Take Me On

by Katie McGarry

Haley

  We left John while he was in the middle of a particularly eloquent cursing rant. The moment I knocked on his camper door and told him the heater blew, he forgot my existence. Sneaking out seemed like the best course of action.

  West and I haven’t said anything to each other since the kiss, which means this car ride is officially awkward. Resting my head against the back of the leather seat, I watch the night as we roll by. What the hell was I thinking?

  When he backed me against the cage and nipped my ear... I close my eyes. I can still feel the heat of his lips on my neck and what drives me stick-a-knife-in-my-eye insane is as much as I hate myself for kissing West, my body is screaming for a repeat performance.

  Stupid body. Stupid, stupid traitorous body.

  West eases his car in front of my uncle’s and the pathetic part of me wants to dart into the house without acknowledging him. I rub my forehead, covering my eyes. Oh, crap, I’m embarrassed. How can I look at him again? We’re not even dating and I freaking all but molested him. And that brings up a ton of issues because I don’t want to date him... He’s a fighter.

  “Haley,” West says. “About tonight—”

  “I don’t hook up.” I peek at him and whatever he had to say seems to have escaped him as he stares at me with a slack mouth. It’s like someone pushed fast-forward on the remote and my thoughts are skipping and racing. “I don’t know who that was, but it wasn’t me. I mean, have you done this before?”

  West runs a hand over his face. “Yeah. It’s what I do. Fuck that. It’s what I’ve done, but that’s not what was happening between us.”

  Oh, crap, I’ve digressed into an Octagon Bunny, bouncing from one fighter to the next. Soon I’ll be in a bikini, announcing the next round. Just when I think I can’t go lower...

  “Haley, I swear to God that wasn’t a hookup. I told you that this means something to me. That you mean something to me.”

  He’s saying the right words and a small voice in the back of my mind tells me to listen, but the crazy portion is winning. “Because that’s what you tell girls when you drop them off. You don’t look at them and say ‘I used you.’ You lie and say it meant something! I watch MTV!”

  “You watch...what?” He shakes his head. “Don’t care. What happened between us—”

  “Stop it.” There’s an ache near my heart and my hand claws at my chest. I can’t think and I can’t draw in a deep breath and I kissed West and I loved kissing him and he makes me laugh and he’s a fighter and I like him.

  I like him. I more than like him and it terrifies me that I have feelings for West Young. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” West tosses his arms out as if he’s mad or frustrated or I don’t know what, because I don’t trust my reactions on anything anymore.

  “Hook up or date a fighter or like or love or anything. I don’t want anyone close again.” Sheer terror widens my eyes with the rawness of the words. “Have you ever seen the paint sets that have multiple colors?” I’ve boarded the bus for crazy and somehow I can’t get off.

  West

  “Have you ever seen the paint sets that have multiple colors?” Haley rushes out the words as if they’ll erase what she said before them.

  “Yes,” I say slowly, trying to buy us both time. How the hell did this get all screwed up? One moment we were kissing; then it blew up in my face. This is karma biting me in the ass for every girl I said pretty things to in order to satisfy myself.

  The leather seat squeaks when she faces me. At least she’s not running for the safety of the house. “When you open up the set, it’s beautiful, right? Each color is perfect and if you’re careful, you can paint and paint and paint as long as you take the time to rinse off the color you just used into the water, maybe use a towel and dry the brush before moving on.”

  She shyly glances away. The tension building between us causes me to shift. I may not understand it, but Haley’s attempting to explain something. I nod, willing her to continue. “Paint, brushes, water. I’m keeping up.”

  Haley inhales. “Sometimes you get too excited and dip the brush into the paint and the colors get mixed up. All of a sudden I’m no longer yellow and you’re no longer blue.”

  “We become green,” I finish for her.

  Haley lifts her head and she’s raw, completely open. Too open, almost bleeding. “I dated Matt and I sort of became gray and I’m over being gray and I’m not ready to be green. I’d like to try yellow again for a while.”

  Haley needs time, and I can give her that. Maybe I’ll find a way to get my own shit together and figure out how to tell her about my family by then.

  She sucks in air as if she swallowed too much water and I throw out a life preserver. “When will you teach me grappling? You said it would be soon.”

  Haley blinks and what was meant to help her causes her to drop her head back and then forward into her hands. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Grappling’s out of my league. I’m a kickboxer, not a wrestler,” she mumbles through her fingers. “I’m going to fail you.”

  Yeah, Haley needs time, but I’m not ready to give her space. I pull on her hands and, when she refuses to look at me, I place my fingers under her chin and force her eyes to mine. They’re glassy and in pain and I don’t want any of that over me. “There’s no possible way you can fail me. The fact that you believe in me enough to train me...to let me help you with your scholarship... You are not capable of failing.” That’s my arena.

  She tilts her head and I brush my thumb against her cheek. Haley closes her eyes as if she enjoys my touch and when she reopens them, she struggles to smile. “This sort of feels like green.”

  “This is me being blue. Don’t worry—you’re still yellow.”

  Her eyes laugh for a brief second and I burn the sight into my memory. I withdraw my hand and Haley opens the passenger-side door, steps out and closes it behind her.

  I roll down the passenger-side window. “Haley.”

  She raises her eyebrows.

  I lean my shoulder against my door and grip the steering wheel. “You need time, that’s fine, but we’re no longer pretend dating. Not sure what it is, but we’re more than that. Thought it’d be simpler if I made that clear.”

  With lines bunched around her eyes, she nods once but won’t look at me. She turns for the house, takes two steps, then rushes back to the car. Haley swings the door open, grabs the roses, then blushes when our eyes meet. “You’re right. I like guys that bring me flowers, but just so you know I am so still yellow. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Haley slams the door shut and bolts for the house. I pull away feeling like a man who’s flying.

  Haley

  The door to the bathroom rattles, followed by three knocks. “Occupied!”

  I undo the strings of my red half apron and wash my hands in the sink. The scent of pizza and pasta smothers me and my hair is horrifically frizzed from waltzing in and out of the steamy kitchen. This is not how I want to look or smell when I hop into West’s SUV. I comb my fingers through my hair and it does nothing to tame the wild monstrosity.

  The door rattles again. There’s one bathroom each for men and women and someone obviously has to pee. The outfit isn’t so bad: my best jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt, but the hair...the lack of makeup...the fact I’m pathetic enough to care...

  It’s not like West and I won’t be sweating, sweltering messes in an hour. But still, the past couple of weeks with West have been...well...nice. Last Friday night, West backed me up against the cage, he kissed me, made my body come alive, and now...he’s letting me be yellow.

  I barely recognize the silly grin sliding across my lips. Somehow West is reducing me to giggles and grins and butterflies. There’s hope for me being a girly-girl yet.<
br />
  With a deep breath, I leave the bathroom and ignore the long line of angry-faced women doing the I-gotta-pee dance. It’s not my fault they sucked down gallons of Diet Coke. It’s Friday and the restaurant is packed.

  I walk out into the cool late March night and glance around the parking lot for West’s SUV. My sigh materializes into a white mist and quickly evaporates. He’s not here. I’m a few minutes early, but my tables paid and were out the door. If I stayed inside, my boss would have stuck me with more tables and then I would have been trapped for a minimum of thirty minutes, maybe longer.

  To my right, a girl’s shrill laughter echoes from the back of the building. A crowd lingers there and my stomach sinks. It’s been months since they’ve hung out here—honestly since our breakup—but I have no doubt the back-alley loiterers are Matt and his crew.

  I pivot on my heels, willing to take my chances on another table, when Matt emerges from the shadows.

  West

  I finished the last item on my thin to-do list for Denny a half hour ago, but for the fourth time today, I sweep the stockroom. Guess with moving home, I could have quit, but I’ve stayed on as Denny’s monkey for multiple reasons.

  One, I need the money in case Dad changes his mind and throws me out again. Two, oddly enough, I like what I do here. I fix things. I’m useful. For once in my life I actually do something right. But the last reason, the most important reason, deals with Mom.

  It’s the fourth Friday of the month and six-fifty in the evening. Rachel had surgery last Friday and Mom was chained to her side. If life goes on as normal, I’m betting Mom pushed back the visit by a week, and all I want for my birthday is to discover why she visits.

  My cell buzzes and I ignore it. My mother whispered a happy birthday to me this morning from the door of my bedroom when she left at five to see Rachel. Dad mumbled something as he left for work that sounded like an acknowledgment of my existence while I ate breakfast in the kitchen. My brothers and friends have texted their birthday wishes and the continuing texts have been from my closer friends—friends from my old life.

  Most of the messages say the same things. Where have you been? There’s a party tomorrow night. You’ve gotta come. It’s been too long. Weeks ago, I would have, but with the fight looming a month away, my nights belong to Haley.

  The door to the bar opens and Denny sticks in his head. Johnny Cash sings about a ring of fire and a woman’s drunk laughter drifts with him into the room. “Have you become learning impaired or crippled since I last saw you?”

  I continue to sweep the nonexistent dirt. “Got a point?”

  “Yeah, you should have been done a half hour ago.”

  Our eyes meet and my heart beats once. Denny has never pushed me out. He has to be in on the secret. “I get paid by the hour.”

  The Vin Diesel stunt double shakes his head and widens the door. “He’s not coming out so I guess you’re going in.”

  My hands freeze on the broom handle and for a short second I expect my mother. Instead, Abby walks in with a Hostess CupCake on a plate and a single lit candle.

  “Don’t get delusional and think this means I like you,” says Abby. “Because I don’t. I’m being blackmailed and I don’t appreciate it. I do the blackmailing, not the other way around.”

  Denny leans against the open door with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk planted on his face. “You have the rest of the night off with full pay. Get the hell out of my bar.”

  “How did you know?” I ask.

  Denny gestures toward Abby and Abby holds up a cell. “Rachel.”

  Rachel. The two of them might as well have used razor blades against my soul. I take the phone and a moment before saying, “Hey.”

  “Happy birthday!” I can hear Rachel’s smile. “Did Abby give you a piece of cake?”

  I survey the prepackaged glob of sugar. “And a candle.”

  “Good. Make a wish and blow it out.”

  With an owner of a run-down bar and a drug dealer watching me, I stare at the burning candle and wish for Rachel’s health, for her happiness and for her forgiveness. I release a breath and watch as smoke rises into the air. “It’s done, Rach.”

  “I love you,” she says.

  Me, too. “Thanks.” I’m not sure how to react when my eyes burn.

  “Abby says you have a girlfriend.”

  Abby rocks her eyebrows when I glare at her. I sigh, not wanting to lie to Rachel, but the truth is, I like Haley. A lot. As much as I’m dying to see her naked, I’m just as content hanging out with her fully clothed. There’s a strange tugging inside me and I try not to focus on it because that chaos scares the shit out of me. “Yeah.”

  “I want to meet her.”

  “Maybe.” I consider adding on “freakasaurus.” I used to call Rachel that, but I lost the right to tease her months ago.

  “I’ve got to go. A nurse walked in. Happy birthday again.” She ends the call and I hand the cell to Abby.

  In a whirl, Abby turns on Denny. “If you give me twenty dollars, I’ll make sure he goes out the back.”

  With a look used by marine interrogators, Denny assesses Abby. “You better.” He yanks a twenty out of his pocket, gives it to her, then leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “I’m not leaving,” I say.

  “Didn’t expect you to think you would, but you will. And FYI—when you freak later because you rush out of here like your penis is on fire and like your eyes have been sprayed with Mace, know I stayed to watch your mom’s back. Then you will, once again, owe me. Since you’re in good graces with Daddy, I’m thinking cash this time. In increments of lots of zeros.”

  “Don’t hold your breath because I’m staying.”

  Abby cocks her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Haley soon?”

  “You do stalk me, don’t you?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. Everyone at school knows you and Matt will be going at it in April and that Haley’s all Mr. Miyagi Karate Kid to your Daniel-san. Has she taught you wax on and wax off yet? If so, can you teach me? I’m totally ready to kick some ass.”

  “Conner and I will be going at it, not me and Matt,” I correct her, then ignore everything else.

  There’s a gleam in her eye I don’t like. “Whatever you say. Check it out—I’m feeling generous today, so are you ready for your present?”

  I hold out a hand, waiting for her worst.

  “Okay, this isn’t your present, but it’s important. Matt figured out your weakness.”

  This ought to be funny since the only weakness I have at the moment is Rachel and no one at school besides Jessica and Abby knows I’m a trust fund Young. “What does he think it is?”

  “Haley,” she says in a “duh.” “A blind man could see you falling for the girl with your long ass stares and tongue hanging out of your mouth. Matt and his crew are chilling at Haley’s place of employment tonight and his birthday gift to you is to rattle her.”

  The broom snaps against the floor as I drop it. “How do you know this?”

  “I told you already—there isn’t much that happens in my territory that I don’t know.”

  I step for the back door and Abby grabs me. “I haven’t given you your birthday present.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about a present.” I need to get to Haley.

  Abby clings to me and stares straight into my eyes, not caring I’ll haul her ass with me in order to protect my girl. “It’s your mom,” she says in a rush. “She’s not having an affair. She comes here to see her brother.”

  Haley

  Matt has a girl draped on his arm. She’s a genuine bikini-wearing, sign-strutting Octagon Bunny from the fights. Blond hair, big breasts and very much a girly-girl. Her laughter fades the moment she spots me. />
  The three of us eye each other and I hate the seasickness of seeing him with someone else. Once upon a time, regardless of what happened between us at the end, I cared for Matt. I briefly close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. I lost my virginity to him and now he’s doing that. I’m consumed with the need to take a hot shower and scrub my skin off.

  Because I don’t live under a rock, I’ve heard the rumors of how he’s done it with every girl backward, sideways and forward since we broke up. Matt terrifies me and I hate him, but as she winds her arm tighter around his, nausea causes me to turn away and head to the front of the building. When I’m far enough away, I drop to the curb.

  “You broke up with me.” With his hands shoved in his pockets, Matt’s a good six feet away and the Octagon Bunny is nowhere in sight.

  “Stay where you are.” Because the thought of him any closer causes my hands to tremble.

  I consider standing, but my knees have that weak feeling. I’m in public. If Matt comes near me, I can scream and he’ll walk away. I wrap my arms around my body, to keep myself warm, to keep myself intact. With each rock, I repeat the mantra: I’m safe.

  Matt sinks to his portion of the curb, maintaining the make-believe restraining order. “I saw the pain on your face when you looked at her. I don’t like hurting you.”

  My mind warps and separates, then crashes together. I bend over as I laugh. It’s manic and maddening and I try to shove the hysterical giggles back in as I slap a hand over my mouth, but they won’t stop. I shed blood because of him. I lost my family over him. He has done more than hurt me; he’s destroyed me.

  The laughter runs dry and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to cry. “She doesn’t bother me.”

  It’s the truth. The nausea—it’s not from seeing him with her. It’s from hating myself. How could I ever have loved somebody like him? How could I have given him something as sacred as my virginity?

  “She bothered you,” he insists. “I fucked up with us. I know it and I’m sorry. If you give us another chance, I swear, I’ll be different.”