Damaged (Damaged Series Book 1)

by J. Benson

  I shook my head and sighed tiredly. "Oh my god. You're impossible."

  "Well, as much as I hate to admit it, you're actually kind of right." He repeated with a cocky smirk.

  "Okay, so what are we doing while you babysit me?" I asked.

  "Well, why do you hate Tennyson so much?" He asked. "What is it about that one poem that you like?"

  I smiled; talking poetry was something I did quite well. "Hand me the book and I'll tell you." I replied.

  Chapter 22:

  Not So Bad

  At the end of a long school day, I walked out of class and headed straight for the second floor women's washroom almost as soon as the bell rang. I wasn't exactly in a big rush to get home.

  I was in one of the stalls when I heard a rustle and a loud pack of girls come into the bathroom. I debated on hiding until they left. They sounded like a massive heard of seagulls and I assumed they wouldn't notice if one stranger slipped out, washed her hands and promptly left.

  I opened the door and stepped out, instantly regretting it.

  Paige, the blonde Barbie from my gym class was sitting on the counter surrounded by a flock of her friends. She was in near hysterics, hyperventilating under the weight of the massive sobs which were racking her body.

  "He dumped me! He just dumped me!" She sobbed. The make-up was flooding in large rivers down her cheeks.

  "He had to give you a reason," one of her friends soothed, stroking her friend's hair.

  "Just that there was someone else..." Paige sobbed.

  One of her friends cast an accusing glare at me. I suddenly stopped trying to get to one of the sinks to wash my hands. I remembered the hand sanitizer in my purse, and decided that would do just this once. I didn't particularly want to be anywhere near this breakdown and the sooner I could get out of the direct line of fire, the better.

  I quickly left the bathroom and went straight to my locker. I covered my hands in hand sanitizer. It wasn't a perfect substitute for washing my hands, but it would do until I got home.

  I grabbed the books I would need and retreated to my car in record timing. I managed to make it off the school property without Paige or her annoying friends finding me or sabotaging me in any way. I knew just by the way they were looking at me that they thought Paige getting dumped had something to do with me.

  I walked into my grandmother's house and stood and talked to her for a few minutes. We talked about our days and I informed her about my plans for the evening. Tonight was the night of the big blackmail date with Taylor, and I was absolutely dreading it.

  All I knew was that we were going to a party at one of his friend's house, but I had no idea how to dress for this kind of a party. I didn't know these people and I was new in town, which made it impossible to figure out what to wear or what to prepare for. There was no doubt in my mind that parties in Tulsa were going to be very, very different than the parties in New York. For all I knew they could all be wearing cowboy hats and line-dancing to country music. This made for the general consensus that the date was going to be even more awkward than I was already expecting it to be.

  I went upstairs and spent almost an hour in the bathroom. I put on what little make up I owned, trying to make myself look presentable. I couldn't get my curls to sit right, so I found myself straightening my hair. I hoped that my hair being straight might help me fit in a bit more.

  I walked into my bedroom and began sifting through my closet. The closet was almost full, but it felt like I had nothing to wear.

  I yanked everything out of my closet just trying to find something presentable to wear for the evening. My clothes were covering every surface of my room when I heard my grandmother in the upstairs hall.

  She appeared in the doorway, and for a moment her mouth hung open in shock.

  "I'll clean this all up tonight, I swear." I promised immediately. "I know it's a mess, but I'm just trying to find something to wear..." I explained.

  She smiled. "No, it's okay. I'm not worried about the mess..." She held out the cordless phone. She smiled brightly. “The phone is for you. It's Taylor."

  "Oh, thanks!" I scrambled over some clothes on the floor and took the phone. I lifted it to my ear.

  "Hello?" I asked.

  "Hey, Emma. What's up?" Taylor asked on the other end of the phone. It sounded as if he was smiling.

  "Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm just trying to get ready." I answered.

  "So, what time should I pick you up?" Taylor's voice asked through the phone. I was awkwardly trying to cradle the cordless phone between my ear and shoulder while at the same time, comparing two shirts on my body; trying to decide which to wear. I was wearing my favorite jeans and a spaghetti strap, trying to complete the ensemble.

  "I'm sorry, what?" I asked distractedly, struggling to keep the phone in place and not drop it.

  "I just asked what time you wanted me to pick you up." He repeated.

  "For what?" I asked obliviously. I twirled the end of my hair, wondering if I had made a mistake in straightening it.

  He chuckled dryly. "The party. Don't tell me you've forgotten already."

  I definitely hadn't forgotten. In fact I hadn't stopped thinking about--and dreading--this evening since he had practically forced me into going.

  "I was actually planning on taking my own car." I admitted, mumbling into the receiver. I figured that bringing my own car would allow me to make a quick exit should I need to flee in a hurry.

  "You don't know where the place is. Besides, parking will be limited as it is. With your boat parked out front..." He said.

  I stopped listening. Forcing me to go to a party was one thing, but bad-mouthing my car was out of line, even for him.

  "How did you even get this number, anyway?" I asked, catching the phone in my hand as I tossed both shirts onto the pile on my bed.

  "Well there's this magical thing called the phone book..." He rambled. "Besides, I cut your grandmother's grass for multiple summers. Your grandma and I are old friends. We go way back. She loves me. I'm like the grandson she never had."

  I felt myself blush and chewed on my lower lip. I was making a complete idiot out of myself, and the night hadn't even begun yet.

  I sighed. "Why don't you just pick me up whenever you're ready then?" I completely interrupted whatever it was he had been prattling on about.

  "I'm ready now." He said simply. I hadn't been expecting that.

  I wasn't ready at all. I wasn't even close. "Can you give me like... an hour?" I asked. Even an hour was wishful thinking. I was nowhere near being ready.

  I could practically hear him smiling. "Sure. See you in an hour."

  "Right. Bye." I sighed and pressed the off button on the phone. I dropped the phone onto the pile of clothes on my bed with a sigh. Grandma had disappeared, probably leaving me alone with my mess.

  I hated parties. I wasn't much into the party scene back in New York either, but I was suddenly more willing to attend a party full of snotty rich people than the everyday people I saw at public school here.

  I planted my hands on my hips and crossed the room to my closet and removed the only item still left on the hanger. It was an empire-waisted shirt with thin straps and a pretty purple beaded pattern at the bust.

  I hadn't liked the shirt when I bought it, but it had been on sale. And at the moment, it seemed like the only halfway presentable thing I owned.

  An hour later, I looked halfway presentable. Or at least, I thought so.

  I wandered down the stairs and found my grandmother sitting in the living room. She was knitting and drinking tea in front of Jeopardy. I paced the first floor hallway between the front door and the kitchen for several minutes before I gave up and sat down in a chair.

  "You look absolutely lovely." My grandmother smiled at me over her knitting.

  "Thanks." I breathed. "I hate parties." I mused.

  "Me too. Are you sure you want to go?" My grandmother asked me again. "If you're too sick, maybe you shouldn't push it...” She
urged.

  I listened to the sound of the grandfather clock in the dining room tick. I could hear it echoing through the first floor.

  "I'm actually feeling much better... really." I smiled. It was the truth. I felt like my old self again. I was sure that most of whatever flu I had was gone. And aside from feeling better, I doubted that even the Ebola virus could get me out of this evening with Taylor.

  My grandmother sighed. "You know that I want you to go out and have fun with the kids your own age, Emma. I'm afraid that if you spend any more time in this house with me you'll turn into a little old lady like me."

  "You're not old!" I protested vehemently. "You're in better shape than I am." It was true. With all of the running around, line-dancing and aerobics classes she participated in, she was spry and fit. And playing cards, doing crossword puzzles and playing Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune most nights kept her mind perfectly agile.

  My grandmother continued as if I hadn't interrupted at all. "I'm glad that if you're going anywhere, it's with Taylor. He's such a nice boy... I know that he'll keep you safe and look after you. Not that you need it." She sighed, contentedly. I was beginning to think maybe she had a crush on him too.

  Her lecture was suddenly interrupted by the bobbing of headlights in the front window and the sound of Taylor's car pulling in.

  I was on my feet in an instant. "See you later, grandma!" I leaned over her knitting and kissed her cheek. "And you're not old." I teased.

  I hurried out the front door, before Taylor could even spring up the front steps to the porch.

  "Let’s go!" I said a little too eagerly as the front door closed behind me.

  "Wait, can't I come in and say hello to-"

  I cut him off. "No, come on!" I grasped his hand and began to pull him back toward his car.

  "Alright." His hand lingered in mine a little longer than necessary, but a part of me didn't mind. He opened the passenger side door for me.

  I stared at him in shock.

  He shrugged. "Just being a gentleman."

  "That's sweet... really. But I can open my own door thank you... it isn't that complicated."

  He shrugged again. "If that's the case than I'm just as capable of opening the door for you."

  I sighed and climbed into the car. Clearly I wasn't going to win that argument.

  In mere seconds, Taylor climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. He shifted his car into reverse and proceeded to back out of the driveway as if he'd done it a thousand times.

  "Aren't you going to put on a seatbelt?" I asked.

  He sighed and reached around himself, taking both hands off the wheel to locate the seatbelt.

  "Whoa! Never mind the belt! Just keep your hands on the wheel!" I cried in shock, anxiously reaching toward the dashboard for something to hold onto in case the car spun out of control.

  Taylor grinned and planted his hands firmly in the ten and two position for a moment. This time he used one hand to fasten his seatbelt. "Nervous passenger? Is that why you wanted to take your car?"

  "I'm not usually nervous in the car." I said dryly, "I guess it’s another reflex you bring out in me."

  He laughed.

  The car fell silent as we headed toward the town limits.

  "Where are we going again?" I asked.

  "A friend of mine, Jimmy. His parents own a farm just outside of town... they grow corn or... cows or something."

  Before I could ask exactly how one grew cows, he interrupted me again. "You look nice tonight." He paused for a moment before he continued. "Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. You look lovely... fantastic, really." He mumbled.

  I felt myself blush a deep red. "You look pretty good yourself." It wasn't a lie. He was wearing a black leather jacket, faded jeans and a white t-shirt. At first, I had barely noticed what he was wearing. Inside the confines of the car, I was slightly more distracted by the smell. He was wearing some kind of cologne and it smelled great. It wasn't too heavy to make my head spin, but just subtle enough to distract me.

  I sat in silence and a sudden epiphany came to me. I remembered what I had witnessed after school in the women's bathroom on the second floor of the school.

  "Taylor..." I breathed softly, "Did you break up with Paige today?"

  His jaw tightened. "Yeah, I did. I mean, sort of... I mean, technically we were never really together. It was just kind of assumed... mostly she just assumed we were together... I guess it was a break up of sorts..."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged lightly. "There was someone else." He sighed. "And I mean, technically we were never really together anyway. She insisted we were dating, but I never asked her out or anything. She just kind of assumed we were exclusively together. I took her aside today and informed her that we weren't together. Besides, I can't stand dating a cookie cutter. She's just like every other girl at our school. She's empty and conceited and materialistic...It was like dating high-school Barbie. I like a girl who's different, someone who stands out from the crowd, you know? Someone with an actual brain in her head instead of an air bubble..."

  I pursed my lips to suppress laughter at his accurate description. Instead, I continued. "I saw her today. She was upset."

  "Was she crying?" He asked lightly.

  "Yes." I replied. "She was really upset."

  He sighed. "Monday morning, she will have moved on. I swear to you. I've known Paige since kindergarten. She's amazingly resilient... unless she breaks a nail." The corners of his mouth turned up in a sly grin.

  Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad about witnessing her melt down. It was easy to remind myself what a bitch she was.

  "But should we do this?" I asked. "I mean, isn't it kind of bad for you to break up with one girl and then on the same day show up at a party with another girl? Doesn't that just look... bad? Won't people think..."

  "I don't care what people think." He said quickly. "Do you?"

  I shook my head. "No. I don't." I replied earnestly. "Not anymore."

  "I guess that's good that neither of us care. We're here anyway." Taylor announced.

  I hadn't noticed the cars lining either side of the dirt road as we neared the large farm house. The house was lit brightly, with light flooding from every window. Taylor turned down the driveway, and found a place to park on the front lawn. I climbed out of the passenger seat, and stood staring at the front of the house. Even in the distance, I could hear the loud music--a song I didn't recognize--and I could see the people milling around. There had to be hundreds of people just outside.

  "You okay?" Taylor's voice came suddenly behind me.

  I whirled around as he touched my arm carefully. He had removed his jacket and left it in the car.

  "Fine." I forced a smile, which was too phony, even for me.

  "Okay, come on. There are a lot of people I'd like you to meet."

  My eyes grew wide as he ushered me toward the house, his arm around my back, but never quite touching me.

  We reached the front door and I stared around in shock. I wondered how it was humanly possible to fit so many people in one small house. People were packed in like sardines, but somehow in the front living room the sofas had been pushed aside and people were dancing.

  "See?" Taylor said, his voice close to my left ear, "It's not so bad, is it?"

  "Right," I murmured.

  Someone was walking by with a tray of shooters in small plastic cups. I grabbed one immediately. In an act I had seen my mother do hundreds of times, I threw it down my throat, choking and coughing as the alcohol burned its way into my chest.

  Taylor grasped my wrist tightly. "Whoa, I thought you said you didn't drink."

  "I don't, but this seems like the perfect time to start." I flashed a smile at him. "All in the spirit of fitting in, right?"

  He sighed and pulled me into the house further, pulling me aside. "You don't fit in, Emma. That's what I like about you." He murmured, taking the empty cup from my hand and placing it on a table already lit
tered with beer cans.

  I suddenly felt terrible, regretting my actions and the words that came out of my mouth. I was doing it again. I was lashing out at someone who didn't deserve it in the effort to protect myself from getting hurt. Even though deep down I knew that Taylor wasn't about to hurt me.

  Chapter 23:

  Starry Sky

  Taylor kept his arm protectively around me most of the night. As much as I hated to admit it, my Grandmother was right. I did feel safe with him. And before long, I was starting to feel not quite so out of place. I kept a careful eye out for Paige, hoping she wouldn't show up and start an all-out war over the fact that I was here with the man she was obsessed with.

  Taylor leaned toward me, so he wouldn't have to shout so loudly over the music. "Are you thirsty? Can I get you anything to drink?" He offered.

  I considered this for a moment. "No, thank you." I replied.

  "I'm going to grab a soda... want to come with me to the kitchen?" He asked.

  I thought about this for a moment. I didn't want to seem clingy or obnoxious, but I also didn't really know anyone and I was entirely uncomfortable with being left alone surrounded by drunken people I didn't know. "I'll go with you." I responded, shouting to be heard.

  He nodded and moved his arm around me again, ushering me through the crowd and into to the kitchen. The kitchen was empty and must have been far from wherever the music was coming from. It was slightly quieter in the kitchen. I could actually hear myself think and the pounding in my head wasn't quite as bad.

  Taylor opened the fridge and removed a can of coke. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

  I shook my head. "No, thank you." My voice was slightly hoarse from having to shout over the music to be heard.

  "Yeah, it's not generally a good idea to drink at parties. I don't know half of the people here; anyone could put something in your drink. So don't drink anything unless I give it to you, okay?"

  I nodded. "Thanks." He actually seemed like he genuinely cared. It was sweet. I leaned against the counter.