Heart Stopper: Rebels of Rushmore Book One

by Hercules, Michelle

  He friended me on social media after we met, so I shoot him a message to ask how he’s doing. I was expecting a generic answer, so when he pours his heart out to me, I know I did the right thing by reaching out.

  As the week progresses and Charlie doesn’t mention any of the things Ben told me, I suspect he doesn’t want to burden her with his problems. I’ve done that countless times before in order to protect Jane too.

  On Thursday, I have a light schedule, but Charlie is stressed about some deadline for the paper. I know I’ve been keeping her busy, so I decide to make myself scarce and help Ben at the same time. I head to Littleton so we can hang out. The plan is for me to pick him up at school, and then we’ll go from there.

  I’m a little early, so I park the car and head for the entrance to wait for him. It’s easier than trying to tell him where I parked. My head is down, eyes glued to my phone, when the sound of girls giggling catches my attention. I look up and find a cluster of them not too far from me, staring in my direction and whispering to each other. Ah, teenagers making me feel like I’m part of some boy band. I shake my head and return my attention to my phone.

  “Hey! Quit staring at my sister’s boyfriend like he’s a piece of meat,” Ben shouts. “Shoo!”

  I glance up just in time to see him motion the girls away with a wide gesture of his arms as if they were little birds. The sight is comical. His face is flushed red when he walks over, holding the straps of his backpack.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s something in the water here that affects the female population of the school. They’re more boy crazy than normal.”

  I chuckle. “It’s okay. They weren’t bothering me for long. I just got here.”

  “Good.”

  We walk back to the car, and I ask, “What do you want to do today?”

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while, but I’ve been too afraid to go by myself.”

  I quirk an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What is that?”

  “Jane told me you helped her with her fear of heights by taking her bungee jumping. I’d like to try that.”

  Shit. He’s a minor. No operator will allow him to jump without one of his parents present. I’d hate to disappoint him though.

  I stop next to my car and wait for Ben to reach the passenger side to break the bad news. “You need parental consent for that since you’re under eighteen.”

  “Got it.”

  I frown. “You did?”

  “Yep. It’s all square with the place we’re going.”

  “Okay then. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  As Ben’s turn to jump approaches, I can tell he’s getting visibly tenser. It doesn’t help that quite a few people had the same idea to jump today. There’s a group of guys—probably seniors in high school, judging by their letterman jackets—making a ruckus as they wait in line behind us.

  “It’s okay, Ben. Try not to think about how high you are. And before you jump, don’t look down.”

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, Ben is all strapped up and ready to go. Right before he steps on the platform, he glances over his shoulder, eyes wide with panic. “I-I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Nonsense. You got this, buddy. Remember, don’t look down and let go.”

  He nods and steps forward. The operator gives him more encouraging words, and after a few more steadying breaths, he jumps with his arms wide open as if he’s really letting go of his fear and fully embracing the experience. He shouts in excitement as he drops and doesn’t stop hollering when the cord recoils, sending him flying upward again. I take the stairs to wait for him at the bottom. He keeps bouncing up and down for another minute until he eventually loses momentum and swings to a stop.

  There’s a group of ten kids waiting there as well, and after hearing pieces of their conversation, I realize they’re from the same high school as those guys waiting in line with us. This is a senior year dare.

  Ben finally comes down, and as the operator helps him out of the harness, I notice a dark stain on the front of his khaki pants.

  “Oh my God. Dude! Did you piss yourself?” a guy shouts, pointing at Ben.

  Laughter follows and I get ready to step in, but Ben looks down at the mess and, to my surprise, bursts out laughing too.

  What the hell?

  “I did! I peed in my pants. But it was so awesome!”

  A few guys break from the group to high-five Ben, making me relax a fraction. I still eyeball the rest to make sure they aren’t talking smack about Ben.

  “Hey, Troy. Can you take a picture of me?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  I snap a few photos, even a few with the guys who high-fived him. We move on when someone else jumps.

  “Hey, I have a pair of sweatpants you can borrow,” I tell him.

  “Okay. Cool. I didn’t want to soil your car seat.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. Normally, I would be so embarrassed, but maybe I’m still riding on adrenaline. It’s my fault for not going to the restroom beforehand. I usually have to pee when I’m nervous.”

  “I think everyone does.” I laugh.

  “Do you ever get nervous before you have to do something?”

  I grin. “Heck yeah. I get jitters before every game. But it’s also such a rush.”

  “I get that now.”

  Back at my car, I open the trunk and pull out the sweatpants from my duffel bag. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “Sure,” Ben says as he takes the pants from me.

  “I’m terrified of going to LARP.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I had a really embarrassing moment during a school play when I forgot all my lines. I’ve avoided anything remotely related to theatrical performances ever since.”

  “That’s the beauty of LARP. There aren’t any lines to memorize. It’s all improv. All you need to know is who your character is, what he can do—such as special powers—and then react to the situation given. It’s super fun.”

  I nod. “All right. If you say so.”

  Ben heads back inside the building to change. While I wait, I snoop on Charlie’s social media profile to check her pictures of past LARP events. It backfires royally when I find way too many images of her with that stuck-up ex-boyfriend. I should put the phone away, but I’m a glutton for punishment and keep scrolling down until I finally come across a few photos of when they were still a couple.

  Fuck. Why hasn’t she deleted these?

  My pulse accelerates as possessiveness takes over. I know it’s ridiculous to suffer from retroactive jealousy, but it seems when it comes to Charlie, logic has taken a vacation.

  39

  CHARLIE

  Can someone overdose on too much sex? Since I raised the white flag and declared defeat, Troy and I have been doing it whenever we’re together. I can’t get my fill of him. Even when I manage to carve out time to study or work, thoughts of him invade my brain. It’s no surprise that after a week into this sex marathon, I have dark circles under my eyes, and I have to triple my intake of caffeine. I haven’t had much sleep.

  I’m not complaining. Far from it. Besides all the mind-blowing orgasms I’ve had, being consumed by Troy keeps my mind from thinking about my parents too much. Dad hasn’t returned home, and after a short and painful conversation with my mother, it doesn’t sound like he will anytime soon. She mentioned going to couples therapy, but judging by the defeat in her voice, it didn’t sound like she believed it would help.

  If it weren’t for Troy keeping me busy, I would have for sure succumbed to a depressive state. I am gutted that my parents might get a divorce, but my main concern in this mess is Ben. I’ve spoken to him every day. He sounds okay; the upcoming LARP weekend in a few weeks is keeping his mind occupied. He’s helping Tammara with some of the writing too, which is awesome.

  It’s Friday after lunch, and I’m a
t the newspaper. I’m behind on an article I have to deliver, and Blake is on my case. He didn’t say anything when I came in half an hour ago, but I’ve been sensing him eyeballing me ever since. Ludwig and Angelica are out, and Blake’s constant staring is getting on my nerves. It’s already hard enough to concentrate when my eyes want to shut and I can’t stop yawning.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore and whip my head in his direction. “What?”

  “I should be asking you the same question. What’s going on with you? I know Halloween is just around the corner, but it’s a little early to dress up as a zombie.”

  “Bite me, Blake.”

  “See? What’s with the attitude?”

  “I’m tired, if you haven’t noticed, and I have a deadline.”

  “I’m quite aware of your deadline. I’m the one waiting for it.”

  I grumble, returning to my laptop. I have to squint my eyes behind my glasses to make the words stop dancing on the screen. It’s like I ate magic mushrooms before coming here.

  Blake scoffs. “I knew you dating that jock would affect your work ethic.”

  I jerk my head up to look at him. “Excuse me? How is my work ethic affected?”

  “You’re late in delivering the article, and Sylvana said you haven’t sent your boyfriend’s character sheet yet.”

  “The event is in three weeks. I have time.”

  “Really? You’re just going to deliver that last minute so the other writers have to scramble to fit him in the storyline? Besides, doesn’t he want to study the character before he has to play it?”

  I rest my head in my hand, letting out a groan. Crap on toast. Blake is right. “Shit.”

  “You forgot you had to do it, didn’t you?”

  Blake knows me too well.

  “I totally did. Troy is going to kill me.”

  From the corner of my eye, I catch Blake’s condescending shake of his head, which turns my irritation into ire. “You don’t know what’s going on, so keep your judgmental opinions to yourself.”

  He glowers at me. “No, Charlie, I don’t know what’s going on with you, and whose fault is that? It’s like you’ve become a different person since you started dating that playboy. You ignore my texts; you don’t call back.”

  “Maybe I’m still annoyed that you stopped by the house to warn him off. That was messed up, Blake.”

  He sits stiffer in his chair. “It was warranted. Look me straight in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing for me if the situation were reversed.”

  I want to keep holding on to my anger, but the truth is, if Blake started dating a girl who had been mean to him beforehand, I’d probably do worse than what he did.

  Breaking eye contact, I reply, “You also kept badgering me about this stupid deadline. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Blake the editor.”

  “I’m sorry if you felt I was only contacting you because of the article.” His voice softens. “I’ve been under a lot of stress too.”

  Guilt takes away the rest of my annoyance. I’ve been neglecting my friends since before I started dating Troy. It all began when I moved in with him. “Why are you under a lot of stress?”

  He pushes his dark hair back, mussing it a little. “I’ve applied to a bunch of internships, and so far, I was only called to one interview, and I don’t even know if I did well or not.”

  “I’m sure you aced it.”

  He shakes his head. “I doubt it. It was last week, and I haven’t received a call back asking to come in for a second interview. I’m pretty sure I blew it.”

  “Where was the internship at?”

  “Matrix Media Group.”

  That’s one of the biggest media companies in the country. I’m not surprised Blake managed to snag an interview. He’s extremely talented and qualified.

  “Wow, that’s amazing, Blake.”

  “It would be amazing if I got the internship. I hate being in this limbo.” He dips his chin, threading his fingers through his hair.

  “They will call you back, and if they don’t, fuck them.”

  “Fuck them?” He chuckles. “It’s my dream company.”

  “So?” I shrug. “If they can’t see what an amazing asset you would be to them, then they don’t deserve you.”

  With a smile still on his lips, he glances at his laptop screen. “Only you could make me laugh in my current state.”

  I lift my cup of coffee in a salute. “Well, at least I’m still good at something. I can’t promise I remember how to write though.”

  Blake’s expression becomes serious again. “Writer’s block?”

  “If only that were the case.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “It’s my parents. I think they’re going to get a divorce.”

  Blake glances at me again, his eyes as round as saucers. “Shit, Charlie. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  There’s a burning in my eyes and a knot in my throat that I try to swallow. Speaking about my family issues with Blake might not be the best idea. Troy never broaches the subject, and I’m grateful he doesn’t. But with Blake, it’s a different story. He’s almost part of the family, so of course he wants to know what the problem is.

  “I don’t know. My mother has been complaining he’s working too hard, coming home late, and even working on weekends. She accused him of cheating. I think the situation has reached the boiling point.” My vision becomes blurry; the threat of a tear spill is very real. But I can’t stop now. I have to tell Blake everything. “My father has moved out of the house. I don’t know if he’ll come back.”

  A sob escapes my lips just as hot moisture rolls down my cheeks, the first set of tears finally breaking free. I cover my face with my hands, ashamed that I couldn’t hold it together in front of Blake. I hate crying in public; it doesn’t matter that Blake is my oldest friend and he’s seen me at my worst.

  I hear the scrape of his chair and then sense his approach. He swivels my seat, then lifts my hands off my face.

  “You don’t need to hide your sorrow from me, Charlie.”

  He pulls me up, making me stand so we’re almost at the same eye level. I still have to crane my neck a little to stare into his eyes since he’s a head taller than me.

  “You know I hate crying. I feel so pathetic.”

  He wipes my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re not pathetic. This whole situation sucks. It’s okay to be sad. I wish you had confided in me sooner. I wouldn’t have bothered you about a stupid deadline.”

  “I was in avoidance mode. If I didn’t talk about it, didn’t think about it, then I could pretend nothing was going on.”

  “That’s just plain stupid.”

  I hit his chest playfully. “I’m not stupid.”

  “I know. But you sure act like it sometimes.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be consoling me, not making me feel worse.”

  “You know me. That’s how I roll, babe.”

  He chuckles, and I can’t help it, I laugh too.

  Then I hug him, pressing the side of my face against his chest. I can’t remember the last time Blake and I had a moment like this. I guess since we broke up. That decision was mutual, and there were no lingering romantic feelings on either side. But I think we never wanted to cross the line and give the impression of the contrary. His hand goes to my head, and the soft strokes make me remember the time when we were five and I fell from my bike and scraped my knee. Blake did the same thing then too.

  “Unbelievable.” Troy’s tight voice sounds in the room, making my blood run cold.

  I jump back and turn toward the door. Blake makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat; I make no sound at all.

  Troy is standing there, eyes blazing with fury as he holds a tray with two cups of coffee and a brown bag. He came to surprise me with goodies and found me in an intimate embrace with my ex. No wonder he’s glowering, his jaw locked tight.

  “Troy, what are you
doing here? I thought you had class.” I take a step forward, wiping away the remnants of my tears.

  He doesn’t miss the gesture, which makes his angry expression soften a little. “Class was canceled. The teacher got the flu. I thought I’d surprise you. Funny how things worked out.”

  His quip feels like a dagger piercing my chest. Even though his expression is no longer murderous, he’s still angry.

  “Don’t get your panties twisted in a bunch, buddy. I was just consoling a friend in need,” Blake pipes up.

  Troy narrows his eyes. “Right. And I was born yesterday.”

  Shit. He’s not going to let this one go. It’s all Blake’s fault. If he hadn’t shown up at the house to have a talk with Troy, he probably wouldn’t be as furious as he is now.

  “Oh, what’s in the bag?” I ask to change the subject.

  He glances at it with a frown, almost as if he forgot he was holding it. “Uh, chocolate-filled croissants.”

  My favorite. I only mentioned it once in passing, and he remembered. I feel guilty and moved at the same time.

  Blake returns to his desk without saying another word to Troy.

  Since Troy doesn’t seem inclined to move, I walk over and kiss him on the lips. It’s like kissing a wooden door. Damn it. I feel horrible even though I didn’t do anything wrong.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Why were you crying?”

  “Because her parents are probably getting a divorce,” Blake replies bluntly.

  “I was updating Blake on the drama, and I kind of lost it. He was just being supportive,” I explain.

  “Hmm.” That’s all he says while he glowers at Blake.

  What is he thinking?

  “Come sit with me.” I tug his arm.

  “I think I’ll go. Don’t want to take up more of your time.” He heads for the door, and then he’s gone. He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.

  My heavy heart constricts further. In my current weakened state, the tears return to my eyes easily. It’s an effort to keep them from falling. I go back to my desk without glancing at Blake.