had caught him drinking on more than one occasion, but I hadn’t asked any questions regarding that. He had been texting more frequently, and I caught a glimpse of her name when he excused himself to use the restroom. Elana. The thought of her name set my teeth on edge.

  Since Alexis Martinez’s accusation, Nick had refused to see anyone after class. He dispersed his work email and warned everyone that it was monitored through the school’s website. Many girls had found these adjustments to be inconvenient, Lacy included.

  Later that night I arrived at work, returning the greetings I received from the workers up front. Everything was calm and normal, putting my mind at ease. As I made my way towards the back room, I saw Mr. Foster talking to a few of the customers. He saw me, discreetly nodded his head towards me and directed his attention back onto the couple he had been talking to.

  As I inserted a disk into the machine, I allowed my mind to travel back to Mr. Foster. There was something inside of me that undeniably wanted and needed to pursue him. I had been feeling this way since the moment I ran into him. His face, the idea of him, everything about him consumed my thoughts. I couldn’t concentrate. I looked forward to seeing his face even if it was for a few hours a day. I craved to know anything and everything about him. I wanted to know what his fears and dreams and fantasies were. I wanted to know him better than anyone else. I needed that leverage. I needed him to need me; to come to me with his problems and tell me things that he never dared tell anyone else. I wanted him to overlook the issues that lied between us and accept that fact that a friendship was absolutely inevitable between us.

  But this was all a thought; a mere want that had gnawed itself into my mind. Never had I expected it to happen. It was a notion that had only existed in my head.

  Once Mr. Foster entered the room, the mood became noticeably different. He not only shut the door but locked it, too. I could feel my heart beginning to race as he moved his chair in front of me and sat down. We were face to face, eye to eye. His gaze burned into mine, creating heart palpitations inside of me.

  “What do you want?” He asked me. The tone in his voice was quiet and sharp, almost intimidating. I looked around the room, confused. What did he mean? I hadn’t asked for anything, had I? “Hayley, what do you want?” He repeated. I nervously swallowed and tried to get a read on the situation.

  “I don’t think I’m following…” I responded.

  “Why did you agree to work here? What is it that you want?” It finally made sense. He wanted to know what I wanted from him.

  “I don’t know what I want,” I answered honestly. I knew that my stomach felt strange and foreign whenever I saw him. I knew that when he stared at my mouth, I had an irrational urge to grab his face and kiss him; maybe even clear off the desk and―no, this was wrong. I had never thought this way before. That kind of thinking was meant for Lacy, not me.

  So why did I want it? The thought of him and I ran through my mind daily. Hourly. It consumed my every thought. I would catch myself thinking about him during class and dinner and even when I was having conversations with other people. The thought of Ryan and I doing anything intimate caused me to become uncomfortable. The thought of Mr. Foster―Nick, as he preferred―and I, however, made me feel nothing but excitement. I had always taken risks in life. The risks I took, however, had never had severe consequences. I took risks that I knew wouldn’t get me in deep trouble.

  But maybe it was time to take the risk of taking a risk.

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. His eyes continued to bore into mine.

  “What do you want, Hayley?” he asked again. Fire filled my entire body as I struggled to hold his gaze. He had asked the wrong question. What didn’t I want with him? I wanted everything. I wanted to put him in the place of Ryan the night things almost went too far. I wanted him to come home with me tonight. I wanted him right there, in the movie room.

  “Why does it matter?” I whispered.

  “Because.” He began. “I need to know if we want the same thing.”

  I inhaled deeply, silently scolding my nerves to calm down. I leaned forward in my chair until our faces were only inches apart. I stared into his eyes, allowing the fear of rejection to exit my body.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  Fifteen

  Hayley

  It had been five days since I had told Nick I wanted him, yet things remained anticlimactic between us. Regardless of the building tension, long gazes and clammy hands, he neglected to bring the conversation to the surface again. I could tell that the thought had been plaguing him, due to the dark circles under his eyes, but he stayed silent. It ate me alive. I once again convinced myself that the conversation was a figment of my imagination. The conversation replayed on constant repeat in my mind, becoming more like a movie scene in a film I had watched ions ago, rather than a few days prior.

  I needed a distraction, something to keep my mind occupied while being at work. Lacy had been a wonderful escape while being at home, but work was a new realm. I couldn’t escape the thought of him when he was so close. I began texting Ryan more, in hopes that his desperations would keep mine under wraps.

  Are you ever going to have a day off? I really want to hangout soon. My distraction was not easing the anxiety that made a home in the pit of my stomach. I quickly flipped my phone upside down and inserted another movie into the cleaner. Once it made its usual beeping noise, I let out a long, dramatic sigh.

  Nick was tucked away in the corner of the room, nose deep in essays about the Civil Rights Movement. His eyes flickered towards me and then averted back to the stack of papers. I studied him in that instance, drinking him in. He was wearing a yellow polo and dark charcoal slacks. His hair was disheveled, and he had remained on the same essay the entire night. I desperately wanted to run my fingers through his mane, combing it back into its usual style. I shoved my hands under my legs and rested my head against the small desk in front of me. I groaned again.

  “Something wrong, Hayley?” His tone was playful, tightening my chest. He locked his gaze on mine as he chewed on the end of his red pen. I had never wanted to be a writing utensil so badly. I shook
my head back and forth, refusing to answer his question.

  How ignorant could he be? Of course something was wrong. I had been obsessing over the conversation we had for over 120 hours. 7,200 minutes. 432,000 seconds and counting. I had never been as courageous as I had in that moment, yet nothing was happening. Our conversations were empty and careful. I didn’t want to be careful; I had been careful my entire life. I needed so much more.

  “Actually, yes,” I answered. His eyes widened for a moment. I had caught his attention. “Are we just going to act like we didn’t—”

  “What’s your favorite book?” He asked, cutting me off. I stiffened, unsure of his outburst. I bit my bottom lip, aware that he wanted to change the subject before it even started. I sighed deeply, allowing him this one pass.

  “Crime and Punishment.” He placed a hand on his chest as if I had punched him. “What?” I laughed. “Can’t an eighteen-year-old girl enjoy Russian literature?” He flinched at the mention of my age, but I chose to ignore it.

  “Most people your age do not read Dostoevsky, Hayley.” He rolled his chair over to me, placing his arms near mine. I considered moving closer but remained where I was.

  “I’m not like most people my age, Nick.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. His foot brushed against mine and I ignored the urge to move. Instead, I allowed for our shoes to touch.

  “You most certainly are not,” he agreed. I silently begged for him to keep the conversation going, to assure me that I was nothing like anyone he had ever met. “I knew it from the moment I met you.” It was as if he had read my mind.

  “How so?”

  He looked around for the room for a moment, seemingly contemplating what I had asked. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he began. “When I found out that I was going to be covering Mr. Browns’ class, I was livid. I had accepted the position to be a guidance counselor because I desperately needed change.” He ran his hand through his hair before sighing again. “But then you walked into the room and I instantly knew that you were different. You had this…aura around you. And when you came to class later that week, everyone was looking at you, but you just…” he trailed off. After a few moments he began speaking again. “Your beauty is so blindingly obvious to everyone around you, yet you don’t care. You sit through class and watch me attempt to teach…While everyone else watches you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “And you are so fucking intelligent, Hayley. When no one responds to my questions, you instantly answer them. You never allow for me to fumble through my lessons.” I was left speechless.