by L. J. Woods
A tall, chiselled, hunk of a distraction.
Everyone watches me as I walk in, like they know I’ve got blood on my hands. They don’t do a good job at hiding their whispers either. Never did.
“There she is.”
“Stay away from her.”
“Ssh, she’s looking this way.”
I’m still the social outcast. I’m still the Grim Reaper.
Letting my hair hang in my face I’m quick to my locker, avoiding everyone in my path. It’s time to go back to what I learned in The Grove. Head down, boots fast. Sticking to the dress code will help me do that. Tucking my leather jacket in my locker, I straighten out my uniform and pray for a quiet day.
“Nice blazer, Medusa.” When I turn around, one of the guys from the hockey team walks by, winking a sparkly blue eye. He tosses a puck in his hand. “Or is it King’s?”
“What?” I ask but he keeps going, laughing with the other boys around him.
A student bumps into me as I stare down the sparkling hall in a daze.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” she explains, hands out in front of her, eyes avoiding my narrowed gaze. “Please don’t hurt me!” she squeaks, taking off down the hall.
My brows knit. Is it just me or is everyone being extra weird today?
“Hey, Medusa.” Georgina slams the wooden door to my locker closed. Tossing shiny blonde hair behind her, she leans against the wooden row. Her eyes narrow, straight nose scrunching. “I heard what happened.”
My body stiffens, my breath in my throat but I try to play it cool, giving her a look from head to toe. She’s added a sparkling belt to the waist of her uniform, cinching her blazer above her kilt. “What do you want, Georgina?”
“I heard about the party last night.” She checks her green and white nails as if she wasn’t the one to start the conversation. Like she’s already bored with me. “Heard it was killer.”
The last word echoes through my ears and they sound like they’re ringing through the halls.
Killer. Killer. Killer.
I straighten my posture, waiting for my demise with my head high.
“You think just because Lea’s not here and you’re with King you run this school?” she asks. “Guess what? You don’t! I do.” A snicker comes from behind her, Pixie backing up her crew as usual.
My chest falls and she arches a shaped brow when I let out an exhale. She’s not talking about what happened on Damien’s roof at all. Wait.
King’s?
My fists clench. “He doesn’t own me, Georgina and I know you’re mad you weren’t invited, but are you really surprised?” That gets her jaw to drop while I give her the bitchiest smile in return.
“Hey, it’s King’s girl!” Another jock in a jersey passes by, holding out a high-five for me but I leave him hanging.
He shrugs, walking away.
“I have a name!” I call as he heads down the hall, high-fiving someone else instead.
“You do, but not while you’re wearing that blazer.” Nate’s voice comes from behind and I spin around to see him and Allie walking towards us. Allie’s in her hoodie and kilt, same old knee-high boots. Nate has his blazer hanging off his strong shoulders, green loafers on his feet.
“My blazer?”
Allie starts pulling it off, my backpack dropping to the floor before she pushes it in my face.
Georgina scoffs. She doesn’t have enough artillery without her Squad leader around. “Freaks.” She gives an exaggerated eye-roll before walking away. So does Allie but before she can drop the blazer I catch it in my hands and see what all the fuss is about.
“Later, Scandal.” Nate wiggles his fingers as Allie drags him along. And so much for friends.
When I look at the back of the blazer in my hands, the fabric clenches in my hold. Embroidered in shiny gold letters reads “King’s.” Huffing, I scrunch it up and push it in my locker. He doesn’t even have to be here to make things difficult.
You’re mine, Medusa.
“Hey, Jo?” When I look to my right, Pixie’s made her way back to my locker. I don’t say anything. I just wait for it. A cruel joke. A stupid prank. “Do you think you can tell me about the next party?”
My head to the side, I make sure I heard that right. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ll carry your drink all night!” She gives me a wide grin and nods, her round cheeks spreading to her eyes.
The bell rings and I’m almost too stunned to answer. “I’m fine. That’s … not my thing,” I manage to say but she stands there blinking like a perky robot. “Uh, so, see ya.” Moving around her, I dash to my class, shaking my head the further I get.
As usual, ERA is too fucked to wrap my head around.
I try to ignore any attention I get through homeroom and focus on my new schedule instead. A new year and a new semester mean new classes. Chemistry. History. I don’t know how the fuck I ended up in Calculus, but to soften the blow, there’s swimming. Not that I know how to swim, we don’t have that shit in The Grove and if we do, it’s at the community center surrounded by sixty-year-olds in speedos.
For our first swimming class, we learn safety and some light CPR. When I text Holly about buying a swimsuit, I make sure to tell her nothing too flashy.
The weird energy from my classmates doesn’t let up all day. Some students look afraid to talk to me. Others congratulate me on being the star of a party that didn’t even happen. The rest are angry that I got the queen of the Supreme Squad sent away.
Basically, ERA is still unbearable. Especially when I don’t have my friends by my side.
Allie’s not exactly giving me the cold shoulder but she’s not exactly talking to me either. Neither is Nate which means neither is Carlos by association.
It’s hard but I get through the first day. When the final bell rings I dash to the door, ready to get some time to myself. Damien isn’t the only one with a plan. I’m on my way to the Archibalds. I just need some time alone. Some time on my own to think.
The chilly wind hits my face when I get through the doors before my boots stop in their path. Damien’s parked at the front of the school, leaning against his chrome Lambo, the paint reflecting the sun.
It sucks that he looks this good with little effort, my heartbeat booming at the sight of him. His hair isn’t done in any special way but the way it swoops over that grey eye, sparkling in the sun, makes him look unreal. He’s in that leather jacket, the one that matches mine, and the sweater he’s wearing under it shows off his board chest.
That doesn’t make this easy. Pulling my backpack in front, I pull the blazer out as I approach him, that sinfully sexy smirk growing on his face. When I get in front of him, I know everyone else leaving the school has their eyes on us, but I don’t care, I need to prove a point. Shoving it at his chest, he doesn’t move his arms to catch it so it hits the ground, “KING’S” facing the sky.
“I don’t belong to you, Damien,” I spit.
“That’s no way to treat a gift, Rowland,” he says, his eyes glancing around before they bore into me. His jaw goes tight. “You know better than that by now. Now pick up that blazer and get inside.” Pushing that tight ass off the hood of his car, he makes his way to the driver’s seat but I don’t budge.
“No!”
He growls over the shiny chrome roof, “I don’t remember making a suggestion.” He’s not liking my attitude but after the weird day I’ve had, after the fucked up night we’ve been through, I still don’t care.
“Jo?” Willow’s voice comes from behind me and when I turn around, Christian walks beside her. She’s approaching us with a wary look on her face. God, I’m putting this girl through so much. Christian shakes his head, heading for the school parking lot.
“Where the fuck are you going, Medusa?” Damien calls.
“You don’t own me!” I yell, taking my sister’s hand in mine, following Christian. When he unlocks the car, I usher her in.
“Woah, what are you doing?” Christian asks
through the rearview, his seatbelt in his hand.
“Get us out of here,” I say. “Just go.”
Christian sighs before he starts the ignition. Sinking in my seat, we pass an angry Damien as we leave the lot. Willow’s hair scrunches behind her as her head hits the back of her seat. Pulling out her phone, she scrolls through, not even asking what crazy shit I’m in today. Neither does Christian. He ups the volume on the stereo while we drive down a road.
If I was thinking this was gonna get me away from Damien, I was wrong. It’s not even fifteen minutes before we’re pulling into King’s driveway, gate already open.
“Wait. Why are we back here?” I ask.
Christian turns off the ignition before he turns to look at me. “You can’t stay with me. With us.”
“What? Why?”
He sits up, turning around. “Why? Because I’m freaked out, that’s why.” Christian looks around the driveway, his eyes filled with guilt. “I don’t know what happened with you, Damien and Marion on that ro—”
“Okay, fine. Whatever,” I cut him off, not wanting to relive that moment. Not wanting Willow to ask any more questions.
His head hits his seat. “I just think you’re better off at King’s.”
Willow takes the hint, climbing out of the car, her face still glued to her screen. It already feels like she’s shutting me out, something only I could’ve taught her.
“Well, thanks, Christian,” I say, opening my door. “‘Cause that makes one of us.”
* * *
Not talking to Damien is hard when he’s forcing me to live with him but he’s not winning that easily. Baldy did a good job cleaning the place up, no trace of Marion in sight. I’d ask what he did but I’m way too fucking nervous. Locking myself away in one of the empty guest-rooms is my last attempt to keep distance between us. I’m happy he lets me. Surprised, but happy.
At least I’m supposed to be.
So why do I keep looking at the door for him to come in? If I want space, why do I wish he’d come in and scoop me up in his arms like he did that night?
Not like I’ve been getting any sleep. Not with that night in my head, not with his voice in my mind.
When I take my headphones off, curled up in bed with my math textbook on my lap, I can hear the sounds of a giggling Willow. The grumble of his voice.
It warms my heart to know that she’s okay with him. Makes me feel good that he’s making an effort to keep my sister’s worries at bay. If only he could do the same for me.
Damien keeps his distance the rest of the week. He sends me to school with his friends or a car and he’s there to pick me up every afternoon. I’d say it’s suffocating but at least it’s consistent.
As consistent as the surprises he leaves me.
On Wednesday, after Geography, cuffs hang off my locker when I get there. Some students stand around, gawking, taking photos.
Georgina yells, “Slut” as she walks by, nudging my back with her shoulder. “Or should I say, criminal?”
On Thursday, Allie and Nate catch the next one. I’m eating a sandwich in the hallway by my locker when my backpack starts to vibrate. And I don’t mean phone in pocket vibration.
It’s loud, my bag shaking against the wood. Digging inside, it doesn’t take me long to find the culprit. It’s long and purple, velvety soft.
“Ew,” Allie says, a mortified face when she walks by.
Nate snorts, “Oh my god, Scandal, is that the Poon-Pleaser Five-Thousand? Couldn’t wait to get home?” He smirks with a wink before Allie tugs him along again.
When Friday rolls around, I’m exhausted from it all. The push and pull, the good and the bad. Fortunately, Fridays mean swimming and it’s becoming another place I can relax, even with Georgina in it. A zen haven to go along with the library. I’m even starting to float on my back. The pool is in another building away from the sheep of ERA, and the warm water it’s filled with is super calming. I miss art, but this will do.
Coach Davis, our swim instructor who’s ripped like the former olympian she is, is almost as motivational as Clara. Unlike Coach Richards, she actually stops any jeering and name-calling from happening in her class. She’s strict about it too, sending anyone who doesn’t comply out of the pool. This keeps Georgina and her posse in check. For the most part.
When I get back to the locker room after learning to tread water, I’m on cloud nine. That is until I see my green metal locker wide open, my clothes and backpack hanging out.
“Of course,” I mutter, Georgina’s titter coming from behind me. When I look over, she’s tending to her locker, taking out her uniform as water drips off her yellow bikini.
“Might wanna bundle up, Medusa,” she says with a shit-eating grin. “It’s cold outside.” With her chin to the ceiling, she makes her way to the showers.
Pixie mouths “sorry” on her way out but that doesn’t help. When I rummage through my locker everything I need is gone. My uniform shirt, my kilt, hell, even my socks are missing.
Pulling the towel around me, no one else seems to care. They all file towards the showers as chatter fills the brick room. Looking for a sign of my clothes, my eyes land on one of the socks in question by a nearby bench. Groaning, I grab it before I see another sock sticking out from under the door leading into the hallway. When I open the door to get the sock, I spot my bra splayed out on the floor, not too far in front of it is one of my boots. The trail of my clothes leads all the way to the end of the hall, where I suspect my kilt is.
Fucking immature assholes.
I’m grumbling the entire way, picking up each piece as I pull the towel tight around me. My bare feet leave a trail of wet footprints, water dripping from my hair to the wooden floor. After I pick up my boot, I look around for my kilt, but I don’t see it. So I push on the door in front of me, a cold gust of wind coming from the side exit.
Fuck.
My eyes land on my kilt that seems miles away, my other boot not too far behind it. When I reach for the handle on the other side, there isn’t one. It’s one-way but my skirt is way too far to reach from where I’m standing.
Think. Think.
Looking around, no one’s in the hall, and I want to get this done before any ERA boys see me. They’re about as mature as a twelve-year-old in a titty bar. Scrunching up the clothes in my hands, I pile them so they stop the door when I crack it open. It works, my clothes and boot squishing between the door and the edge. My nipples pucker under my towel when I step out into the cold winter air, goosebumps forming on my arms. After coming out of that warm building, my skin tingles from the cold, icy contrast.
I’m on my toes, hopping over ice and snow patches to reach my kilt on a small patch of land. Gripping it in my hand, I’m one step closer to being over this childish prank.
SNAP!
My eyes widen.
No.
No. No. No.
When I turn around, my clothes are gone, the door closed.
Shit.
Running back over I bang on the door with my fist. “Hey, is someone there?” Hardly waiting for an answer, my palm bangs on the door again. “Georgina this isn’t funny! It’s fucking cold!” The minute I say it, it’s like my body realizes where I’m standing. Outside. In the cold winter air with only a towel around me. My curls turn into crunchy spirals, ice forming on the strands. “C’mon!”
Banging again doesn’t do me any good. Looking around I start to shiver, my eyes landing on the spot Luca tried to force his cock on me. “Fuck!” I yell to the sky, fists by my side, towel almost slipping off. There’s only one thing to do. I have to go the long way to the front doors. In the cold. So everyone can see.
I’m still on my toes while I dodge more patches of the Eden Gardens winter. Ice and small collections of snow. When I get to the front of the school, my jaw clenches. Damien’s waiting in his usual spot. His leather jacket sits over another sweater, this time grey. The only other shade in his closet besides black, white and the ERA green.
He knows exactly what this is. This is what I get for knowing him. For being with him.
For loving him.
And now? It’s time I end this.
For good.
Seven
Damien
My eyes freeze on Jo.
And she looks just that. Frozen.
Why the fuck is she outside in nothing but a towel in the middle of January? I’m slipping off my jacket as she approaches me, happy I left the car running with the heat on.
It’s hard giving her the space she wants in all this. Kills me that she’s locking herself away. Every night I lay in bed thinking about crawling into hers. Thinking about telling her to stop being such a stubborn brat and give into what I know she wants. What I know she needs.
Me.
Meeting her halfway, I wrap my jacket around her. The little icicles forming on her hair make her look like a magical ice queen. Snow Medusa. She looks ethereal. Cold, but mystical. She’s shivering so I pull her close, the smell of her sweet shampoo making it feel like a kick to my gut.
How long has she been out here?
She tries to wriggle out of my hold but I hold her, pressing my chest into her so she can feel my warmth. When she settles, her head falling on my chest, I pick her up and bring her to the car.
“This is all your fault,” she says but she keeps her head against me.
I have no idea what she’s talking about but I need to get her warm before I ask her. Once she’s in the heated leather bucket seats, I close the door with a glance around for the fuckers who did this. Considering the cold weather, I’m not surprised no one else is in sight.
Once inside, I put the heat on blast before I see a flash of sandy brown from the corner of my eye.
“Careful, Medusa,” I warn, catching her hand. I’m not having her fly off the handle before I find out what the fuck she’s blaming me for this time. “You don’t wanna piss me off.”