by Alex Grayson
What the hell are they planning?
Shit has shifted between Rylee and me. While I may not be opposed to Oliver pulling harmless stunts against Rylee, I refuse to let anyone else fuck with her. That includes Tiffany and her gaggle of girls.
I stand, ready to demand some answers, when Tiffany spins around and flounces out of the cafeteria. I stalk over to Oliver.
“What the hell was that about? What are you two up to?”
There’s something in his eyes that I don’t like. Something calculating and sinister.
“Not a clue. She just told me to keep an eye out for something big.”
I’m not sure if I believe him or not, but unless I’m prepared to beat the truth out of him, Oliver won’t say shit. He’s a stubborn bastard when he wants to be, and from the hard set of his jaw, I know this is one of those times.
He smiles and winks at Rylee, before turning and walking away, whistling a happy tune.
I have no clue what he and Tiffany are up to, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.
Not for Rylee anyway.
RYLEE
“UM, WHAT THE HELL was that?” Pierce looks about as confused as I feel when Oliver smiles and winks at me.
“Oh, so you saw it, too. Here I thought maybe I was seeing things,” I admit, shaking my head slightly as I watch Oliver speed out of the cafeteria, Zayden following directly behind him.
“He’s up to something,” Pierce voices the very thing I was thinking.
“I agree. Unless….” I trail off.
I think about the conversation I had with my mom yesterday. I might have expressed some concerns over Oliver’s behavior toward me—though I left out the part where he’s harassing me every chance he gets. She didn’t seem too concerned. Probably because she doesn’t know how badly he’s actually treating me. But I still have no doubt that she talked to Paul about it. Maybe Paul said something to Oliver. Maybe this is his way of being a sarcastic asshole about the whole thing. I can’t very well complain that he’s smiling and winking at me now, can I?
“Unless?” Pierce presses when I haven’t finished my thought.
“Maybe his dad said something to him.” I shrug. “I talked to my mom yesterday. I kept it pretty vague, but I got my point across that I was having a hard time. If his dad said something to him, maybe that explains his overdramatized smile. He can’t be genuinely nice to me, so he’s going for asshole nice instead.”
“What’s his problem with you anyway?” Brielle chimes in. She’s a friend of Pierce’s, and though I’ve only just met her this week, I really like her.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I shrug. “He hates that my mom married his dad.”
“So he messes with you because he’s mad at his dad?” Brielle doesn’t know the full extent of Oliver’s shenanigans, but like everyone else who goes to this school, she’s heard about a lot—especially the party fiasco. That seems to be what most people are still talking about. I can’t walk down a hallway without someone snickering or offering up their detachable shower head for me to use. “Seems pretty childish if you ask me,” she tacks on.
“I’m not going to argue with you there.”
“Come on.” Pierce stands, grabbing his half-eaten tray of food. “We should probably get going.”
“Is anyone else dreading this pep rally?” Brielle asks as we drop our trays off on our way out of the cafeteria.
“That would be me,” Pierce agrees.
“I don’t know. It might be fun.” I shrug.
I used to live for things like football and basketball games and pep rallies. Of course, that was back when I had a lot of friends and school was less of a prison and more like social hour. At Bristol I was involved in everything. Student council, dance committee, volleyball, and I ran track, among other things.
I miss it. I miss walking through the halls, laughing with my friends without the worry of someone doing something to embarrass or hurt me. You don’t realize how incredible it is not to have to look over your shoulder until you’re forced to do so with every corner you turn and every hallway you walk down. It also doesn’t help that I seem to be the laughingstock of the entire school.
I’m trying so hard not to let it get me down, but some days it’s really quite exhausting. The constant laughing and finger pointing. The whispered comments. The looks. A smarter person would probably try to be less visible—maybe hoping to melt into the background. But that just isn’t me. My mom didn’t raise me to cower.
So I take it all—everything everyone throws at me. I absorb every ounce of it, and I do so with a smile on my face. If they think it doesn’t bother me, maybe they’ll stop… eventually. Or at least, that’s my hope. To this point it hasn’t done me much good. But as I said, I’m not a tuck my tail between my legs kind of girl.
“Did I hear you right?” Pierce finally comments. “A pep rally… fun?”
“What? At least we get to skip seventh period.”
“I’m this way, guys. I’ll see you later.” Brielle throws up a wave as she veers right, heading toward her locker, which is on the opposite side of the school from mine and Pierce’s.
“Bye,” I call after her before turning my attention forward. “I really like her.”
“Yeah, Brielle is good people. Not the best girlfriend, though.” He smiles when my shocked gaze swings his way.
“You guys dated?”
“For six months, sophomore year. It was a disaster. She’s kind of a jealous person, and that’s when I was trying to figure out who I was. Needless to say, I gave her a lot of reasons to be jealous.”
“Sounds to me like maybe you weren’t the best boyfriend.” I shake my head at him.
“Yeah, I guess you got me there.” He slows, stopping next to my locker. “So, have you spoken with Zayden at all?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans against the locker to the right of mine.
“No, and I don’t plan to either,” I tell him, working the combination to my lock—which thankfully clicks open on the first try.
“I still can’t believe what you told me yesterday.”
“Which part?” I give him an annoyed look. “The part where he told me he didn’t like me, or the part after that when he kissed me?”
“The kissing part. Definitely the kissing part.” He smiles.
“We’ve been through this already. He did it to mess with me.” I grab a book from my locker before pushing it closed.
“The first time, maybe. But then again in the hallway where anyone could see? I don’t know. I’m not convinced.”
I turn, weaving through other students to follow Pierce a few feet to where his locker sits on the opposite side of the hallway.
“Did you not see what just happened in the cafeteria?”
“What do you mean?” He pretends to not know what I’m talking about.
“Um, Tiffany practically riding his lap.”
“That’s Tiffany. That girl wouldn’t know what to do if she wasn’t throwing herself at Zayden every chance she got. Trust me, he doesn’t want her. If he did, he wouldn’t be such a dick to her.”
“As opposed to the way he treats me.” I give him a funny look. “Your logic doesn’t make much sense.” I watch him grab a few things out of his locker before closing it and turning toward me.
“It’s not so much about how he treats you. It’s more about how he looks at you.”
“And how does he look at me?”
“Like that.” He gestures behind me with a slight nod of his head.
I turn and see Zayden closing in on us, his gaze locked directly on me. My heart instantly picks up speed as a wave of nervous energy runs through me.
“We need to talk.” Zayden stops directly in front of me. “Alone.” The word is clearly aimed at Pierce.
“Yeah, uh, I… I’ll see you later,” Pierce mutters before quickly sliding past me.
“What do you w
ant, Zayden?” I try to act as uninterested as possible as I turn and start heading in the direction of my next class.
“Oliver’s up to something.” He easily keeps up with my quick pace.
“And…? That’s different from every other day how?”
“I’m not talking about spouting off at a party for a few dozen people or dumping a milkshake on your head.” His nostrils flare. “I know him, and I’m telling you, he’s up to something.”
“And why would I believe you?” I ask, stopping so abruptly that Zayden walks past me and has to turn back around. “You’ve been in cahoots with Oliver this entire time—making my life miserable right alongside him—and now what? I’m supposed to believe that suddenly you’ve had a change of heart and you’re on my side?”
“I’m not on your side. But I am trying to fucking warn you.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” I give him a look that says I don’t buy it. “Well, here’s a newsflash for ya, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“You know what? Fine,” he grinds out, a slight tic in his jaw. “You don’t want to listen to me, don’t fucking listen. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Fuck.” Zayden pinches the bridge of his nose and blows out a heavy breath. “You’re really fucking frustrating, you know that?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I’m trying to do the right thing here and you’re making it really hard to do.”
“The right thing. Yeah, I bet. Zayden Michaels—Parkview’s resident badass and… closet nice guy? I don’t think so.”
“You know what….” Zayden steps toward me, and even though my instinct is to step back, I stand my ground. He lowers his face so that we’re eye level and my breath immediately catches in my throat. “You deserve whatever is coming your way,” he growls, his gaze dropping to my lips for a brief moment before he straightens his posture.
“And so do you,” I spit. “Based on the girls you have on rotation; I’d say an STD might be among them.”
I have no idea where that came from, but I can’t deny that it felt good to say. Even if it was childish.
“Careful,” he warns, a smile playing on his lips. “You don’t want people thinking that you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” I draw back like it’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. “I am not jealous of your trashy girlfriend or any of the other floozies you surround yourself with.”
“Tiffany is not my girlfriend.”
“No?” I cock my head. “Perhaps you should tell her that, because I’m not sure she got the memo.”
“Are you about done?” He looks like he can’t decide if he should be laughing or lashing out.
“Are you?” I throw back at him.
He stands there for a few seconds, his glare locked firmly on my face before he finally breaks the standoff.
“Shows over,” he announces and it isn’t until then that I realize we’ve drawn quite the audience. I watch as several students avert their gaze and scatter in different directions. Zayden gives me one more hard look, shaking his head slowly as he slides past me without another word.
“SO, WHAT DID LOVER boy want?” Pierce slides up next to me right as I reach the entrance to the gymnasium where the pep rally is being held.
“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully, still not sure what his motives were for warning me about Oliver.
“What do you mean you’re not sure?” He throws me a sideways glance as he follows me to the front row of the bleachers—plopping down next to me seconds later.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t know.” I blow out a breath. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him. How’s your afternoon been?”
“Same old shit, different day.” He grimaces when Principal Harris taps the microphone in the center of the shiny gymnasium floor.
The room quiets.
“This shit is so stupid,” Pierce grumbles under his breath as the cheerleaders storm the room, waving their pom poms over their heads.
“Stop it,” I whisper, nudging him with my elbow.
I roll my eyes at least ten times as I watch the cheerleaders dance routine. Not because it’s bad, but because the cheerleader in the middle dances like she’s at a strip club rather than a high school. Tiffany may be the head cheerleader, but it’s clear she got that title based on popularity and not talent.
After their dance, the basketball team rushes in, taking seats in the middle of the front row as a projection screen is lowered. The lights dim as Principal Harris announces that the cheerleaders have put together a video for the players.
It starts off with clips of each player. Some pictures, some short videos, followed by a skit the cheerleaders put on impersonating the basketball players. Even though I don’t want to admit it, it’s actually pretty creative. And while I may dislike half of the cheer squad, I still find myself laughing at their antics right alongside everyone else.
But then the feed cuts and suddenly it’s me on screen. My stomach doubles over, and even though every instinct I have is screaming for me to run, I sit frozen on the bleachers, not able to look away.
I’m standing in my room, in a white tank and black underwear, a hairbrush held up to my mouth as I belt out Taylor Swift in the mirror. I hear people snicker and laughter filters around me, but still I don’t move.
The video skips and now I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, my phone pressed to my ear.
“I know. I want to hate him. But oh my God, Savannah, if you could see this guy. Zayden is seriously the hottest person I’ve ever seen. And don’t get me started on those arms,” I practically moan into the phone. “Sleep with him? Hell yes, I would. I’m pretty certain I’m going to wear my fingers out just thinking about him.” And then, because I just couldn’t help myself, my hand slides between my legs.
The video cuts off at the worst possible moment, because even though I know I pulled my hand away following that brief touch, everyone no doubt will think I probably masturbated while talking to someone on the phone about Zayden.
Heat piles in my chest before sliding up my neck and across my face. The laughter is deafening, and yet I still haven’t moved.
I hear Pierce. I’m not sure what he says. I can’t make out his voice through the sudden ringing in my ears. I blink. Once. Twice. And when I look up again, Pierce is standing in front of me.
Seconds later, he pulls me to my feet and guides me out of the gymnasium, but not before I hear several people yell obscenities at me when we pass in front of them.
How could anyone do that to another person? To record someone in private and air it to the entire school? It’s unthinkable. It’s inconceivable. And yet, it’s exactly what Oliver did.
Tears prick my eyes as Pierce navigates me through the empty hallway, but it isn’t until we reach the parking lot and the cold wind hits me in the face that everything seems to catch up with me.
The video.
The laughter.
The taunting.
I want to be strong. I want to pretend like this isn’t that big of a deal. But the grasp on my control has slipped and there’s no hiding it. This stunt far surpasses anything Oliver’s done up to this point and anything I ever thought he was capable of. Saying I did something is one thing, because I have deniability—but airing a video to the whole school—even if it didn’t end the way I’m sure they all assume it did, can’t be undone.
ZAYDEN
“SON OF A BITCH,” I mutter, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth hurt. I get up from my spot at the top of the bleachers and stomp my way down. “Move,” I growl. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
People part like the red sea, scrambling over themselves before they get trampled by my boots. Raucous laughter fills the room. Principal Harris yells into the microphone, demanding everyone to quiet down, but it doesn’t do shit to calm them. They’re all too hyped up over what they
just saw on the projector screen to care that the principal looks like he’s going to have a coronary.
I’d like to bash every single one of their heads in. I’m going to fucking strangle Oliver and Tiffany. This shit is over. No one deserves what they just pulled.
I jump from the last bleacher to the floor and head toward the end where the door is. Oliver’s against the wall, his face a blank mask. Instead of going for the door, I stalk over to him.
He doesn’t see me coming, so he’s surprised when I shove him against the wall, my hand on his chest.
“What the fuck, Z?” He frowns, glancing from my hand to my face.
“I could ask you the same thing. You hate her so much you’d pull that shit?” I point to the blank projector screen over my shoulder.
His jaw twitches. “I didn’t do shit. That was all Tiffany.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Oliver. The only way she could have gotten that video is if you recorded it and gave it to her.”
“I don’t know how she got that video.” I bare my teeth at his lying face. “I mean, yeah, I took it last week, but I sure as hell didn’t give it to Tiff.” His brows drop, and after a moment he lets loose a low curse. “Fuck.” His eyes snap to mine. “Tiffany borrowed my phone a couple days ago because hers was dead. Said she needed to call her parents. She must have seen the video and sent it to herself.”
I bunch up his shirt into my fist, barely restraining myself from clocking him in the jaw for being so stupid.
“Why the fuck were you videoing her in the first place?”
“I wasn’t planning on doing anything with it, except to show her I had it.”
He grabs my wrist and tries to pry it away from his shirt. But I tighten my grip, and he narrows his eyes.
“This shit stops now. You got me, Oliver? It’s over.”
“Fuck you, Zayden,” he growls. “You’ve got no business in what happens between me and Rylee.”
I get in his face. “I’m making it my business.”