Chapter Thirty-One
T he rest of the day was jumbled. I couldn’t eat and decided to spend lunch in the library.
While I knew I could have sat with Kim, and I assumed Liv wouldn’t be arrogant enough to attempt to sit anywhere near me, it was just enough already.
Coupled with the fact that regionals were in two weeks, making the idea of skipping practice an impossibility, my head was ready to explode.
I made a show of grabbing the nearest book off of the shelf and opening it in front of me so I looked like I had a purpose, but really, I was just sulking.
How I had fallen from such high hopes for this year just months before, and now I was hiding in the library, desperate to stay away from any attention. I gritted my teeth to let those persistent tears know who was in charge.
I didn’t really do pitiful. There had to be some spark of the old me. Currently, I was simply a forgotten ember waiting to go out.
“Well fuck that,” I voiced aloud, albeit quietly, drawing a warning brow raise from the woman behind the desk. My eyes rolled somewhat apologetically. I would make it through this day, and this week, and this year.
That resolve was easier to hold onto in the quiet of the library than with sidelong glances coming from several football players.
I forced myself to meet their eyes with a glare instead of casting my glance elsewhere.
Rich only smirked at me, and I had a burning desire to smack the look off of his face.
“Hey V,” he called happily, falling in step next to me.
“Go to hell, Rich,” I replied just as happily.
“Aw, I was just going to ask you if you needed a ride. I’ve heard you’re really into back seats, so—”
“Let one more word come out of your mouth, and I swear you will look back on this as the day you used to have balls. ”
Angry is better than sad , I calmed myself.
Rich licked his lips like he might be readying himself for round two, but instead he shook off my unwavering stare and headed towards class. He may have muttered a few unsavory names under his breath while he did so, but I’d been called worse by a lot better.
Luke caught my eye from across the way and shot a questioning look.
If I were to give him any indication of my current level of discomfort, I had no doubt he would be by my side.
I shook my head slightly to dismiss him, and he turned his back in response.
There was a slight possibility that I had misjudged the situation with him earlier, but there was an even smaller chance of me admitting that right now.
I was in deep with my anger at that point.
“So, it would seem you’ve gotten a little bit of your scary back,” a somewhat familiar voice stated beside me before I walked into the lecture hall.
“Hello, Ethan.”
His presence drew jealous glares from a few others in the hall. Those were my favorite glares.
“Hello, Vanessa,” he said, grinning with the dimples I’d been forced to hear about on multiple occasions. His hair fell just past the tops of his ears, and he donned a hoodie with a band I’d never heard of on it.
“And what are you talking about?”
“Your scary? I dunno, it’s like a force field. I noticed people avoided you when I first met you. I didn’t know if it was because you were a bitch or just, you know, intimidating. It’s the latter, if it makes you feel any better,” he explained, stuffing his face with what was left of his Cheetos.
“Gee, thanks. I thought you were supposed to be charming.”
“Is that what you’ve heard?” he asked, looking pleased with himself. “Well, I tend to be more flattering when there’s an actual chance to hook up. You and me though, we’re cool. We’re friends. ”
“Yeah, no. We’re acquaintances. Although my friends do seem to be running in short supply lately.”
“I mean, if you want me to flirt with you, I can turn it on. I just figured you and Luke…well, whatever.”
I couldn’t tell if he really didn’t care, or if he was trying not to pry. Either way, it didn’t matter; he was a pretty distraction.
“Yeah, let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“Wait, seriously? You want me to flirt with you?”
“Yep. You’ve got about a minute and a half until class, so go.”
“All right, first time for everything I guess.” He grinned, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth. “I, uh, I hear you just remodeled your basement?”
“Really, that’s what you’re leading with? Fine. Yes, I did.”
He just kept on smirking like he knew something I didn’t. It was annoying. “So, you’re into decorating and design?”
“Yes, it’s a hobby. And?”
“I could kind of tell that about you when we met.”
“What?” I questioned, my irritation coming through loud and clear. This was not impressive.
“Well, when you walk in, the whole room becomes more beautiful.”
The cheesy line finally sank in, and I felt a laugh begin in my belly.
“Oh my god.”
“I know; it’s a gift.”
“So lame, but I will give credit where credit is due,” I agreed, still chuckling. “We can be friends.”
“Wow, a bump up from acquaintances with one line. I’d say I’m living up to my rep,” he boasted, flashing his irritatingly captivating smile at me.
“I’ll see you around, Fisher,” I replied, waving him on down the hall. I pushed down the question about how exactly he knew about my basement remodel, and there was a slight flutter in my chest wondering if Luke had been talking about me .
Stop it.
But I couldn’t. The fact that Luke had talked about me, not in the way that Zack did—about my body, about what he accomplished with me—but about something I put a lot of work into, and he thought was impressive…it melted my angry ice caps a little.
* * *
Something about Fisher’s description of my “scary” prompted me to be as over the top as possible for the rest of the day. He was damn right. I was scary, and I was about to become everyone’s problem.
Practice was monotonous, but I didn’t even care because I kicked ass. All of my newfound aggression was easily transformed into power in my tumbling passes. The compliments from Steph—in front of Liv, who was sucking that day—only brightened my spirits.
Bite me, I thought in her direction.
It didn’t even remotely bother me when I left practice still covered in sweat. I didn’t want to hang around the locker room and listen to whatever rumor was running through the mill. It was probably about me.
In a scene quite reminiscent of our first meeting, I ran my shoulder into none other than Zack coming around the corner of the building. The token arrogant grin I’d once liked lit up his face, but I refused to shrink in front of him.
“Vanessa,” he let out slowly.
“Asshole,” I greeted in the same relaxed tone.
“Tsk, tsk,” he replied, his jovial expression clouded momentarily. “Such language.”
“Would you prefer I call you a psychotic, woman-hitting coward?” My voice rang with feigned curiosity.
His jaw set harshly, and a grim line took the place of his smile.
“You stupid little slut,” he spat, his eyes glowing with barely confined rage.
The word ‘slut’ still stung, but I didn’t show it.
“Takes one to know one,” I winked at him. It was an awkward motion, but I was starting to understand why people did it. It was like putting an exclamation point on a statement with my face.
Who knew? I thought.
I was reveling in getting under his skin, as he had done to me for months, and it tempered the voice in the back of my head telling me to be afraid.
Obviously too stupid to come up with anything wittier to say, Zack glared in silence.
I mimicked the same stare back at him and moved to walk around him, utterly unimpressed that I had been so enamored with such an idiot.
My stomach still turned thinking about certain parts of our relationship .
A large hand reached out for my shoulder to prevent me from passing, but before he could get out the words “Where exactly do you think—” I had planted my left foot firmly on the ground and was bringing my knee forward with all the force of the hurt and shame he had caused.
A soft give between his legs let me know I’d hit my target, and the groaning on the ground portion of the performance confirmed my precision.
“If you ever so much as breathe near me again, your grandchildren will feel it.”
As my adversary was unable to speak, I took his silence as a sign of understanding. With difficulty, I strode with my chin up to the parking lot, only glancing back once, or twelve times, to make sure he hadn’t followed me.
Once the adrenaline left my system, I was trembling slightly, but this did nothing to suppress my victory.
Finally .
I breathed. I spied my mom’s Durango pulling in the parking lot and sank into the passenger seat, relieved.
“Everything okay?” my mom asked, assessing my still-sweaty appearance.
“Yes. Everything is okay,” I declared, feeling like it might someday be true.