Intense 2

by Hebert, Cambria

  She looked at her list, considering. “April, you sit with Zero back in the back. Sebastian, you and Emma can sit here,” she said pointing to the next row over, directly across from me. Score.

  April flounced off to the back with Zero, giving Sebastian a longing glance as she left. I knew I wouldn’t miss her.

  Sebastian sat down in the adjacent row and we fist-bumped. He had my back.

  A few minutes later, Weinstein set down her clipboard and made an announcement. “Based on the overall scores from your last exam, we’re doing more in-class work with partners. Hopefully, this will get you out of the rut some of you seem to be in for my class. Only half of you scored a passing grade on the Macbeth test.” A few heads nodded, remembering the Scottish dude and his crazy-ass wife. Who knew a damn spot could create so much drama? Oh wait. I did.

  She continued. “Today, your goal is to interview your new study partner. Find out who they are because they’ll be helping you when we study the poem ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.”

  Groans and sighs came from every direction, but I’d quit listening to their complaining, too focused on the girl in front of me.

  “Okay, let’s begin,” Weinstein said. “Face your partners, please.”

  Students milled around, turning their desks around, and I watched with a dawning sense of dread. I’d have to look at her for an entire hour.

  Dovey stood and maneuvered her desk to face mine, and it made an awful scrapping sound on the tile, making me draw up more. I froze and sucked in, preparing myself. From the moment I’d met her, I’d decided she wasn’t the kind of girl who made a guy catch his breath, yet I always did. Or maybe all males did, and I was just lying to myself. Either way, guys watched her, desired her—that was obvious from the way their heads moved when her body glided by. She didn’t care about them and that was part of her sexy factor. She didn’t put on airs or pretend to have the latest Louis Vuitton bag, yet she carried herself like a rich girl.

  From across the row, Sebastian waggled his eyebrows at me, nudging his head at Dovey. For once, I wasn’t in the mood for his jokes.

  He whistled under his breath. “Damn. Looks like you got lucky,” he said to me.

  “Hello. I’m not deaf,” Dovey said, face taut.

  “Sorry. Rude, huh?” he said to her, an engaging smile working his face.

  She dipped her shoulders in an elegant shrug, doodling on a piece of paper.

  He cleared his throat. “Most know me…’cause I’m that kind of guy…but in case you don’t, I’m Sebastian Tate.” He looked around the room expectantly. “You’d really think there’d be a drum roll or something when I say my name.”

  She rolled her eyes and drew a heart, coloring in a jagged crack down the middle.

  He grinned, not giving up. “And this should come as no surprise, but I’m a big deal here,” he said. ”And you aren’t even listening, which is crazy ‘cause you are gorgeous. Why have we never talked before?”

  She graced him with brief glance and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m Dovey Beckham. You’re new this year, right?”

  “Yeah. Wanna show me around sometime? I hear there’s some study carrels in the back of the library I’ve never seen. It might be dark though. You’d have to hold my hand.” He winked at her and her mouth twitched, making my chest tight.

  Everyone loved Sebastian. No doubt, she would too.

  He needed to chill with the flirting.

  “She’s a ballerina,” I blurted for no apparent reason.

  Sebastian shifted his eyes at me, a gleam of surprise there. That boy saw way too much, and I’d hear about it later. “That so? I’d love to hear more.”

  “This is stupid,” I remarked, sounding surly. I eyed him, biting my tongue, wanting to tell him to back the hell up and go talk to Emma. Dovey was my partner, not his.

  “I find this whole class boring,” Emma said from her desk. I cast a lazy grin at her, encouraging her.

  “You a good ballerina?” Sebastian asked Dovey.

  Dovey fiddled with her notebook. “I’ve never been to an official academy, just a personal trainer and the dance school here, but I’m good enough to audition for a company, maybe get an apprenticeship. It’s my whole life.”

  “Can I call you “tiny dancer”?” he said. “You know, like in the Elton John song?”

  She arched a brow. “I know the song—and no.”

  “Not with those legs anyway,” I murmured, immediately wishing I hadn’t when she glared at me head-on with those blue eyes.

  What? They weren’t tiny; they were long and luscious and when she straddled…

  “So, I take it you two know each other?” Sebastian asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us.

  “Yes,” Dovey answered.

  “No,” I said at the same time.

  Sebastian laughed and scratched his head. “Which is it?”

  Emma yawned delicately. “Oh, leave it. Can we get on with our interviewing now, Sebastian?”

  And then it happened. She dredged up the past.

  “I thought I knew him,” Dovey said, speaking to Sebastian, but with her eyes burning into mine. “But he turned out to be a liar.”

  I briefly shut my eyes to hide the flash of pain her words gave me.

  “Riiigght,” Sebastian said, drawing it out. “Interesting. I feel like I’m missing part of the story here. Either of you want to fill me in? Cause this is good stuff.”

  “Back the fuck off,” I said softly to him, a muscle ticking in my jaw.

  Silence descended as we all eyed each other. Dovey glared at me; Emma stared at Dovey like she was a bad piece of fruit; and Sebastian just seemed confused.

  He held his hand up. “Dude, sorry. I crossed a line. Obviously.”

  Emma groaned. “Oh, please. If you must know, Cuba dumped her. Very publicly, I might add, and terribly embarrassing. It was the talk of the school for several days last year.” She shrugged. “Who cares? Another one bites the dust.”

  Dovey whitened at Emma’s words, her lips flattening. She laid her hand over the center of her chest and rubbed the fabric together delicately, almost as if she were protecting something. My brow wrinkled, a distant memory niggling—

  Emma cocked her head. “Although she wasn’t the first. You’d think girls would have clued in by now. But they all think they’ll be the one to change him. Ha. Cuba changes for no—”

  “Shut up, Emma,” I said, pointing my pencil at her. “You don’t know the whole story. Do you want all your dirty laundry spilled out?”

  “Sorry,” she quipped, tossing her golden hair, not sounding sorry at all.

  The teacher clapped. “This isn’t a foursome, but two people getting to know each other,” Weinstein reminded us, walking by. “Get with your person, please.”

  Sebastian stared at me and then Dovey, seeming to want to say more, but I tightened my lips and shook my head at him. Finally, he shrugged and turned back to Emma who already had her notebook out, obviously bored with us and focusing on the assignment.

  I turned back to Dovey.

  “She your new flavor?” she asked me quietly, indicating Emma.

  My entire body stiffened. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to me in a year. I blinked, getting my bearings. It didn’t take long.

  “Jealous?” I murmured silkily.

  “Oh, but I forget. Emma is just your friend.”

  “That’s right.” I bounced my leg up and down. How long was this class? I checked my watch. Still fifty minutes to go.

  I folded my hands on the desk, pretending to be cool, but my mind raced. I planned on catching Weinstein after class and begging for a new partner. I’d bring her Starbucks every day, I’d walk her dog, I’d write my name off a thousand times. Hell, I’d pay her.

  Anything to get away from Dovey.

  I reached in my pocket and pulled out my sunglasses, slipping them on. Ah, better.

  “Listen, let’s just suck it up and call a truce, okay? Fo
r today let’s pretend we like each other,” I offered. Maybe I could fake being okay with her.

  She curled her lip on one side and shrugged, making the shoulder of her shirt dip down, revealing creamy skin. Her bra strap was a bright pink, and I mentally groaned. I wondered if the cups were lacey. She liked lace.

  “Aren’t you going to fix your shirt?” I said in clipped tones.

  “No. Why?”

  My body tightened.

  “Does it bother you?” she asked sweetly.

  I looked away. She hadn’t dressed like this when we first met. Oh, for practice she’d worn the sheer skirts, but mostly it had been yoga pants, t-shirts and hoodies. Simple yet sexy on her long body. She’d been softer then, too.

  I decided the hell with it and pretended like I didn’t even know her. “So, tell me something about yourself. What are your other interests besides dance?”

  She gave me nothing but silence, and I fidgeted. So I tried again. “You must practice, what? Fifteen, twenty hours a week? Ballet’s hard work, I hear. Do you run or swim to keep in shape? Swimming’s an excellent choice. My personal favorite anyway. I guess running’s out for you though. Too hard on the feet…” my voice faded. Fuck, I was babbling.

  She continued to glare at me, and the silence swelled, ratcheting the tension higher and higher. I teetered on the edge of a precipice, and I knew a fall was imminent if I didn’t get out of this room.

  She plucked some lipstick from her purse, opened a compact and slicked on the candy-apple red color. I groaned, an image of her full lips wrapped around my—shit, I had to stop that thought.

  “Why do you dress like that?” I bit out, indicating her bright tights.

  “Like what?”

  “Like a blind slut,” I said.

  She laughed bitterly. “Several reasons. Namely, it’s eye-catching.”

  “And?”

  She smiled, but it wasn’t nice. “You like it. Why else grope me in the hall?”

  I ignored that. Mostly because I still hadn’t figured out why I’d done it either.

  “You never wore heels before or all that make-up,” I reminded her. “You’ve changed.”

  “Pain will do that,” she said.

  What did she know about pain? I’d saved her pain in the long run. She just didn’t know it.

  She crossed her arms. “You know, on second thought, I can tell you some things about me. You see, I got screwed over by this guy last year. Let’s call him…Tuba.” She smirked. “Anyway, I thought we were serious, because he put on this big act with me. He’d sing these silly love songs and bring me flowers. Oh, and the gifts were wonderful. I’d definitely call him a big spender. But as soon as he’d gotten what he wanted, he ditched me for another girl. And then another. And another.” She shrugged. “But I moved on. First, I dated this guy Max who was absolutely delicious with his long dreadlocks. Then I met Jacques, one of my ballet partners. He’s French, by the way. And wowza. Talk about a hot body. Truth be told, I couldn’t keep my hands off his muscles, especially his abs. Ballet is great for —”

  “Stop,” I snapped, jerking up out of my seat. Feeling sick again, not caring that students were staring. “I can’t do this with you.”

  “Leaving so soon? Yeah, go ahead, cut and run. Coward,” she murmured as I gathered my backpack from under the desk and tried to get Weinstein’s attention, to let her know she could flunk me for all I cared.

  Because if I didn’t leave, I was going to say some shit I didn’t need to.

  Her teeth chewed on her lower lip. “Before you go, just tell me one thing, and I’ll make sure we aren’t partners in this class. You’ll be free of me.”

  “What?” I asked, my voice going all raspy from blocking all the words I wanted to say to her. They weren’t things she ever needed to hear.

  “Why so cruel to me? You aren’t to the other girls you’ve dated. You still talk to them. You still look at them. What made me different?”

  I seethed, my hands clenching. “And it didn’t take you long to find someone else, now did it? Some French dude and now Spider. And how is Spider? Is he your new guy? Does he get you hot like I did? Does he tell you how good—”

  She slammed her notebook down, causing Weinstein to notice and cut her eyes at us. Emma and Sebastian both stopped talking and gaped at us.

  I sat back down, trying to reign in my temper. I’d already been in the headmaster’s office once this month for getting into a scuffle with a guy out on the quad. I didn’t need to go for arguing with an ex-girlfriend.

  She huffed. “Spider’s fine. He thinks I hung the moon. He thinks you’re an ass. I agree.” Suddenly, her face changed, her eyes flickering with sadness. What was she remembering? Was it that last time…

  “I gave you my heart, and you destroyed it,” she whispered, the unsteadiness of her voice my undoing, sending me right over the edge of that precarious cliff I’d been hanging on to by the skin of my teeth.

  The pencil I’d been clutching broke and small pieces flew across my desk and into the empty space between us. I wanted to pummel my desk until my fists bled. I wanted to punch a hole through the wall, the floor, something.

  Everything was my fault. Just mine.

  Dovey had been collateral damage, the kind that breaks you the most. And I was sorry for it, but sometimes you do what hurts because it’s for the best. But she was my kryptonite, leaving me no option but to make sure she stayed away from me.

  I didn’t think about my cruel words; I just said them. “You were a curiosity, Dovey. You’re not from here, and I wanted a taste, that’s all. I moved on when it got boring. Get over it.”

  “A taste?” she said, face pale.

  I didn’t take my eyes off her. This might be the last time I ever looked at her again.

  I wanted to shore up her image. Get my fill.

  I nodded and dug the knife in deeper. It was the only way. But I couldn’t look at her when I said it, so I stared at the floor, making my voice harsh. “I slummed with you.”

  She made a whimpering noise, and fuck me, my heart jerked in my chest at the pain I imagined I heard in that sound. I gripped the edge of my seat, forcing myself to stay strong, to not make eye contact. Don’t give in, I yelled at myself.

  “I need to go,” she said abruptly and got up from her desk. She gathered her Lit book and shoved it in her backpack.

  Wait.

  “Dovey?” I said faintly as I gazed back at her, the sound of her name on my lips giving me a jolt. I hadn’t said it in over a year, but in my mind, I’d whispered it a thousand times.

  Emma leaned down and scooped up Dovey’s pencil that had rolled under her desk when she stood. She flashed a sugary smile. “Don’t forget this on your way out.”

  Without taking it, Dovey pivoted and walked out the door, her back as straight as the pencil I’d broken.

  Weinstein watched her go, but said nothing. Perhaps she’d seen her face. Perhaps she’d heard what I announced.

  I turned to Emma, and she dropped her smirk. “If I hear one word about this pass your lips at BA, you and I will be over as friends. No trash talking about her. Got it?”

  She twisted her mouth. “Whatever you say, Hollywood. Not sure why you even care though. She’s nothing.”

  I sat back in my desk, my chest wanting to cave in, hating myself for hurting her all over again.

  It’s not surprising really; after all, it’s what I do best, destroying those who love me.

  An image of my little sister, Cara, came to mind, quickly followed by a vision of my mother.

  I’d killed them. That seemed to come easy to me too.

  “One kiss and I was a goner.”

  –Dovey

  ONCE I CLEARED the doorway, my walk accelerated into a run. A short skirt and high heels made it difficult, but I managed, passing a couple of wandering students in the hall. They gawked. Soon, I’d be the talk of the school, especially if Emma had anything to do with it.

  Finally, I reached
one of the side exits and ran out the door and onto the soggy lawn. My shoes dug into the mud. Great. This day just kept getting worse. At least the rain had stopped, so I found a bench, wiped it off with my hands, and plopped down.

  I fiddled with the necklace that rested under my shirt, trying to ease the after-effects of his words. He’d merely told me what I already knew, that I’d been a dalliance to him, something he’d discarded as soon as it got old. Still, the words stung. “I won’t cry,” I said aloud. Crying was pointless. Plus, I blamed myself for even opening my mouth and antagonizing him. It made me look foolish and like I still cared.

  And I didn’t.

  I straightened my skirt. Oh.

  “He called me a bad dresser. Well, to be honest, he called me a blind slut,” I muttered to the blue bird perched on the back of the bench. “Is it sad that I consider it progress that he even spoke? I don’t sleep around, just so you know, and I dress for myself, no one else.” So not true.

  The bird flew away, and I focused on Sarah, remembering Heather-Lynn’s earlier text. I pulled out my phone and checked to see if she’d sent any more texts. Only one.

  It read, Canceled her dance classes. Gave her a sleeping pill.

  I immediately called, and she answered on the first ring as if she’d been waiting.

  “What happened?” were the first words out of my mouth.

  She sighed heavily. “After you left, two of Alexander Barinsky’s men came by looking to collect twenty thousand dollars they said Sarah borrowed last fall. They pushed us around, but we’re mostly fine.”

  Shock washed over me. Alexander Barinsky was the nastiest, meanest, most feared man in Ratcliffe. When I was around eight years old, I’d watched him stab a crackhead in the alley outside his grocery store, just one of the many businesses he owned. I don’t know why he’d gutted him. Maybe the druggie had been loitering and causing trouble. Maybe he owed Alexander money. I’d only seen it because mama was drunk and had sent me down to grab some chips and soda. But, he was the kind of man who didn’t care if you witnessed his crimes. He knew you weren’t going to call the police. Because if you did, you’d die next.