XO

by Melissa Jane

  “Urgh,” I grunt. “Boring. I’ll need to find me a new tutor if that happens.”

  “Hold your tongue.” His hand disappears and finds the sensitive spot behind my knee. I jolt at the unexpected tickle, my leg involuntarily hitting the table.

  “Stop,” I beg, through pained giggles.

  “Mr. Lynch, both hands on the table, thank you,” Mr. Johnson calls, looking over the rim of his glasses. This draws the attention of everyone in the class which again sets off a string of hushed whispers and no doubt cruel remarks about our obscure relationship.

  It had been quite the transformation for Jacob. Not only had he been dating the most beautiful, most popular girl in school, but he was the worshipped football captain. Every day for years, he wore his Panthers’ jacket, but now he’s dressed like the rest of us mere mortals, having dropped it on Coach Carter’s desk, without a glimmer of remorse. As far as Jacob is concerned, that part of his life is over, and while he’s convincingly happy about it, I still wonder if behind the stoicism lays a brilliant actor.

  The classroom phone rings, and Mr. Johnson is momentarily distracted as he writes down a message. Jacob seizes the moment. He stands and sits backward on the chair, arms crossed on the backrest. “Keep tonight free.”

  I lean forward, drawn in by the mischievous look in his eyes. “Why, Mr. Lynch?”

  He inches closer. “Because I want to talk to you about something.” Despite it all, there’s an edge of seriousness to his tone.

  “You’ve got me intrigued. Can you give me a clue?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “You’re mean.”

  “Just be free.” He leans forward and pecks my nose.

  “Ah-hmmm…” Mr. Johnson clears his throat. “While I like the idea that you two obviously called a truce, and I don’t have lab chairs flying across the room, I do draw the line at foreplay in my class. Save it for recess or after hours.”

  Feeling heat color my cheeks, I busy myself by tidying my desk.

  “For you, Rosie.” Mr. Johnson places a note in front of me. “And for you, Jacob.” He then hands over another note before calling an end to the lesson.

  Jacob grunts in frustration.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He scrunches the note. “Coach wants to see me.”

  My eyes widen. “Do you think he wants you back on team?”

  “Too bad if he does. I told you, I’m done with that. What’s your message say?”

  “Ms. Zagwich wants to see me after school.”

  “I’ll wait for you by the car.” Jacob leans forward and kisses me tenderly before hooking his bag over one shoulder and leaving class. Despite his resolution, there’s no disguising the sinking feeling in my gut.

  ~

  The house lights are on in the theater when I walk on stage to meet Ms. Zagwich. Except, despite her message saying to go to the theater straight after class, she isn’t here. Taking a seat on the stage where I normally rehearse, I pull the script from my bag and rehearse the same lines I’ve read two million times. I’m confident with them, but as I recite the words under my breath, I pay particular attention to the directions. I know Ms. Zagwich is under pressure we get this right, and although Jacob and I have spent many nights rehearsing, there’s a lot riding on us getting it perfect. While we aren’t aiming for Hollywood, our futures rely on this one good performance.

  I check the time on my cell phone. Fifteen minutes has passed and still no Ms. Zagwich. Perhaps she’s held up in a meeting or simply forgotten. Choosing to send her an email when I get home, I zip up my bag and go to stand. In that moment, I’m thrown into a panic, the house lights turning off plunging the whole theater into darkness.

  “Shit!” I murmur, feeling for my cell which I just slid into my bag and is now probably lost in its abyss.

  I’m blinded and stunned when the stage spotlight is turned on, the bright glow mimicking what it would be like if a UFO spaceship was beaming me up. I squint against the light and shield my eyes.

  “Ms. Zagwich,” I call and receive no answer. “Hello? Who turned on the light?”

  There’s still no answer, but I know for a fact, the spotlight can only be turned on by a heavy handled lever on the right stage wing.

  “Jacob? Who’s there?”

  I can’t see it, I can’t hear it, but I can feel it. Someone’s watching me from the safety of the shadows. The feeling where my personal space is being invaded. I turn quickly, stepping just outside the light to scan my immediate surroundings. My skin prickles, the small hairs on the back of my neck bristling with the unwanted attention. Someone is definitely here, and it isn’t my drama teacher.

  I turn back into the spotlight, frightened by the sight of Kevin rushing through it, his face morphing into that of the devil. I go to scream, but he tackles me to the floor, throwing us out of the spotlight and into the partial darkness. As he straddles my waist, his hand covers my mouth, muffling any cries for help.

  How can I be in this position again?

  How can I have let the asshole think he can keep getting the better of me?

  I’m rendered motionless, Kevin’s knees painfully pinning my arms at my sides, trapping me beneath him.

  “And here we are again,” he snarls as if reading my thoughts. “Funny how you always end up beneath me.” I can smell alcohol on his breath which sends a new tremor of fear through my helpless body. “I’ve got so many things I want to do to you, Rosie. Things that will teach you a lesson.” His free hand rips at my shirt sending buttons pinging across the stage. Pulling the fabric aside, Kevin slides his greedy hand under my bra, painfully grappling my breasts.

  I swear and curse at him, but the words are lost.

  “I see what’s happening, Rosie. You’re so caught up in the attention Jacob’s giving you because you’re not used to the idea of someone wanting to fuck you.” His hand moves between my legs. I squeeze my thighs closed, but when he repositions himself, he’s easily able to wedge his hand in between, lifting my skirt high enough to touch what is most definitely not his to touch. “But you’re out of his league, Rosie. You’re a pretty girl with a great set of tits and a fine ass, but you’ve got nothing on Chelsea. Guys like Jacob belong with girls like Chelsea. Not with the likes of you.”

  “Fuck you!” I muffle.

  Releasing his hand from my mouth, but still close for him to slap right back on, he challenges me. “What was that?”

  “I said, fuck you!”

  “You tried fucking me, remember?” Son of a bitch. “But you didn’t take the humiliation well.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I don’t bother hiding my repulsion.

  Kevin lowers his face until it’s only an inch from mine. “You are my problem, Rosie. The way you manipulate Jacob is a problem. The way you just waltz on in and interfere with friendship, that’s a big problem for me. The way you think you’re better than everyone else is a real big fucking problem. So, it all comes back to you.”

  “Say what you want, Kevin, but I’m not going to be bullied by you.”

  He laughs and it’s jarring. “Bullied?” Kevin moves my panties to the side, threatening to penetrate me with a finger. “I’ve got better things to do than bully piss-weak little girls like you. I will say this though, if you continue to see Jacob, I won’t stop targeting you until you’re humiliated out of this town. Your name will be smeared along every building right next to the word ‘slut.’ You’ll be virtually unemployable because, like it or not, trouble will always find you. I… will always find you.”

  “No one will believe you.”

  “No one will even know it’s me.”

  While I should have been worried about the implications of defying Kevin, I’m simply over being treated as less than scum by those who have nothing to contribute to society other than their ridiculously inflated egos. “Go ahead, lead your crusade. Do your worst.”

  Even in the dark, I see his wicked smile. “I thought you might s
ay that.” Kevin pulls his hand free and grips my face, squeezing his fingers in deep. Ignoring my pained pleas, he forcefully kisses me in a way that’s full of mockery and promise.

  A promise to cause maximum destruction.

  “It’s game on.”

  ~

  Running down the deserted hall, the cleaning staff already gone home, I swipe angrily at the tears. I’m not crying because I’m upset. They’re tears of frustration because I longed to hurt Kevin as much as he’s hurt me. My footsteps echo until I push open the double doors and take off down the concrete steps. Halfway down, I look up, freezing mid-step, arms flaying to balance myself.

  “No,” I say, feeling sucker-punched. I barely blink, and I no longer breathe as I watch with a thudding heart as Jacob holds Chelsea in his arms. Her own arms are wrapped tightly around his waist while he leans against his Dodge.

  Angry tears give way to grief and sadness.

  How can he do this to me after everything he’s pledged?

  Through sobs, I grit my teeth, Kevin’s horrible words playing on repeat. “Guys like him belong with girls like Chelsea.”

  I trusted him.

  I was planning on giving him every piece of me.

  A sickening knot in my gut forming when I consider that’s perhaps the reason why he’s fallen right back in with Chelsea. Because she wants to give herself freely to Jacob. She doesn’t care about cherishing the moment. At a party in someone else’s house with drunks banging on the door is her place of choice when having sex. Boys like Jacob need girls like Chelsea.

  Why would he wait to have sex with me when he can get it so freely from her?

  Forcing myself to move, I run the rest of the stairs, my legs moving at a pace that can carry me all the way home. Adrenaline kicks in, and the desire to put as much distance between Jacob and me as possible pushes me on.

  I’m a fool.

  A sucker.

  A stupid girl who believed the web of lies spun to her.

  You may have made me cry, Jacob, but you’ll never get the better of me again.

  ~

  “Fuck!” I seethe, shaking my backpack close to my ear. Working my way back through each pocket, throwing books on the ground, I still turn up empty. “Where the hell are you?” I bark angrily at the non-existent keys. Wiping tears and snot from my face, I lean against the pillar and slump to the ground, eyeing the self-made mess in disdain.

  My cell chimes, and I weakly read the message after seeing his name on the screen.

  Jacob: Babe, where are you?

  Me: Piss off!

  Jacob: ???

  “Fucker!” I curse under my breath.

  I’m startled when the door swings open, and Dad appears on the threshold, brows knitted in confusion.

  “Yep,” he starts. “I’ve been called many things in my life and that name definitely tops the list especially from my own daughter.”

  “Sorry, Dad, I thought I said it quietly enough.”

  “Loud enough for Mr. and Mrs. Jackson next door to hear.”

  I shrug. “And I wasn’t talking about you.”

  Dad walks over the mess and extends a hand. “Come on then, you’re not some vagrant. Jump up.”

  Accepting his help, I fall into his arms and hug him tight as his hand soothes my back.

  “What did he do?” Dad asks quietly.

  “He’s an asshole!”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “Because he’s used me…” I muffle into his shirt, “… and when he didn’t get what he wanted, he’s gone straight back to someone who will give it to him.”

  Dad sighs. “I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and assume you’re talking about sex, and that you didn’t give him any.”

  I nod and he hugs me tighter. “So, he’s gone back to Chelsea Campbell, and worst still, he thinks he can carry on with me as per usual.”

  Dad gently pushes me back so he can wrap an arm around my shoulder. Guiding me over the mess, he says, “I couldn’t be prouder of you, Rosie. Hearing you say you didn’t just hand your body over on a silver platter tells me you’re far more mature than most.”

  “But don’t you get it. Because I didn’t have sex with him, he now thinks I’m not good enough?”

  We stop in the foyer and Dad lifts my chin, so I face him. “Nonsense. I don’t care if you have to wait until you’re thirty. When the right guy comes along and loves you for what’s in here first and foremost…” he taps the side of my head, “… then you’ll know he’s who you should commit all things to. But boys like Jacob Lynch… they’re used to girls throwing themselves at them. You deserve better than that and not just because you’re my daughter.”

  “I know, I should have listened.” I decide to keep the altercation with Kevin to myself. It’s one thing confiding in my dad for comfort and another watching him commit murder.

  Squeezing him tighter, it feels different. “Dad, you’re losing weight.”

  “That’s a good thing, boo-boo. A few pounds won’t hurt.” He brushes off my statement with humor but underneath it all, we both know there’s a solid, inexcusable reason for it.

  “I’m making pasta tonight,” I say, heading down the hall to the kitchen. “You pick the movie.” Stopping, I turn to add, “And don’t make it anything soppy. Something with killing will do just fine.”

  ~

  Me: Mom, I know you and dad have your differences, but can’t you just work it out?

  Me: It’s like he’s slowly dying on the inside.

  Mom: Sweetie, there’s nothing wrong with your father. It’s just work. It’s always work.

  Me: I’m not blind.

  Mom: Watch your tone.

  Me: Or else what? You’ll kick my ass from across the other side of the country?

  Mom: Don’t tempt me.

  Me: How can I tempt you into giving a shit about dad?

  “Urgh!” My cell flies across the room and lands with a thud on the floor. Thirty minutes have passed with no response. She can deny it all she likes, but it’s obvious something is happening between her and Dad, and while it doesn’t seem to be affecting her, the stress of it is showing on my father.

  “Rosie,” a muffled voice calls out.

  Bolting upright, I stare at the face through the window.

  Son of a…

  “Go away,” I shout so he can hear beyond the pane of glass. He looks none-the-wiser when he screws his eyebrows together at what could possibly be wrong. Or more to the point, what he’s done wrong.

  “Rosie, open up.”

  “No! Get lost.”

  He frowns, confused by it all.

  Surely, he doesn’t think I’m that stupid. Does he?

  “I’m not leaving until you open it.”

  Knowing Jacob Lynch as well as I do, I believe him when he says such a thing. He’s as stubborn as an ox. Grunting in frustration, I kick off the bedsheets and stomp over to the window. Once face to face still with only the glass separating us, he witnesses the full power of my glare.

  “What’s happened, Rosie?” My heart skips a beat at his genuine concern.

  “What’s happened?” I snap, gripping the window frame and angrily sliding it open. “How dare you come around here.”

  There’s that confused face again. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, why come here when you have Chelsea?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t have her, I want you.”

  “Did you just decide that this afternoon?”

  “Rosie… what are you talking about? And why are you so mad?”

  Rage bubbles from within.

  “Jacob, I’m mad because after the shitshow of an afternoon I had, I saw Chelsea fawning all over you.”

  He looks over his shoulder into the quiet street and then back to me. “Can I come in?”

  “No!”

  “I have a very reasonable explanation for what you saw, but I’d rather not be standing on your porch roof.”

  “How reasonable of an expl
anation?”

  “As soon as I say, your shitshow of an afternoon will all be forgotten.”

  “I highly doubt that. Fine… come in.” Begrudgingly moving to the side, Jacob climbs through and jumps down. Taking my hand, he leads to me sit on the edge of the bed.

  He studies me a moment until a small smile plays on his lips. “You’re fucking sexy when you’re mad, especially in that little nightdress you’re wearing.”

  I sigh. “Jacob, if you knew how upset I’ve been all afternoon, you wouldn’t be cracking jokes.”

  He shakes his head, wiping the smile off his face. “You’re right. So, let me explain. After last period, I went to find Coach Carter, but he wasn’t there. When the door closed behind me, I saw Chelsea had followed me in. At the time I thought Coach still wanted to see me, so I told her to go away. She proceeded to tell me that Coach wasn’t coming and that she wanted some privacy to talk. When I told her I wasn’t interested, she took off her shirt.”

  “No, she didn’t!”

  “She did. I pushed past her, and she became angry at the rejection. She followed me down the hall while redressing and swiped the car keys from my hand and stuffed them down her bra.”

  “Sweet Jesus.”

  “She started with the accusations, name-calling us both. Then the threats followed. Shit like, how she believed I cheated on her, and she’d let the whole student body know what a dog I am. When I told her to go for it, Chelsea became vindictive toward you. It took all the strength I had to keep my hands in my pockets. I tried every polite move I knew just to get my keys back, but she wanted more. When she gave me the ultimatum of a hug in return for the keys, I just did it. That’s probably when you saw us. But what you didn’t know was that she was holding me ransom, and all I wanted was to get as far as fuck away from her as possible.

  “So, there was no reconnection?”

  “Fuck no. I can’t even stand being in her presence.”

  “So, it seems like we were both fooled into meeting people never destined to show.”

  Jacob’s eyes darken. “Who was there instead of Ms. Zagwich?”