Use Somebody

by Riley Jean

  “No,” I answered. My hair was naturally dark brown, thanks to my Italian roots. But I had been adding highlights all through junior high and high school up until a few months ago when I bought a little black box and never went back. “I used to dye it blond. How did you know that?”

  He looked at me like my question was ridiculous. “I went to San Dimas.”

  “High School?” I blurted.

  He chuckled. “Yes. San Dimas High School.”

  We went to the same school?

  Maybe that shouldn’t have come as a big surprise to me, but for some reason it did. I was under the impression Vance had moved here, into his own place. I supposed the school wasn’t so small that I knew every single face in my graduating class, let alone all four.

  “When?”

  “I graduated the year before you.”

  “Did we have a class together?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t remember you,” I snipped. I knew I was being rude, but this had totally blindsided me. I didn’t like the idea of my present having any ties to my past. Anyone who remembered the person I used to be was viewed as a potential threat, and more than likely explained Vance’s lack of respect for my boundaries. The last thing I needed was someone else treating me like that naïve little girl. Gwen gave me a hard enough time as it was.

  “I was practically invisible those years,” I voiced my thoughts.

  He chuckled. “Just because you were shy, doesn’t mean you were invisible.”

  “Didn’t you have a girlfriend the entire time?” I shot back.

  “I knew you. I didn’t say I checked you out.”

  “How did you know me?”

  “I knew of you.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Rosie,” he laughed and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “I know you were blond. I know you were a sweet girl. You can drop the act, it doesn’t fool me.”

  My eyes bulged momentarily in shock right before they narrowed into slits. How dare he act like he knew me? And insinuate that I was fake? Just because we passed in the halls years ago? Hell. No.

  “Aww, don’t get mad,” he said, reading my mind. “I won’t tell anyone that you’re a softie. But even if I didn’t remember you, I still would’ve figured it out. You may be humming along to Story of the Year, but you’ve got a Yellowcard keychain, too, and at least fifty percent of their stuff isn’t totally depressing.”

  So let me get this straight… He just called me a softie, a faker, and admitted to snooping through my personal things. Not the best way to convince me not to be mad.

  Avoiding eye contact, I placed my napkin by my plate and stood up to leave. I’d rather take my chances walking home in the dark than sit here with someone keeping secrets about who he really was—even if that made me a hypocrite.

  Just because we went to the same high school, it didn’t explain how he knew anything about me. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Why was he dodging my questions? And what else did he know? Something didn’t add up. That little red warning light was flashing and this time I wasn’t going to ignore it.

  He reached for my wrist to stop me but I yanked it away with a glare. When was this guy going to get it? I didn’t like to be touched. Especially now when I definitely couldn’t trust him.

  Whatever expression I wore was enough to tip him off that I wasn’t playing around. Maybe all that practice of looking fierce was finally starting to pay off.

  “Wait! I’m sorry, okay?” he stood, holding his palms up but didn’t reach for me again. He finally appeared serious, and it looked odd with his features. A foreign little line resided between his brows, his eyes had a strange slant and his mouth was taut, no teeth showing at all. It was all wrong. “Please don’t leave. I won’t tease you anymore.”

  I eyed him warily and considered my options. I could either walk home, alone, in the dark, in the middle of the night, or I could stay with Vance and try to get those answers.

  It was a short internal debate.

  Truth was a valuable thing. I had never been good at discerning it. But I didn’t want to believe I made a bad call. Again. This last request would be the deciding factor.

  “You’ll tell me how you know me?”

  Lips pressed into a hard line, he nodded once.

  Chapter 5

  Rumor Has It

  “Star Song” by Bowling for Soup

  I slid back into the booth slowly, looking around to make sure we hadn’t caused a scene. Thankfully it seemed that no one in the diner was paying us any attention.

  “Okay,” I said, preparing myself for whichever direction this conversation was about to go. “Spill.”

  He looked a bit uncomfortable, but I waited silently for him to speak. Oh how the tables had turned. “Like I said, I heard of you. You sung in the choir, everyone knew that.”

  “Not good enough.” Generally, people don’t know everyone in their high school choir. Even if that’s how he recognized me, it didn’t explain how he knew about my shyness. I never appeared that way on stage.

  “And… I had a class with your friends. I may have overheard some conversations.”

  Closer. But he was still being too vague. Whatever he had overheard from my old friends, I can guarantee that they didn’t talk about how sweet I was.

  I began with the obvious question. “Who?”

  He looked right at me, hesitant, as if it was the one question he hoped I wouldn’t ask. “Well, it was auto class…”

  My eyes widened in realization. In my silence, Vance took a deep breath and answered my question, confirming my suspicion.

  “Nathan Bentley.”

  * * *

  Dear Juliette,

  You wanted to know: What’s in a name?

  Enough power to suck the living air right out of my lungs, to make the walls close in all around me, and to make my eyes to go deer-in-headlights for the second time in the last five minutes.

  That was the last name I expected him to say, and without a doubt, one of the worst possible scenarios.

  Nathan… A boy within my clique of best friends that I had known since middle school. The charismatic and comical lead singer of our little garage band, who always shared his microphone with me. The boy who gave me butterflies as we stared into each other’s eyes and sang our hearts out, then cracked ourselves up by busting out a goofy freestyle. The boy who had kissed me in that garage, then spent our entire junior year stringing me along. The boy who constantly made me feel like I was floating or falling or grasping at straws. And the first boy who ever broke my heart.

  A perfect example of Murphy’s Law, in what happens when you try to date your friends.

  * * *

  Vance watched me thoughtfully, measuring my reaction as I processed this news. It took effort to keep my face blank.

  “You were friends with Nathan?” I whispered. I wished for some sort of hint as to what Vance might make of all this. Nathan had taken auto when we were juniors and still together… or whatever. Vance had been a senior.

  “Hardly,” he snorted softly. “We had a class together. He never even spoke directly to me, I just overheard some stuff.”

  This was all news to me. Nathan never even held my hand in public. I had no idea that he spoke of me. I shouldn’t have asked, but curiosity got the best of me. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Stupid guy stuff.”

  Nuh-uh. Too vague. “Like what exactly?”

  “Stuff that should remain between two people and shouldn’t be anybody else’s business,” he grimaced. “You’re not going to make me say it, are you? He wasn’t exactly… classy.”

  My brows scrunched in confusion until it finally registered in my brain. I wasn’t ignorant to guys bragging about their sex lives, but we hadn’t exactly done anything worth bragging about. And I doubted Vance’s discomfort was due to Nathan boasting to all the guys about our amazing make out sessions. Or the couple times we dallied past first base.


  Did that mean…?

  “He told everyone… we had sex?” I asked quietly, my face burning with embarrassment.

  He slowly nodded, concerned eyes never leaving mine.

  Shit.

  I sat back, stunned. He lied. He refused to be my boyfriend and then told everyone we were sleeping together. All these years spent guarding my virtue, when Nathan had ruined my reputation at sixteen.

  Great. Just effing great.

  I was mad. I was hurt. Nathan had been the first boy I ever really cared about. Why would he do something like that? And how many people had heard that rumor?

  “You can’t believe that stuff,” I stammered. “We never… That’s not who I am.”

  His expression softened and he reached for me across the table. Before he made contact, he realized what he was doing and took his hand back. “He was an idiot. Of course I don’t believe it.”

  I exhaled, surprised at how much relief I felt to know that Vance believed me.

  “Did you know he got into drugs?” he asked softly.

  I stared down at my napkin and realized I had torn it into tiny pieces. “I knew he smoked weed, although he never did it around me. To my knowledge, he didn’t get into the harder stuff until after we were no longer… you know…”

  I realized how pathetic it sounded. I had been strictly straight edge in high school yet I turned a blind eye when it came to Nathan. I was too afraid to create another complication in our fragile relationship by confronting him about it or making him choose between the marijuana and me. Perhaps I always knew which one of us would win.

  But one thing still didn’t make sense. If I had heard those stories about someone else, I would’ve painted a very different picture in my head than the one Vance had. He seemed to know that I had been shy and sweet, but those rumors suggested otherwise.

  “That doesn’t exactly mesh with the impression you seem to have of me.”

  He shook his head. “That’s just how I found out who you were. I tend to form my own opinions about people. I’m usually pretty good at it.”

  “Lucky you.” I was more than a little envious. Discernment was one trait I did not possess.

  “You smiled at me once,” he said.

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. Me and Evelyn, actually.”

  High school memories were nothing but a blur at this point. I spent so much effort trying to forget the past that it wasn’t worth digging it back up. I didn’t remember Vance, but I believed him. It came as no surprise considering I used to smile at strangers all the time.

  I didn’t do that anymore.

  I shrugged. “Cute couples make me happy. I guess it gives me hope that good relationships might actually exist.”

  His smile tilted a little higher, clearly not missing that this was the first time I’d mentioned love in a positive light. “Is that present tense?” he teased. “And here I thought you were a cynic.”

  Despite his sarcasm, I considered his question honestly. I had been cynical ever since I moved back home, but my encounter with Gwen got me thinking. I’d claimed it was arrogant to believe so blindly, without solid proof, in true love; but was I any less arrogant for claiming the opposite? I believed the words were too commonly and inconsequentially tossed around. That wasn’t enough to disprove its existence.

  It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, after all.

  “Yes, that’s present tense. Just because there may be no hope for me, doesn’t mean I don’t believe it’s out there. You’ve found someone that makes you happy. As your friend, that makes me glad.”

  His face scrunched as if the thought were ridiculous. “Why do you think there’s no hope for you?” he asked. “Not all guys out there are like Nathan.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, I know. Nathan was just the beginning.”

  “Sounds like there’s a story there,” he remarked.

  Shaking my head and smiling to soften my refusal, I mentally chastised myself. I didn’t mean to bait him. I didn’t want to be an enigma for him to solve. But I didn’t want him to know everything about me either. I should have just left it alone.

  “Fine,” he sighed, sitting back in his seat. He looked at me for a minute before he spoke again. “We sat behind you at a pep rally once, too. You were with that tall blond girl.”

  “Lexi.”

  “Yeah. She was going on and on about what she did that weekend and how much you missed out. From the sound of it, I’m glad you missed out.”

  “You were eavesdropping?” I feigned offense. “That’s creepy, Vance.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not like I sat there because I wanted to listen in. You just happened to be in front of me. She was talking so loud, it’s like she wanted everyone around her to hear.”

  I snorted in revulsion. “Yeah, that sounds like Lexi.” Attention whore.

  “I’ll never forget what you said to her,” he said, already starting to laugh at the memory.

  “Probably something ridiculous,” I guessed.

  “Oh yes,” he nodded. “She told you that parties were cool and sophisticated so grow… a pair.” The way he flushed made me suspect Lexi’s exact words had been a bit more vulgar. “So you replied, in a perfect Southern accent, ‘Thanks sugar. But I’ll stick with my uncool, unsophisticated lady parts.’”

  We attracted a few stares around the diner when we both started cracking up. I felt a little silly for laughing at my own nonsense. Maybe it didn’t count when I had said it three years ago. Lexi never appreciated my odd sense of humor, but whenever she would get especially pushy, it was my usual way of coping.

  Once we were able to compose ourselves, he continued. “That’s when I decided you were awesome. And that Nathan was full of crap.” He broke out in a grin and I looked down, feeling the warmth rush to my cheeks. “But I couldn’t get why you hung around either of them. Especially Nathan. The Saint’s angel and the pothead?” he shook his head. “It never added up.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” I shrugged, distracted by the nicknames he dubbed us. “Did, um, did Nathan call me the Saint’s angel?”

  Vance almost choked on his water. He put the glass down and coughed into his fist. I watched him in mild amusement as he tried to gather himself. He wasn’t normally so flustered. It was him avoiding my eyes now.

  “Sorry,” he laughed nervously. “No. That was, uh… that was me.”

  I frowned. “Oh.” What was I thinking? Of course Nathan never would’ve called me something so sweet. We were talking about the same boy who lied and told everyone in auto class that we were sex buddies. I was embarrassed for the assumption.

  “But you did date him, right?” Vance asked. “Or did he totally make that up?”

  “We dated,” I bobbed my head hesitantly from one side to the other. “Sort of.”

  “How do you sort of date someone?”

  “Like, he wasn’t my boyfriend.”

  “And?”

  I blinked at him, not wanting to elaborate. “And what?”

  “Either you dated or you didn’t. What’s the difference? Besides the official title?”

  My eyes narrowed. Was he serious? “You may have had a girlfriend for the past four years, but surely you’ve heard of hookups?” It sounded to me like Nathan had done a fine job of summing up the value of our relationship in that one little lie. “There’s a big difference,” I assured him. “Relationships aren’t black or white. There’s tons of gray.”

  “But no matter what you called it, you had a relationship together. Just because—”

  “It’s called friends-with-benefits, Vance. There was no commitment. He did whatever he wanted without ever having to consider me. He had no obligations to remain faithful, although as far as I know, he did. Unless you count checking out other girls—which he never felt guilty doing right in front of me. He never took me out on dates. He never so much as held my hand in public. When he had nothing better to do, he’d sneak over and we’d fool arou
nd. But come Monday at school, he acted like it never happened. Apparently he bragged to the guys about corrupting the good girl, but he never—not once—ever wanted me to be his.”

  Vance grimaced at my little speech, probably not expecting all the sordid details. It took me by surprise as well. Nathan had been a lot of my firsts, as well as a close friend for a good chunk of my life. We had plenty of good, happy times together. But resentment and teenaged hormones prevented me from remembering any of it fondly now.

  My honesty seemed to shock him. “That sounds… awful,” he said.

  I laughed darkly. “Don’t feel too bad for me. I could have put a stop to it at any time.”

  “Why didn’t you?” he said, not understanding.

  “Because that sheltered girl? The little blond you think you know so well?” My features hardened. “She was naïve and trusting and weak.”

  He narrowed his eyes and I knew right away he didn’t like hearing about me talk about myself like that. But it was true. The old Scarlett wasn’t a victim, she just made poor decisions. And if there was anything Vance needed to understand, it was that I wouldn’t be repeating those mistakes.

  “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he said. His voice had taken on a strange edge. “And it might have been weird because I didn’t really know you back then. But now, if I had the chance, I’d teach that guy a lesson for starting that rumor about you.”

  I latched onto my straw and sipped my water in an attempt to hide my amusement at the thought of kind, gentle Vance teaching anyone a lesson. But seeing him all fired up was certainly a first.

  * * *

  “What did I tell you?” he said, rubbing his stomach when we were both absolutely stuffed. “Honey’s pancakes after midnight are like Lucky Charms.”

  It only took me a second. “Magically delicious?” I deadpanned.

  He chuckled. “You so get me, Rosie.”

  What a goober. I rolled my eyes and he sat up.

  “So. Thanks for all your help today. It was a long night of hard work, I couldn’t have done it without you.”