by Keilan Shea
“Tea, you’re staring. Do I have something on my face?” Johan’s blond eyebrows turn downward and his nose crinkles. “You’re still wearing that?”
“No.” I shrug off Dad’s jacket and set it and Corey’s slingshot on the passenger seat. “It was a little chilly earlier and it was in the car. You must agree or you wouldn’t be wearing your letterman jacket.”
“Yeah, it’s about time to take it off.” Johan’s lips curve down slightly. “How are you doing? You never returned any of my calls or texts and missed the first day of school. When you didn’t make it to our kickoff game yesterday, I figured that was it. For real. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“I’m good. I didn’t get any of your calls or texts because I thought I lost my phone and had no internet access without it when I went to Harvey’s primitive vacation home in Alaska for the summer to play at mostly living off the land. Turns out I never even brought my phone with me; it was on my nightstand when I got home yesterday. By then I thought it’d be best to surprise you by showing up today instead of calling or texting back.”
Johan’s mouth forms an O. “Really?”
“Crazy, right? Harvey even surprised me with that trip. I am sorry, though. I won’t miss your next game. Did you win?”
“We did. We’re starting the season strong.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” I rest my hand on his thick forearm. “I missed you.”
Johan flashes his perfect white teeth in that winning smile he’s known for. He sticks his head inside my window and rests his hand at my nape. Then his lips meet mine in a passionate kiss. He’s starving. Teeth, tongue, his fingers pressing into my skin as he tilts my head to go deeper. He’s been waiting for me all summer, meaning I have to resume my role as his girlfriend.
His kisses used to be a boost of energy that sent me soaring. Now they’re a thousand-ton weight shackling me to the ground.
“I missed you, too,” Johan says when he unlocks our lips.
He gives me about two seconds to get out of my car and lock up before he sweeps me up into his arms and hugs me so tightly that I think he might bruise my ribs. I’ve never felt so tiny in his arms, so fragile, like the twigs my brother would snap to hear that distinct crack.
Johan lets me go, and I think I have a moment to catch my breath, but then his hand snakes up my shirt. It’s normal. He likes to hold my waist when we kiss. I tell myself this, but I break out into a cold sweat and pure animal instinct takes over. Fight or flight and I’m choosing both. I slap his hand and retreat, covering my middle with my arms. This fabric, this flimsy shield, has to stay. Poor armor or not, it’s all I’ve got. I can’t let anyone see it. Scars fade, but the jagged one left on my skin mirrors the one on my heart, and it never will.
Why didn’t Johan let me go? This would be easier if he had.
“Sorry,” Johan says. “I didn’t … Are you eating enough?” He reaches out, tentative this time. I plaster my arms to my sides, ensuring my shirt stays down, and allow Johan to gingerly touch my ribs.
“Just lost some weight,” I reply. I’m not ugly skinny or anything.
“Hey, it’s fine. You’ll get that smoking-hot body back in no time.”
He doesn’t mean anything by it. I know he doesn’t. Johan doesn’t have a filter. He spits out what he thinks as soon as he thinks it. He’s such a fun-loving and well-meaning guy that it hasn’t gotten him into too much trouble.
I’m saved from having to force a smile when a dandelion-yellow convertible Beetle pulls into the parking lot. Mia Facio, the owner and driver, takes the space next to Johan’s truck. Of course, a pastel-blue Beetle and a pastel-pink Beetle park next to her. Mia is never seen without her besties, Zoe Quick and Eve Laas. I know the three of them well because we’ve been on the same All Star team since we were five and because Mia appointed herself my rival in everything. It’s harmless enough, maybe helpful since our cheer team worked harder because of it, but I always thought she took it too seriously. I wonder what she’s done without me all summer.
Johan clears his throat and lowers his voice. “I’ve got to tell you something.” He holds that thought when Mia strolls into view. Her auburn hair is loose and curled stylishly, but her makeup is the focal point. She’s found a color that saturates her blue eyes. That and her contouring technique have made her face almost unrecognizable. I know she doesn’t like how round, and I quote, “baby-faced” she is, but these painted angles are extreme.
“No way,” she says as Zoe and Eve pop up behind her. “Teagan?”
“In the flesh.”
“Cheer has been lonely without you. I took your place as captain, but we both know I didn’t want to win the role like that.” Mia sidles up to me and Johan, not caring that she has to touch someone’s car. She leans against Johan’s truck as if it were her Beetle, her tiny, and impractical, school bag threatening the paint job. The weird part is Johan doesn’t notice, even though this beast is his baby. All right, then. I greet stoic Zoe and shy social-media-addict Eve. All three are wearing matching sheer tops to show off their bikini lines. That’s not within the dress code, but the thin fabrics are opaque enough at a glance. I often wonder why they match outfits when they have three very different body types. Zoe is straight as a board. Mia is average. Eve has curves that could make almost any woman jealous.
Eve takes one of her compulsive sips of water. Her obsession with hydration means she’s always got a water bottle on her person, and it has to be some expensive imported brand that comes in a hard plastic because the water is “natural and mineral rich.” It’s ironic seeing as Crater Spa has natural spring water that pours fresh out of a collection of fountains that are ready to fill however many bottles or jugs a person can carry. It’s even free. But it “hasn’t been purified,” and so it “isn’t safe.”
“Why are we hanging out in the parking lot?” Mia asks. “We should go inside.” She rests her hand on Johan’s forearm. “And we should go out for lunch again. Annie’s Diner.”
Annie’s Diner. That’s our place, the diner Johan made our go-to lunch spot since we started attending Raindrop High. It’s close enough to the school, gets the food out quickly, and more than passes the tasty test.
“Tea, I waited all summer and heard nothing,” Johan says. “When Mia asked me to lunch yesterday, I went. It was just supposed to be lunch.”
And probably made out—which is the perfect accusation and lead-in to a normal breakup.
“That’s all you did?” I ask.
Mia rolls her eyes. “You were absent all summer. Don’t play the bitchy girlfriend. It’s not like you. Besides, you know how loyal he is. It doesn’t matter now.” She shoves Johan’s arm. “Does it? You’re taking her back.”
“We kissed, but it won’t happen again,” Johan says and takes my hand. Tries to. I don’t let him.
Mia huffs. “Whatever. It was my fault for instigating the kiss. Sorry, Teagan. I’m a slut and a bad friend.”
“What kind of apology is that?” I ask.
“The insincere kind. You disappeared.”
“I’m standing in front of you, aren’t I?”
“Are you? You don’t look like the Teagan I remember. Are you anorexic now? Everyone tried coddling you after the accident. Then you thought it was okay to run away. I’m not going to do it anymore. From me, you get the truth. You threw away everything.”
Something inside of me short-circuits. My head is a mess of thoughts that don’t make sense, a whir and a buzz. I start walking. I push past the bodies wedged between the cars and head for the school while Johan calls my name. At least, I think he calls my name. Everything is muffled as if I’m hearing it from underwater. Suddenly, I’m running. There’s a rush in my ears that grows louder and louder. It’s a car horn, warning me to stop. I smack into its hood.
Screeching fills my ears and this unbearable pain sears a trail along my stomach to my chest. It’s not real, though. It’s a memory. I’m conscious, if not dazed
. I’m on my back, staring up at a sky of blue and puffy white.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” A familiar, strong voice envelops me and its matching, chiseled face hovers over me. But the bruise on his cheek is missing.
CHAPTER 6
“Are you alive, Hackett?”
I can’t find the words to speak. I stare, puzzling through what I’m seeing. Has Blake Earnshaw concealed his bruise with makeup? Does he know how to do that? He has to. This is fine work. Weird.
“Stunned into silence,” he says, and I smack away his approaching hand. “There she is. You’re like a guard dog. Except you’re all bite and no bark.” He quickly probes my thighs before I can sit up and shove him away. “No wincing means no bruising, and you certainly didn’t break anything. You’re fine.” He presses his middle finger to his bottom lip. It’s as contemplative as it is insulting. “Maybe you’re more like a cockroach. You’re as resilient as one.”
I’m too shaky to think of a searing retort. All my anger does is fester with my uneasiness. I’m caught between a blizzard and a firestorm.
“You hit her!”
Johan speeds through the parking lot, throwing a punch at Earnshaw’s face. It doesn’t connect, because Earnshaw catches—yes, catches—the quarterback’s fist. Then he whips out that trick he pulled with my wrist. Johan’s hand cramps and his face contorts.
Earnshaw lets him go, and by then there’s a crowd. Mia, Zoe, and Eve (with her phone out) are at the front of it with mouths wide open. Johan’s other fist is ready, but he shakes out his hand first, second-guessing another swing. This is Johan at his best, when he’s in the game. He’s not strategic, but he’s intuitive when it comes to these things. He loosens up his knees and steps from side to side in a semicircle.
“I didn’t hit her,” Earnshaw says. “She hit me. I parked, and then there she was.” He taps me with one of his brogues. “I know you’re happy to see me, but this is excessive.”
“Huh?” is all I manage to get out in reply.
“Are you all right, Teagan?” Zoe asks and holds out her hands for me. I accept her help and wobble to my feet. My knees are shaking, but I let her go and nod my okay. This is the same situation as always. I know what to do: act as if I’m fine. However, I’m off to a horrible start.
Earnshaw lazily extends his hand to point at Johan. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Teagan’s boyfriend.”
“Read that loud and clear. I meant your name.”
“Johan, starting quarterback.”
“JV?”
Johan sneers. “Varsity. Who are you?”
Mia gasps, fingers spread over her mouth. “You don’t know who Blake Earnshaw is?”
Now everyone else gasps, including the other students who recently drove in, parked, and joined the crowd.
“A Gilded is attending Raindrop High?” Eve asks, lowering her phone. “Is that what’s happening? Someone pinch me.” She takes a sip from her water bottle, and then another. “Shouldn’t he be attending Gilded Academy? Are the Earnshaws going rebel like the Ignacios?”
A newcomer bursts into the crowd, using her ass to push aside anyone in her way. She’s my best friend and fellow cheerleader: Sarah Abelman. A couple of years ago, it was officially decided that she has the best ass. Since then she’s made sure to showcase it whenever she gets the chance—which means endless pairs of skinny jeans. William March, her boyfriend and a linebacker on the football team, is her self-appointed entourage. He’s always with her because “someone has to protect that ass,” but I don’t see him.
“What’s going on here?” She’s late to the party as usual, but she would argue she’s right on time. “Oh my God, Teagan.” She pulls me against her, squeezing me almost as hard as Johan did. Then she gets distracted. “Oh my God, Blake Earnshaw.” Her eyes open wide and she fluffs her afro with her fingers as if it isn’t already perfect.
Earnshaw’s lips quirk up into this sensual smile that has Sarah fanning herself. I can’t blame her, because it is sexy. But it’s those intense forest-colored eyes that catch me and won’t let go.
“I’m staying at Teagan’s place,” Earnshaw says.
It’s my turn for my mouth to drop open. This was the last thing I expected him to say. I’m the AWOL cheerleader turned pariah, so what does he gain by telling the truth? He should embellish the story, at least.
“What?!” Eve squeaks, phone flailing.
“Should you be recording this?” Zoe asks.
“It’s Blake Earnshaw. Everything he does is recorded. Haven’t you been following his romance with teen actress Chloe Sullivan? He proposed to her when he was ten years old and she was nine! Yeah, they were kids, but their love is the cutest, purest thing in the world. Everyone keeps talking about when he’ll propose for real.”
“Not everyone,” Zoe comments.
Mia places her hands on her hips. “He’s been the perfect boyfriend for eight years, but now he’s staying with Teagan?”
Sarah plants her hands on my shoulders and shakes me, something she does when she’s too excited to speak. Earnshaw has effectively turned everyone’s attention to me. More and more students trickle in, and there are so many glares. It’s as if they’re carrion birds staring down a dying animal.
“He’s not staying with Teagan,” Johan says between grinding his teeth. “Teagan doesn’t live there anymore.”
“No, but she visits,” Earnshaw says. “In fact, she’s the reason I didn’t make it to school yesterday. To thank you for your exemplary hospitality, Teagan …” Earnshaw steps toward me and the crowd parts for him. I’m too dumbfounded to withdraw. He takes my chin, tilting my face upward even though he’s already locked my gaze. Then he plants his lips on mine, shocking my entire system.
It’s soft, even his touch is soft. I could pull away and I know I should, but I don’t. I do absolutely nothing because soft becomes hard and the heat he pours into me is dissonant with the numbness, the ice. It’s like my rage, and it brings clarity.
Earnshaw finishes his little spiel, lips brushing mine, when he says, “You’ll be by my side when I take that first step inside my mansion.”
I shove him as hard as I can. “In your dreams.”
Earnshaw laughs. It’s a warm, husky sound. “Hey, if you’re too shy to tell them what happened yesterday, then my lips are sealed, babe.” He pulls his thumb and forefinger across his mouth, purses his lips, and tosses his imaginary keys.
I can practically see everyone’s mind whirling with everything he hasn’t said. This is not normal Earnshaw behavior—according to the media. Well, whatever his game, he’ll have to do better than this. I’m not his bitch.
“Oh,” I say, “I’m not the shy one.”
I snatch Eve’s water bottle, twist the cap, and squeeze with all my might. The hard plastic gives and the water spurts. Earnshaw ducks so that the waterspout is directed at Mia instead of him. She screams as it sprays her in the face. I stop as soon as it happens, but it’s too late. She sealed her makeup but that much water makes it run like a river. How many layers did she put on this morning?
I drop my weapon. “Mia, I’m so sorry.” If she was angry before, she must be livid now.
Eve and Zoe rush her inside. Most of the audience members continue watching the show and cover their mouths, hiding laughter, while the others disperse.
Earnshaw doesn’t bother hiding his laughter. It’s harsher than before, that husky sound turned into something substantial with jagged edges. He twists around me and catches me from behind, tying my arms to my sides so I can’t elbow him in the stomach. He murmurs one thing into my ear before letting me go: “Nice try.”
I clench my hands into fists to calm myself, but it’s not the best idea because now they’re in the ideal shape to slug him. My nails cut into my palms as Earnshaw moseys into the school with half the student body creeping after him like sycophants eager to rip off a strip of him to keep and cherish for the rest of their lives—not that anyone’s brave
, or stupid, enough to do it. They give Blake Earnshaw a wide berth.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I’m going to fight him, send him running out of Raindrop like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, but it has to be in secret. No more hotheaded moves or the Earnshaws will win and I’ll become public enemy number one. I wish I hadn’t squirted Mia with that water bottle, but what was I supposed to do? I can’t let people think I’m sleeping with Blake, either. I need everyone to believe that I’m okay.
Johan and Sarah guide me, with their hands on my back, away from the stragglers. When we’re out of hearing range, Sarah says, “What the hell was that? You ignore me all summer and end up vacationing with a taken Gilded?”
“Whatever you think, it’s not true,” I say.
“I don’t know what to think about him or the way you glowered at him. You were about to go all Catwoman on his ass and scratch out his pretty blue eyes to claim them as jewels!”
“And green.”
“What?”
“They’re blue-green like the summertime forest leaves and the sky peeking through them. Or like our school colors.”
“Okay.” Sarah draws out the word; she thinks I’ve lost it. Johan is speechless.
“I didn’t do anything with Blake Earnshaw,” I say. “He was … teasing.” Being a massive prick, more like.
“He’s not living in your house?”
“No, he is doing that.” This bitter taste coats my tongue and I do my best not to gag.
“I heard my parents talking about Jeffery Earnshaw buying all the available land in Raindrop,” Johan says quietly. “Did he buy your house too?”
“No. He’s renting my place for Blake until his mansion is finished. Since I’m not living there at the moment, it worked out.” The bitter taste intensifies.
“You let him kiss you.”