Her mouth contracted into the type of pucker someone has after sucking on a lemon. ‘You weren’t … fighting.’ Her contemptuous tone carried a clear-cut warning. Somehow, I knew Wynn wasn’t going to heed it. ‘Then why all the blood and bruises?’ She leaned forward, her lips stretching into the beginnings of a gotcha grin.
‘I fell down the stairs.’
Her stare should have iced him over. ‘You live in a trailer.’
‘I didn’t say I was at home.’
Her gaze whipped to me. ‘And you?’
‘He fell down the stairs, too.’ Christ on a cracker, as Grandpa would say – Wynn was answering for both of us. I was so screwed. ‘We both did. It was epic. Pretty sure it’s on YouTube by now.’
Her eyes didn’t budge from me. ‘Mr Maxfield? Care to tell the truth?’
No matter what I thought of Wynn, Ingram was not on my side and I knew it. I took a breath. ‘I think we were pushed.’
Her eyes flared wide. ‘By whom?’
‘I don’t know. They were behind us.’
There was a long silence as she figured out that neither of us was willing to give up the other to benefit her. ‘You are both –’ she paused to harden her already-sharp jaw – ‘expected to follow my rules while you are in my house. If I find one teacher who will say they witnessed a single punch being thrown by either of you, I will toss both of your ill-bred carcasses back into the streets and on your butts without a moment of misgiving! Do. You. Feel. Me?’
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, because one, I had no doubt she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of both of us, which was anything but funny, and two, my lip was split in two places and would hurt like a motherfucker if I so much as smirked. But a middle-aged woman asking us Do you feel me? What the hell?
Wynn, fingering his chin, said, ‘This sounds familiar … Have you considered making a handout?’
I cough-laughed into a fist, wincing at the pain. Son of a bitch. My heart hammered as hard as it had when I’d first swung my fist at his face.
Her face mottled, and all I could think was the dragon was about to breathe fire. ‘Get out. I’m calling your parents. You are both suspended for a full week. Sit in the outer office until called. Do. Not. Talk.’
Under his breath, Wynn muttered, ‘Shit.’
Luckily, she didn’t hear him over my, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
We jumped up and exited her office, slouching into hard lobby chairs that did nothing for my sore back. I hoped Wynn was hurting even worse than I was. Facing the front counter of the main office, we left an empty chair between us.
I didn’t know what Dad would do or say. He barely spoke to me as it was.
‘Maxfield?’
Surprise, surprise, Wynn defied the do not talk command before the first minute was up. I ignored him.
‘Sorry about what I said. You know, about your mother.’ As if it needed qualifying.
Scratching at a splotch of dried blood on my jeans, I wondered if it was mine or his.
‘It was a dick thing to say.’
I looked at him, confused. ‘Yeah. It was.’
LUCAS
I almost began thinking of myself as two different people, at least where Jacqueline was concerned. I was the guy who’d been mesmerized by her for weeks and had regrettably earned her fear in saving her from an assault, and I was the guy who was the opposite of a threat – trading quips and stories through email while helping her catch up in class.
On one hand, I wanted her to know I was both the class tutor and the guy from Saturday night. Mostly, though, I wished I could be someone else altogether. Someone unrestricted by an otherwise sensible ethical line, and someone untied to possibly the worst night of her life.
Instead of entering the classroom when I arrived, I leaned on the wall across the hall and waited for her to show up. Without intending to be, I was a grudging witness to some banter between Kennedy Moore and Ivy. Leaning on the wall just outside the door, they swapped phone numbers and contact pics. She giggled the entire time. This was the sort of girl this guy thought could replace Jacqueline? There were plenty of intelligent women on this campus, including sorority girls, if that was his thing – but this girl?
No.
I turned my eyes away, and that’s when I noticed Jacqueline, standing in the middle of the hallway, watching them. From her stationary posture and the quiet hurt on her face, her motivations for skipping two weeks of class were all too clear. Not only had he ended their relationship without warning, he wasn’t wasting any time moving on. Only a masochist would want to watch that in action.
Some clumsy dickhead bumped into her then, and I pushed off the wall as her backpack slid down her arm and hit the floor. She righted herself, twisting down as I picked it up. Her eyes flashed up to mine and I wanted nothing more than to shield her from every injury or discomfort she might ever encounter.
So not possible – this I knew.
‘Chivalry isn’t really dead, you know,’ I said, sliding the bag back on to her shoulder.
‘Oh?’ Her cheeks were tinged pink. It was cool outside this morning, but I gathered that her flush was due to embarrassment, not the slight November chill.
‘Nah. That guy’s just an asshole.’ Lifting my chin towards the jerk who’d run into her without even a proper apology, I couldn’t help fixing her dick of an ex in my sights, too, before returning to her. ‘You okay?’
In her eyes, I read her recognition of this recurrent question, and I hated myself for constantly reminding her of that night, even if that was the last thing I wanted to do.
Maybe she couldn’t help but be reminded, no matter what I said or did. I needed nothing to trigger my personal nightmares, after all. They came indiscriminately, regardless of what I did to avoid them.
‘Yes, fine.’ Her voice was a deflated whisper as she glanced towards the doorway. Moore and his would-be conquest had gone inside, and she moved to follow her classmates. ‘Thank you.’
Her thank you reminded me of the rainy day I’d held the door for her. The first time I’d seen her up close, looked into her eyes, and admitted to myself that I wanted her.
Damn.
She didn’t glance back or notice that I entered the classroom behind her. From the last row, I leaned back in my seat and watched her takes notes as Heller covered the whiteboard with new material, her furrowed brow and general body language screaming not getting this. I shouldn’t have wanted her to need Landon Maxfield, but I knew she’d be emailing me later, and I was already anticipating the questions I wanted to ask her.
Then, leaning down to reach into her backpack, she looked directly back at me.
So, she knew I was in the class, and where I sat. She must have noticed me on Monday before I’d seen her standing there. She must have chosen not to sit next to me. She’d preferred to take a seat that required her to climb over the outstretched legs of a guy who napped in class at least once a week.
But she knew where I was, and she was curious enough to glance back. I tried to keep my expression level, but the edge of my mouth pulled into a smile, even as I fought it. She whipped her face forward, and didn’t look back again.
When Heller wrapped up for the day, I hightailed it out the back, while Jacqueline thumbed through her spiral and turned it towards the guy next to her.
Before I could escape the building, a student stopped me. She’d been in Heller’s class last spring, but had dropped. She’d signed up to try again, but wasn’t doing any better this semester. She never came to tutoring sessions, and the only time she’d asked for individual tutoring, she’d wanted to meet off campus. I’d said no to that, as we’d been trained to do.
‘So we can’t meet at my apartment?’ she asked, as if we hadn’t had this exact conversation a few months prior.
I sighed. ‘Nope. Sorry. On-campus tutoring only – university rules.’
Catching a strand of her long hair and winding it round her finger, she pouted her lower
lip out. That act must work on some guys, or her parents, but it sure as hell had the opposite effect on me. My phone buzzed in the front pocket of my jeans. Jacqueline hadn’t left the classroom yet, and I wanted to leave the building before she came out. That probably wasn’t going to happen, now.
‘So it’s a group tutoring thing? And it lasts an hour?’
That hair wound tight round her finger, the girl in front of me swayed from one foot to the other, adding to my annoyance. I wanted to grab hold of her shoulders and make her stand still for the thirty seconds more I was giving this exchange. ‘Yeah. From one to two.’
She asked what I was doing after the tutoring session. As if she knew I wouldn’t tutor her off campus … but maybe I’d be game for hooking up. Jesus. Christ.
‘Work.’
‘You’re always working, Lucas.’
I couldn’t remember ever having the actual feeling of someone watching me before, so I wasn’t sure if that’s what it was. Maybe it was merely the fact that I knew she could be there. But I’d swear my skin heated and my muscles contracted and my breath hitched. I couldn’t keep my eyes from pulling up and zeroing in on Jacqueline Wallace in the crowd of people zigzagging through the hallway, as though I knew exactly where she’d be. As though she was the only other person in that hallway.
She was close enough that I could have taken four strides to reach her. I knew she’d heard my name. Now she thought I was Lucas, while she was emailing Landon. There was no reason for her to reconcile the two. In that split second, I was utterly relieved and then disgusted with myself and then torn right down the middle. Again.
Before I could move, she turned and disappeared into the flow of people, and I swear I felt her leave.
10
Landon
I walked to Melody’s house to give her the maps I’d drawn and the citations page I’d finished. I didn’t take into consideration what my face looked like before I went. Even though I’d showered away the blood and Grandpa had patched me up with a couple of bandages, my lip was swollen and split all the way through. The bruises would be there for a while.
Her older brother answered the door. I recognized him from school. He was a senior, on student council. Popular.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘Evan,’ a woman’s voice said, and her mom’s face appeared behind him, scowling.
‘Oh … my. Landon, is it? What – what do you want?’
Evan didn’t move. He stood glaring at me while his mother moved to his side as if the two of them were blocking me from entering. Which they were doing.
‘I, uh, was bringing these to Melody. For the presentation.’ I hadn’t thought this out well. I hadn’t texted her to say I was coming. I wanted to explain in person that I didn’t want to let her down. That the only reason this consequence – the suspension – bugged me at all was that fact.
Mrs Dover’s brow arched. ‘And you can’t just bring it to class yourself?’
I shook my head, eyes sliding to her shoulder. ‘I … won’t be at school Friday.’
‘I see.’ She sighed as though she’d expect no different from someone like me. She stretched out her hand. ‘I’ll see that she gets them.’
I swallowed and looked her in the eye. ‘Maybe I could see her? She’ll have to do my part of the presentation, too. We should discuss it.’
Her son crossed his arms over his chest, while her hand remained outstretched, waiting for me to hand over what I’d brought. ‘I don’t think so.’ Her smile was full of the fakest kindness I’d ever seen. Her voice was ice. She said nothing else.
I handed her the folder and left.
By the time I went back to school a week later, everyone had returned to their usual seats in world geography. Clark Richards smirked at me from his reclaimed chair next to Melody. Melody didn’t look at me at all. The presentations were all done, and Boyce Wynn and I had received zeros. Mrs Dumont gave the two of us a pop quiz to ‘make up for’ the missed grade, but with no knowledge of the material and no chance to study, I bombed it. She stuck us in the hallway, sitting on the floor on opposite sides of the door, to do it.
We weren’t supposed to talk. Of course, Wynn broke that command like it was a suggestion he could choose to follow, or not.
‘Hey, Maxfield. We’re doin’ a bonfire thing tonight, over by the inlet. Rick’s older brother – we call him Thompson senior – scored some extra weed from a deal, and he’s payin’ Rick to do his chores. In weed.’ He chuckled.
I looked over at him and frowned, like And?
‘We’re meetin’ up at like eleven. Once the rest of this loser town shuts down, nobody will see us to report it.’ The bruises on his face looked like mine. Yellowing. Almost gone. His eye was still a little fucked up, and so was my lip. I wondered if this invitation was some sort of trick.
‘We friends now or something?’ I asked, peering at him sceptically.
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, why not. You, uh, know Richards paid me to do it, right?’
A million jumbled thoughts lurched through my head. ‘No.’
He smirked. ‘Yeah, he found out you had his little piece of ass at your place, and when he texted her she said she was home. He figured you were either tappin’ that shit or about to.’
‘So he paid you to jump me –’
‘Guy’s a rich dick, right? I was happy to take his money. Truth, though, you’d sorta pissed me off already. Gotta own up to that, man.’ He angled his head, thinking. ‘So that day in shop – that thing I said about Brittney Loper right before you punched me – you like her or somethin’?’
I stared at the floor, shook my head. ‘No. Don’t really know her.’ I didn’t really know anyone. I thought I was getting to know Melody, but that had been a pathetic illusion.
‘Then what? Because dude.’
My heart pounded. I had to say it. It was stuck in my throat, but I forced it out, an uneven murmur in the empty hallway. ‘You said you’d rape her.’
‘What?’ He frowned, confused. ‘That’s just an expression – I don’t mean anything by it –’
‘It means something.’ I stared at him. ‘It’s a – sort of … trigger word for me.’
‘No shit,’ he said, and I stared at the floor between my knees. ‘Okay, well. Sorry? I’ll remember that’s your apeshit word, man.’
He had no idea.
I left home around midnight, after Dad and Grandpa were solidly asleep, which eliminated the need to explain where I was going. The air was just cold enough that I could see my breath, misting in front of me and curling over my shoulder with each step I took down the beach. The inlet wasn’t far, and it was impossible to get to without meandering through private yards or beaches. All the more reason Clark Richardson’s daddy wanted Grandpa’s beachfront property.
I heard, ‘Maxfiiiieeeeld,’ as I rounded a jut of rock and happened upon the bonfire, which was more like a campfire – probably in the interest of dodging attention from local authorities. There were less than a dozen people around it, though, so its size was adequate. Popping up from the sand, Wynn slapped my palm and bumped my knuckles as if we were lifelong bros, and I let out a breath. No ambush. I hadn’t realized I’d been expecting it until it didn’t happen.
There was a first-quarter moon and the sky was clear, and my eyes had completely adjusted to the semi-darkness during the walk. I recognized a few of the people there – like Thompson, who was giggling like a hyena and slapping his thigh over something one of the other guys had said.
There were also girls, and a couple of them were watching me curiously. Or maybe they were so stoned that I could be anyone or anything.
Wynn threw an arm over my shoulder. ‘Everybody know Maxfield?’
Thompson jutted his chin in my direction. ‘Hey.’ As if he hadn’t egged Boyce Wynn on to beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of me a little over a week ago.
‘Come sit by us,’ one of the girls said. She and her friend – Brittney Loper, she of the watermelon-sized
boobs – were huddled inside a large blanket that looked more like a comforter yanked off one of their beds. It was floral and downy and smelled like pot – but that was probably because everything smelled like pot. The sweet, potent scent floated over the whole scene, a cloud of it hovering and dispersing, hovering and dispersing. I wondered if I’d even have to smoke a joint to get high.
The girls shifted apart, inviting me to sit between them. When I did, they huddled close on either side, sighing with contentment and pulling the blanket back over the three of us. My hoodie was suddenly a furnace. I unzipped it, and the girl on my right helped me strip it off. ‘Ooh, you are so warm.’ Her hands caressed my forearm and slid up inside the sleeve of my T-shirt. She gripped my bicep and I made a mental note to begin doing push-ups to exhaustion every single day, not just three or four times a week.
‘I’m Holly, by the way.’ She pressed closer and offered the joint, which I took.
‘Landon,’ I said.
‘Mmmm,’ Brittney said, as if my name alone was something appetizing. She pressed her chest against my arm and my body answered, like it knew from experience what to do next. It didn’t.
I watched Thompson take a hit off his joint, and I parroted his movements – after which I coughed like I was choking up a lung. Or dying.
‘Slow down, Landon,’ Holly said. ‘You don’t have to suck it all down in one go.’
‘That’s what he said,’ the guy next to us quipped, and the blood in my body didn’t know whether to heat my face or continue hardening my dick.
‘You wish,’ Holly said to him, sounding more amused than insulted, and the guy patted his lap in invitation. She shook her head. ‘I’m fine right here.’ As she peered up at me, dark tufts of her hair drifted up from a slight gust of wind, one loose tendril moving across my mouth and sticking there. She ran her fingers over my lower lip, pulling it free.
Harden it is.