by Nichole Noel
“Must be cold,” he comments and I don’t get his meaning until I see a quick glance from his eyes.
“Shit!” I curse before covering my chest. “Mind your fucking manners, Connor and keep your eyes in your head!”
He laughs. “Sorry, it’s kind of hard not to notice, but here—” he starts, standing from the curb to strip the jacket from his shoulders. Before I can even squawk about it, the jacket is around my shoulders, enveloping me in his warmth and his masculine, woodsy scent.
From anyone else, it would have been a romantic gesture, but from Connor, I have no idea what to make of it. I’m about to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but he’s already walking towards his car and hopping inside before I can complain.
I watch as he drives away. He doesn’t wave and neither do I. Connor drives away like he didn’t just wrap me in his jacket after making me feel like absolute shit at lunch. Just wrapped me in his jacket like he cared. Wrapped me in his jacket like I mean something to him. And then he just leaves.
And I’ve never been quite so confused in my entire life.
Chapter Four
The weeks pass in a stupid blur as the school year and work begin to pick up. I’m done with training, but I’m a few weeks out from my probation period, so I still feel stressed at every little mistake I make at work.
But, for the most part, I enjoy the job. Cleaning the theaters after every showing sucks because customers are literal garbage monsters, but other than that, I’ve met some cool people—even some cute guys.
Not that I have time for anything like dating when I barely have enough time for sleep and homework, but it’s nice to be noticed by someone other than Connor O’Brien. Tonight, I’m stuck on ticket duty and I bounce from foot to foot as I wait behind the ticketing podium, checking admission, and giving directions to the theaters.
I don’t mind this job, normally, but it means that I see everyone, which means I end up seeing a lot of kids from school. Some are friendly, and some pretend not to know that we go to the same school, even though we also take some of the same classes.
High school is weird, especially in a town where you’re the new kid. And, to be honest, I don’t want to be friends with a whole bunch of people either. It’s exhausting. And it’s fine. I have my group of friends and that’s really all that I need.
So far, my shift is going pretty well, so, of course, Connor and his Boho-Barbie come in for a showing to fuck up my groove just when I’m finally getting good at taking tickets and directing the line traffic. There’s some horror movie that everyone’s into lately, so I assume they’re seeing that.
It takes a moment for Connor to recognize me in the uniform, which is just great. His eyes practically light up with cruel glee as he takes me in—from the edge of my nametag to the tips of my sneakers—all dark, all work colors for my uniform.
“’Sup, Princess?” he drawls before passing over two tickets.
“Don’t you mean ‘Paper bag Princess,’?” Ainsley corrects, a sour look on her face.
Connor doesn’t even look at her, his eyes are fixed entirely on me and I hold my breath in anticipation of what’s going to happen next. “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he says, not bothering to correct himself by using the mean nickname he’d given me. “How long have you worked here for?”
I sigh. “A little while. There’s a line forming, so if you wouldn’t mind giving me both of your tickets…?”
“As if I give a shit about a line,” he snarks. “I’m talking to an old friend.”
“Then let me take your tickets and you can move off to the side and annoy me from there, while I work.”
“But what if I want to annoy you from right here?” he says with a grin and I want to punch his stupid handsome face.
“If you make me lose my job, I’m going to make you regret it,” I threaten.
“Ohh, scary. Isn’t she scary, Ainsley?”
Ainsley laughs, that same high-pitched noise that I can’t stand. “You’re so funny, Connor. C’mon, let’s get seats before all the good ones are taken.”
Apparently, she’s bored with Connor’s back and forth with me, and I can’t say I blame her. I’ve been bored with his bullshit since the moment I laid eyes on him after getting back in town again.
Connor and Ainsley finally make their way to the right theater, blessedly leaving me alone to finish out my shift—hopefully without another incident involving either of them.
The rest of my shift passes pretty smoothly and I only accidentally tell two people the wrong theaters to head to but manage to catch myself before they get too far down the aisle.
Half way through my shift, I get switched out for floor duty, which means I get to walk around the premises looking for stray popcorn and messes with a broom and dustbin. I don’t mind this job because I’m able to keep to myself and just daydream about when I’m able to leave this damn town in the dust.
So, of course, I end up getting interrupted by someone I absolutely cannot stand while in the middle of sweeping up a mess.
“Hey there, Princess. On garbage duty?” Connor drawls as I glare over at where he’s popped out from.
“Aren’t you supposed to be watching a movie with your girlfriend?” I ask, tired and annoyed that he’s out here bothering me again.
“I can do what I want, and she’s not my girlfriend,” he says.
I give him a look. “Might want to tell her that, then,” I say, incredulous because Ainsley is most definitely working under the impression that they’re dating.
“I can do whatever I want, whoever I want.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Nice to see your asshole personality doesn’t seem to have any boundaries. Do you hate all women? Or do you pick targets at random?”
He chuckles as I look around and realize just how isolated we are. He’s somehow managed to catch me in an alcove which means no one can see either of us right now. It’s a prone position to be in and I really don’t like it. I make a move to leave the alcove, but he steps in front and blocks me with his muscular body.
“Going somewhere?”
“Away from you,” I growl.
“Nah, I’m having fun here,” he taunts.
I push into his chest with my hands and he doesn’t budge, just reaches up to clasp his hands around mine and hold them tight to his chest—just like before. Except for this time, the heat between us is undeniable.
It’s more than hate. If he wasn’t such an asshole, I’d totally be into him. My hands relax and so does his hold, but he doesn’t let go, just leans in closer as I stare up into his beautiful face.
“You like hurting me and I don’t like to be hurt,” I say in a small voice.
“I don’t like any of that,” he assures me.
“I don’t believe you. You’re just as insufferable as you were when we were kids, you’re just bigger now.”
“I thought I was ‘skinny and scrawny’?” he murmurs. His lips are so close to mine now, close enough that I could press up onto the tips of my toes and bridge the gap between us.
“I… You… You know exactly how you are.”
He grins. “You’re such a brat, Princess. But I always liked that about you.”
And I’m about to pull away. Really, I am, but somehow, I find myself pressing closer and he dips his head at the same time, and then… And then he kisses me. Even though I saw it coming, even though I want it, I’m still shocked when his lips touch mine.
Lips that have been so cruel and biting are soft and pliant against my own. He tastes a little like cotton candy, which must be from his e-cigarette, which isn’t as bad as I would have expected.
It’s nice… I’m surprised at how nice it is. And I’m even more surprised when my arms seem to reach out on their own and dig into the fabric of his shirt, holding him tight as his hands skim low, resting just above the curve of my ass.
Why am I kissing Connor? Had he really just called me a brat? Am I really enjoying this? My lips part and he ta
kes the invitation for what it is. His tongue slips between my lips and tangles sweetly with my own, his hands encircle my waist, holding me tight against him as he deepens the kiss.
I’ve never been kissed like this before. I’ve been kissed, but it was child’s play compared to this. This is passion, fire, heat—a strange sort of storm is churning between us both and I can’t help but feel like we’re not coming out of this one unharmed.
Before I realize what’s happening, he’s got me backed up against the wall, just the way he had the time we reconnected downtown, except this time he doesn’t seem to be playing chicken with me.
This time, he seems to want to see how far he can push me before I’ll break. But I rise to the occasion. My hands leave his chest and thread into his thick, dark hair, pulling tight as he leans over me, kissing me like his life depends on it.
His hand skims low, cups my ass through my black jeans, and squeezes tight. I like it. A little mewl of pleasure escapes my lips as he kisses me and I am pretty sure he’s laughing at my reaction.
“Princess,” he breathes against my lips. “You taste like popcorn.”
“I’m sorry?” I stammer, because I have no idea what to say to that.
“No, I fucking love it,” he says, before capturing my lips once again.
I shouldn’t be doing this. It is all sorts of fucked up, but I just can’t bring myself to pull away. I want more—more than he’ll ever be able to give me. When we’re alone, it’s like he’s a different person, but when we’re in public, all the nastiness rises to the surface and drowns out the sweetness. All at once, I remember how much he’s hurt me, how much I hate him, and I finally manage to push away and duck out from under him.
I wipe furiously at my mouth with the back of my arm before cussing him out. “This was a mistake. I don’t know what your fucking game is, Connor. But leave me the hell out of it!”
“Princess, wait!” he calls to my back, but I’m done. I’ve heard enough of his lies. I’m not going to be his little toy while he spends his days with someone else. I’m worth more than that!
I manage to get to the break room without incident, and my coworkers must sense something’s wrong because they leave me the hell alone. Good. I want to be alone. I need to think. What he’s doing here is so wrong. He’s mean to me and then he’s so sweet and sexy I can hardly stand it. It’s like I’m dealing with two different Connors, one that wants me to suffer and one that wants me to be his.
I need someone to help me make sense of this. Hopefully I can figure out what the hell to do next before I make a fool of myself, or worse, before he breaks my heart again.
******
I decide not to tell Kennedy and Sarah about my strange encounter with Connor. What’s there to tell, anyway? My childhood-turned-teenaged-bully decided to kiss me senseless in an alcove at my workplace?
At this point, I don’t know what to think of it myself. If I was closer to my mom, maybe I might ask her about it, but given that we’re not close and she hates Connor, I can’t think of any scenarios where that conversation would end well for me.
So, like always, I keep it in. I’m a fucking professional at internalizing. Dad’s death? Can’t talk about it, might make mom upset. Pack that shit down! Struggles at school?
Can’t add to mom’s burdens, keep it to myself. Grandparents giving mom grief because she’s had another falling out with them? It’s okay, I can just pretend that I don’t like them either?
It’s shitty to have to be an adult person trapped inside the body of a teenager. You know that shit people say to someone when they’re “mature for their age,” or like “you’re an old soul,” or “seventeen going on thirty”?
Yeah, that stuff all sounds good until you break it down and really think about it. A kid shouldn’t have to act like an adult, but I’ve had adult-sized responsibilities for so long, I’ve kind of forgotten what it feels like to be a kid without responsibilities.
And that kiss? It made me feel a bit careless. More than a little reckless. Even though I don’t know what the hell game he’s playing at, there’s a part of me that wants more—wants to encourage the dark affections of someone who’s proven, again and again, to be cruel to me. My brain conveniently reminds me about all the times where he’s been almost nice, like when he’s alone and there’s no one watching.
Makes me think that maybe if I could get him alone for long enough, I could figure out what the hell is going on with him and why he insists on being such a rancid asshole in public—and such a sexy asshole in private. It’s enough to make my head spin, so I try to banish it from my mind for a bit with exercise.
I don’t have time for after-school clubs, what with work and all, but I’d love to get some extra credits for my college applications. And swimming seems like a good way to get moving, so I’ll take the P.E. credits and be happy about it.
I decide to sign up for swim class, which is late for this high school, but fortunately, the teacher doesn’t seem to give a shit about it. I just rambled on about how I’d always wanted to join swim club, but that my last school hadn’t had access to swimming facilities—which was a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
And, fortunately, the pool seems to be the one place that Connor doesn’t go. Too busy at the hockey rink, I guess, though the rink is in the same center as the pool. But the boys who do frequent the pool are pretty easy on the eyes.
Too bad I’m so insecure about my body to pretend to have any confidence and flirt with them, but once I’m in the pool and moving I forget about boys and Connor and mom and everything. I just move.
I love the way the water makes me feel weightless, like the burdens that are on my shoulders suddenly aren’t so heavy anymore. It’s such a wonderful sensation, even if I’m not the best swimmer. As long as I get my log book signed, I get the credits for the “class,” which is really more like a spare. So, I spend an hour in the pool decompressing and then get my logbook signed by the attendant.
Another bonus is that the pool isn’t on school grounds, so I get away from the student body and get to visit the rec center. The only downside is that I have to be careful not to run into the hockey team because they also share the center. The last thing I need is Connor making fun of me in a bathing suit.
After I finish showering and changing, I decide to let my hair air-dry, otherwise, it’ll be a huge, puffy mess and I’d rather it be a kind of curly, not quite as messy mess than a giant fluffball.
I check my phone and see that Sarah and Kennedy have added some texts to the groupchat, so I take a peek. Kennedy’s car had a flat, so she had to call her dad to save her. Sarah offers to show her how to change a tire, and Kennedy says that she’d rather die than chip a nail on a tire iron, but I think she’s joking.
There’s also some back and forth about an upcoming party at Bobby Mitchell’s place—the name is unfamiliar to me. I ask who that is, and they both explain over one another—he’s hot, popular with the jocks, some sort of football person something something, having a big Halloween party at his place because his parents will be out of town.
Basically, anyone who’s anyone is invited and Kennedy, who’s more outgoing than she pretends to be, ended up getting a drama club related invite and is offering to take us as her plus-two.
Sarah is hesitating. As far as introverts go, she’s the real deal. I’m somewhere in the middle and Kennedy is a typical drama club loving extrovert, but even she has her “don’t fucking talk to me I’m done with the world” days, which I also think is a drama club thing. We love her, though. I message back that I’m kind of in Sarah’s corner on this. Kennedy frantically texts to us both.
Kenny—C’mon. Branch out. Hot boys, free food, drinks!!!
Sarebare—Mmm I’m going to take a knee coach
Kenny—I’m surprised you know what that means. What about you, Sades?
Hadesadie—I’ll have to think about it. Is Connor going?
Kenny—don’t think so, he and Bobby are
in a competition for world’s biggest asshole and, so far, Connor’s come out on the winning end
I sigh before tentatively committing to this party.
Hadesadie—As long as Connor and Ainsley aren’t going, I’ll come for a bit. Gotta ask for the night off tho
Kenny—At least I have one true friend
I laugh before sticking my phone in my back pocket as I gather my things and head out of the rec center. Fortunately, the hockey team only seems to practice in the early morning, which is great because I’m far from a morning person, so I’ll never see them. Which is almost too bad, except for Connor, those hockey boys are ripped, tall, and pretty hot, but I’ll avoid them all if it means I don’t have to see Connor.
A party—my first. I have a few weeks to prepare for this mentally, which is great because sometimes I get a little too caught up in my own head, and the social anxiety hits hard. Fortunately, with Kennedy going, I won’t be alone.
The parties in San Dimas were always huge and notorious and I was never invited, which was probably for the best. The last thing I needed in California was to get busted at some party with underage drinking.
I kind of wonder how things will be on the PNW, better or worse? There’s a lot of bragging about beer drinking at lockers after the weekends, so I expect at least some drinking—how they are planning on getting the alcohol I don’t wanna know and if things get crazy, I’m getting out before the cops get called. Though, judging from how things are around here, Bobby probably lives on a farm or something.
At any rate, I need to think of a cute costume, or a good costume, or a costume that won’t embarrass me when I show up at this party. I’ll have to ask Kennedy, what with her drama club ways, I’m sure she has about a billion costumes in her closet or at least access to some that I can use.
I’m almost excited about this party. Maybe I’ll finally be able to break out from under Connor’s shadow and make a good name for myself, one that doesn’t include the phrase “oh, Sadie? The girl Connor O’Brien hates?” I sigh.