Chapter 27 – Thomas
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thomas
I don’t blame her for hating me, but she can’t blame me for watching her, then.
I should have kissed her. I consider it in class.
That would shock her – but probably get me in loads of trouble.
After our first class, I walk to the whispering bench and stick the money beneath it, glancing around to see if I’m alone.
I reply to the email, letting the blackmailer know. Maybe we shouldn’t have given up the money so easily. It’s just five hundred quid, though. Even Clover wasn’t hurt by it and there’s no way she’s as rich as we are.
“You smell like cigarettes,” Sylvia says when I walk into math class.
I fucked that up. I shrug and don’t bother sitting next to her.
I’ve heard enough of her lectures about cancer sticks to last a lifetime.
The last thing I want to do is trigger her outrage more.
Clover has a creative writing class now and after that, she will have approximately fifty to seventy minutes of vulnerability.
I know she doesn’t want me anywhere near her but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I manage an A+ on the surprise quiz in maths, which is a bloody miracle considering how fixated I am on Clover.
After maths class, I hurry to Room #302 where Clover has class and lean against the door until I hear her teacher dismiss them.
I slip into Room #303 until I see her walk past with Kola and some Roger.
I don’t like the way Roger looks at her.
At all. Whatever, at least she doesn’t notice me and she ditches the cunt (Roger) before heading to lunch with Kola.
The other girl is quite loud. I slip into the dining hall and sit somewhere Clover can’t see me watching her.
She’s pretty when she eats. It’s not something I think often, but she has gorgeous full lips and just watching the way her mouth closes around…
everything. Fuck, I know I shouldn’t watch her like this.
I should have gotten her out of my system by now.
I kissed her. I touched her. I did dirty, horrible things to her and now I have to accept that the only thing keeping her from walloping me to death is our shared circumstance. Blackmail.
I don’t believe for a moment that she isn’t in trouble.
If she’s worried, she doesn’t show it, sitting idly with Kola for second helpings and blissfully unaware of all the difficult work I’m doing keeping her safe.
Well, not quite difficult. It’s just staring.
But I’m ready to hurt anyone who touches her.
Spicy freak. Someone has a sense of humor.
That’s hardly a clue about who could be doing this, right?
I hate not knowing. I hate my fucking past. After lunch, I cut class to follow Clover since she decides to deviate from her program.
She ought to be at the counselor’s office, but instead she wanders off onto the field hockey teams near her dorm and picks up the phone.
I have to hide behind trees to get close enough to hear her.
She’s not particularly cautious for someone living under threat.
I should talk to her about that… after my bruises heal. She’s a little assaultive.
I rather like it. Bruises everywhere all caused by that little thing. It’s like she isn’t even scared of me. What the fuck has she seen in her life that I don’t scare her? I’m curious and fuck, I want to listen. She has to call twice before the person on the other line answers.
“Mom?” Clover shrills. All American accents sound shrill to me. And why the bloody hell do they speak so fast?
She puts her phone on speaker and glances around to make sure no one’s watching her. I wonder if she can sense me, if Violet was right, or if she’s just paranoid because of the threat.
“Baby girl! How are you sweetie?”
“I’m good. I’m good.”
Not true. She’s scared.
“Did you watch our latest video? We reached ten million views in an hour. When we finally leaked the divorce news. Fuck your daddy, fuck the audience, fuck the haters. We’re going to make it rain, girl!
This video already made us $85,000 in a day.
Just one damned day. WOOOO! I’m going to buy myself a new bag.
Should I get the Louis I’ve been eyeing or the Gucci? ”
“That’s awesome. Maybe… Maybe the Gucci. With the gold handles.”
Clover’s voice warbles.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you celebrating? Are you doing our signature dance? Should we put it on video chat?”
“No. Mom… I need…” Clover pauses and then sighs. “I think I need some more money from my account.”
“More money? We already gave you $500 for the semester. Why do you need more?”
“First of all, dollars aren’t worth shit here,” Clover says, her voice stiffening. “Second, it’s my money? Why can’t I just have a card.”
“Honey, can you stay positive? I’m going through a lot right now with the divorce. Ask your daddy about the account if he can keep his hands off his bitch ass side piece long enough to give a shit about his child.”
Clover’s shoulders tighten. I can tell she’s giving up. She didn’t have to pay ￡500. I could have easily done it for her.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to launch your own channel? Clover In England? We have a team that could make you huge in like a year… You would have to get those manly ass hip-hop clothes together and put on a real dress. What about a BBL? The way men were in my DMs after mine last year…”
Clover grimaces and wipes her nose.
“I’m fine. I just… I’ll call dad.”
“Okay! Call me back when you don’t sound so depressed. It’s ruining my mood. Should I call Dr. Ass Magic for you?”
“No, mom,” Clover says. “Bye mom.”
“Bye.”
Her mom hangs up before Clover can say anything else. She slips her phone into her pocket and glances down for a second. She thinks she’s alone. I want her to know that she isn’t. She sighs and then her chest heaves a little. Holy fuck. Is she…?
Clover wipes tears away with her sleeve, but she can’t stop them coming. I’ve never seen anything except her tough exterior, the girl who can handle jumps and falls, and attacks and bloody cricket bats… crying.
She doesn’t cry for long, naturally, and she doesn’t call her dad. She pulls herself together and walks back along the path, passing my tree without noticing me. I wait a few minutes before following her and cut another class to make sure she gets to hers without any trouble.
Maybe I’m the paranoid one. Clover’s gone through nearly an entire day of classes and absolutely nothing has happened.
All she has left is dance practice, which still starts after rowing, even if it’s our first day on the water and we don’t really need the studio.
The river got warm early, and we all voted on getting into the eights.
I sit in the power seat and lose myself in practice – the only hour of the day I don’t spend thinking about Clover. This can’t be healthy.
I don’t want to be healthy. I want to sleep with her.
I can’t let myself just sleep with a girl anymore.
I can’t do casual and Clover… well, judging by what I’ve seen, she only does casual.
We don’t fit. I just like kissing her because I shouldn’t.
Dripping in sweat, but very much alive from practice, I run back to the gym from the boat house with Kit, who regales me with a dubiously true story about “ridiculously hot Swiss girls” he nearly lost his virginity to when he was fourteen years old.
I wonder if he truly believes his rubbish. Once we’re in the gym, I ditch Kit for the showers and he heads off to supper. I don’t spend longer than a minute under the water. Clover ought to be here for dance practice soon and I don’t think I’ll feel alright until she climbs into her bed.
I slip into a white polo shirt and loose grey sweatpants before wandering down the halls towards the noise in the dance studio.
Dad would die before letting us listen to hip-hop.
When Vi went off to finishing school, she brought back the first rap album I ever listened to: The College Dropout.
There was nothing like old school Kanye for a kid who grew up listening exclusively to Mahler and Wagner.
A different, contemporary hip hop beat emanates from the room and I listen in the hallways to Sylvia leading their rehearsal. They dance for over an hour and the heat spills into the hallway. Once practice ends, I disappear into another room and quietly watch everyone leave – except Clover.
Has she lost her fucking mind?
I creep back into the hallway and find a better spot to watch her.
Clover flings open all the windows in the studio and then she puts on her headphones and dances, completely vulnerable from every angle.
I swear she wants to be killed. Three, four songs later, I can’t stop watching her, but there’s no sign she’s in any danger.
Where’s the line between protective and creeper?
Fuck it, I crossed that line already. I should have seen the next thing coming.
The song changes and Clover drops to the ground, writhing her sweaty body in this extremely sexy way.
How the fuck does she move like that? As she lies on the ground, the lights in the gym rumble and then turn off. All of them.
Fuck. This is it. I have to do something.
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