by Olivia Rose
"I'm sorry, Erin. I don't know what else I can say," he pleads, and I sigh, losing hope.
"Sometimes, Evan. It's more about what you do than what you say. If you're really sorry, next time someone decides to slushie me, maybe stop it? Or at least help me out, you know, in public. Not just apologizing to me in my bedroom."
"I'll do better. You're my friend, and I'll speak to Tegan. I don't know why she has such an issue with you."
"You are why she has an issue with me, dufus. She doesn't like that we're friends; even if you do barely speak to me."
"So, we're still friends?"
"Of course, we are, dummy. Just be a better friend, okay?"
"A better friend than Mason Knight?" Evan sneers. "I don't know what it is you see in him anyway; he's so different from you—from all of us really. I mean, do you really believe that whole, mysterious, bad boy vibe he's laying out?"
I shrug. "I hardly know the guy. He speaks to me in class and that's about as far as it goes—other than him helping me when I'm being humiliated in the quad, of course."
"I already said I was sorry," he groans. "But he still seems pretty friendly with you. Do you know much about him? He doesn't seem like such a good guy. Not from what I've heard anyway."
"Is that really why you came over here? To ask me about the new guy? You're not even sorry at all, are you?" I seethe.
"You know that's not true! You're one of my oldest and closest friends. You know stuff about me no-one else does. Getting dirt on the new guy is just a bonus."
"Get out, Evan. Right. Now."
"Fine, I'm going. Just remember what I said."
"Out!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Today is going to be a better day. It has to be. I refuse to keep playing this game of hide and seek with Evan; like we've done for the past two weeks. Every time he looks at me, he does it with these big, sad, puppy eyes and my willpower only has so much hold and sway over me. I'm a pushover when it comes to him, and I know it. So does he. Dodging Mason at the same time hasn't made life any easier, especially considering I'm his table buddy in almost every class. But I have long been a master of the avoiding people thing. Monica keeps telling me I need to be more open to new people, and to new things; to do stuff for myself, and who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. She actually said, ''flying fuck''. I thought I was going to die of dehydration from the tears of laughter.
So today, part of my new plan of do more for me, is signing up to be a tutor. I know, I know. Totally sounds like more of doing stuff for other people, but I love to teach, and so really, it's kind of selfish. Plus, this way, I actually get to interact with people without the fear of Tegan and her cronies swooping in; they wouldn't be caught dead in the library.
"Ah, Erin," Mrs. Appleby, our librarian, greets me at the main desk. "Monica said you might stop by to see me soon. I'm glad you decided to join up for the program. What are you looking to help with?"
"I don't know. I was thinking English and history? They tend to be my best classes, but I can help with math, calculus and trig, oh and chemistry if it's needed, too?"
"Thank you so much, dear. I have a feeling you're going to be very busy. I hope you don't mind that?" she asks with a worried look on her face.
"Of course not," I smile at her reassuringly.
"Fabulous. We're running a bit low on volunteers this year, but it all counts toward your college applications, you know," she says with so much pep, I almost gag.
"Of course, Mrs. Appleby." I fill in the form, with my cell and email details. "If anyone wants help, I'm happy for them to contact me directly if it's easier for you."
"That's very helpful. We'll get you registered today. Thank you so much."
"Any time. I'm just going to go get some cramming in for my first paper. Yell if you need me."
"We don't yell in here, dearie. It's a library."
I go to tell her it's just a saying but decide against it. Mrs. Appleby has worked here longer than I care to think. Her white hair is always styled short and curled. She reminds me of a typical grandma you'd see on T.V. It's kind of adorable; but damn, she can be as scary as a dragon if you piss her off.
I make my way to the back corner of the library, where I can work in peace. Gathering the books I need to make a start on my history paper, I put my earbuds in and get to work. I manage to work for about fifteen minutes before my cell starts pinging.
Unknown: So, you'll be my history tutor, right?
Me: Sorry, who is this? But yes, I've signed up to tutor history.
Unknown: Awesome. Well, Mrs. Appleby pointed me in your direction. See you in a sec.
What the...?
Maybe I shouldn't have just randomly given out my cell after all. I wait a few minutes, trying to keep working on my paper, but my anxiety is getting the better of me. That's when I see Mason.
"Can't avoid me anymore, tiger." Mason smirks at me and I drop my head to the table.
"Seriously? This is meant to be a serious tutoring gig. Do you even need help?" I groan.
"No need to sound so excited, sweetheart. But yes, I really do need help. And if you're even half as good as Mrs. Appleby made out, then I seriously need your help." He drops into the chair opposite me and stares me down.
God, I can smell him from here and lordy! There has to be something wrong with him, right? He can't be this super-nice, super-hot, beautiful-smelling man, right? God, I hope not.
"Fine. If you actually need help, I will help. Where should we start?"
"You tell me, teach!" he smirks at me again, flashing those pearly whites.
Focus Erin.
We spend the next hour going through everything he's studied before. I don't know where he went to school last, but apparently, they didn't really do much in the way of teaching history. I help him create a list of points to start his paper and give him the chapters he'll need to read in order to catch up. That's all before he actually starts writing it.
"You have my number, so if you need any help, just text me. Please don't call. I won't answer. I hate talking on the phone."
"Sure thing. And thank you. I know you don't really know me, and you didn't have to agree to help me, but I have to do well this year and graduate."
"Of course. I'll help however I can." I smile, gathering up my stuff and packing my bag.
"You want to grab something to eat?" he asks me.
"Thanks, but I can't. I have to get home, Monica will worry."
"Monica?" He looks puzzled. Seems he's not as caught up on small town life as I thought.
"She's my guardian. Maybe another night?"
"Sure! I'm a patient guy, I can wait."
"Of course, you are," I snort before covering my hands with my face. I did not just do that. Holy hell. Fuck my life. Of course, today was going too well.
"Catch you around, tiger," he chuckles as he walks away from me, leaving me to wallow in my new embarrassment.
So much for a day lacking Erin-isms.
I get home to a very non-worried Monica who is huddled on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, watching Netflix.
"Productive day?" I ask, trying to hold back the giggle. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but it's on top of her head, making her look like a pineapple. She's still in her pj's with her poncho covering her shoulders.
"Today is officially a duvet day! Plus, I discovered cheddar popcorn. Someone out there is a popcorn genius, I tell you. I'm beginning to see why you have this on so often. Netflix is the Devil's work. I've done nothing all day." It comes out in one long, guilty, but not really caring, babbled stream of words.
"Anddddd, breathe," I laugh. "Everyone gets a duvet day sometimes, and yes, Netflix is the Devil, but not really, because there's so much good with it."
"This is very true," she agrees, slumping back down on the sofa. I climb on next to her and snuggle under the blankets. She's literally made a Netflix fort! "How was your day?"
"It was good. I managed not to burn down the sc
hool, or stab anyone. I also signed up for the tutoring program, anddddd I have my first tutee."
"Way to sound enthusiastic, Erin. Who's the tutee?"
"It's the new guy at school. Apparently, history isn't his thing."
"Oooooo, new guy, hey? Is he cute?" She teases.
"Oh, please. I mean, sure, if you're into that whole, mysterious, bad boy type." I sigh, rolling my eyes.
"You like him then, huh?"
"What? Don't be absurd."
"Girlie, you are a lot of things, but a good liar isn't one of them! I could see that blush from the moon. Anyway, if he really is a bad boy, just don't get too close. You're a big girl, and I know you can look after yourself, so I won't do some big drawn out speech. Just be careful."
"Duly noted. Now, what are we watching?" I ask snuggling down.
We sit and watch some series about people in the future colonizing space. It's weird, but I'm addicted, and I can't move from the screen. At about eleven, we call it a night and head to bed. I plug my cell in to charge and it starts chirping like it's possessed. I check it out and see fifty new notifications on 'Connected!' along with a bunch of private messages. Apparently, someone decided to spam me. Awesome.
I open the messages to delete them, but end up staring at them, unable to look away.
Unknown: Erin is a sad, dirty whore who needs to get a life. Preferably somewhere far away from here.
Unknown: Why don't you just cut your wrists already; nobody wants you here.
Unknown: Nobody would miss you if you were gone. Just put us all out of our misery already.
Dozens of messages fill my screen and I can't help the tears which run down my face. What did I ever do to deserve this? When is it going to end? I unplug my cell and throw it across the room and flinch as it smashes into my lamp knocking it to the floor.
ARGH!
Anger wells up inside me, taking over the sadness threatening to drown me. How dare they do this to me! Who the hell do they think they are? I scream in frustration and hear Monica's footsteps coming up the stairs. Her head pops around my door and she sees my very smashed lamp on the floor next to my phone, and the tears I've not managed to hide. She enters the room.
"Come here, sweetheart," she whispers, pulling me into her arms. "What happened?" I shake my head and cry into her arms. I cry until I can't cry anymore, and my head feels like it's lined with lead.
"It's nothing. I'm just being overdramatic, I'm sure. Just boy stuff and homework. Senior year pressures, you know? It's nothing really but thank you. I'll be okay now. I think I just needed to get it out." I tell her, my voice flat.
"Are you sure?"
"Really, it's nothing." I give her a half-hearted smile and hope she believes me.
"Hmmm, if you say so. You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?"
"Yes, ma'am, I know." I say to placate her, but I know I'll never say a thing. It would break her heart if she knew the truth: the things people say, the things they do. But letting her know how they hurt me means they're winning, and I can't let them win.
She closes the door behind her as she leaves, and I curl up in the middle of my bed. I try so hard to not let them get to me. Hell, most of the time, I enjoy being the outcast and invisible to them. I don't have to live up to all the normal expectations I see others struggling with on a daily basis. Who's wearing what, listening to who, dating who. Who kissed who, are you still a virgin? High school is exhausting. But it's times like this, when I'm not so invisible, it's hard. I hear my phone chime again from across the room. Sighing, I get up to turn it off, but when I pick it up—fairly unscathed I might add, thank God—I see a name I wasn't expecting.
Mason: Hey, tiger, I just wanted to say thank you for agreeing to tutor me. I really do need your help. I can't remember saying it before.
Me: It's fine. I honestly don't mind.
Mason: Well, thanks anyway. I'll see you at school on Monday?
Me: Sure thing.
Mason: Unless you want to hang out tomorrow?
Holy crap. What? Why would he want to hang with me?
I can't help but think this is a cruel joke, or a trick.
Me: I'm busy, sorry.
Better to be safe, rather than sorry.
Mason: Busy? Doing what?
Me: Stuff.
Mason: You really are quite the chatterbox, aren't you? What stuff?
Me: Just stuff...
Mason: Sounds important. How about I just pick you up at like three?
This guy... I don't even understand why he's being so persistent.
Mason: Don't be a douche and pretend you have plans. Hanging out with me won't kill you.
Me: Fine :P I'll see you at three.
I climb back into bed feeling better than I did before. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe, he won't be like everyone else and just believe Tegan's lies.
CHAPTER SIX
"So, what time do you think you'll be home?" Monica pries as she sits on my bed, waiting for me to finish my hair. I have no idea what we're doing so I've just gone casual with my jeans and a layered tee, Converse for comfort in case we're walking, and my hair hanging loose down my back.
"No idea. I don't even know where we're going."
"Hmmm, and this boy—he's new?"
"Yes, Monica. He's the one I told you I was tutoring. I'm sure he just wants to say thank you. This town isn't always the most welcoming, you know, even for Mason Knight."
"So, do I get to meet him?"
"Erm, maybe? But probably not today; this isn't a date or anything."
"I thought you said you didn't know what it was," she says with a sly smile.
"Oh hush. I don't, but it's not a date."
"Uh-huh. If you say so," she teases, as the doorbell sounds.
"You stay right here, lady!" I warn her as she giggles.
"I thought it wasn't a date!" she calls after me as I rush down the stairs. I roll my eyes before opening the door.
"Hey," I say, trying not to drool. This might not be a date, but I have eyes, and I'd have to be blind not to appreciate how beautiful he is.
"Hey, you ready?" He asks, his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans, making his arms strain against the material of his black tee.
"Sure," I grab my hoodie and follow him to his car. The shiny black Camaro seems huge, but it's just beautiful. "Nice car."
"Thanks... it was my pops."
"Wow, he must really trust you if he lets you drive this."
"It was his pride and joy, that's for sure. My ma and pops died a few years back. Me and him used to work on it together, so I kept working on it to get it running."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." I follow his lead and climb into the car. The car smells just like him, but with leather.
"It's okay. Like I said, it was a few years ago. Anyway, I was thinking we could catch a movie, then maybe a burger? I need your worldly wisdom to show me where's best to eat in this little town." He smirks, making fun of me.
"Ah yes, the choices, the choices! All of the lean cuisine available, but you can never go wrong at Patty's. The burgers there are the best. Plus, she serves tacos, which are far superior to burgers."
"What sort of American are you?" He looks at me with false dismay, his hand over his heart, and I can't stop the laughter that bubbles up out of me.
"Sorry to disappoint," I giggle, "but if you tell me you don't like tacos, I'm going to have to get back out of this car."
"It's not even Tuesday!" He laughs.
"Ahh, Taco Tuesday. Where the love began," I sigh.
"Fine, so the girl loves herself a taco. Patty's it is." He starts the car and heads towards the center of town. "Now, movies? Please tell me you're not one of those girls who only watches chick flicks and refuses to watch a decent action or thriller?"
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint again." I cross my arms in a fake huff and watch as he tries to work out if I'm actually annoyed at him. I catch the awkward look
on his face and laugh at him again.
"Dude, please," I say. "Give me superheroes over damsels in distress, any day."
"Not cool," he chuckles. "But at least she likes superheroes."
He pulls up and parks behind the theater, before running around the car to open the door for me.
"Good manners to boot. Who would've thought?" I tease.
"My grams would kick my ass if she even suspected my manners slipped," he says shyly, but I can see just from those few words that his grams hangs the moon.
"You live with your grams?" I ask. I don't want to pry too much; I know what it's like being an orphan. Everyone thinks they deserve to know your story, even when you don't know the story yourself.
"Yeah, me and my little brother, Parker. She took us in after the accident. We moved down here for Parker. The schools are better here, and he has a decent chance at a scholarship for UT here. He's only twelve, but he's a gifted little shit. You should see him with a football, it's like poetry."
"Makes a lot of sense."
"So, thriller or horror?"
"I'm a thriller girl myself."
"Thriller it is." He says, getting our tickets from the front counter before leading me over to the concessions counter. Twenty dollars later, and with a mountain of popcorn, red vines, and M&M's, we head into the theater.
The movie was terrible; but laughing over how terrible it was has made for a fun afternoon. I'm still picking popcorn out of my hair from where the guy behind us got so frustrated, he threw his entire bucket in the air. We walk out, still laughing at what will forever be known as, 'the disaster movie', straight into Evan, Tegan, and their merry band of goons.
"Mason," Tegan coos. "What are you doing here?"
I roll my eyes, seriously?
"Same thing everyone else is, watching a movie," he says, sarcasm thick in his voice. He goes up a few points in my books; at least he's not falling for her ditzy routine.