BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (75 page)

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes not meeting mine head-on. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.” His body shifted to leave.

“Wait, what‘s going on with you and me? I’ve tried to call you for two weeks and left you messages. Are you okay? Tell me what you’re thinking.” I paused, dread making my voice wobbly. “Do you blame me for making you late?” Even though there were two of us in that car.

He ignored my question and turned to walk away, and I followed, hating myself for chasing him down like some stupid underclassman girl.

He cut his eyes at me when I came up beside him. “This conversation is over. I have a class to get to and a ton of make-up work to do, Dovey.”

His tone made me pause. But then again, maybe his nasty attitude was about his grief.

I swallowed my pride and followed him again.

The bell rang, and he picked up his backpack and took off for the entrance at a fast pace.

“Cuba!” I yelled, my frustration finally erupting.

He halted, his back rising and falling rapidly, but he hadn’t exerted himself. “What?” he ground out.

“You said you loved me,” I bellowed, my voice carrying to others. Several of the girls giggled; the boys smirked.

He flinched and muttered something.

“Whatever you have to say, say it to my face,” I told his back, wrapping my arms around myself. Afraid I might crash to my knees. Scared of what he would say.

And wasn’t it awful that I was tempted to beg him to tell me he loved me? And then a memory of my mama begging my father came to mind, and I cringed.

I never wanted to be my mama. But this was Cuba, and he loved me. Right?

Spider came up beside me and tugged on my arm. “Let’s get out of here, Dovey.”

“No, if this whole thing’s been a game to him, then he’s going to own up to it.”

Cuba turned and stared as if he were memorizing my face, but then broke our gaze and looked around the quad, his expression frozen.

I fisted my hands. “Tell me you love me or tell me you’re a bastard. Pick one.”

He laughed, looking back at me with hard eyes. “You want the truth? I never had a dream about you. I never gave a shit about watching you do ballet. And FYI, I tell all the girls I love them, Dovey. It makes it easier to fuck them.” And then he turned and walked out of my life.

Something delicate and fragile inside me died.

My legs wanted to buckle. I wanted to crawl in a hole and never show my face again. Students were shaking their heads and murmuring, watching him leave, and then turning to me, watching as I brushed by Spider and fled back inside. Running into the bathroom, I got in the last stall and hunkered down.

Agony hit me as I replayed his words. I doubled over, clutching my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to disappear.

“Dovey, if you don’t come out, I’m coming in there,” Spider yelled into the open door of the bathroom.

I huddled in the corner on the floor, laying my head down on my knees. I rocked.

“Incoming,” he called out to anyone who might be listening, causing a riot of giggles from the girls still waiting for class to start.

My stall door was locked, but it didn’t stop him. He crawled underneath, his face grimacing at the dirty floor as he weaseled his way inside.

I surprised myself when I started giggling at the sight he made. “You’re crazy.”

“Just proves I’m a real friend. And, shit, this loo is dirty,” he said.

He maneuvered himself all the way in until he was sitting next to me. He took out a cig and lit up. And when he held it out for me, I took it and inhaled deeply, letting the menthol burn my lungs.

“I’m never falling in love again.” I handed him back his smoke.

He spoke around his exhale. “The best way to get over someone is to jump right back in. I know. I do it all the time.”

“I gave him my virginity,” I mumbled, picking at my nails.

“I’m going to kill that mutherfucker,” he bit out, pinching his cigarette out with his fingers.

“Don’t even go there.” It killed me to think of Cuba hurt. Or Spider. I loved them both.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around me, and we sat on the tile until my belly rumbled and twisted and gurgled. I swallowed convulsively and stood, holding on the side of the stall.

“Spider, I know we’re friends and all, but I’m about to be—”

Sick. I hunched over and threw up in the toilet. He hustled to his feet and rubbed my back as I retched until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Water came from my nose and eyes but it wasn’t tears. It wasn’t. It was just water or a runny nose or something—oh hell, it was tears. They blinded me.

“I haven’t cried since my mama died and now look at me. I’m a mess,” I said in between sniffs.

But I’d never felt this way before, like I might die without him. I clung to the hard walls of the stall and let it all out with my tears. It spilled out of me. Every hope I’d had for us, every dream I’d had that he loved me as much as I loved him. I broke in that bathroom.

After a while, I wiped my face and mouth with tissue paper. There. Maybe that was all. But I knew it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

I’d always thought of him as some fine Greek god like Apollo, known for his beauty and athleticism. God of music and healing, he protected you from evil and gave you peace. Now, I knew the truth. He wasn’t Apollo, but Ares, the god of war. Dark and vicious, his only goal was to cause discord. To ruin lives.

And he’d ruined mine. Nothing of me would ever be the same.

“Don’t we all have our own personal albatross?”

–Dovey

“
THE RIME OF the Ancient Mariner
was written when this dude was on opium. How am I supposed to write an essay on drug-induced poetry?” Sebastian asked me as we sat desk to desk, outlining our five paragraph essays for Lit.

“Dude’s name was Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and you were supposed to have finished reading it last night. If you had, maybe you could figure out what to write.” I grinned to soften the blow. Bantering with him was fun. Plus it helped me forget about the couple who sat one aisle over.

He chuffed and tapped his pencil against his desk, annoying several other students around us, but he didn’t seem to notice. Sebastian did his own thing.

I liked him. We’d been sitting together for almost two weeks now, getting to know each other. Even though he fit all the criteria that usually made me run for the hills.

“Okay. I’m going with the penance theme. You could do the same?” I wanted to help.

“It’s like I hear you talking but you’re not making any sense. Wanna explain that penance thing?”

I popped him on the arm. He wasn’t dumb, but he did seem distracted. Probably some girl. I kinda wished it was Mila, but he never talked about her.

“Seriously, you want me to tell you everything? You gonna ask me to write your paper next?” I said.

He laughed, his eyes glittering. “Nah, Weinstein knows my handwriting.”

I grinned. “Okay, here’s the shortened version but listen good, ‘cause I’m not repeating it.” I cleared my throat. “Crusty old sailor kills the albatross.
Oops
. Now the ship has bad luck. The other sailors curse him, and tie the nasty bird around his neck—hence the saying ‘albatross around my neck’. Then they all die of thirst. It’s his fault, blah, blah, blah. He suffers and gets so thirsty he bites his arm to drink the blood—yeah, that's gross. He gets a visit from some supernatural beings that scare the bejesus out of him. In the end, he unconsciously blesses some slimy creatures in the ocean, therefore releasing the curse, and the albatross drops from his neck.
Bam
. He’s paid his dues. Penance is done. Over.”

“Poor dude. Ship happens, I guess,” he said.

I laughed loud enough that Cuba gazed at me, his eyes narrowed in on Sebastian’s hand on my desk.
Suck it
, I wanted to say. But that was completely juvenile.

Instead, my eyes couldn’t seem to stay off Cuba. Today, he wore Religion jeans and a navy shirt that clung to his chest. And of course, he gazed right back at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I wished I knew what he was thinking. If he really loved Emma or not. If they were planning to get married or get engaged or live together or whatever people did when they’re having a baby. Part of me, the crackbrained side, begged him to tell me I had it all wrong, that all the whispering they did wasn’t them planning a future. But I knew it would be a lie. It’s what he did best.

I dropped my eyes from his. Why was I so fickle about my feelings for him? I hated it.

I glanced up at Sebastian, noticing that his eyes kept darting over to Cuba and Emma too, which was so…

And before I could finish that thought, my phone vibrated on silent with a text.

Weinstein graded papers and Sebastian pretended to write, so I eased it out of my hoodie front pocket.

Dorchester Hotel. Bar. This Friday, 8 PM
.
Wear a dress.

My mouth dried as I read it over and over, but it didn’t change. I would be doing this.

“Hello, Tiny Dancer, you alive?”

“What now?” I snipped, my nerves frayed.

He twirled his pencil around his fingers. “Did you know we’re trying out Spider as our new guitar player?” He went on to explain that Leo was stepping down to manage the band for a while and focus on his gym.

Well. I hadn’t known that tidbit since Spider had been avoiding me. He ignored me in the halls and ate his lunch in the band room, according to Mila.

Two weeks ago, as soon as I’d walked through the parking lot Monday morning and seen his Range Rover pulling in, I’d gone over to talk, wanting him to know I appreciated his offer of monetary help, but I’d handled it in my own way. I’d also wanted to go off on him for chucking me out in the damn snow. My tires had been slashed. What if I’d frozen to death? Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but what if Cuba hadn’t found me?

When I’d reached his car window on Monday, he hadn’t looked right, eyes closed, head tossed back, his mouth open, sounds coming out I couldn’t hear. Moans, I’d deduce later when I was alone. As I raised my hand to get his attention, I saw the girl that bobbed up and down at his crotch.

Like glue was holding me there, I watched the spectacle until the end. I studied his weird sex face, feeling repulsed yet fascinated by what it told me about him. It wasn’t a voyeur thing, but more of an affirmation. A tiny part of my heart did belong to Spider, and who knows what could have come of it if I hadn’t met Cuba, but to watch him with someone else so blatantly,
when he had told me he loved me
. It hammered home the fact that he wouldn’t be faithful to me. He wouldn’t. Much like Cuba, he filled his life with empty moments, trying to numb himself or erase some pain I didn’t get.

And his sex face? It didn’t look happy. Not at all. It looked bitter and angry and hard. It reminded me of people in Ratcliffe who’d been there too long.

And then as he came, his eyes had popped open like he’d known I was there the entire time. And he hadn’t cared.

“I think Spider needs a band,” I said to Sebastian.

He arched a brow. “You gonna be a groupie now? Cause I’m taking applications. Oh, wait. Aren’t you dating Spider some?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not a couple.”

He mulled that over. “Does Spider know that? He looks pretty intense when he talks about you.”

He looks intense when he comes too, nearly popped out of my mouth, but I squashed it.

“He’s not even speaking to me right now.” My mouth twisted. “So much for being best friends.”

“Ah, forget about him then. Come to the party anyway,” he said. “You know you want to.”

One last hurrah before my audition perhaps. I hadn’t been to any social events all year.

He must have sensed me waffling. “And best of all, you get to hear me sing. You won’t be able to handle all the sparkle I shoot off. I actually recommend you stand back about eight feet.”