by Roe, Amy
“What are you doing, Reese? I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m eating lunch because it’s lunchtime.” I wave my apple between us.
“Well, honey, you’ve graduated from the kiddie table to the grown-up table,” she says in a condescending tone.
She pulls on my arm, and I grab my things before she forces me to follow her.
“We’re juniors now, so we eat outside with the other grown-ups.” She drags me to a table full of people I recognize but don’t really know.
I take a seat next to Baylee, a girl in our bio class. I pull my apple out of my bag again along with a water bottle.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Baylee asks before shoveling fries into her face.
I look at her and don’t say anything. She arches her eyebrows, waiting for my answer.
“Stupid dick!”
“Fuck you, Stew!”
We both turn in our seats and focus on the two guys shoving each other near the table behind us.
“Reesey, how are you, girl?” Stew says as he drops into the chair behind me.
Garner Stewart, also known as Stew, annoys me every time he’s around. I met him at The Pit several weeks ago. He’s actually one of my new phone contacts—and one who will never get a call from me.
“I’m fine. But that’s not my name.” I realize that Brady is the guy he was exchanging insults with, and I quickly turn back around.
“Hey, excuse my ignorant friend. How are you, Reese? You’re looking very nice today.” Brady looks at his friend and back at me before blessing me with that wicked half smile.
I smile like a damn fool. “Thanks, Brady. I’m good.”
Baylee looks at me in disbelief.
The bell rings, and everyone else gets up, collecting their garbage and their belongings from the table. I hang back for a minute and check my schedule since I didn’t bother memorizing it before school started.
Brady startles me when he pulls out the chair next to me and sits. “Reese, I know you didn’t ask, but you really need to eat. I’ve seen you working hard at the gym, and what you just ate for lunch isn’t enough. You need to eat more than that.”
Awkward! “Well, Brady, I had no idea that you were paying so much attention to me.”
I continue looking down at my schedule because I’m one hundred percent mortified right now. I don’t even like to eat at school, so I definitely don’t want to talk to the hottest boy in school about my daily caloric intake. I want to say something smart-ass, but I just can’t find the words.
“You have no idea, Reese.”
He’s standing over me now, and I can feel him looking down at me, but I don’t look up from my schedule. I’m just too embarrassed. If I didn’t know better, he’s more than flirting with me today.
There’s no way, no freaking way, that he could be interested in me.
Okay, focus, Reese. “Back to your concern, my ass disagrees with you.”
That should make him uncomfortable, so he’ll go the hell away.
“I’m not joking. You need protein.”
Or maybe he won’t.
I stand up and put my arms through the shoulder straps on my bag. After adjusting it, I finally make eye contact with him. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“Oh God, no! That is not what I meant, you dirty-minded little girl.” He smirks, clearly proud of me.
“Well, I think I have some in storage.” I pat my ass. “Besides, I don’t like eating here, and…this conversation is extremely awkward.”
“I’ll leave you alone if you let me bring you a protein drink tomorrow, and you’ll drink it.”
“My mother taught me never to take protein drinks from strangers.” I smirk as I walk away.
He walks beside me, waiting for an answer.
“Okay, fine—as long as it’s still sealed.” I wink and walk away, leaving Brady grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
At my locker, I exchange my lunch bag for my algebra book before heading to class. I choose a seat in the back of the room and pop a stick of gum into my mouth. I’m answering a text from Matt when someone takes the seat next to me.
I look up and smile. “Brady, it’s been too long.” I quickly throw my phone into my purse.
He flashes his gorgeous smile. I’ll never get enough of that.
During class, I feel him staring at me. After what seems like forever, he still won’t look away, so I place my finger on his chin and turn his face toward the teacher. Somehow, we make it through the rest of class without any other distractions from one another.
After the last bell of the day rings, I race to my locker, drop off some of my things, and gather the books that I need to take home with me. Noticing that Chelsea is busy socializing, I don’t bother waiting for her. I follow the crowd of kids to the student parking lot and jump in my car. Then, I mindlessly drive home.
I change into my gym clothes and drive to the gym.
Now, here I am, at the gym and on a stupid treadmill. I’ve grown to love this place, but today, I have no desire to be here. I know that skipping one day leads to skipping the next and the next. It’s a cycle that I just can’t entertain, considering that I look and feel better than I ever have.
I jack the volume all the way up on my iPod. I’m trying not to look at the time every two seconds, but I’m failing miserably at my attempt. So, I pull out the trick that my mom uses. I throw my towel over the display. The only thing left to do is to check out all the freaky people around me, and there is no shortage of them. There’s the lady with the flawless hair and makeup.
Really, lady?
When someone takes the treadmill next to mine, I keep my eyes trained ahead—that is, until a hand is on my controls, turning the speed up.
I spin my head around to the body connected to the arm. “What the—”
“Quit being a wimp. Run with me.”
“I don’t run. Thank you!” I press the button to turn the speed back down.
“You do today.” Brady mouths, Run, to me, and he turns the speed back up.
I mouth, Fuck you, as I slow the speed again.
He laughs but turns the speed right back up.
I run for a second, and my boobs bounce. I don’t want to bounce in front of Brady, so I jump and plant my feet on the rails on either side of the treadmill. “I can’t. I don’t run.”
“You can’t just humor me for a few minutes? Look at me when we run, and match your breaths with mine. You can do it, Reese. If you learn to breathe right, it isn’t so bad.”
“You are so fucking annoying, Brady.”
“Oh, that mouth—I love it.”
I ignore his comment and hop back on, keeping speed while syncing my breath with Brady’s. After one minute passes, I want to stop. A minute and a half passes, then two, and then three. I’m only going to five, no matter what.
At five minutes, I jump and plant my feet on the sides of the treadmill again. “See? I told you, I suck.” I’m embarrassed, and it’s all Brady’s doing.
“Are you kidding? That was great.”
I grab my towel and dry my face. I hate sweating in front of boys. This is exactly why I hate the gym.
He turns to face me and steps off his treadmill. “Let’s go box.”
“Box? I can’t even run for five minutes, Brady. Are you trying to humiliate me today?” I step off my treadmill and take a drink of my water.
“That’s bullshit. I just watched you run for five minutes, and you did great. Look at it this way—you can pay me back for making you run.”
“Now that you put it that way, let’s go!”
It’s obvious why Brady has his pick of women. It’s difficult to say no to him.
He takes me into a room that is closed off from the rest of the gym. A boxing ring is in the middle of the room, and bags are hanging from the ceiling along one wall.
He leads me to a long wooden bench. “Sit.”
I do as he says, and he begins wrapping my hands with white t
ape.
“Whoa. We’re not wearing gloves?” I say, shocked.
“Yeah, we are, but the tape keeps you from getting blisters from the gloves.”
“Okay, you had me worried for a minute.”
His proximity is making me feel anxious. I like it.
“Worried for you, of course,” I add.
“So, you’ve never boxed, right?”
“Other than the few fights my sister and I had when we were kids, no.”
He smiles and then slides the gloves onto my hands, tightly fastening the Velcro straps.
I nod my head and pound my fists together like the pros do. “I’m ready to rumble.”
He laughs as he starts wrapping his own hands. “We’ll see about that, Flower.”
“I’m going to beat you up just for that stupid nickname you gave me.”
He motions for me to follow him to the boxing ring.
“You don’t like it?” He pulls the heavy rope up and places his gloved hand on my back.
I duck under the rope and step into the ring. I purposely don’t answer his question. I don’t like the name, but at the same time, I don’t want him to stop using it.
He slips a puffy foam thing over my head.
“You’re not going to hit me in the head, are you?” I ask.
He shakes his head and puts an identical helmet on his head. By the look on his face, he’s amused by my questions.
I watch Brady dance around the ring as if he’s facing a real opponent.
“This is kinda cool. Are you good at it?” I walk toward him until I’m standing directly in front of him.
“Yes, I am the best.” He smiles that cocky half smile.
All I want to do is the opposite of fight with him.
“What are you thinking?” The words just come out of my mouth.
“Oh, Reese, you’re such a girl!”
“What? You’re so quiet, and that smile tells me you’re thinking something.”
“Don’t worry about what I’m thinking, girl. Let’s box.” He holds his gloves out between us.
I smack mine down on his. Then, I wink and jab him in the gut.
I’m late to school on Tuesday, so I have to run to my first class. I slide into the seat next to Chelsea in our first-hour bio class.
“Ugh.” I find a piece of gum sitting on my desk.
I pick it up and move to toss it into the trash before Chelsea interrupts me, “No, no, no. That’s from your admirer.” She nods her head toward the back of the class.
I glance back to see Brady leaning on the back two legs of his chair, laughing with the girl sitting beside him. She is twisted sideways and facing toward him, trying to invade as much of his personal space as he’ll allow, and he appears not to mind at all.
His eyes find mine. I unwrap the gum, open my mouth, and pop the gum in. Slowly, I chew it as Brady’s lips turn into that cocky grin that I love.
“So, what’s the plan for this weekend? You know that you can still back out, right?” Chelsea whispers to me, pulling my attention away from Brady.
“No, Chels. I put too much work into this plan to stop now. I need to know,” I whisper back before opening my book. “Everything’s a go for Saturday night.” I try to pay attention to Mr. Keemper.
Chelsea drops her head to her desk with a loud thud.
“Is everything okay, Miss Benson?” Mr. Keemper asks.
She raises her head. “No, sir, but we can’t do anything about it.”
“Would you like a pass to visit the guidance counselor?” he says as he writes on the whiteboard.
“No, sir. I would just like to learn some bio. Thank you though.”
Just as Brady has done for the past week, he walks into the cafeteria with two protein shakes. He sits at his table full of jocks and cheerleaders while I sit in the chair directly behind his at a table full of normal kids. We’re not preps, jocks, burnouts, or geeks. We’re just us.
He scoots his chair back until he is almost sitting next to me. He twists the cap off my shake and hands it to me.
“Thanks. You don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”
“Do you want me to stop?” He’s just inches from me, leaning his arm on the back of his seat, as his eyes roam my face.
“I’m sure they’re expensive,” I say after taking a drink.
“We get a deal on them at the gym. It’s all good.”
“Of course.”
We’re both silent for a few minutes as we drink our shakes and watch our friends interact with each other.
Finally, Brady looks to me again. “Do you not want to be seen having lunch with me, Reese?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it. You’re going to ruin my reputation.” I smile and take the last drink of my shake.
When I’m finished, he takes the empty bottle out of my hand and leans forward to set it on the table in front of him.
He looks back at me with a straight face. “Go out with me Saturday night. I mean, will you please go out with me on Saturday?”
I’m stunned. There is no possible way that Brady freaking Fisher just asked my lame ass out. I look at Chelsea, who has obviously been eavesdropping at least long enough to hear that last question.
Her eyes are as big as saucers, and she’s nodding her head as she mouths, Yes.
I look back at him, and I can’t believe what I have to do. Hating myself for what I’m about to say, I hang my head. “I can’t.”
“Oh, okay. Friday then?” He’s not fazed in the least bit, and in true Brady fashion, he doesn’t give up.
“I can’t.” I shake my head.
“Why not? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“I don’t get it then…unless you don’t like me? But I sure haven’t gotten that impression—at least, not until now.”
“It’s complicated, Brady.”
The bell rings, and I bolt as quickly as I can. Thankfully, Brady doesn’t follow me, but Chelsea snatches me up by my arm and drags me into the girls’ restroom.
“What the hell was that bullshit, Reese?”
I duck my head, looking into the stalls. Once I confirm that we are alone, I plead my case, “I am not going to go out with him when I have so much bullshit going on right now.”
“Reese, he could be the guy instead of some guy you don’t know or give a fuck about.”
“Chelsea, that’s even more fucked up than doing it with someone who I don’t care if I ever see again. I’m going to be honest with you here. I like Brady—a lot.”
“No shit, Sherlock. And he likes you—a lot. The whole damn school has been talking about it. Now, they’re going to talk about you turning him down.”
“I have to figure this shit out. It’s almost over, Chels. Just hang in there with me a few more days.” As two giggling cheerleaders walk in, I lower my voice as I whisper, “Please.”
“I will always have your back, but I think you should go home and think long and hard about what the hell you’re about to do. You’re going to give it up to some guy who you barely know instead of someone who really likes you.”
“Chelsea, you’re forgetting one important thing. I don’t even know if I have anything to give up.”
I wrap my arm through hers, and we walk to our next class.
When I enter the classroom, Brady’s quiet. I hate that I have to push him away. I’m zoned out, wondering if he’ll ask me out again next week. Once my plan is complete and I have answers, I can be all his. I’m distracted when he slides a piece of gum across my desk. He doesn’t look at me, but the look of disappointment on his face is obvious. From his simple gesture though, I know that I still have a chance with him.
In my last period class, I slide into the seat next to Reese’s friend, and I don’t waste time with small talk. “So, what’s up with your girl?”
Chelsea looks at me and narrows her eyes as if she can’t stand me.
That wouldn’t be so hard to believe if I hadn’t noticed her out of the cor
ner of my eye when she was mouthing, Yes, to Reese after I’d asked her out. As if that wasn’t enough to indicate that she wasn’t annoyed by me, after we left the cafeteria, I saw her with a shitty look on her face while she dragged Reese into the restroom.
I chalk her attitude problem up to the fact that she’s a girl, and I’m pretty sure attitude is a prerequisite for girls for entering high school.
She takes a deep breath and slips a piece of gum into her mouth. She chews a couple of times and then looks away from me. “I think she made herself pretty clear.”
Maybe it’s crystal clear to Chelsea. But I can promise that no guy I know can decode what complicated means when coming from a female.
“I don’t think so. She said that she couldn’t go out with me, not that she didn’t want to. She also said she didn’t have a boyfriend but that things were complicated.”
Mr. Anderson is standing in front of the class, expecting my attention. “Okay, let’s get started. Did everyone get the research done for today’s lesson?”
“Oops,” Chelsea says with the same attitude that she just gave me. She stares with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck glare.
“Actually, Mr. Anderson, Chelsea and I worked on it together. We worked late and forgot to copy it so that Chelsea would have hers to turn in.” I hold up my research paper and make an apologetic look toward Chelsea. “She did most of the research, and I wrote the paper. I wouldn’t feel right if I was the only one who got credit for it.” I slide the paper onto her desk and lean back in my chair.
Mr. Anderson is not stupid. He gives me a look of disbelief. “Brady, are you telling me that you and Chelsea spent last night writing a research paper together?” He sits back on his desk, resting on the edge of it, and crosses his hands over his chest.
I lean in toward Chelsea and whisper to her, “I scratch your back, and you scratch mine.” I stand up and walk to the front of the class. “True story. Look. I don’t doodle hearts and shit, Mr. Anderson. We were both doing our homework at the coffee shop. You always say to work smart, not hard, so we did.” I hand him the paper and turn around. I wink at Chelsea and head back to my seat.