High School Lover

by Rose Croft

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.” I wanted to reach across the table and pull her into my arms. What the fuck was I thinking? I almost reached out and touched her hand, but I stopped myself. Even that seemed too intimate. I was already hovering near that line as it was. I needed to back away.

  She closed her eyes and steepled her hands together, pressing the tips of her fingers to her lips. “I’m sorry, Andrew…about how everything happened in the past. I fucked up. I know that. I let my parents dictate my life. I chose them over you.”

  Eight Years Ago

  “Aww, babe, I love the note you wrote me.” Bryan had his arm around me as he walked me down the hall to my next class. It was October and Bryan had a football game that night. I started writing encouraging notes before his games, sticking them in his locker. When I did it the first time, he told me to keep doing it because it motivated him so much.

  We’d been together for more than four months. He was funny and charming and still as baller hot as ever. I thought in the beginning he would try to pressure me to have sex. I had told him I was a virgin and wasn’t ready for that. He said he’d wait until I was. I didn’t want to bring up that he might be waiting a long time. Either way, he hadn’t pressured me.

  Okay, maybe he’d tried to see how far he could go with me. He’d touched my boobs through my bra, but that’s it. Our mugging down and rubbing our hands across each other’s chest and back was as far as it went. And, maybe he got a little pouty when I stopped the kiss, but he never complained. The kisses were…okay. Still not unforgettable.

  “Hey, thanks for helping me with my paper. I’m doing better in English class than I ever have in my life.” Bryan and I spent many evenings at his house or mine studying. Actually, it was more like my helping him with his homework the whole time. Or in some cases, just doing the homework for him. He wasn’t about the schoolwork, that’s for sure. And, reading a book? Forget it. But, he seemed grateful and was very sweet to me when I helped him with his work.

  We had fun together. He took me to dinner, to the movies, to the mall, and to the parties. My life was busy with Bryan. My mom was ecstatic. I was happy, I guess. My social life was much busier.

  It was our last class of the day. Bryan gave me a quick hug as we stood outside the class. “I’ll see you after the game.” Bryan played tight end and was leading the team in receptions.

  “Good luck. I expect at least one touchdown tonight.” This exchange had become a little ritual between us, too. I’d said it before his first game, and now he expected me to say it each time. He was very superstitious, it seemed.

  He tapped his temple with his finger and pointed to me, relieved I had remembered. “I’ll have at least one, probably two.” He said it like he meant it. He wasn’t self-conscious about his bragging game. The funny thing was he usually backed it up.

  I glanced behind me through the door and saw Andrew frowning at me before he went back to penciling something, probably drawing. I turned back to Bryan. “Okay, I gotta go before I’m tardy.”

  “You’re such a stickler for rules.” He backed away grinning. I shook my head and passed through the door, making it to my seat maybe a second before the bell rang. “Andrew.”

  “Scout.” This was like déjà vu all over again. Another advanced English class with almost the same people from last year. With Andrew.

  “Mikey.”

  “Lorena, Lorena you drive me insane-ah.” Mike tapped his pencil against his book as he sang it out. I giggled because he was ludicrous. Yes. Mike was in this class, too. How? That’s one of life’s great mysteries. He was as crafty as Leonardo DiCaprio in Catch Me If You Can.

  “Mr. Dodd, if you’re done singing, can we start?” Mrs. Wright was our teacher again, and her lips twitched. It wasn’t the first time Mike had made her normally serious face threaten to crack. She was charmed. Oh, my gosh, Mike was The Teacher Whisperer.

  “Oh, yeah…proceed. You have my blessing.” He waved his hand as if he were a king.

  “Thank you.” She clasped her hands together in dramatic fashion. “Now, let’s continue with our poetry unit.”

  My eyes shifted between Andrew and the front of the class. He had his elbow on the desk, with his chin resting on his hand, as he studied the poem on the SMART Board. It was Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven.

  I studied his profile. He seemed focused intently on the work in front of us. I thought back to how he’d scoured my poems like he wanted to decipher every thought, every phrase I wrote. After seeing him at the lake that day, I had worried Andrew would be angry with me and would never speak to me again.

  The day after Mason’s party at the lake, I was sitting in my room thinking of how I could talk to Andrew. I couldn’t call him, because my parents already threatened that they were checking my phone account as is. But I could call Mike. I punched his name.

  “This is Mike. Who’s speaking?” I snickered. He knew who it was. We called each other all the time.

  “Uh, yeah, I’d like to order a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese.”

  “Hey, Loren. Did you need anything else?”

  “Actually, yes. Could I come by today and hang out?”

  “Sure. I think I can pencil you in. Give me an hour.”

  “Great. Could you invite Andrew, too?”

  “Why? I mean, sure, I don’t mind, but why can’t you call him?”

  “It’s complicated.” I sighed, not wanting to get into it over the phone. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”

  “So, what’s this complication?” Mike and I were sitting on some swings at the park across the street from his house. He told me Andrew would be by later.

  “My parents won’t let me hang out with Andrew anymore. They think he’s a bad influence on me.” I told Mike about the conversations I’d had with my parents.

  “Dang, that’s fucked up. Does Andrew know this?”

  “He knows my mom didn’t like him, but not that I’m now under surveillance. That’s why I wanted to talk to him today.”

  He shook his head. “Jeez, I knew your mom was kind of judgmental but not to that extent.” He twisted in his swing and scanned the park. “But my mom and her dumbass boyfriend Jack Ass Crack did coke last night and played checkers until three in the morning. Be thankful you don’t have to deal with that shit. Every time Dickhead yelled ‘Crown me!’ I wanted to bash his skull in.”

  “Oh, Mike, I’m sorry.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. That’s how Mike was. He never acted like he wanted a pity party. In fact, when he talked about his parents, it was almost like he was relating a funny story, a very dark story laced with his brand of humor.

  Andrew’s red truck pulled up on the side of the street.

  “Hello, my brother from another mother!” Mike shouted as Andrew made his way toward us. I was nervous, hoping he wasn’t angry. He didn’t seem angry; he had a little smirk but that wasn’t unusual. Soon enough, Mike was cracking jokes, making us feel more comfortable.

  “I’m gonna grab some snacks at the house. You guys want anything?” Mike gave me the “talk to him” look and walked away. I twisted in my swing, nervously trying to think of what to say.

  “So, you and Bryan, huh?” Andrew rubbed his chin and took up the swing that Mike had vacated. He seemed less tense than he had been yesterday at Mason’s. Maybe I imagined the whole situation.

  “Yeah.” I could barely hear my voice as I watched Mike cross the street to his front yard. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “I don’t know…maybe because of the kiss…”

  Andrew waved his hand carelessly in the air. “Forget it. It was obviously a mistake on both our parts.” See, that was the problem. I wanted to forget about it, but I couldn’t. And, it kind of bothered me that he sounded like he had. But I was seeing Bryan, so I really had no right to be angry with Andrew.

  “Are we still friends?”

  “Yeah, we’re still friends.”r />
  “I have to tell you my parents don’t want us hanging around together. Like I was forbidden to see or contact you anymore.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, ducking his head and exhaling a breath. “So, we can’t hang out anymore? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, but we just have to be creative about it.”

  “Are you saying we’re about to embark on an illicit friendship?” He’d twisted his swing to face me. His eyes sparkled with humor for the first time since I’d seen him at Mason’s.

  “Yeah, I think we are.” Why did my face feel hot as though he’d suggested we were having an affair or something?

  I felt a nudge on my shoulder and looked behind me as Mike passed me a note. I opened it up: “Why are you staring at Andrew like some creepy stalker? Like the other day.”

  I gave Mike a go-to-hell look before I turned and kept my gaze to the front of the class. How embarrassing. I was staring at Andrew. And, Mike, Mike, of all people noticed it.

  We had a few minutes of class time, and I heard Mrs. Wright say, “This weekend, I want you to write a personal poem and bring it to class Monday.”

  I gathered my things as the bell sounded. I turned to Andrew to see if we could maybe meet somewhere on Sunday to go over our poems. This seemed like a no-brainer since he had already read my work and commented on it. However, Andrew had his back to me and was in a deep conversation with a girl sitting on his other side. Was her name Michelle? She transferred here this year from Nebraska? Kansas? Some place in the Midwest, I think.

  “Catch you later, Loren,” Mike said as he passed by. His eyes danced as though he knew a secret.

  I shook my head and mouthed the word no. But I said aloud, “Let me know if you need help with your poem.”

  “You know I will.” He tapped my desk and set off.

  I straightened my books, waiting patiently for Andrew to finish his conversation. I wasn’t in a rush. I was done for the day, and then I was going home. But, he kept talking to her. I twisted in his direction, beginning to wonder why he was still talking to her.

  “I’m on the drill team,” Michelle said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as they now stood facing each other.

  “You are? That’s amazing.” Andrew was using some stupid, excited voice that I’d never heard. I tilted my head and frowned.

  “Uh huh, you should come to the game tonight and see me perform.” If this girl’s voice had been any breathier, there would have been a thick fog in the classroom.

  “I’d like that.” What. The. Hell. He’d never been to a football game as far as I knew. I almost broke a nail because I now clenched my books the way I wanted to clench her throat. Wait. Where did that come from?

  She bounced on her toes and her boobs jiggled under the tight, high-school-spirit T-shirt she wore. “Awesome…yay!” She flashed her jazz hands, and my teeth ground together. Michelle ran her hand over his arm. “I’ll see you tonight?” And I wanted to break her wrist.

  “Yeah. Can’t wait. Why don’t you give me your number?” He pulled out his phone, and I had the urge to slap it out of his hand.

  She punched in her number while I fumed. She said bye and fluffed her straight, beautiful, hair-commercial-worthy red hair. I wanted to rip it out piece by piece. Where in the world is this aggression coming from?

  And, oh my God, finally, Andrew turned to me. “You’re still here.”

  I picked up my books and stood up, squashing my books against my chest to keep myself from shaking or shaking Andrew. I leveled my voice. “I thought maybe we could meet Sunday and go over our poems.”

  “Okay. Why don’t we meet at the library at two?”

  “Sure.” I agreed because Andrew was my friend and I needed to be there for him. I convinced myself that I was just being protective, because I didn’t want him to get hurt by that red-headed Lolita with the big boobs, china-blue eyes and perfect hair.

  Eight Years Ago

  Did I like that Loren was dating Bryan? Fuck no. Did I hate that her family had banned her from seeing me? Yeah. But I wanted to be around her, and if it was only as a friend, I would take that.

  So, we spent time together, as much as we could. It was like some kind of covert-operation shit to see her as a friend, and Mike was usually with us, too, which was fine. We were all just good friends. Just good friends.

  When our senior year began, we sat next to each other in our AP English class again, with Mike sitting behind us. It was just like last year: the class discussions, working on projects together, and Mike still asking to look at our notes because he was too fucking lazy to take notes himself.

  Loren and Bryan had been going out for a few months, but I felt strongly that their relationship would end in the near future. Bryan seemed like an okay dude, but let’s be real, he wasn’t going to set the world on fire with his intelligence. I knew because he’d been in a few of my classes in the past. Electives. Very easy classes where you basically would pass if you just showed up. And, he almost failed.

  There’s no way Loren could have much in common with Bryan. Did he read her poetry and understand it? I doubted it. Could they analyze songs together? Probably not. Did he even have any interest in or care about what she liked? Who she was? No fucking way. Soon, Scout would realize this.

  I gave these answers as though they were facts, but I was still unsure. I acted like it didn’t bother me that she was with Bryan. I’d also acted like our one kiss together hadn’t meant anything. I was a fucking liar.

  Sometimes, I berated myself and wondered why I didn’t try asking another girl out. There was this girl named Michelle who sat on the other side of me in our English class. She was nice and very pretty, and I thought she kind of liked me because I would catch her staring at me occasionally, or she would initiate conversations. So, I talked to her.

  And here I was—at a high school football game. My worst nightmare. I was not a rah-rah bullshit guy. I hated large crowds, and the friggin’ stands were packed to capacity. I found a spot over where the band and drill team were. Damn, I needed a smoke. I glanced around, wondering if Loren would be here. Of course, she would be here. Her boyfriend was the star of the team.

  At halftime, I watched as the drill team performed. Michelle was on the end of the front row. I had to admit, she was a good dancer. Her high kicks and splits were very impressive. As they walked off the field, Michelle saw me and waved. She pointed to an area nearby the stands as if she wanted me to come down and meet her. I nodded and made my way down the steps.

  “So, what did you think?” Her lips were bright red, and she had about an inch of makeup caked on her face, but so did the other girls on the squad.

  “You’re very good.” I had my hands shoved in my pockets, feeling uncomfortable, like a stranger in a foreign land. This was foreign to me, and it felt unnatural like I had to force my words to make conversation.

  “I’m thirsty. Wanna get a drink from the concession stand?”

  “Sure.” I followed her to the long line of people waiting for food and drinks.

  I soon figured out as we stood in line that Michelle was a talker, and it was somewhat annoying because she went on and on about things I had no interest in, but I listened, or at least acted like I was.

  I glanced around and froze as I saw my dear friend walking with Jamie. Loren was watching me with narrowed eyes like I’d pissed her off. Then, she glared at Michelle as if she’d slashed her tires or something. She looked…jealous? And, she walked up to us.

  “Hi, Andrew.”

  “What’s up, Loren? Jamie.” Jamie was actually nice to me as she spoke. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t go that far. At least she didn’t have that look of constipation on her face like she normally had when she’d seen me in the past.

  “You’re in our English class, right?” Michelle was friendly—probably trying to make more friends since she was new at our school—and introduced herself to Jamie. They started having a side conversation.

 
; I had no idea what they were talking about because Loren commandeered my attention. “Wow. I never would’ve thought I’d see you at a football game.” Loren’s tone was slightly snippy as she stood there in jeans and a T-shirt that displayed Bryan’s football number in sequins that glittered as a glaring reminder she was his. I wanted to rip the stupid shirt off her.

  “I know, weird, huh?” I shifted around, trying to keep my jealousy intact. “I came to watch Michelle perform.”

  “That’s cool.” Her tone of voice indicated that it was not cool.

  “You got something on your mind, Scout?”

  “No.” This was bullshit. The way she danced around this. Whatever this was. “Anyway, I’d better get back to the game.” She tapped Jamie on the shoulder. “You ready?”

  Michelle suggested they should all hang out sometime. Jamie agreed, and Loren nodded, too, with a fake smile plastered on her face.

  As they walked off, I stared at the back of Loren’s shirt, which displayed the name Watson as another reminder she was with someone else. I should’ve felt somewhat satisfied that she was jealous. And I did. But at the same time everything just felt…wrong.

  It was mid-November on a Saturday. I was in my room listening to music with my headphones on and sketching. I was way into it until I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, and it scared the shit out of me.

  It was my mom. I sat up in my bed, and yanked one earbud out and clicked pause on my iPod.

  “Loren’s here.” She was here? Why? We usually met at the library or at Mike’s if we ever got together anymore, which was rare. She seemed busy with Bryan, and I’d gone out on a few dates with Michelle.

  I’d been to every damn football game for the past month and a half under the pretense of watching Michelle perform. But usually I spent half my time searching the stands for Loren and stealing glances at her. I sat through the stupid games as he scored touchdowns and pointed to her in the stands. I clenched my fists as douchebag stood on the sidelines with his helmet in his hands, constantly turning around and smiling like an idiot at Loren. It drove me insane.