Every time I thought about it, I either grinned or bit my lip to keep from making a frustrated/excited sound.
The pressure between my legs didn’t abate—if anything, it intensified to a constant dull throb. I rolled onto my front and pressed my face into my pillow, dragging my hand down my body and between my legs as I imagined Turner’s perfect, strong fingers pushing my panties aside. I was so worked up it didn’t take long before I panted my release into my pillow, biting it to keep silent.
Only after that was I finally able to sleep.
The Turner-induced euphoria lasted well into the next day. It was harder than usual to keep my head down and avoid contact with everyone when all I wanted was to spread my arms wide and shout to the whole world how amazing he made me feel. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from grinning when I passed him in the hall on the way to second period.
I was putting my books away in my locker at lunch, smiling as I thought of how his lips had felt against mine, when my locker door slammed shut. I flinched back, only narrowly avoiding getting my arm or head smacked by the metal.
My smile fell, all thoughts of Turner replaced by fear.
“What the fuck could you possibly have to smile about?” Jayden leaned against the locker next to mine, frowning as though he were doing long division without a calculator.
Jayden was Madison’s boyfriend—as if that wasn’t the most predictable fucking high school scenario. The mean girl dated the dumb jock, and they liked to make other people’s lives miserable so they could feel better about themselves. Groan.
Jayden had started at DNHS the same day I had. We could’ve been friends—comrades in being the new kids at school. Madison had been a bitch to me from day one, making lame jokes about my birthmark that half the class laughed along with. Jayden had actually treated me like a human being for a few days. We had lunch together, shared awkward fourteen-year-old chitchat. Then one day I saw Madison and her friends talking to him at lunch. Then he tried out for the football team. Then he ignored me for a solid week. When he sat down next to me at lunch the following Monday, I was happy, excited to have my friend back.
“How was your weekend?” he’d asked.
I smiled and started to tell him, but he cut me off before I could get one word out. “Oh wait!” He half turned in his seat, and that’s when I realized Madison and her friends were watching us, tittering on the sidelines. “I just remembered—I don’t give a shit.”
They all burst into laughter. Jayden’s eyes flicked between what I’m sure was the devastated look in my eyes and the popular kids howling like hyenas. I guess that was his initiation—publicly making me feel like shit.
After that, Jayden and I settled into a new routine. I avoided him as much as all the other assholes, and he pretended I didn’t exist in the most obnoxious and oxymoronic way possible. He routinely bumped into me and loudly said, “What was that? There’s clearly nothing there, but I just tripped.” Or he looked right through me and took a deep inhale, then said another moronic thing like “Do you guys smell that? I don’t see anything, but something smells like loser.” Naturally, everyone laughed at his brilliant jokes.
He’d spoken directly to me only a handful of times—incidents I wished I could forget.
I fought to keep my breathing under control, focusing on a spot at the bottom edge of my locker where a bit of the bluish-gray paint had chipped off. Hoping he’d just go away.
He leaned in, his face close to my cheek, and said in a light, conversational tone, “I asked you a fucking question, Phil.”
“Nothing,” I replied as calmly as I could. I wasn’t allowed to ignore them.
“That’s right—you’re nothing. You may as well not exist.”
Then why are you talking to me, idiot? I so wished I was brave enough to say some of the things that went through my head.
Lucky for me, Jayden was easily distracted.
“Hey, new guy!” He turned away, relegating me back to phantom status.
“Hey, man.”
Turner. I lifted my gaze toward the voice before I even knew what I was doing.
For one glorious, torturous moment, our eyes met. In a world where I was invisible, he looked directly at me and he saw me, a slight frown marring his strong brow. He’d saved me from whatever fucked-up thing Jayden had planned without even knowing it.
I looked away quickly as Jayden slung his arm over Turner’s shoulders and led him away, leaning in to speak to him.
I grabbed my bag and beelined for the picnic table at the back of the science building. It was in a dingy spot, and one of the benches was split, but no one ever went there. I sat down heavily and dropped my head on my arms, unable to eat the sandwich I’d made myself that morning.
The churning in my empty stomach persisted until school let out. As I trailed into the hot afternoon sun along with the other students, I once again spotted Turner. My heart stuttered, and I couldn’t help slowing down. He looked so beautiful, his messy hair shining like gold in the sun, his broad shoulders relaxed, his brilliant smile wide.
But who was he smiling at? I frowned as Jayden thumped him on the back and Turner extended one hand.
The man standing with them was a little shorter than Jayden, but he had the same build, the same dark brown hair, the same olive complexion. His gray suit stretched over his back as he reached out to shake Turner’s hand.
Why was Turner shaking hands with Jayden’s dad? Why was the older man even here?
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked harmless enough. Except I knew how rotten Jayden was deep down. Could the rancid apple really have fallen that far from the tree?
Before I could move closer to listen in, Jayden happened to look over and spot me. His already tight smile fell into a frown, the look one of pure derision, and I realized I was blatantly staring.
I dropped my head and rushed in the opposite direction of home, resigned to taking the long way back—just in case Turner saw me and got suspicious.
I had to be more careful. Meeting Turner was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time—I couldn’t risk any of the assholes at school finding out and ruining it.
Chapter 5
THERE WERE ABOUT ten minutes left until lunch ended, and I resisted the urge to text Turner. We’d exchanged numbers a week ago, but I was keeping the texting strictly to outside of school. God forbid anyone notice me interacting with another human being. We talked every night though, if not on the balcony then on the phone.
He kept asking when he could see me again, and I kept deflecting with coyness and jokes about keeping the mystery alive, but I knew this would have to come to a head eventually. He’d probably lose interest before I got up the courage to show him who I really was.
I sighed and drew my knees up, leaning my head on the row of encyclopedias as I opened Instagram to distract myself. I was studying a makeup look with a watercolor effect on the eyes, wondering which products the artist had used, when I heard my name.
“Mena, Mena, Mena.” It was barely a whisper, but it was definitely Turner’s voice. How the fuck had he figured out who I was?
Eyes wide, I looked around, but all I could see were the rows of books on the shelves to either side of me and a cart at the end of the row I was hiding out in.
Fuck, was I starting to hallucinate?
“Middle name?” he mumbled, sounding more confused. His voice was coming from my right.
Slowly, as soundlessly as possible, I lifted onto my knees and peered through the narrow, uneven gap in the books.
He was standing on the other side; my eyes were about level with the top button of his jeans. Twisting my head, I could just see the bottom of last year’s yearbook as he slowly turned the pages and cursed under his breath.
I covered my mouth to hold back my laughter. He was trying to figure out who I was, sweet, infuriating boy.
Balancing the yearbook on one hand, he reached the other above his head and l
eaned on the bookshelf. His T-shirt rode up, revealing his hips, the toned muscles in his lower abdomen, the trail of light hair disappearing into the top of his jeans. I had an urge to shove all the books out of the way so I could run my hands through that hair, maybe lick one of the hipbones peeking out next to it.
“Hey, bro!” Jayden’s voice was like a bucket of icy water poured over my head. I recoiled and barely caught myself before I smacked into the opposite bookshelf.
“Hey, Jayden.” Turner sounded friendly, but I knew his voice—there was a hint of annoyance there too.
“What the fuck are you doing in the library?” Jayden laughed, as though the very existence of libraries was preposterous. I allowed myself an eye roll.
“Some of us know how to read.” Turner’s voice was light, as if he was laughing with Jayden and not at him. I still wanted to kiss him for the dig at that asshole’s intelligence.
“Fuck you, asshole.” Jayden laughed, not sounding the least bit offended. “Come on, I’ve been looking for you. Coach wants to talk to you.”
I heard the yearbook getting shoved back into place, and then they started to walk away. I frowned. Turner hadn’t mentioned anything to me about who he was making friends with at school, but if he started hanging out with them, that would really fucking suck. Couldn’t he see how fake and mean they were? I wasn’t the only student at DNHS whose life was made miserable because of those dicks.
I was just the only one who wasn’t allowed to make friends with other misfits—because I didn’t exist or matter, as they liked to remind everyone.
I sat back on my heels and tried to quell the panic. Maybe if I came clean now, told him who I was and how they treated me . . . but what if he thought I was pathetic and stopped talking to me? What if he already knew and was just in on some elaborate prank?
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to push that last thought out of my mind—it was too painful.
“Hey, pipsqueak.” Jayden’s voice sounded farther away, but it still made me open my eyes, my body primed to go on the alert at any sign of him. “Dad’s picking you up after school, so don’t waste time after the last bell, all right?”
A small voice murmured in response, and then the sound of the library doors opening and closing announced that they’d left.
A moment later, a skinny girl rounded the corner. She saw me sitting on the ground and froze, clutching her open bag to her chest. She was clearly a freshman. She had that deer-in-the-headlights look that starting high school put in everyone’s eyes. Her dark blonde hair was cut short, and she had knobby knees under her cute blue shorts. When she grew out of this awkward stage, she’d be gorgeous. And since she was Jayden’s sister, she’d probably be a total bitch too.
Jayden had never mentioned having a sister, but we were friends for only a grand total of three days, and I’d been avoiding him like the plague ever since.
“Did you drop something?” her soft voice asked, even as she averted her gaze.
“Huh?” I frowned, then remembered I was sitting on the ground. “Oh, yeah, kind of.” My dignity. My sanity. My sense of self-preservation.
I shoved my phone and the remnants of my lunch into my bag, rose up onto my knees, but paused before I fully got to my feet.
The girl had buried her chin in her chest, and her eyes were watering, seconds away from spilling fat tears down her innocent cheeks.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I shuffled forward, the worn carpet scratchy against my bare knees.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
I took a chance and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly at the contact but didn’t shrug me off. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
She took a lightning-quick glance at me. Whatever she saw must’ve been enough to crack her defenses just a little more.
“It’s just . . .” She breathed hard, and the tears spilled over. “It’s just overwhelming. I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know what to do.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to feel anything for anyone even remotely related to Jayden, but she was so vulnerable, so broken. “I get it. Starting high school can be hella scary. Everyone feels like this from time to time, OK? Even if they don’t show it. It does get better.”
It hadn’t gotten better for me. It got worse. But she didn’t need to hear that. She just needed someone to tell her it would be OK.
She bit her lip. If anything, she looked sadder, but her tears were drying up.
“What’s your name?” I asked, rubbing her shoulder lightly.
“Jenny,” she mumbled, her voice a little steadier.
“Hang in there, Jenny.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “You can do this.”
She met my eyes. She didn’t smile back, but she did give a little nod.
The bell rang, and her eyes widened. “I can’t be late.”
She zipped up her bag, swung it onto her back, and turned to rush away.
I grabbed my own bag and got to my feet just in time for her to turn back and wrap her gangly arms around my waist.
“Thank you,” she mumbled into my T-shirt, then ran off before I even had a chance to hug her back.
I saw her again at the end of the day, along with another, unfortunately familiar, face. I didn’t know what it was about Jayden’s dad—I hadn’t even met him—but I’d taken an immediate dislike to him, probably because he was related to Jayden. Or maybe I was just jealous that he could stand in front of the school and shake hands with Turner in front of everyone, while I had to keep my very identity secret from the boy I liked.
As I made my way through the parking lot, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was leaning against his car and reading something on his phone when Jenny walked up. She reached for the car door, but he stopped her so he could grab something off the front seat. Bending at the waist until they were at eye level, he pulled a cupcake out of a paper bag and held it out with a big smile.
She was facing away from me, so I didn’t see the happiness the sugary treat surely brought to her face.
Maybe I’d misjudged Mr. Burrows after all.
When was the last time my parents got me a cupcake for no reason, let alone picked me up from school? I had to walk even when it was pouring down rain. It wasn’t their fault—they both worked hard—but still, it wasn’t fair.
Jayden bumped my shoulder, nearly making me drop my bag, as he barrelled past me toward his family.
I turned and hastened away, both happy the sad little girl was having her day brightened and bitter that an asshole like Jayden had anything positive in his life. Why shouldn’t he suffer the same way he made me suffer every day?
After school, I needed to focus on something other than Turner, so I got my makeup out with the intention of trying to re-create that watercolor look I’d seen on Instagram. I quickly realized I didn’t have the right kind of eyeshadow and decided to do a dramatic vintage look with killer winged eyeliner instead.
It had been a dramatic day, so it was only fitting.
With a full face of makeup, I spread my books out on my bed and started on my homework. I worked on an English essay, then reluctantly moved on to a Statistics worksheet.
Halfway through my fourth question—and about fifty percent sure the previous three were wrong anyway—the sound of the front door opening provided the perfect excuse to stop.
I stretched my arms over my head and walked into the kitchen to find my mom depositing several grocery bags on the counter.
“Hey, Mom. Is Dad working late?” They both picked up overtime whenever it was offered. That usually resulted in takeout for dinner—my parents liked to cook together as they talked about their day. I used to sit at the dining table and do my homework, or when I was little, they’d give me something nonessential to the meal to chop.
“Yeah.” She smiled at me, then paused. “Oh my god, Philomena, you look stunning! When did you grow up?”
She stroked a lock of hair hanging over my shoulder as she inspec
ted my makeup.
“Thanks, Mom.” She was so busy, so overworked and tired, it was rare for us to talk like this.
“I’m making pulled pork tacos for dinner. Wanna help?”
I shot her a skeptical look. She was full of energy and in a suspiciously good mood, but it was nice, so I chose not to question it. “Fine. But only because you buttered me up with your compliments.”
“Great! Can you unload while I freshen up? Thanks!” She didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into the bathroom.
“Child labor . . .” I grumbled as I started putting things away.
She came back in a pair of my sweats, her hair up in a messy bun and her contacts replaced with glasses. We were the same size, but my mom was a little shorter.
Mom chatted about her work, the gossip she’d heard from the ladies she had coffee with every Saturday afternoon, and the movie she’d fallen asleep during the other night. She asked a few questions about school and my friends, but I’d perfected dodging those questions a long time ago. Instead I told her about the math homework I was struggling with and the few things I did with my cousins and Amaya.
My parents had enough on their plate without worrying about me. What would be the point in telling them I didn’t have any friends at school? They couldn’t afford to send me to Fulton Academy, and there were no other public schools I could get to in under an hour on public transport. I was better off gritting my teeth and getting through it. Not counting days off, I had only 174 days of school to go. I was on the home stretch.
“You know what we haven’t done in a long time?” Mom said as we laid everything out on the table. “A girls’ day with your aunt Emily and your cousins.”
I smiled. “Yeah, we should definitely organize that.”
When we moved back to Devilbend, my mom and her sister had started organizing girls’ days for us. My mom hadn’t really kept in touch with my aunt before we moved back—I wasn’t sure why—but Auntie Em seemed really happy to have us living so close. She invited us over all the time and had encouraged us girls to become friends.
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