But he was there that day. Which I knew meant that I’d most likely see him at work, or earlier, as fate would have it.
I saw him when I showed up for gym class. “A special guest,” Coach Riley called him. “He’s here to teach us the fundamentals of basketball.” Fundamentals? We were eighteen. Seniors. If we didn’t know the fundamentals of basketball—living in Wilmington, North Carolina, home of the Michael Jordan—then it meant we didn’t ever care to learn. I, for one, did not care. Hannah, however, gushed, clapping her hands when she saw him. It must’ve been as much of a surprise for her as it was for me.
I kept my head down the entire time, trying to be inconspicuous. Even when he stood behind me and guided me on how to hold the ball and shoot from the free-throw line, I didn’t acknowledge him. Not even when I completely missed the shot and he said, “We’re gonna need to work on that. What’s your name?”
“Chloe,” I answered, my eyes never meeting his. I turned and walked to the end of the line. He said my name eight more times during class. I knew Hannah noticed. She glared at me the entire time in the locker room. But her glare changed to a smirk after I went to put on my shoes only to discover that they’d been drenched in water. I left before everyone else. Soaking-wet shoes and all. He was outside the gym doors, waiting. He called my name, but I kept walking. He knew that was the opposite of what I wanted. He knew, and he’d done it anyway. If he’d meant to piss me off, it worked—I was done with him.
His car was already in the lot when I pulled up. I stepped out and yanked down on the hem of my whore-size T-shirt. My boobs almost spilled out. Note to self: Make sure to get a larger size by Friday. If not, quit.
I walked into the building with my chin up, ignoring the fact that he rose to his full height from his lazy slouch against the desk when I walked in. He called my name. I didn’t care.
Flowers were waiting for me when I got to the snack bar. A huge pink balloon floated above them. The words “It’s a Girl” had been crossed out with a marker. Written underneath was “Thank you.” Josh walked out from the prep area and grinned. “It was all they had,” he explained, pointing to the balloon. He came up and wrapped his arms around me. I wasn’t expecting the embrace. “Thank you again,” he said, hugging me tighter. I hugged him back. I couldn’t not.
“Switch jobs?” Blake’s voice felt like a force field pulling us apart.
“Sure.” Josh shrugged, lifted the counter door and walked away.
Blake walked in after him. “You’re pissed at me?”
I turned my back on him, picked up the flowers and carried them to the storeroom, where I dropped my bag.
“Oh. So you’re pissed and ignoring me?”
I spun on my heels to confront him. But he was right there, towering over me. He blocked me in with both hands, palms against the wall, on either side of my head. Looking down at the floor, I said, “So you’re going to intimidate me into talking to you? That’s kind of a dick move, don’t you think?”
He dropped his arms and cursed under his breath. “I just don’t get you.”
“You don’t have to get me.” I raised my eyes. “All I asked was that you do the same thing that you’ve done for the past four years and just ignore me. Just pretend like I don’t exist. But you couldn’t do that. Was there a point to that little charade in the gym?”
“What is with you?”
“Nothing!” I lost it then. “I just want to get through the next few months unnoticed, like I’ve done my entire life, and I don’t want you to ruin that for me!”
“Why? What’s the big deal if people see you? If people notice you? So fucking what?”
“I don’t want people like your girlfriend—” I broke off. He didn’t need to know what Hannah had done.
“Hannah?” His eyes widened. “Did she do something to you?”
“No.” I shook my head quickly. “No, Blake. Nothing happened.”
He studied me for a second, evidently trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Then a fire sparked in his eyes. “Speaking of girlfriend,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “You want to tell me why you thought it was okay to kiss me Saturday night when you knew I had a girlfriend and you had a boyfriend?”
“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a boyfriend!”
“Oh!” He rolled his eyes. “So you drive to Clayton’s house in the middle of the night, he answers the door half-naked, and just lets you in because he’s not your boyfriend?”
“You followed me?”
“I wanted to make sure you got home safe. Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject, asshole. I told you. I don’t have a boyfriend!”
“So what is it then? You guys just fuck whenever you want? No strings?”
“Fuck you.”
I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm. “Tell me I’m wrong.” I could see the plea in his eyes, but I didn’t care.
“You’re wrong,” I told him.
“How?”
I let out a shaky breath. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I went to his apartment to sleep. I told you that I don’t like going home in the middle of the night in case the kids wake up.” I pried his fingers off my arm. “And it shouldn’t matter. Because you and I—we’re nothing. We never were, and we never will be.”
Blake
There had been this party last year. It had been the party to end all parties. Some guy had come home from college and hosted it. He’d said it was open to high school juniors and seniors but only a select few. Invitations had been sent out via Facebook. You had to show the evidence on your phone before you entered. It was that exclusive. Hannah was thrilled when I got an invite. She didn’t get one, but she was my girlfriend, so it automatically made her my plus one.
I told her that I had to help Josh out with something and bailed last minute. It was a lie. Truth was, most of my so-called friends just pissed me off. After the way Josh’s life had changed with Tommy, he needed the support of his friends, but they had turned their backs on him and his kid. So I didn’t really feel the need to spend my free time with a bunch of assholes, whose most important decision in life was what to drink and who to screw.
Apparently, Hannah had frozen me out for six days. I hadn’t even known until she’d told me. She had come over one day, ripped her clothes off, and we’d had sex. Afterwards, she’d said she’d forgiven me. I’d asked her what for. She’d said, “For ruining my chances of making college contacts.” Those had been her exact words.
Hannah and I worked because we used each other. She used me for social hierarchy. I used her for sex. It was an unspoken deal. And it had never mattered before. Not until now.
So, for six days Hannah had frozen me out, and I didn’t notice.
For six hours, Chloe did the same, and it felt like my life was over.
“Chloe, please.” I was begging, and I didn’t even care how pathetic I sounded. “Can you please talk to me? I’m sorry.” I reached around her, took the rag from her hands, and lifted it above my head.
She turned, eyeing it, but then her lips clamped shut and she crossed her arms.
She remained silent, so I spoke for both of us. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have asked to be in your gym class. I should’ve listened to you. It was a jerk thing to do. And I definitely shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about you and Clayton.” I stopped to take a breath, then added, “I hate that you’re ignoring me.”
Our eyes locked. Neither of us speaking. Not with words anyway.
“It’s okay,” she finally said.
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. My arm fell to my side, and she quickly swiped back the rag.
Turning around, she said over her shoulder, “You asked to be in my gym class?”
I sat on the coun
ter while she wiped around me. I’d started to relax the second she acknowledged me. “Well, yeah. I mean, why do you think I was there?”
She nodded her head in understanding, but the rest of her movements slowed. She raised her eyes slightly, looking unsure. “Because you wanted to see Hannah?”
The tension came back. I covered her hand on the counter with mine, pleading with her to stop and give me her full attention. I needed her to hear me. “Chloe, I was there because I wanted to see you.”
She raised her head, and her eyes drifted shut. “Blake . . .” They snapped open, and a wall slammed down behind them. “You shouldn’t say shit like that.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The words weren’t there. Not yet. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I asked, “Like what?”
She didn’t respond.
We spent the rest of the cleanup in silence.
No skateboards this time.
I didn’t push her on what she meant because I already knew. And she was right; I shouldn’t be saying shit like that. But Chloe—she brought something out in me that had never existed before. She made me want to be there. She made me want to stay. It was as if she had reached inside me, taken my heart in her hands, squeezed tight, and made it start beating again. And it did—whenever I was around her, I could feel it thumping harder, faster.
All because of her.
“So I have a favor to ask you.”
As Josh turned the key in the lock to the bowling alley, Chloe and I both replied, “Sure.”
Turning to us, he chuckled. To me, he said, “I wouldn’t ask you. I’d just make you do it.” Then to Chloe, he said, “Hang out with us on Saturday night?”
Her eyes went wide and then locked with mine. I grinned from ear to ear.
“Well, actually, we need you to,” Josh added.
Slowly, her gaze trailed back to him. “You need me to?”
A low chuckle escaped. I was way too excited at the thought of seeing her outside school and work. I answered for him. “Yeah. You see Josh has one night a month without Tommy, and this Saturday is it.” I gently shoved her shoulder. “So now you have to come hang out with us or poor Josh . . . poor hardworking, single-teen-dad Josh is gonna get all upset.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, and a look of confusion took over. But behind that, I swore I saw the hint of a smile.
“Yeah,” Josh said, gently nudging her other shoulder. “You have to come.”
I shoved her shoulder again.
He did the same to the other one.
She took a step back. “What the hell?” She looked back and forth between the two of us.
“Come on, Not Abby. Hang out with us. I never see people my age. The last time I went to a party and someone tried to speak to me, I spoke goo-goo-gah-gah talk to them, and they thought I was high.”
We all laughed.
“Fine,” she said.
“Fire truck, yes!” Josh yelled, and then he was off, jogging to his car. “Oh, Chloe?” he shouted, walking backwards so he could face us. “You’re driving!”
“Okay,” she yelled back, and then turned to me. “Fire truck, yes?”
I threw back my head as I laughed. “He has to tone down the cussing for Tommy, you know?”
She nodded, her grin still in place.
“Are we good?”
“Yeah, Blake,” she said, searching through her bag. “We’re good.” She took out her keys and pulled down her shirt, trying yet again to cover the inch of skin that her shirt didn’t reach. “I’ll see you here on Friday okay?”
It was my turn to nod.
“And I mean it about not—”
“I got it, Chloe.” I cut her off. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”
CHAPTER NINE
Blake
I respected her wishes, kept my distance, and pretended as though she didn’t exist. Only she did. She was the only thing that existed in my mind, which made it impossible not to notice her at school. Like the time I watched her sitting under that same tree just outside the cafeteria, earphones in, head bouncing up and down with the music. Or the other time she was there, on her phone—probably to Clayton, laughing at something he said.
She even caught me staring at her once—when she was drinking from the water fountain. I swear it happened in slow motion—just to fuck with my head. My eyes fixated on her lips, dripping wet. Her tongue came out, licking them. They were red from the coldness of the water. A strand of her hair caught in the wetness. She moved it with her index finger to behind her ear, then wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She straightened. Then her dark gray eyes moved up, locked with mine. But she quickly averted her gaze and walked away, faster than I ever thought possible.
Chloe
For the next two days at school, he did what he’d said he’d do. He ignored me, and I ignored him. Or, at least, we did our best to try. Stolen glances, tiny smiles—they were all in play. I even failed at hiding my giggle when he walked into the fourth-period math class we’d shared all year. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight of me sitting in the corner of the room. His entire body went still, hand frozen halfway up to push the hair away from his eyes. He did that a lot. Or he’d flick his head back to try to clear it from his forehead. He recovered quickly enough and gave me nothing more than a tiny nod. I tried my best not to notice, and I tried even harder not to like it.
Shaking my head and laughing to myself, I pulled my car into the spot outside the bowling alley. Whatever happy thoughts were running through my mind fled as soon as I lifted the hand brake and it made the squealing sound it always did. I made a mental note to get it serviced before I left.
“You’re late,” Josh deadpanned as I lifted the counter door.
I spun around and checked the clock on the wall. I was six minutes early.
Then he was next to me, nudging my side. “I’m fucking with you. I just wanted to hang out for a bit before I had to take off.”
Lifting my bag strap off my shoulder and over my head, I asked, “You’re leaving?”
“I’m not going far. Don’t worry, Not Abby.” He smiled smugly and jerked his head at Blake, who was walking toward us. “For some reason—I have no idea why—he asked management to switch him from desk to food.” He raised his shoulders dramatically to drive the point home, but his smirk stayed in place.
“Fuckwad.” Blake patted Josh on the shoulder.
“Shitstain,” Josh retorted before turning to leave.
“Wait,” I rushed over and pulled on his shirt.
He turned back around. “’Sup?”
“I got you something.” Rifling through my bag, I found the toy tractor I’d brought and handed it to him. “It’s for Tommy. A get-well-soon gift.”
He cast his dark eyes downwards, looking at the toy in his hand. His gaze lifted slowly, first to me, then to Blake, and then to me again. A small smile formed on his lips. He took two steps toward me and wrapped me tightly in his arms, lifting me in the air. After spinning me twice, he placed me gently back on the floor, but he didn’t let go. “You’re good people, you know that?” he said into my ear. He pulled back slightly and searched my face. Then he licked his lips. I felt the wetness of them on my forehead but for only a second before Blake’s throat clearing made him step away. Josh winked at him over my shoulder. “Later, Fucktard.”
Then he was gone.
I turned to Blake. “You switched shifts?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have a say. Management decides who works where.”
“Bullshit.”
He tried to hide his smile.
I walked away before he could see mine.
He followed as I made my way to the storeroom to put my bag away. “So, don’t think I’m an asshole, but I got you something,” he said.
Placing my bag in
an empty locker, I turned to him. “Why would I think you’re an asshole?”
He opened his locker, two down from mine, and pulled out something green. It was the same green as our uniform. “I brought you an old shirt. Not because I don’t— It has nothing to do with what you’re currently wearing. I just thought . . . because I’ve noticed the way you dress and it just—You don’t seem comfortable . . . in something like that?” He jerked his head at my chest. “I’m an ass. Never mind.” He threw the shirt back in his locker, slammed it shut, and started to walk away.
“No. Wait!” I went after him.
He stopped but didn’t turn to me. Not until after I watched his shoulders heave a couple times. When he finally did, his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I waited for his expression to change—to switch to something that was more comforting. It didn’t. Not until I felt forced to take a step back. “I’d appreciate it if you would let me wear it.”
He blinked once, and the intensity in his eyes disappeared.
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, and a slight smile appeared. “It’s yours.”
He took the top out of his locker but didn’t give it to me. Instead, he positioned the neck hole over my head and slowly pulled the shirt down—dressing me, like you would a kid. It should have made me angry or at least annoyed, but I simply put my arms through the sleeves. Then he took a step back, his gaze roaming up and down my body. The heat of my blush engulfed my cheeks. I ignored it. Just like I ignored the pounding of my heart and the lack of air in my lungs.
He moved forward until there was nothing between us. No more steps. No space. No air. Nothing.
And then he placed his hand on my waist.
I wanted to pull back. I wanted to tell him that it was wrong and that we couldn’t. That I couldn’t.
But I didn’t do a thing.
“I like you in my clothes, Not Abby.”
Then he turned around and walked away.