OUTCAST: A Good Guys Novel
Page 1
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
SYNOPSIS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
EPILOGUE
PREVIEW OF DROPOUT
OUTCAST PLAYLIST
Outcast
Copyright © 2018 Jamie Schlosser
All rights reserved.
This novel is for your enjoyment only and may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without permission from the author except for brief quotations in a book review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to locations or incidents are coincidental.
Due to language and sexual content, this book is intended for readers 18 and older.
Cover design: Oh So Novel
Photography: Lindee Robinson
Models: Brian Boynton and Destiny Hughbanks
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
Proofreading: Deaton Author Services
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
SYNOPSIS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
EPILOGUE
PREVIEW OF DROPOUT
OUTCAST PLAYLIST
OTHER BOOKS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For all the outcasts of the world. There are more of us than you think.
My infatuation with Ezra Johnson started how all obsessions begin—with a simple crush. Over the years I silently soaked up every shy smile and random act of kindness, wrestling them away to a secret place in my heart meant for unrequited love.
Because if it wasn’t for the fact that I tutor him once a week, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even know I exist.
Then I find his sketchbook.
And it changes everything.
There are two certainties in my life: I’ve been in love with Kayla Reynolds since I was fourteen, and I can’t have her.
I’ve spent years settling for a two-dimensional fantasy world, capturing her beauty with a pencil and paper. She’s kind, smart, gorgeous… and she belongs to someone else.
Or so I thought.
An interesting turn of events makes me realize things aren’t always how they appear on the outside, and now I’ve got my chance to be the man she deserves.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been called a loser. The cripple. An outcast.
But maybe—just maybe—this time the good guy won’t finish last.
Four Years Ago
In all my fourteen years, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
She was a new student, and from the teacher’s brief announcement I learned she was originally from Cleveland. When Mr. Marks asked her to stand in front of the class and introduce herself, her hands anxiously twisted together as she quietly let out the name I’d say in my head thousands of times over the next several years.
Kayla Reynolds.
She was a tiny thing in a gray T-shirt, skinny jeans, and Chucks. Skin the color of coffee with a healthy dose of cream, light green eyes, full lips, and her hair was red. Not fiery-red—a deep auburn that reminded me of my favorite kind of sunset.
The color of the wild ringlets seemed out of place with her caramel skin, and it was like all her features had been put together with a bunch of mismatched pieces.
The unique combination was stunning.
Gorgeous.
I couldn’t stop staring.
Hushed whispers filled the classroom. I wasn’t the only one studying the new girl. Heyworth, Ohio wasn’t the most diverse town, and Kayla’s distinct characteristics made her stand out like a candle in the dark.
Awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, she sent a pleading look to our teacher.
“You can take a seat,” he told her, and she shuffled to the empty desk in the front row, just diagonal from me.
Obviously uncomfortable, she quickly glanced around before looking down at her clasped hands.
I felt bad for her.
It was hard enough coming to a new town, but freshman year started two weeks ago. Everyone had already gotten time to get acquainted and, truth be told, most of us had been in the same grade since kindergarten.
And now here she was, unfamiliar and different.
Painfully pretty.
The kind of pretty that made hearts hurt with longing or jealousy. Longing for those who wanted to be with her, and jealousy for the ones who wanted to be her. Both could bring out a darkness we all had somewhere deep inside.
I was in the former category but instead of letting it bring me down, I felt my heart lift a little. Usually school was hell for me, but the thought of seeing her every day made it a little more bearable.
The buzz around us continued as our peers blatantly discussed the most interesting thing to happen in our grade for a long time. I didn’t hear all of what they said, but caught the words “Carrot Top” and “Chia Pet.”
Why did people have to be such dicks? I should’ve known it wouldn’t take long for them to pounce.
Suddenly, I wanted to tell everyone to stop gawking and mind their own fucking business.
Anne’s blond hair almost smacked me in the face as she whipped her head toward the new girl.
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br /> “So, what are you?” Leaning to the right, she giggled as she pulled at a strand of Kayla’s hair. “Like, are you Hispanic or something?”
I narrowed my eyes at the rude girl in front of me.
“Um, I don’t know,” Kayla responded, squirming away from the hand petting her head. “I was adopted.”
“I heard she has two dads,” Abby, Anne’s best friend, whispered loudly from somewhere behind me. “Gay dads.”
Snickering broke out among the class. Kayla’s delicate hands balled into fists until her knuckles turned white.
Fury ignited in my chest.
I’d never stood up for anyone before, not even myself. I wasn’t witty in the heat of the moment. I always thought of the best comebacks hours after it would’ve been useful. I didn’t know the first thing about defending someone.
But I couldn’t do nothing.
Just as I started to stand—with zero plan in place—a heavy hand landed on my left thigh and my leg buckled. I dropped back in my seat with a grunt as pain shot through my knee.
“What do you think you’re doing, Slug?” AJ sneered.
I bristled at the awful nickname. Not slug as in slugger, a baseball champ. Slug like the fat, slimy, slow-moving lumps that came out after too much rain.
“Uh—um—”
“Uh—uh—uh,” he mocked with a laugh. Then his tone turned deceptively kind as his hand left my throbbing leg. “Hey, you know what you should do?”
Instead of a response, I gave him a skeptical glare.
There was one word for AJ Nelson: bully. Okay, there were a lot of words for him, but none of them were nice.
“Blush,” he barked out the command, and my cheeks flared against my own will. I knew if I looked in the mirror, I’d see a bright red flush all over my face.
The worst part about being made fun of wasn’t the hit to my self-esteem. It wasn’t feeling unloved or unpopular. It wasn’t even knowing so many of my peers stood by and watched it happen, silent and unwilling to intervene.
It was the humiliation of being put in my place. The degradation of being constantly reminded that my body betrayed me. That I wasn’t in control; they were. And people like AJ took every opportunity to let me know it.
Embarrassed, I dipped my head so no one would see, but it was too late. The new girl had rotated in her seat, looking over her shoulder at me with so much empathy, it only made the heat in my face worse.
She offered a timid, yet brave smile. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“You can call him Slug,” AJ supplied, and she gave him a fierce scowl.
Before I could form a response, a booming voice came from the back of the classroom.
“Yo, Kayla. Come sit next to me.”
I turned to see Gavin, the star linebacker for our football team. Dude was a beast. Freshmen never got put on the varsity team, but the coach had made an exception for the 6’4”, 210-pound giant. He was a nice guy, though. Soft-spoken and polite. He mostly kept to himself, so it was unusual for him to make such an outburst.
Mr. Marks cleared his throat. “That’s not Kayla’s assigned seat, Gavin.”
He gave the teacher a hard stare. “It is now.”
Kayla’s wide eyes bounced back and forth between the two until Mr. Marks waved his hand in permission.
After gathering her books, she trudged to the back row. Gavin gave a gentlemanly bow before pulling out her seat. The frown on her face was replaced with a grin, and a bolt of jealousy shot through me because I couldn’t be the one to protect her.
Even if AJ hadn’t been in my way, I would’ve fumbled over my words. I wasn’t intimidating. I wasn’t commanding.
I was Ezra Johnson, the cripple.
And that was why a girl like Kayla Reynolds would never be interested in a guy like me.
Her gaze briefly met mine before Gavin snagged her attention away. Tipping his head toward her, he whispered something I couldn’t hear, and she giggled.
“Guess we know who’s getting some from the new girl,” AJ remarked crudely, earning a few laughs.
And there was nothing I could do about it. If I told him to shut up, he’d just remind me how powerless I was.
My chest burned with anger as I opened my brand-new sketchbook to the first page and started to draw.
As Mr. Marks droned on about American history, my pencil moved over the paper. I didn’t need to look at my subject to get the details right; the image of her was etched into my mind.
Her heart-shaped face. The slight upturn of her nose. Plump lips. Corkscrew curls.
After I was satisfied with the rough outline of her beautiful features, I wrote the first of many letters she’d never see.
Dear Kayla,
Today is the best and worst day of my life. The best, because I found out love at first sight really does exist. The worst, because I had to watch someone else be your hero.
Present Day
“They want natural hair color?” I muttered to myself sarcastically, staring down at the box of hair dye in my hand. “I’ll give them natural hair color.”
Opening the top, I studied the contents inside and took out the plastic gloves.
Gah. This looked like it could get messy.
I’d recently been browsing Pinterest and came across a beautiful woman with voluminous pink locks. The simple step-by-step instructions had seemed super easy.
Never mind the fact that I was the posterchild for anything Pinterest-gone-wrong.
I shrugged. “How hard can dyeing my hair be?”
Through the second-story bathroom window, I could see the sun peeking above the horizon behind the house across the street, which meant I needed to hurry. I’d gotten up extra early just for this—my last hurrah, leaving my high school days behind me in a blaze of pink glory.
“I can’t wait to see the look on their faces…”
A knock sounded at the bathroom door, followed by my dad’s slightly amused voice. “Talking to yourself in there, Kay Kay?”
“Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth and didn’t bother asking him not to call me that ridiculous nickname. He never listened anyway.
“If you have something to talk about, I’m all ears. But I have to give my two cents before you make a big mistake—once you chemically alter your hair, it’s never the same.” He began tapping out an upbeat rhythm on the wood separating us, and I heaved out a sigh.
He was like a relentless bloodhound, only his senses were all focused on me. More specifically, when something was wrong. Sometimes I loved the connection we had. Other times, like now, it was a little annoying.
Swinging the door open, I was greeted by his knowing smile and I huffed. “How do you always know everything? It’s creepy.”
Smug, he waved a slip of paper through the air. “You left the Walmart receipt on the kitchen counter last night. If you’re going to be sneaky, you should try being better at it.”
Having two dads who were lawyers would probably come in handy someday but, unfortunately for me, their interrogation tactics were top-notch. There was no point in lying. Besides, it’s not like they wouldn’t notice when I came down for breakfast with cotton-candy hair.
“I’m not hiding anything,” I stated, holding up the box. “This is happening.”
Squinting, he studied it. “Fuchsia sunrise? Goodness, this is going to wreak havoc on your ends.”
Doubt crept in. “I think it’s pretty. And the tutorial seemed legit…”
His brown eyes widened with excitement behind his gray-framed glasses. “Is this going to be another epic Pinterest fail? Do I need to get my camera ready?”
“Ugh!” I threw my hands up and set the dye down.
My inability to be crafty was a running joke in my family. Last year for Christmas, my parents had given me a photo album with the words “Nailed It” on the front. Guess what was inside? Yep. Every project I’d ever attempted—attempted being the operative word.
He gave an indifferent shrug. “Well,
if you’re looking to turn some heads, this’ll do it.”
“I’m not looking to turn heads. I’m just… mad.”
He frowned. “Is the A-squad giving you trouble again?”
“Aren’t they always?”
The A-squad consisted of Abby one, Abby two, and Anne. And all of them were assholes with a capital A. They were the quintessential mean girls and they’d given me a hard time since day one in this town. AJ had been dating Abby two for the past year, so he was part of it now.
Yesterday Anne made fun of my hair again, and I decided that was the last straw. I always tried to tame my unruly locks. If I used enough anti-frizz product and a straightener, I could get it to appear somewhat normal.
But I’d gotten caught in the rain on my way back from lunch. All it took was a minute of light sprinkling, and poof. My natural curls popped up, along with Anne’s irritating questions.
Can I touch it?
Did you get a perm?
Are you sure that’s your natural hair color?
She knew the answer to all of those. No. No. And, for the love of God, yes.
All the while, the rest of them had a good laugh at my expense. That is, until Gavin showed up and made them scurry away with one badass look.
“You can’t use Gavin as a crutch forever,” my dad said, as if he could read my mind.
“I know that.”
“What are you going to do with him moving away?”
“Cry every day?” I answered honestly.
Although everyone in town probably thought Gavin was my soulmate, they were only fifty percent right about that. Gavin was my other half, but not in the romantic sense. He was my protector, my hero, and my very good-looking, very gay best friend.
From the second we met, we were inseparable. Like me, he was into sci-fi movies, reading, and shopping. After we’d been hanging out for a couple months, he trusted me enough to confess his darkest secret. It’d happened during a weekend when his parents were away and we were having a Lord of the Rings marathon. In between movies he’d blurted it out, then broke down right before my eyes. I’d held my gentle giant as he wept, softly telling him he wasn’t wrong or weird or bad.