by Emma Doherty
I tilt my head as I survey him. “Wow. Sounds like you’ve got a really great dad. Lucky you.”
He rolls his eyes at me in irritation, and it only infuriates her further.
“You’re done here,” she continues, glaring hard. “I wouldn’t even bother coming back if I were you.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, taking a step towards her so we’re almost touching. She’s gorgeous, no doubt about that, and she definitely knows it, but she’s one of those girls who needs to make everyone else feel bad just to make herself feel better. “Why? What are you going to do?”
She smirks at me, and I can see it in her eyes. She thinks she’s going to shut me down the way she’s probably shut down countless girls before just because she doesn’t like something about them, or just because she’s bored. Either way, I can promise she’s not going to do it to me. “You just wait. You’ll regret ever stepping foot in this school. I’m gonna enjoy this.”
I grin and glance over at Ethan, who is staring at Evie in disbelief, like he doesn’t even recognise her. “Did you hear that, Ethan? Your little friend here is threatening me.”
“Could you stop trying to wind everyone up for just a second?” he snaps at me before turning to Evie. “And don’t talk to her like that. What is wrong with you?”
Evie’s face turns red at the reprimand. “I was just…I was sticking up for you.”
“Awww. It’s sweet that you want to fight your friend’s battles, but he’s a big boy.”
She turns back on me. “He’s my boyfriend,” she bites out, like it’s something I should just know. “And you can make sure you stay away from him.”
Of course she’s his girlfriend. Of course.
I start to laugh and look at Ethan, who looks positively mortified. “Seriously?” I ask. “This is your girlfriend?” I let my eyes sweep around the cafeteria, taking in the faces looking back at me. “Must be slim pickings around here if she’s the best you can do.”
It’s the final straw for Evie, and a growl leaves her mouth as she lunges at me, but Ethan catches her around the waist before she gets to me. He pulls her back, and she turns to look at him, hurt and confusion crossing her face. “Why are you defending her?” she asks him. “Why are you taking her side when she’s speaking to you like that?” She turns to look back at me. “Who are you?”
I stare back at her and let out a humourless laugh. “Who am I?” I step closer, my eyes boring into hers. I glance at Ethan, who is glaring back at me, before turning back to his girlfriend. “I’m his twin.” I pause as I watch her eyes widen in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?!”
I takes me almost an hour to walk from the high school to Marcus’s bar, and by the time I get there, I’m sweaty and even more irritated than I was when I left. It’s dark and empty inside, but the sour smell of stale beer hits my nostrils almost immediately and relief washes over my body.
I make my way to the bar, and Marcus looks up from where he’s typing on a laptop. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
I scowl and slide onto a stool, waving over at Old Bill, who has been sat in the same spot on the far end of the bar every single time I’m here. I reach into my bag and pull out my entire allowance. I pulled it from the ATM when I was passing, and I peel off a couple of twenty-dollar bills then lay them down on the bar.
Marcus moves over to stand in front of me, cocking his eyebrow at the cash. “Rob a bank?”
“Can you just get me a drink? Vodka coke.”
He eyes me for a second, seemingly trying to figure out the deeper meaning as to why I’m here before 3pm demanding hard spirits.
“What?” I snap. “I have money and I want to spend it.”
He frowns but turns and pours me my drink. He hovers in front of me, still not handing the drink over. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I don’t even bother looking at him. I just stare at the moon-shaped scratch in the bar in front of me. “I just want my drink, and then when I’ve finished that, I want another and another.”
He doesn’t say anything in response, and my drink is placed down in front of me.
“I’m cutting you off.”
My head turns towards the voice, and I sway slightly as I release the smoke from the cigarette I’ve just inhaled.
I frown at Marcus as I take in the car keys in his hand and my bag slung over his shoulder. I almost laugh at him wearing it like a girl but don’t when I realise his face looks deadly serious.
“You’ve had enough,” he tells me.
“I’m fine,” I insist, but his eyes narrow in on me as I again sway a bit. The truth is I probably have had enough. I’m definitely close to that state of oblivion I’m chasing, but the last thing in the world I want to do right now is go back to my dad’s house and deal with Ethan after that scene at lunchtime.
He shakes his head. “It’s gonna get empty in there pretty soon, but there’s no way I’m leaving you on your own. Most of the people who come in here are okay, but I’m not taking that risk with you in this state and your finger on that self-destruct button you seem to like to push.”
“What?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving you here to fend for yourself. God knows what trouble you’ll get into.”
I frown, not fully taking in what he’s saying. “Where are you going?”
“The football game?” I must look confused because he continues before I can reply. “Pretty much the whole town will be there tonight. I’d invite you but I think we both know you need to sleep it off.”
“Football game?”
“The Northview Panthers,” he says, like it should be obvious.
“The high school team?”
He grins. “Once a Panther, always a Panther. The whole town turns out to support them.”
I frown. “You were on the team?”
“Oh yeah, baby. You’re looking at the starting varsity tight end of the 2011-2012 season.”
Marcus was on the football team? For some reason that turns me off him.
“Whatever.”
“Don’t be like that,” he tells me, sending me a wink. “I’d have let you wear my jacket.”
I roll my eyes.
“We never won state though. Came pretty close one year but never made it.” I turn my back slightly, taking another drag on my cigarette, but he carries on anyway, clearly enjoying reliving his glory years. “It’s pretty special playing on that turf.”
I still don’t say anything, instead preferring to focus on the tips of my shoes.
“I’ll take you some time, show you some good old American culture.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“The team is insane this year. This kid, Carlington—I swear he’ll go pro. He’s unbelievable, and my buddy’s kid brother is on the team too. They were good last year, and they’re even better this year.”
“Okay,” I snap because I don’t want to think about Ethan and our fight earlier. “I get that you like watching them.”
He frowns at me, and I instantly feel guilty. Marcus has been nothing but nice to me; it’s not his fault I’m in such a foul mood.
“Sorry,” I amend. “Have fun.” I stub out my cigarette, throw it in the trash, and start to head back inside.
“Whoa,” he says, stepping in front of me. “I meant it. You’re done for the night. You can leave your car here—you can’t drive.”
“I know that.”
He looks surprised at my response.
I snort back a laugh. “I can’t drive.”
This seems to shock him above anything else I’ve ever said to him. “What? Are you being serious?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’ve had like five lessons my whole life. I don’t have a licence.”
“But how have you been getting around?” he asks in disbelief.
I shrug. “Walking, a couple of lifts, a taxi if I can get it.” I smirk at him. “They don’t have Uber out here.”
“No shit,” he says, looking at me with what I think
is sympathy. “That sucks.”
I shrug. It would definitely be easier if I could drive, but I’m not about to cry over it.
“Well, I’ll take you home anyway,” he says, glancing down at his watch. “But we need to be quick. I don’t want to miss the start of the game.”
“I’m not going back to where I’m staying.”
He sighs in irritation. “Izzy, I really don’t have time for this.”
“I’m not asking you to stay. Just go. I’m fine here.”
“That’s not an option. I’ve told the bar not to serve you.”
That is a problem, but I’ll just go around to another bar and hope they’ll serve me there.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“I’m not going back there,” I insist.
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to go back there.”
It finally seems to make sense to him. “You don’t want to go home?”
I shake my head. More than ever, I don’t want to go back to that place my dad expects me to call home, even if Ethan is at a football game. I really can’t deal with seeing him any time soon, not after what went down this afternoon.
“Why not?” Marcus asks gently—far too gently for my liking.
“It’s none of your business,” I snap. “Now if you’re not gonna serve me, I’ll find somewhere that will.”
I snatch my bag back from his shoulder then turn and walk off in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for me, it’s a dead end, so I’m forced to turn back around and walk towards Marcus as he’s stood in the direction I need to go in.
“Wait,” he says just as I’m about to pass him. Something in his tone makes me stop. It’s not condescending or demanding. It’s sincere, like he cares. “I’m not about to let you roam around town in this state. Go up to my place. You can stay there for tonight, and I’ll take the sofa. We can figure out where you’re gonna stay tomorrow.”
I frown as he unhooks a key from the ring, holding it out to me.
“Go on,” he tells me, nodding his head towards a fire escape which I’ve used a couple of times this week to exit his flat. “You’d be doing me a favour. I’ll only worry about you if you don’t.”
I bite my lip, and all at once it hits me how exhausted I am, how tired I am and how stupid it would be to trek around a town I don’t know looking for a drink I really don’t need. Even though I’ve only known Marcus for a short time, my gut tells me I can trust him.
I nod my head, accepting the key. “Thank you.”
The fact that my head isn’t screaming at me when I wake up is a welcome respite from the last few mornings, and I know it’s down to the fact that I fell straight to sleep when I got into Marcus’s room and even remembered to drink a pint of water before I passed out. I stretch out in his huge bed and pick up my phone. There are a bunch of missed calls from Ethan and some messages demanding I ring him and tell him where I am.
Me: I’m fine. Leave me alone.
I hit send and sit up. It’s almost 10am, and I’m surprised I slept in so late. I really was exhausted. I climb out of bed and throw on my clothes. I could desperately do with brushing my teeth, and my stomach is begging for food. I slip into the hallway, use the bathroom, and then head to the living room where sounds are coming from the TV, and I’m praying the smell in my nostrils is fried bacon. I pause in the doorway and see Marcus there, coffee cup in his hands, sat on the sofa, eyes focussed on the screen, wearing just a pair of sweatpants.
Yup, he’s topless, and it’s a sight to be seen. I can’t help but take in the smooth muscles and tribal tattoo that snakes around his right bicep.
A throat is cleared, and I tear my eyes away from his chest to see him smirking in my direction. “Done ogling me?”
I shrug, hoping my cheeks haven’t flushed. “You wish.”
He chuckles and gestures towards the opposite sofa. “Take a seat. I’ll get you some coffee, and breakfast is almost ready.”
I do as he says, watching the screen but not taking in anything the sports presenters are saying as Marcus bangs about in the kitchen. After a few minutes, he come back in and presents me with a coffee cup and a plate of bacon, eggs, sausages, and something resembling potatoes. He returns a second later with his own plate, and we sit in silence while we eat our food. I feel the closest I’ve come to being at peace since I arrived in America.
After we’ve eaten, he collects the plates and returns so he’s sitting next to me, only this time his focus isn’t on the TV. This time he’s staring straight at me. “Are you okay?”
Reluctantly, I turn to face him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for letting me stay last night.”
He nods. “No problem.” He hesitates. “Are you ready for me to take you home now?”
My eyes drop. I can’t see Ethan yet. I just can’t. That argument we had yesterday has been building since I got here, and I definitely don’t feel like it’s resolved. If I see him again now, we’ll just get straight back into it, and I honestly don’t have the energy for it.
“Izzy, you have to give me something.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you show up in my bar in this small town in the middle of Texas with your British accent and your stunning looks and then drink yourself into oblivion almost every night this week. Then when I want to take you home to make sure no one takes advantage of you, you flat-out refuse to go back there. You need to tell me what’s going on.”
I glance up at him, and a smile drifts across my mouth. “You think I’m stunning?”
He groans, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, you know what you look like, but I’m not going to let you off the hook. Is someone hurting you?”
“No,” I say immediately. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just need a bit of space at the moment.”
“From who?”
I shrug.
“Izzy! Come on.”
“Marcus, please.” I really don’t want to get into this with him.
“No, Izzy, seriously, you have to give me something. Why here? Why are you in Kellan and who do you need space from?”
I bite my lip, still not saying anything.
“Is it your family?”
I sigh, nodding my head.
“Parents? Siblings?”
“I just need some space from my family right now, okay?”
His gaze locks on me for a second and I think he’s going to say something else, but he stops himself. “Okay.”
“Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but thank you for last night and not judging me this week.”
He smiles. “For some reason it feels like I’ve known you longer than just a week.”
I smile back at him. “I know. For some reason this just feels easy.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you calling me easy, Izzy?”
I chuckle. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know if we’re flirting, don’t know if we’re friends. I don’t know if this will lead somewhere, but I do know he’s the only person in this town I feel like I can be even slightly myself with, and I realise I don’t want to mess up whatever sort of relationship we have going on here, friendship or otherwise.
I reach for my bag, which I dumped on the side of the sofa, and pull out the wad of notes that thankfully are still in there (I certainly wasn’t paying enough attention to my stuff yesterday to stop anyone taking it). I glance back at Marcus, who is looking at me curiously. “Are there any hotels around here where I can stay?” I count the bills in my hand. “I have $200, and I’ll be able to get some more next week.”
He frowns at me. “You can stay here if you need somewhere to crash, Izzy.”
I shake my head immediately. As nice as it was for him to let me stay here last night, I can’t keep crashing here. It’s not fair on him for me to encroach on his space, and even though things feel natural and easy between us, I know he’s still just someone I met less than a week a
go and I can’t rely on him like that. I think the best thing for Ethan and me right now is to get some space from each other and let us both calm down. If yesterday’s argument is anything to go by, he’s just as angry with me as I was with him. “No. Thank you, but no. You need your space back, and I could do with just getting out of the way for a couple of days.”
He hesitates for a second and then nods. “There aren’t really any decent hotels in town, but there are a couple of motels just off the highway.”
“What’s a motel?”
“Like a cheap hotel on the side of the road.”
I nod. “That sounds fine. Will I have enough money for at least a couple of days until I figure out what to do for the best?”
He nods emphatically. “Oh definitely. Are you sure though? They’re pretty isolated.”
I shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, it’ll be good to get some space.”
“Okay,” he agrees. “I can take you to the closest one.” He stands up, stretches, and starts hunting around for a shirt before turning back to me. “One more question.”
“Yeah?” I ask, nervous about what it’s going to be. He looks so serious.
“You really can’t drive?”
I roll my eyes as he smirks at me, and I sink farther back into the sofa. This will be good for me, a few days’ break from my father’s house where I feel constantly on edge, and it’ll allow me to figure out what I want to do next.
Kristen: Really, Izzy? You’ve moved to America and weren’t going to say anything?
I blink down at my phone, amazed at how close to tears I feel at just seeing Kristen’s name. My phone beeps again.
Kristen: Seriously? I had to find out from Ms. Greene on the first day back.
I swallow hard and then shove my British phone—the one I don’t strictly need anymore but can’t seem to put away—back into my bag. It’s better like this. I couldn’t handle that conversation with her before I left, couldn’t handle her reaction or the thought of her not caring. She’s the other reason I hate myself so much these days. I didn’t know I was capable of being such a heartless bitch to one of my favourite people and then carrying on being heartless just because it felt like the only way I could breathe when it was all starting to go wrong.