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So Chris definitely blocked me. If he actually got that message, I don't think there's anyway he could ignore it. The rest of this school might think the opposite, but I know that Chris is invested in his academics, and I know he wouldn't just let it slide if Sam accused us of cheating together. But I'm sure as hell not about to march up to him on campus and make a huge scene. I'm not about to send Mitch out to fight my battle on that one either, so I'm just going to have to go at this alone.
I've had to take on the part of my own lawyer in the couple of meetings I've had with the administration since they first called me down. I've cited my squeaky clean records a number of times, as well as the tutoring I've done and the research I've worked on and presented, all pointing to the fact that I don't fuck around when it comes to academic dishonesty. Unfortunately, the school doesn't fuck around when it comes to academic dishonesty either, so they're making me go this extra mile to prove that I definitely didn't do anything. Except there's no real way to do that except convince them. I even sat there and actually cried in front of them once and the tears did not seem to make a difference.
I'm not sure what's been more hellish: this cheating bullshit or the picture thing. Both of them are taking their toll on me though. Even in the middle of finals weeks in the past, I've never been this completely drained. I know I'm probably not going to win this, but god, I need to.
Riley's been a good distraction, albeit still kind of a weird one. His kissing game has improved loads, and by the third time we've done this kind of hook up thing, I'm able to conclude that he's halfway decent. I don't think he's ever going to be the best, but I suspect that I am also the first girl he's ever been with. Before Chris, I was that way too. And honestly, I don't have the experience to make that kind of physical chemistry work the way Chris was able to with me. So instead we're doing this awkward kind of high school experimenting thing.
He's taking this pretty seriously though. I've managed to stop him from going on any rants about how much he cares for me or anything like that, but he's definitely trying to let people know that we are an item. I'd be much more comfortable if no one else knew about this right now, because it's really not a serious thing and I really don't need anymore attention being directed towards my personal life right now. Riley probably just wants everyone to know that he's finally gotten with a girl, even if she happens to be that crazy nerdy whore that everyone's been talking about lately. He keeps getting bolder too, today he tried to kiss me goodbye right outside of one of my classes.
It's my fault for not defining this relationship with him and making it clear that I don't want anything that has strings attached right now. I keep telling myself I need to get on that, but here we are, in my room, making out sans shirts. And then pants. And then it's a little bit more than making out, but there's not going to be anything close to a homerun tonight.
Until we both hear that knock on my door, followed by Chris' voice. I jump away from Riley and freeze for a moment before I scramble to get my clothes back on. I at least manage to throw my leggings on before the door busts open and all hell breaks loose. I can't even say anything before Chris drags Riley out into the hall and begins what can only be yet another public display.
I barely get a shirt on before I follow them out into the hallway, waiting for Chris to either pull it together or start actually beating on Riley before I intervene. I stand a couple of feet away from them with my arms crossed over my chest, ready to yell at all of them.
Instead of yelling at Riley and Chris first though, I direct my anger at the people in the hallway, because I at least know what I want to say to them. "Go back to your rooms, get a life, there's nothing to see here and frankly it's none of your guys' business," I all but scream before storming back into my room and grabbing Riley's shirt.
"The two of you, stop being so fucking stupid and making my life a public spectacle," I turn my attention to Chris and Riley.
"You, go home. I'm sorry about this mess, and we'll talk later, but not right now," I throw Riley's shirt back at him. After all that Chris just said, I don't think Riley can be trusted so much right now. Not that Chris can be trusted at all either, but Chris is the person I need to speak to a lot more urgently, and this is possibly the only time I will ever be able to again.
"And you, get inside," I demand of Chris, already pulling on his arm until he follows me into my room. I lock the door behind us, and immediately go off. "What the fuck was that, and did you think it was really necessary? I know you get a kick out of exposing me or whatever, spreading those pictures around was really classy by the way, I love that the entire school now knows what I look like without a shirt on, but seriously, when is enough going to be enough? I'm not your fucking toy that you can just come and mess with whenever you please. Like for real, did not one raise you to know that you can't just drop into peoples lives and ruin them just because you feel like it?"
With that now in the open air, I pause to catch a breath and sit down on my bed. I haven't been able to actually look him in the eye this whole time.
"This has gotten really serious, don't you understand that? We could both be expelled, and I really could ruin your life for spreading those photos around if I wanted to. None of this is fucking funny anymore, and you never should have taken this so far over a stupid bet with your stupid friends," I say a lot more softly now, my voice giving it away that I'm on the brink of tear. Again.
My life has become bland, dull, and void since all the drama came crashing down on me. Avoiding socializing has really taken a toll on me, leaving me to sit around my dorm all night trapped inside my mind. Tonight, I opted to sit at a local bar, at the darkest part of the bar where I feel the most secluded and able to think. I didn’t realize that my life could flip upside down by something as simple as befriending a fucking nerd. Do I regret becoming friends with her? No, not really. There’s unwarranted animosity on my part, but even I can admit now that Dylan Evans is innocent of any and all charges except for falling for a fucking loser. She’s just a crutch for my denial, and something to funnel my anger toward. I’ve truly realized the past couple weeks now, that Dylan Evans is exactly the kind of person that I [i should] have by my side, she keeps me sane.
I’ve lived in such a fairytale since highschool. Even as a young, popular boy in school, I couldn’t stand bullying, but did I do anything about it? No. I went along with it for most of school, but something flipped my switch in senior year, and I really changed my gears. The bullying halted in my school for a while after that, but I can’t believe it took me five years to not be an asshole. But you know what? The game restarted when I got lost in the grand college parties, the ladies, and the freedom of being an adult. It all went straight to my head, and you know what I did? I became a fucking douche bag again.
Here’s the thing, though: I think that I need to remember that although I was one of those dickheads most of highschool, I overcame the fear of being disliked, even if only for a short time. Therefore, I know I can overcome this again. I can make the right decision, and prove myself innocent. Dylan Evans has taught me a lot of things, but if I had to pick one, it’s that it’s time to grow up and be the man I’m supposed to be. A man that my mom would have been proud of. Not this loser I’ve become, who’s such an insecure piece of shit deep down he can’t even let people know he likes chemistry.
[center [i I will prove myself innocent, and with Dylan Evans by my side.]]
The realization slaps me like a ton of bricks, and I come to an abrupt stand. The few people in the bar turn to stare, but the bartender looks particularly indifferent, as if this kind of behavior is common. Well, I guess it is a bar… I shrug, and slip my phone from my pocket, prepared to send Dylan a text exclaiming this. But when I see her text from a few days ago that went ignored, I feel a pang of guilty. Shit, I need to see her. I need to apologize. I grab my keys and head toward the car, but right as I grab the handle and pull, someone approaches from behind me and slams the door shut again. When I turn, I flinch and all instincts tell me to run. Although I know this blonde is not the same as before, I’ve been conditioned to act this way. For Christ sake, Sam Valin was, just a couple weeks ago, crawling on me like a fucking rabid chimp.
“Hey, we haven’t had a chance to talk in a while, Chris Baxter,” she states, cocking a brow. I will say she does a nice job of somewhat keeping her distance. “I hear you’re actually good at science. The whole school has been talking about it. You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?” She smirks, sliding a hand over my shoulder and attempting to be that shy, innocent freshman that she was a month ago at the party. [i I bumped into Dylan at that party, I think… ] The thought of her urges me to jump into the car again, but Sam slides in front of it, somehow monkeying her way inside my arm. God, a month ago I would have loved to shove her up against my jeep and go to pound town, but now the thought doesn’t even excite me.
“Sam, I’m still not interested, and you can drop the nice girl attitude. Everyone knows you’re actually a raging cunt. I wasn’t lying last time when you were being a bitch to Dylan that day, only reason people like you is because of you fake-ass tits. I know you’re a manipulative psycho, and I also know that you turned us in because you were jealous,” I pause, watching the red reach her face, the girl’s about to turn on fire, and her soft facial expression transforms to a frown, and I can just see that evil glint in her eyes, but I don’t give a shit, I continue. “That’s real fucked up, you know what? I’m looking at getting kicked off the team, and Dylan is looking at being expelled—which I could be, too. You don’t fuck people’s lives up like that because you love them, that’s not how it works. And it was really fucking immature of you. Now move the fuck out of my way.” She stands her ground for a moment, and I can see her seething. She’s looking for something to say, but can’t come up with the words. She bites her lip, and moves over so I can jump in. My windows are unfortunately rolled down from before. Makes it kind of awkward as I start my car and avoid looking at her. She starts cussing and rambling but I try to ignore her.
“You know what Chris Baxter? You’re a piece of shit, you think you’re better than everyone else but you’re not. You’re just as much of an ass as everyone else, if not more. Let’s not forget that you’re a shady piece of shit who, for the past couple years here, has done nothing but played football and fucked every fucking bitch with two legs and a vagina. You’re disgusting! By the way, wasn’t me who turned you in, you’re not a very fucking observant person if you don’t know who it is. The whole school knows who did it, but no one has wanted to tell you because this has been so fucking fun. You should have seen the look on her face when she found out she was just a bet. Oh, and when I called her a slut.” I don’t know why I’m even listening to this shit, but here I am stalling. I grip the wheel, ready to go off but pondering whether it’s really worth it or not. And then she goes and mentions that she didn’t do it, and I’m suddenly racking my brain trying to figure out who… “He’s better for her anyway, he’s not a fuckboy who thinks he’s the center of the world,” she storms off after that, and I furrow my brows together.
The next hour is just a blur, rage blinding me. I go on something close to a manhunt trying to find him. Of course, it’s Riley Douche McKee. I should have known it! I hit my steering wheel as I think of all the things I want to do to this fucking kid. Unfortunately, my manhunt comes up unsuccessful. I’ll deal with him later, I need to see Dylan. I make a U-turn and head back toward our dorms. Next thing I know I’m knocking on her door shaking with nerves. She won’t want to see me, I’m sure. Considering she thinks she was just a bet. God, everyone here is so damn immature, and Sam was right. I haven’t been any better. She just needs to answer the door, “Dylan… Please open up, I know you’re in there… Please talk to me…” I knock again, pleading her to come to the door. When she doesn’t, I take initiative and open the door myself. Well, this isn’t what I was expecting. Both of them half naked sets off dynamite in my brain, I swear I just see red. I don’t know how, but I instinctively reach over and grab his arm and chuck him out into the hallway. I’m respectful enough not to break any of Evan’s stuff along with his face. I shove him into the wall, holding my arm across his neck. I can see him struggling, but there’s no remorse in his eyes. I hear Dylan behind me but I don’t hear her.
“You’re really a fucking loser, you know that? Once wasn’t enough, huh?” I let go but he comes at me, and I left him over my shoulder and slam him on the ground. “You’re not fucking worth it, I ain’t going to fight you again, piece of shit,” I go to kick him again, but stop and turn punch the wall next to me instead. By now people have left their rooms and are now lining the halls in their pajamas with phones and cameras alike. “Low grade, shady, lying mother fucker.” I could hurt him more but I won’t, last thing I need is a fight and to get in trouble more than I already am. I turn to look at Dylan expecting comfort or understanding, but boy does she look pissed… “Dylan… I-I-I…”
Mitch keeps hyping me up and saying that I definitely shouldn't be the one hiding because I'm not the one who did anything wrong, but I still much prefer to be isolated in my room than subjecting myself to more stares and whispers. I hate that they don't even know a bit of the truth, and that they've all seen those pictures. I hate that Chris has seen even more of me than them. In all honesty, there is a bit of truth to what everyone thinks they know. I got played. I've come to terms with that much, but god he didn't have to make it seem so real.
The unsung hero throughout all of this has been Riley. When I finally turned my phone back on after a day of talking to no one, he was the first person to bring me food and let me bitch. "Don't you dare say I told you so," is what I told him when I let him in the first time, and so far he's followed along with that rule and hasn't gloated about it. He and Mitch have been around the most. Some of my friends definitely blame me for this a bit, and have pretty much stopped speaking to me for the time being. Guess it goes to show that I actually had some shitty friends after all. But it makes me appreciate the good ones more, and I really am grateful for Riley and Mitch.
Going to class is a huge beast to tackle, and I don't do it for a couple of days. I get the notes from lectures from other people and keep up with my work independently, but don't actually go to class until I absolutely have to. Not going to lab isn't really an option. Everything is good and well until after class, when once again it all goes down in the bathroom. Sam flew in out of nowhere, interrupting my hand washing with her dramatic entrance. "Hi Dylan," she says with a smile so sweet I can't help but dread what's coming next.
"Hey Sam," I kind of mumble, shutting off the faucet and reaching for a paper towel.
"I just wanted to let you know that I really admire your confidence going after a guy that was so far out of your league." Yup, I already want to punch her in the face, but she keeps on going. "It was really cute that you thought Chris might actually be into you."
"Okay..." I trail off, because seriously how am I supposed to respond to that? She's just trying to egg me on, and I really don't know why. I was under the impression that she stopped being all in love with Chris the second that potion wore off, and seriously, what did I ever do to her ?
"Like, the fuck you thought? That he'd really want you over someone like me?" She's given up on that little bit of subtlety, apparently.
I'm just going to walk out of here, because this isn't a conversation worth having. But right before I walk out of the door, I pause and turn around. "At least I've actually fucked him, which is more than you can say for yourself," I tell her with a smirk. If everyone already thinks I'm a slut, I might as well be a bitch too. Weird as that whole interaction was, it might just have been exactly what I needed to remember that I don't actually care what these people think, because it's all so stupid anyways.
The next day is a whole lot easier. In part because I have most of my classes with Riley, and in part because I'm really just so done with this mess. You can only care about something for so long before it starts to feel a bit like a waste of time. Because that's what Chris was.
Mitch comes over to us, fuming. I don't know what's gotten him all bothered until I catch of glimpse of Chris through the door. "Honestly Dylan, I'm going to fight him," Mitch declares.
"I don't think you'd be the favorite to win that one, so maybe don't do that," I shake my head, but grin a little at the thought of Mitch trying to take on someone about twice his size.
"He's just everything that is wrong with men in one human body. How does he even function?" Mitch rattles on.
"It's really okay, it really is," I tell him, putting my hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye so he gets it. "Anyways, I've got to go talk to this administrator about what happened I think. Wish me luck."
The office itself is pretty intimidating, but I'm pretty sure the guy I'm supposed to talk to is one of the most intimidating people I've ever talked to. He's this tall old man, with such a sharp face. I don't think he's smiled in years.
"Miss Evans, by now you are probably already aware of the accusations make against you. We take these things very seriously here, and we are committed to investigating this fully."
"The accusations?" I manage to ask.
"Were you not made aware? It was reported to us that you have been helping Chris Baxter cheat in his chemistry classes, and we have some evidence that supports this accusation."
"What?" I repeat, eyes getting wide. This administrator guy is not in the slightest amused. Before he says anything though, I get right into denying that any of that is true. "No, no, no, it's not like that at all. Chris has actually helped me with homework, but that's the extent of it. I have never helped him cheat on anything, and he has never helped me cheat. All personal opinions aside, Chris is much smarter than the average football player, and I think it is ridiculously unfair of this school to assume that his good grades have to be the result of him cheating. He merited those, just like I have merited all of the good grades on my record. I don't know who reported this to you, but I can tell you that this is totally false."
The conversation goes back and forth like that for what feels like forever, and this guy won't just believe me. I leave feeling frustrated, and immediately summon Riley so I can vent about this. And get advice about what on earth I'm supposed to do moving forward from this. I can't believe Chris Baxter might get me kicked out of school for cheating. Well, that one probably isn't actually Chris' fault but still it's all because of him. And if I get kicked out for academic dishonesty, not school is ever going to take me. They'll take Chris, because he can do the whole football thing. But another random smart kid isn't going to get them donors or bring in potential new students. So I'm royally screwed on this one.
Oh fuck, Sam Valin. She definitely went and made this shit up just to get back at me. I should've just walked out of the bathroom silently and let it at that. I really need to stop this whole accidentally ruining my life trend.
Riley's already outside my door when I get back, and he comes inside with me. I run him through what just happened, kind of freaking out but doing my best to keep it together, and he mostly listens, asking a few questions here and there. "And I really think they might seriously expel me over this," I finish, definitely on the brink of tears because I can't seem to hold anything together anymore.
"No, you're staying, I'll do everything I can to make sure that happens," Riley assures me. Before I know it, his lips fall on mine, and we're making out. A couple of minutes ago, I would not have expected this at all, nor do I think I would have wanted this to happen. But now that it is, it feels kind of nice to have a distraction. Riley's mouth kind of fumbles around, and I'm not used to that, but I wouldn't say that this is terrible. I don't mean to, and I don't want to, but I can't help but to compare him to Chris, and once that's in my head Riley is just kind of disappointing. But not the worst. And in my league, or whatever Sam would say. He's a comforting person to have around.
"I'm here through all of it, okay?" he reiterates when he pulls away. I nod along, moving to rest my head on his shoulder because really I don't want to make out with him anymore right now.
"I know," I finally say softly. "I should probably call my parents and tell them what's happening, huh?"
"Yeah, your folks should know about this. Probably wouldn't have them call the school and yell yet though," Riley agrees.
"Oh yeah no, I won't let them do that. But I'm going to do that now, okay?"
"Yeah, okay, I'll leave you be," he says before kissing me again and then heading out.
I'm not going to call my parents, but that worked as a way out. Now is just really not the time for Riley to give a whole emotional speech or confess any feelings. There's too much else going on. So I go and brush me teeth clean of that very weird five minutes, and then sit in front of my phone for a couple of minutes debating.
Chris is the only person who can fix this, probably. Or we're going to have to work together to do it, as much as I wish that weren't true. He probably already blocked my number, but it's worth a shot to send him a text. I'd rather do that than have to hunt him down in person.
[center [i 'Hey, so I'm pretty sure Sam told the school that I've been helping you cheat on tests which is psycho of her. I don't want to be kicked out, and I'm pretty sure you don't either, so do us both a favor and tell you to cut it out.' 4:39PM]]She definitely wouldn't listen to me, but Chris could probably set her straight on this one. I hate that I'm relying on him to do this, but I really don't know how else to make this go away without a grueling investigation. How does one even prove that they didn't cheat?
I skip my classes for the day, and instead buy myself a good amount of alcohol with plans to coccoon myself in my dorm. Todays events swirl in my mind; speculations, theories, hate, distrust, distaste, dissapointment... literally everything I'm feeling simulatenously. I wish there was a switch to turn off emotions. Leaves me no other choice but to scream really loud songs by Limp Bizkit and Korn, and try too hard to hold up against Nickelback, Daughtry, and Seether as I drive back to my dorm. I am emo at heart, I guess. I turn my cell phone on silent, and start rewatching Supernatural because how can you not like Supernatural, and it's a good way to attempt to get my mind off the day. Plus pigging out in front of the television, in my boxers, coccooned in my blankets, is so beautiful.
"Can't trust anybody these days, can ya?" I whisper under my breath. No one truly seems to understand what's happening, or how I'm feeling. I can see that in the way my phone is blowing up. Quiet frankly, I feel rather alone in this. Can't even tell my dad, he'd be so dissapointed in me. My friends would just make fun of me if they knew the truth , and the one girl who I could actually confide in and trusted pisses me off just thinking about. After a few hours I finally read some of the messages, and decide to join the stupid group conversation that my buddies and I have. I have no idea what's about to happen, but I'm perfectly prepared to tell them all to fuck off and to turn off my phone.
[center 'Dude, where r u? so many questions!' - [i John Thielen / 9:44PM]]
[center 'no where, got busy doing a thing off campus. questions?' - [i Chris Baxter / 9:48PM]]
[center 'srsly bro, what happened with coach? and that chick? SO MANY QUESTIONS, MAN!!!!???" - [i Elliot Keck / 9:55PM]]
[center 'nothin important guys, chill. just had a question.' - [i Chris Baxter / 10:00PM]]
[center 'dude, he got kicked off the team, where u been' - [i John Thielen / 10:02PM ]]
[center 'WHAT? Holy shitttt fuck! y dude????' - [i Elliot Keck / 10:04PM]]
[center 'yeah, idk y tho. chris, wtf happened? that chick right?' - [i John Thielen / 10:06PM]]
[center 'nothing. dont worry about her' - [i Chris Baxter / 10:11PM ]]
[center 'oh mannnn, wtf she do? bet she's a bitch, i told you!' [i - Elliot Keck / 10:14PM]]
[center 'idk yet' - [i Chris Baxter / 10:15PM]]
[center 'the girls tried to grill her but she didnt say much' - [i John Thielen / 10:19PM]]
[center 'wtf? cant everyone just leave me and my fucking life alone?' - [i Chris Baxter / 10:22PM]]
[center 'dude chill the fuck out, were just curious. maybe if u handnt been a fucking stupid ass and cheated u wouldn't be here." - [i John Thielen / 10:25PM]]
[center 'woah, J, leave baxter alone. hes just pissed af about today im sure, howd you feel?' - [i Elliot Keck / 10:28PM]]
[center 'dont be a fucking idiot, John, you really think I cheated? u think im that fucking stupid? course u fucking would.' - [i Chris Baxter / 10:34PM]]
[center 'idk wat u would do anymore, Baxter, considering u fucked the nastiest fucking whore in school. yeah, we all know. wtf is wrong with you man? you fucking losing it?' - [i John Thielen / 10:40PM]]
[center 'nah, dude, i just used to be a fucking idiot like you guys who didnt fucking care about anything but playing football and getting laid but i grew up. reality is a thing, guys. maybe you should start thinking about the future, too. hoes aint gonna be around forever, youre gonna be bald and old one day. grow the fuck up and get a life with something more satisfying then fucking different girl every weekend, 10 to 1 none of us r gonna go pro, and relaity is gonna fuck all you guys up. not me, though, not me dude. just you. going to bed, night.' - [i Chris Baxter / 10:50PM]]
[center 'night.....' - [i Elliot Keck / 10:52PM]]
[center 'fuck you' - [i John Thielen / 10:53PM]]
I tear myself out of my bed as the sun beats down on me, it's wierd not waking up early for practice. Shit, I tossed and turned practically all night, my neck's killing me. I rub it with my free hand, the other rubbing at my eyes and face which is stiff from sleep. I get dressed in a haze, grabbing my backpack where the shit in it hasn't even been touched. I peel out before I have to run into Dylan, a situation I've learned to avoid the past week by waiting a good twenty minutes after she leaves and taking detours to my classes as to not bump into her. The whole school is talking, everything is a mess. I don't know who to trust, I had my suspicion on John after our group message last week, but he's cooled off. Not mad at Elliot though, he's an innocent little freshman, but I like the kid.
My life has felt void for a while now, but the mystery of it all is still there, and the investigation is still on-going. By now, half the school staff has been asked questions, meanwhile I've actually started trying on my homework. Been doing real good this week, because I'm trying to prove a point that I'm not dumb, I was just holding out before. I figure if they don't find any evidence either way and aren't happy, then maybe me not socializing, staying out of drama, and bringing my GPA up to a 3.8 or higher will prove it to them. They don't understand, but I'm almost a genius. I chuckl under my breath, turning a corner too hastily and ramming into another student. They hit the ground pretty hard, but scramble up quick. I reach a hand out instinctively to help, until I recognize the glare of the guy. He's the one that's so close to Dylan. I think he's gay. "Dude, look, I'm sorr--"
"No, don't even try, pretty boy. You're a fucking douche-canoe. You know that girl has never let anyone in that close before? She's fucking beautiful, you were lucky. Prick." Mitch is frank... Well, he's got as much sass as you'd expect from such a flamboyent gay dude. For some reason, I actually wouldn't be too confident if I was stuck inside a ring with him. I cock a brow, shaking my head and heaving a sigh as I walk past. I glance back to see him walking out the door, and just as it begins to shut I see Dylan approaching him, and Douchie McDouche is standing next to her; he's pretty damn close, too. A part of me cracks a little when I see them, a strange urge to pull him away from her tempting me. Not worth my time, not now. I turn away instead, but not without an ache in my chest.
[i "I'm sorry Dylan, but if not for you I'd still have my team, my respect, my ego. Look at you, you've destroyed it all, and honestly speaking, you probably didn't even try.."] I whisper.
When my eyes blink open in the morning, my first thought is that this is just a dream. More or less, I've had this exact fantasy of waking up next to Chris Baxter after a passionate night for about a year, and it's probably something that's sneaked into a dream or two before, so it seems plausible that this is a dream. Recalling last night however, I'm sure everything was very much real. There's no way I could feel all of that through a dream. Taking a moment the bask in the last little bit of bliss before reality hits and we have class and life, I look Chris over and can't help but grin to myself.
I poke and prod him awake, smiling like and idiot with each little twitch and groan he makes before finally opening his eyes. I know it's way too soon to be jumping to anything, but I can't help but feel a little bit like this boy is mine right now.
I'm the first one to roll out of bed, and can't help but catch myself in the mirror. I sure do look like a girl who just had a lot of sex. My hair's tousled all over the place and I look pretty flush from sleeping right next to someone all night. My lips look a little swollen from kissing too. The finger I bring up and run over them confirms my suspicions. Even though I look a bit of a mess, I kind of like it. It's an 'I just fucked Chris Baxter' kind of look.
Still, I don't really need my business to be so obvious to the world. As I'm putting back on my clothes from last night I realize that's easier said than done, but I at least put some effort into collecting my hair and splashing off my face with water. For a guy, Chris does take an awful long time to get ready. It's probably for the best that we don't leave here together though, so I show myself out. In all truth, I'm kind of scared about continuing to be with Chris, or having to talk about whatever this thing is between us. I'm definitely the more invested one, and I definitely don't want to throw that into the air. Or give him the opportunity to tell me directly that this can never happen again. So yeah, I pretty much run out of there.
Chris catches up though, and I wasn't really expecting that. I welcome it though, but my lip back and all but melting into him again when he hugs me before we get into his car. I guess we're going to let other people know about this thing then. They'll definitely take notice of us pulling up to campus together. And indeed they do once we get out. Everyone is looking at us, and even though I'm on the shy side it's not an exaggeration when I say the spotlight is on us. The stares are accompanied by whispers, and it's honestly starting to freak me out. I'm not accustomed to this whole attention thing, but that seems to come with Chris. I'm almost grateful when Chris' coach comes out of nowhere and stops this guy from insulting me literally directly in front of my face like he probably was going to do. I seize the distraction provided by Chris' coach pulling him away to power walk myself into the bathroom. I just need a moment to collect myself. And to pee. But mostly to pull myself together before I actually do panic about all this unwanted attention.
From the stall I'm currently doing a weird sort of two-step pacing around in, I hear a couple of other girls enter, but mostly ignore them until I realize they're talking about me.
"I really just can't believe that he would actually get with that Dylan girl. She's just sooo... not his type."
"Didn't you hear, the whole thing was a bet about how quick he could get her to sleep with him. He even got photographic proof of it, apparently she's one of those nerdy girls who's a real slut deep down."
"No way! I kinda feel bad for her though, she totally doesn't know at all."
"It's not like her friends are cool enough to tell her."
Part of me wants to bust out of this stall and tell these girls off, but another part of me wants to literally cease to exist and flush myself down the toilet. I end up doing neither of these things and wait to hear them leave before I exit the bathroom, keeping my head down until I spot Chris walking towards me. I need him to tell me that none of this is true, and it's just stupid bathroom rumors being spread around by girls who don't know shit about what they're talking about. I need that assurance that he hasn't just been using me this entire time. But he ignores me, and just keeps on walking like I don't even exist. I guess I never really existed to him anyways.
Mitch comes to my rescue, swooping in practically out of nowhere and placing an arm around me, walking alongside me. "Oh honey," he starts off, somewhat cautiously.
"I know," I mumble. "Are there really pictures?"
He doesn't answer for what feels like a century. "Someone posted them online. You can't really see anything though."
"Show me?" I don't really want to see them at all, but I need to know what's real. Maybe they'll stop my head from spinning like this. Mitch pulls out his phone and brings them onto his screen, handing it over to me so I can scroll through. There's three in total, taken when we were in the car outside the restaurant. It's visibly me and Chris, and I'm visibly in a bra.
"You should report this, it's totally a violation of your rights and privacy," Mitch suggests, and I nod along. When I get to the angry stage, I probably will. Right now I'm just sad though. Sad enough to skip my classes for the first time in forever. Mitch is nice enough to walk me home and shelter me from the onslaught of stares, whispers, giggles, and the occasional catcall. Then I turn off my phone, and head into the shower, where I stand under the running water for about an hour. I especially do not want to smell like Chris Baxter right now. How could I have been such an idiot? This whole time I've known it was too good to be true. I just didn't think he was capable of this. Once an asshole, always an asshole I guess.
I find having her in my arms is very comfortable, and not wierd as I thought it would be. Dylan Evans reminds me of those girls in movies where they're ugly ducklings behind their dark-rimmed glasses and unkept hair, but somehow someone makes them over, and suddenly they're hot as hell. Dylan, I realize, is one of them, and she's actually really fucking sexy. Without all of that shit on her, she's so... stunning. And not just because she's smart, and not just because she accepts me for who I am, but because she is plainly, unmistakably mesmirizing. If the guys knew she was this hot, they'd hit on her, too.
My grip tightens around her, and I bury my face in her hair, trailing kisses down her neck. I gently blow cool air across the flesh, watching the goose bumps rise. [i "What happened? What's going on?"] I tease, and then make annoying kissing noises. After making her flip around and writhe all over the bed from tickling her, the night ends after another round of ecstasy. Man, I could get lost in Dylan forever, she's so amazing... and she doesn't even know it. I fall asleep thinking about how Dylan Evans is the first girl that I've ever slept in the bed with after sex, and yet it feels perfectly normal.
The next morning goes by unexpectedly well. Dylan manages to wake me up somehow, and we go seperate ways to get ready. I happen to catch her in the hall, and drag her to my truck. "Wait up, speed racer. You don't wan'a be seen with me so badly you'll sneak away? I'm hurt," I dramatically hold my chest and pause, before half-tripping myself forward and bumping into her shoulder. I guide her towards my truck, and kiss her forehead before she hops into it. As I turn the ignition I take a moment to assess the morning. I just walked out of my apartment with Dylan next to me, where I hugged her, kissed her forehead, and she preceded to get in my vehicle. So... [i Where the hell did Sam go?]
When we arrive at school, everyone stares at us. Reminds me of Twilight, when everyone saw Twitchy with the Sparkling Vampy. Dreadful movies I tell you, but yes, I've seen them. [i A story for another day. ] I can feel Dylan tense beside me, and it feels like she's distancing herself from me as we walk. I, of course, am not for this. "Oh no you don't, Evans," I tell her, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward me. I can hear the whispers as we walk, but no one dares say a thing. That is until Joe walks up to us, taking far too long eyeing Dylan up. I hit his shoulder jokingly, gaining his attention. "So, obviously it's true, huh?" He cocks a brow, and it almost sounds like he's mocking me. I cock my head, and Dylan and I exchanged confusing looks.
"What do you mean?" I ask the Ken Doll look-a-like, but before he can finish I hear my name. When I turn, I'm surprised to see Coach standing there. I instinctively let go of Dylan, and take a step toward him.
"Chris, we need to talk. My office, now," he demands, and I follow him. [i What the hell did I do now?]
"Cheat? On Chemistry? Coach, I know I'm a dumb ass sometimes, but I'm not actually as stupid as you all think. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true! You're right, I have been hanging out with Dylan Evans a lot lately, but that's because we're... we're... well, together I think?" I defend myself, and my coach's expression softens.
"I understand your frustration, Chris, but this is a serious matter. You're in college, for christ sake. The dean is taking these accusations serious, and he's up my ass about it. I really hate to do this to you, but unfortunately you know the rules. We have to suspend you temporarily until this is investigated further," he explains, but nothing will make me feel better at this point. So I start seeing a nerd, and suddenly I'm copying her shit. Maybe I like her, is that so hard to believe?
"No, that means I'm missing out on the Lichfield game, Coach, that's a huge damn game! You know how much it means to the team," I plead, but he shakes his head. "Who did it, just tell me who did it? Who said it?" Again, he shakes his head and I ball my fist and storm out the room. "This is bullshit and you fucking know it!" I throw over my shoulder as I go. I wonder who did it? I don't think Dylan would do that to me, but maybe this is all in her revenge plan, who knows? Or it could be some jealous sophemore, or that douche from that party last night.
This is so fucking bullshit! I'm in such a rage, that when I pass by Dylan I can't help but to ignore. I ball my fists as I walk by, just another reminder of what I've lost. I came here for football, the only thing I've ever truly fucking loved. I don't know who to trust or who to believe, but I'm more than a little mad. Further down the hall after passing her, my fist rams into the stone wall beside me before I descend the stairs towards class. [i I am so fucking done with this day. ]
Chris doesn't need to finish that thought. I know exactly what he means, because a similar thing has been running through my mind. He's so... surprising? Different? Special? None of those words seem right at all. I don't think there's a single word that could do my feelings about Chris any kind of justice right now. I'm too confused about them to have that kind of clarity. "I know. You too," I whisper softly, mostly to fill the air and get rid of any hanging awkwardness. In this moment, awkwardness is far from welcome. Somewhere in all of that, it was all but banished.
What's also left unspoken is that this is the first time I've felt any of this, and I plan on keeping that unspoken. Chris must know that much, but I don't sense that he's judging me for a lack of experience. I doubt it's something he'd like to chat about either, so we'll leave it out. All the horror stories I've heard got it completely wrong. Maybe I just lucked out with someone who knows what they're doing, but I imagine this is what it's supposed to feel like. I can't fathom things being any different with Chris. I also can't imagine what this means for the future between myself and Chris. Obviously I don't plan on trying to jump into any kind of serious relationship with him, but I'd like to feel all of this again, and I'd like to get to know that side of both him and myself too. I'd be perfectly content to lie in silence with him like this anytime, watching his chest rise and fall as his breath comes back and feeling his pulse slow back down along with mine. There's something comfortable about being skin to skin with him.
Acting just like the girl I was a couple of days ago feels wrong. That stiffness and shyness doesn't feel like me anymore. Maybe it's dramatic to assume that I'm a whole new person, and that this one experience has forever changed me. Maybe it's more like Chris pulled out a person who was caged up in there this whole time. Either way, kissing Chris genuinely seems like something this person would do. So that's just what I do, and I enjoy being able to savor it. Not having people around and not having to put on a show makes this all the more real. Like we actually have been together this whole time, and this is something we do regularly. Stealing long and slow kisses from him seems like something this new girl would do and not think twice about.
"So is it my turn to spend the night? What a twist," I tease when our lips part, propping myself up over him just enough to make eye contact. Boy, does he make me want to swoon. I don't think that much will ever change. My bedroom became Chris' space a long time ago, it's only fair that I get to make his bedroom my space in return. I don't think I could bring myself to peel completely off and away from him right now. It's not even an option, as far as I'm concerned.
God, I do like this boy. A lot. Way too much probably. But the way he looks at me makes me melt and I just can't help it.
There's something extra different, almost magical, in the ambience of the room. The moon is full, cascading plentiful light within my shadowed room. The light seems to melt into Dylan's very flesh, giving her a mystical, ethereal glow as I slowly caress her hands, then her arms... then her neck... down her torso, then down at her ankles, up her calves, and her thighs, and eventually I make my mark. She squirms, arching her back in a high crescent moon. Light explodes behind my eyes, and I can only imagine her stomach feels like mine--dancing--while every other inch of my skin feels warm, clammy, and tingly. Whether it's something we're feeling, or breathing, or a mixture of both, it's amazing how heightened all of my senses seem to be. Nothing even compares to this, not even sex on drugs, which is [i extremely] fucking crazy if you knew the drugs I've done at some of these crazy parties I've attended. Parties where I made fun of people I labeled losers, and tried to pick up hot chicks. Yet here I am, having probably the best sex of my life, with Dylan-[i fucking-]Evans. What are the odds of that?
I realize quickly I'm doing far too much thinking, and at some point I shut everything in my brain down and do what I do best--just a little slower, and far more gentle, than my norm.
After all the excitement is over, I lay on my back, arm beneath Evans as she curls on my side. Nothing but bare flesh greets the moonlight while it, for only a short time longer, sits right outside my window and blares down on us. I slowly run my fingers through her hair, noting how strange but nearly god-like this woman likes beside me. With her fair ivory skin, smooth and soft, and her long, darkened eyelashes, the natural peach color of her lips, with her long strands of hair tangled and spread across the sheets and myself in a silent and beautiful surrender to how this night has ended. You'll not see me complaining, although how to go about the coming days is yet a mystery. I'm sure I'll wake to an angry, obsessive blonde girl in heels way too high for her, and a color that will probably scream 'whore'. We will see what happens, though. She suddenly blinks up at me with those glistening emerald eyes, and if I didn't know any better, with that tint of red I see in her hair, I'd almost believe she was a Scottish goddess, and I her guardian knight during the day, and at night her equal lover.
"Dylan, you're so..." [i What the fuck is wrong with you? Man, she's making you turn gayyyyy.] A voice tells me in the back of my head, and a flush rises to my cheeks. Before I can finish my attempt at romance, I jerk my head away, averting my gaze. I never realized how bad I am at this, when I'm being sincere. This is the first time I've truly felt this way about anyone in a long damn time. I must be too nostalgic lately, I'm falling head over heels in love with a girl I barely know as if I'm in gradeschool again. Good going, Chris Baxter.
It seems like every kiss Chris lays on me comes with the price of a little bit of my breath, and maybe a little bit of my mind too. He makes up for the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, and I let him take the reins on this one. Reciprocating is easier than acting for now, but as the moments pass I start to build a little bit of confidence, and with that comes bravery. He hasn't pulled away in disgust yet, and the longer this goes on the less likely he is to do that. Every so lightly at first, I let my hands run over the firm muscle of his back, and then pull them back up around his neck. He makes this seem so easy.
But then he lets me know that this isn't happening without even having to say it. Of course he can't do this. He's Chris fucking Baxter, star of the football team and campus playboy, and who I am is really not compatible with either of those things. I'm probably a huge disappointment compared to what he's used to, and he's probably right that this is something that should absolutely not happen. These are all things I know, and have known, but that still doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach from rapidly turning into a pit. I can't bring myself to look at him or even look at the window, so I stare down out my hands. Now would be a good time to put my shirt back on, and that's exactly what I do when he starts talking. I should just tell him to shut up, and that he really doesn't even need to say it, but as usual I just let Chris do whatever.
Now he's talking about honor though, and I force myself to look back up at him. Mostly out of curiosity, I let him go on. We've done yet another 180, and he's apparently down to do this again. Or rather, he has been this whole time, this is just not the place. "Okay, yeah," I agree with a nod. The back of his car really is not the place, and really not the kind of story I want to stick with me for the rest of my life.
We sit in silence on the way to his place. His hand is a comfort, and I'm a whole lot more comfortable in silence than talking about what just happened or what is about to happen. There's a lot I should probably tell Chris. He probably has a right to know that I'm a virgin, but telling him that straight up is almost a guarantee of rejection. While I am the crazy girl who really did try to spike his drink with a love potion, there's no way I'm going to be the kind of girl who gets totally attached to him over this. Guys seem to think that sleeping with a virgin immediately means they've got a Sam Valin kind of situation on their hands, and that's really not a conversation I want to have right now.
The awkwardness carries over when we get into his place, and I'm starting to have doubts again. Just as I'm about to say maybe I should just head home, he crashes through the awkwardness, and we're back at it again. That heat that's been lingering around comes back in full force, and Chris has me totally under his spell.
I don't even mind being almost thrown onto the bed, and I definitely don't mind when the clothing starts to come off again. Chris definitely knows what he's doing, but something tells me this is a bit different than his usual hookup. I doubt he spends the entire day with most girls before he fucks them. I've got a lot to learn, but I learn quickly and he's not such a bad teacher.
It's not so hard to get used to the feeling of his body against mine, with less and less clothing acting as a barrier. "Just go slowly," I whisper my only warning. Although his movements have been a bit urgent, I don't think Chris is going to rush to get this over with. His experience definitely comes in handy here.
Chris, a guy who barely even knew I existed just a couple of days ago now knows all of me. When we've both finished, all I can do is lay there in ecstasy for awhile, trying to take in everything I just felt. There's really nothing that can prepare you for that. But god, Chris was so good. And still so attractive. And I don't regret this at all. So I'm not the best at talking about these things, but once we've gotten a little breather I pull back towards Chris, wrapping an arm around him and curling back into him. I still really don't mind the lack of clothing, or the sweat.
Carefully, I allow Dylan's back to first, gently brush against my truck's cold leather seats, and finally completely lay rest.To be honest, I have very sinful intentions for this slowly-fogging, warming back seat. Stars are twirling behind my closed eyelids, dancing around my head like a silly little halo. Sure I've been lost in the heat of the moment before, and it's easy to get caught up in sex, but something is different about this. Butterflies are doing elated circles in my stomach in sync with my tongues motion against hers. I'm ever-so-gently cupping her cheek, place a knee on one side of her to give me ample wiggle-room and a perfect angle. I can feel heat flooding into every inch of my skin, and it's having the same effect on her. While my lips are ravishing her deeper, and my hand plays in her long, silky hair, I trail the fingertips of my free hand over a small, exposed area of her torso, and feel the goose bumps rise. I think I can feel my heart beat in every part of my body, annoyingly one part in particular, and I swear I can hear hers from here, nearly a vibration from all this action.
"Fuck, get this thing off, Dylan Evans," I jokingly demand. After I've ripped my shirt off effortlessly, I carefully tug upwards on her shirt, peeling it off . Dylan Evans is not graceful--at all--but that's okay. I find it quite the turn on; her ability to stay sexy while clumsy is just... hot as fuck. She's new to all of this, obviously. We should be taking this slow...Wait... Dylan's a [i virgin,] isn't she? Fuck!
I jerk back, peering intently into her eyes, wide eyed and eager. She seems disappointed, and I wait for the calculated rhetorical question or witty remark that is so like Dylan Evans. After a few moments of awkward silence, I heave a sigh and sit back on my knees, while staring down at her now topless body aside from her cute little plain bra. Oh how the urge is there, but this isn't right. Dylan and I are much too tall for the backseat of my truck, and this isn't right for her. "I can't do this Dylan, not like this..." I pause turning to look out the window. I swear I see Dickface walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, and I assume the party has ended. Well shit, and I wanted to apologise to them, too. Except for that guy. Fuck that guy.
I slowly turn back toward Dylan, the equivalent of a puppy dog look on my face, I'm sure. "Dylan, it would be my honor if you spent the night with me tonight," I ask, trying to be as gentlemanly as possible. It has nothing to do with not wanting her, but wanting her so much I want it to actually be memorable for her. I don't want her first time, especially not with me, to be in the hot, steamy backseat of my pickup. That's lame as fuck. [i And here you thought you were no good at romance, douche bag. ]
Within a few minutes were on our awkward trip back to my place; it's almost like she doesn't know how to act after everything. She seems unsure of whether to return to our previous dynamics, or shift to the new one we've just expressed. To help her along I take her hand in mine while I drive and kiss the top of it, letting her sit in silence. I don't think anything I say will take away that blush; if anything, it will make it much darker.
We pull up to the apartment and I peer around for Sam's familiar hair or stupid little sports car, but I don't see anything so I hop out and walk around, Dylan's hand in mine. When we get inside, I slowly open my door and let her in. To be honest Dylan isn't like the other girls, so ho to reinitiate this, I have no idea. So I decide to be impulsive instead as we awkwardly stare at each other, silence only amplifying the sexual tension in the room. Finally I lunge forward, scooping her with both her legs at my side, carrying her toward the bed. She's so light, I can barely feel her resting on my hips. I tumble over onto the bed, ripping my shirt off when I have the chance, and then ripping hers off once more.
"'Bout fucking time," I whisper into her mouth, clenching my fist in her hair and gently biting her bottom lip. God, I don't think I've ever been this turned on in my life. I literally want to fuck her into my next life, and I haven't even fucked her yet!
That's one way to shut me up. We've done this before, sure, but this time is different. This time there's no one else around, and it can't possibly be a stunt to prove to Sam that Chris really is seeing me. I don't know where this is coming from, and I don't have the slightest clue what I'm doing now or what I'm going to do about this in the future, but it feels real. And it feels good. Oh my god it feels god. Better for me than for him, definitely. At least at first I'm kind of paralyzed. He makes it seem so easy to just swoop on down and kiss someone like you mean it. Seems like he really caught on to my movie scene inspiration.
In that moment, I melt. Chris and I completely and utterly defy logic, and I know that. We aren't supposed to be here, with each other, doing this. But we are. He's got this hold over me that I don't think he even knows he has, and I would never in a million years tell him about. Right now I don't have to talk though, I've just got to actual start moving my mouth. That's got to be the first order of business here. And he makes that part seem easy too. Like it's totally natural even though nothing about this is at all natural.
Right when he says 'fuck it,' I say "Chris," like it's a question. Like he might be able to articulate what is going on here. But the only answer I get is another kiss. For what it's worth, the pieces fit together more this time, and I'm not as frozen. When another touch is added, I don't freeze at all. I just mold against him, or maybe with him, I don't know. For all the times I've thought about Chris Evans, I never even got close to fathoming what it really feels like to have his hand at the small of my back. Never in my wildest dreams could I grasp what it's like to have Chris lower me down slowly, so I barely even notice that we're laying down. The cold of the night doesn't even matter right now. All I know is the heat of his skin against mine. All that matters is this bubble we've created. I know it's not going to last, but this is so much more than anything I ever thought I wanted.
To be honest, a lot of what Dylan says at first is lost to me, like my brain can no longer comprehend words even when I know I can hear them. The gentle, affectionate hold on my hand, though, suddenly brings me back to. I become painfully aware of how silent, damp, and chilly it has become. It's like she dragged me out from under the waves of the ocean, and I blink away the haze that filmed over my gaze for that short time. I follow her without any form of hesitation, quietly slipping into the back of my car. Strange feeling, really, not being in the driver's seat; I'm too spaced out to really cling to the idea, though.
I'm suddenly feeling a whole lot of shame, and want nothing more than to take back this whole night. Dylan probably thinks I'm an absolute jerk, but a pansy jerk at that. She most likely thinks I'm a crybaby, and I desperately want her to forget this all. But were here, and it's been said, so I listen to what she has to say. For some reason, a cigarette sounds really good right now, and I only smoke when I'm drunk so I'm obviously feeling some sort of way at the moment.
To avoid my own guilt and embarrassment, I focus on what Dylan has to say. She actually makes me laugh as I wave my hand away, feigning the whole 'I'm okay, silly' while she talks. It's not until she gets toward the end of her little monologue that my smile drops. I run my hand through my hair, looking down at my leather seats before back up to meet her gaze. For someone who's been treated like absolute shit by people like me, and especially by me, she does such a nice job at comforting. I can tell it's not her normal gig, and it's a bit uncomfortable for her at first, but the further she enters into her speech, the more I see the affection swirling in her eyes. They light up in this darkness, and I heave a sigh. Dylan Evans is really a unique person; I guess I am, too--perfect match--although she seems to think I want nothing to do with her. Its like she won't stop, going on about how she thinks we won't be friends anymore, but how she'll always be here for me. I got lost in the sound of her voice, quietly following the contour of her face with my eyes, visiting her lips, her nose, and each eye whilst listening to her. At some point I don't hear her anymore, and without even really meaning to, I cut her off by grabbing her cheeks and pressing my lips against hers with force. My self restraint is ripped from me as my hand cups her cheek, and the other helps me scoot towards her, unable to even formulate a sentence anymore. "Fuck it," I whisper while gasping for air, [i I don't give a damn anymore. ]
I know a lot of [i stuff]. I can rattle off endless facts about nuclear reactions and how they were discovered. There are indexes of all sorts of theorems stored in my head, and I can talk ears off about physics. But right now, all of that information seems completely and utterly useless. None of this knowledge is of any use when completely illogical emotions are thrown into the mix. Chris had his reasons for doing what he did, but I don't think this mess can be reduced down to some sort of simple equation. Riley says dumb thing + Chris is defensive over me = chaos is way oversimplifying things. People are not what I'm used to working with, but I am used to working on challenges, so I'm not going to completely abandon Chris just yet. Finding solutions is what I'm best at, so I resolve I've just got to figure out a way to make that happen here.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," I throw out there. While I'd like to know what triggered that kind of response so I at least have a bit of warning should it happen again, it's really not my place to get too involved. Even if it seems like we've been friends for awhile, the reality is I barely know Chris at all. "But, I'm not letting you go rouge right now," I add. What I do know about dramatic scenes like this is that they often occur in movies. I draw upon all the cheesy ones I've seen when I take a few steps forward, reach for his hand, and pull him back. This seems like exactly the kind of moment that should take place in the back of a pick up truck, under a starry sky. We don't have the starry sky, or the epic romance, but those things aren't at all important right now.
Now that I've got my bearings back, Chris seems more like an upset little kid than a grown man. It's like all those feelings have overwhelmed him and he has no idea how to actually deal with them. But this relates back to his family, and I shouldn't pry into that unless he wants to tell me. He probably should talk about it with someone, but I'm also probably not the person. His other friends here are probably closer to him and are better for the job. Even if I think they're all pricks, I can at least give them that.
I climb into the back first, getting myself nice and settled. The metal is kind of cold, but it's pretty refreshing. My heart rate definitely went full throttle back there. We can't just sit in silence right now, so by default I'm the one that's going to have to do the talking. "So, listen, I know I'm not your best friend or anything, but we've been through a lot of crazy stuff the past couple of days. I've been there for you and willing to forgive you because I know you're not a bad guy, Chris. You're really not, and don't for a second believe you are. Obviously, once this Sam thing blows over, we aren't going to be spending much time together if at all, but that doesn't mean I stop existing, okay? I'm still here, and you still know where to find me, and I will still be there for you if you need it," I let him know. I think he needs to hear that from someone right now, and I actually do mean it.
When I stride outside, I pause in front of my jeep, but suddenly pivot and jog down the sidewalk instead. I'm not going to ditch Dylan here, I'll come back and get her when I've cooled down. I'm having trouble even thinking straight right now. [i Fuck that guy, he doesn't fucking know my life. If only he fucking knew, he's the one who's mommy and daddy probably hands him everything. Fuck him. ] My hands are curled in fists at my sides while I slow my jog to a walk. Flashbacks of the family I once had flood my mind, and I refuse to let the tears that I can feel forming actually fall. [i Man, I'm such a pussy. ] I shake my head, resting my hands on the crown of my head, and dragging my feet in a sullen walk of shame. The night sky replaces the ground. [i You happy, Mom? No, you'd probably be lecturing me right about now. I'll take the silence for now. Man, Dylan's gonna be so fucking pissed. Just when I thought the gap between us was disappearing, this shit has to happen. I just have to lose my fucking mind. Maybe I just can't fit in, no matter how hard I try. ]
I halt in my tracks when I hear my full name, hurtling me into memories of getting into stupid trouble, or not listening, and Mom stating my full-name in that super unfitting, serious voice that didn't work--[i Ever]. I don't turn around at first, and instead reminisce for a few prolonged moments. Finally I rub my face against my palms slowly, listening to her expected lecture. The street light shave turned on, leaving cascading light to illuminate different parts of the street. People walking by stare at us like we're a scene, and eventually start parting off, giving us a few minutes of privacy. I heave an exasperated sigh as I pivot around, and I grind my teeth the whole way. Dylan has this funny way of making me feel ashamed before I even know why, and I look to the ground and kick a pebble toward the side, finding everything but her to look at while I hide my hands in my pockets. "Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what to say," I pause and look up at her for a moment, my eyes a soft crystal blue in the lamp's light. "Yeah, I know, I shouldn't have dragged you in it. But he was being such a judgmental prick. I was good all fucking night, and he kept at it. I tried to keep it civil, Dylan, I really did, and you can't tell me otherwise. He had it coming." My face hardens, and I turn to look toward the street. Suddenly, I inhale a sharp breath, my eyes expanding in shock, [i "Mom?" ] I whisper, but rationality quickly sets in and I look down at the yellow curb, caught up in my own heartache, and reliving the grief of it all again. Dylan's last comment compels me to look over at her, though, and my expression lightens. "I know, but it's just not a good subject Dylan, please, for once, just trust me on this one?" I'm not quite sure if I want to spill my entire life story on Dylan, so I leave it at that. I doubt she wants that. I try to feign a smile, but it performs lousily I'm sure. [i "I just don't fucking know anymore, Dylan Evans, I just don't.." ] I whisper to myself, kicking the ground again.
Chris has gone full on hulk mode faster than I could see it coming. These two are like chemicals that once combined immediately combust. Based on the looks on everyone's faces, no one else saw it coming too. Riley's dangling there like a fish on a hook, flopping about a little bit and not doing anything. None of my friends are doing anything though, we just look on in complete and utter shock. This definitely tops our entrance, and my friends will definitely never forget this, but this is not at all what I had begun to hope for just a couple of minutes ago. There really never is a dull moment with this guy, that's for sure.
When he runs off, everyone looks at me like I am somehow responsible for this. Sure, I brought Chris, but I didn't tell him to lose his shit over Riley being an asshole. I'm sure Riley got beaten up with sticks and stones and words his fair share of times as a kid, so developed that kind of attitude as a result. That's something Chris probably doesn't see, but the rest of us know that without even having to say it. We just know it, but he never could because I don't think Chris has ever experienced anything like that. Based on that whole interaction, he's been through some shit in life, but probably nothing any of us can relate to either. Riley shouldn't have said what he said, but Chris also shouldn't have lost his mind like that.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," I say about a hundred times before I too run out of the room, following after Chris. Part of me just wanted to escape a room where so many people were staring at me, but another part does want to make sure that Chris is okay. As if I will be magically capable of calming things down.
This is the part where I should mention that I ran track in high school, so catching up with him didn't seem like such a big deal. At least I'm not out of breath enough to be incapable of yelling. "Chris Baxter! I go out of my way to forgive you after you humiliated me in front of [i everyone], then I welcomed you into my friend group, and you go and do the same thing again? What is the deal with that? I know that you are smart and you are kind and you are not that person, and I think other people should know that too but you're making it really hard to get that point across. And really, because you were jealous that someone was threatening our fake relationship? It's not even real, and I really don't appreciate being treated like your territory when I'm not even anything like that at all," I say as loud and fast as I can, catching myself just before going into my rant about how I wouldn't even be doing this if it wasn't for Sam and I never should've made that potion. I am pissed, but I need to calm down a bit too before I pull a Chris and mess things up even more. "Don't make people hate you like this. You're so much better at making them like you," I soften there, looking at the ground because now I can't quite pull together the courage to actually look at him. I'm not great at being angry thing-- I haven't had many times in my life to practice it.
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