Chapter 10
Istomp my way through the main hall in search of Theo. If I was a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of my ears, and my face would be that alarming shade of red that signals an imminent explosion.
How could Theo do this to me? We had an agreement. A sacred pact. He knew—he KNEW—how important it was to keep our living situation under wraps.
But noooo. Mr. Can’t-Keep-A-Secret just had to blab it out in the middle of the cafeteria. Probably thought it made him sound cool or something. Well, congratulations, Theo! You’ve successfully ruined my life in under sixty seconds! That has to be some kind of record.
My eyes scan each passing doorway like heat-seeking missiles. Theo’s around here somewhere, and when I find him . . . Hoo boy. He has no idea what’s coming. Poor guy won’t know what hit him—metaphorically speaking, of course.
When I round the corner, muffled laughter and the unmistakable timbre of Theo’s voice drift from a room at the far end of the hallway. Bingo.
I press on, each step fueling the fire blazing in my chest. The closer I get, the louder his voice becomes—that same voice that promised to keep our secret and then betrayed me without a second thought.
Would he laugh it off? Try to sweet-talk his way out of it? Not this time.
My hands curl into fists at my sides as I take a deep breath, then another. I grab the doorknob and shove the door open, banging it against the wall.
Every head in the room swivels my way as I step inside and look for him.
The smell of sweat and unwashed socks wrinkles my nose. Yuck. Guys are nasty. I maneuver around them until I find Theo standing by his locker, chatting with a couple of his teammates who go silent when they see me striding toward them.
I grab Theo’s wrist, my voice a mix of anger and desperation, and yell, “Why did you tell everyone we live together? Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Theo’s eyebrows shoot up, and he glances around the room. “And this couldn’t wait until later?”
“No, it couldn’t,” I snap back, my voice rising. “And I’m—“
”—Chrissy!“ He puts his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. “Look around you.”
I pause and take in my surroundings. My stomach bottoms out as I realize I’m surrounded by shocked, shirtless guys staring at me, some grabbing towels or jerseys to cover up. One of them drops his mouth, and another lets out a low whistle.
Oh. My. God. My heartbeat stops cold for a moment before kickstarting at triple speed, and there is an explosion inside of me that channels heat through my arms and legs, then up my neck until it feels like I might actually combust right here among the half-naked athletes.
I’m in the boys’ locker room. BOYS. LOCKER. ROOM. Could I be any more of an idiot?
My eyes dart frantically around this forbidden space, desperate to find an escape route while simultaneously trying not to see anything I shouldn’t. Muscles. Skin. Boxers. I slam my eyelids shut, but the images are already burned into my retinas.
“I’m so sorry!” I squeak, my voice about three octaves higher than normal.
Someone lets out a hyena-like laugh. Another guy hollers, “Lang’s got some nerve!” A wolf howl pierces the air from the back of the room as I spin around, hands now firmly plastered over my eyes.
Mortified, I try to run out of there, bumping into what feels like a bench and nearly toppling over. I steady myself against something firm and warm. A shoulder? A chest? I yank my hand back like I’ve touched a hot stove.
“Sorry, sorry, so sorry!” I babble, navigating blind, arms outstretched like a deranged zombie. My hip connects with what must be a locker door.
“Exit’s that way, Lang!” someone shouts, followed by raucous laughter. Clapping breaks out—are they seriously applauding this? A chorus of whoops and hollers follows me as I finally feel the doorframe and stumble into the hallway, my dignity in shambles.
I lean against the cool wall and bang my head, my face radiating heat, and it’s not from anger or frustration.
Chrissy, you silly, thoughtless moron! What possessed you to barge into the boy’s locker room like that? This is all Theo’s fault. If he hadn’t been so careless, I wouldn’t have been so impulsive. I knew he was trouble from the moment he waved at me in our living room.
As I wait for him to exit, his teammates file out of the locker room one by one, each giving me a smirk, a nod, or a curious look. I’ve never felt so embarrassed in my entire life. It’s torture.
The guy who knocked me on my butt the first day of school grins as he walks past. “You are nothing like I imagined, Lang. Respect.” He taps his chest like I’m privy to some kind of bro code.
I fan my face with both hands, wishing the ground would swallow me up. My cheeks are still on fire as another wave of mortification crashes over me. The hallway suddenly feels ten degrees hotter and impossibly crowded with witnesses to my embarrassment.
A muscular player with a buzz cut emerges next, towel draped around his neck. “Whoa, Lang! Taking initiative, huh?” He nudges his friend. “Think she got a good eyeful?”
I keep quiet. No way to explain this without sounding desperate or creepy.
“You’re braver than I thought, Lang,” declares a lanky forward whose name escapes me. He slows his pace and leans in. “Most girls just slip notes into our lockers. But you? Straight to the source!”
Bowing my head in a pathetic attempt at apology, I contemplate changing my name and moving to another continent. Why couldn’t I have waited five more minutes? Or better yet, sent a text like a normal person?
Two more players exit together, their voices carrying down the hallway. “Dude, did you see her face when she realized?” The taller one laughs, mimicking what must have been my horrified expression.
His friend shakes his head. “I’ve never seen someone turn that shade of red that fast. Like a stoplight on crack.”
Fighting the urge to slide down the wall and dissolve into a puddle of shame, I pick at my nails and stare at a fascinating speck on the floor. If only someone could invent selective amnesia. I’d empty my savings account to erase this day from everyone’s memory—especially my own.
“Hey,” says a quiet voice, making me look up. One of the younger players offers a sympathetic smile. “Don’t sweat it. By tomorrow, this will be old news.”
As much as I appreciate his comforting words, I feel like I’ll be forever branded as a “Locker Room Peeper Creeper.”
Theo finally comes out, and the sight of him stirs my anger back to life.
“How could you?” I demand, my arms spread to the sides “We agreed to keep this quiet, and then you go blabbing about it to the entire lunchroom!” The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth annoys me to no end.
“What’s the big deal, Chrissy? It’s not like I declared it over the loudspeaker.”
“You might as well have!” I can’t believe he’s acting so casually about this. “Do you have any idea how much this complicates my life?”
He sighs, shoving both hands into the pocket of his gym shorts, and looks at me like I’m being unreasonable. “We live together. So what? No reason to hide it like we’re breaking the law.”
“So what?” I might as well choke on disbelief.
“You just don’t get it. I’ve spent the last two years of high school trying my absolute hardest to stay invisible, to avoid the spotlight, and to keep from being made fun of.
And now, because of you, I’m on everyone’s radar!
Are you aware of how many girls at this school like you? They’re going to hate me.”
Theo’s calm demeanor falters, and his eyes finally reveal a shred of concern. “Why should you care what others think?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe because I’m not like you, Theo. I don’t have this magic shield of popularity to keep me safe. I’ve worked hard to keep my head down, and you’ve—“ I flail my arms in his face—”undone everything.”
He shakes his head, and I see frustration flash through his features. “You try so hard to be invisible, but that’s no way to live. You’re letting people like Paige and her friends control you without them even trying. I mean, you even hid behind cars to avoid them.”
My hands ball into fists. If I was bigger, I’d martial arts his butt to the floor. “For some of us, it’s easier to survive that way.”
His gaze softens, and he takes a step closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I thought that if people knew, you’d stop hiding. You’d realize no one can control your life but you.”
“Well, thank you for that unsolicited life advice,” I say. “I’m not interested in being part of some grand social experiment. I’m just trying to survive high school.”
“Chrissy, you can’t let other people define you.”
“And I don’t plan to.” I step back. “Do you have any idea what it’s like at the bottom of the social food chain? You’re Theo Pearson, Mr. Popular. You don’t understand what it’s like to be seen as . . . as a nobody.” Saying it out loud makes my lower lip tremble, and I fight the urge to tear up.
He rakes his hand through his hair and draws a slow breath. “And what about what I want? Does that matter to you?”
His question throws me off, and I blurt out, “Why should it?” I lift my chin. “You’re you, and I’m me. That won’t ever change.”
There’s a flicker in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or anger. For a second, he just looks at me, like he’s waiting for me to take it back, but I don’t. I stand my ground, even as the sting of my own words settles in my chest.
He nods as his jaw ticks. “Fine. I get it.” The distance between us grows as he withdraws. “If that’s how you feel, I guess there’s nothing left to say.”
The hallway falls silent now, the weight of everything said jammed between us like a brick wall. My heartbeat is so loud I wonder if he can hear it. I can’t let guilt seep into me, though. I just can’t. Letting someone like Theo in was never part of the survival plan.
He turns first, his shoulders squared with a stiffness I haven’t seen before. Each step he takes away from me forms a tiny crack in my defenses. Why does this hurt so much when I’m the one pushing him away?
I should feel relieved. This is what I wanted, right? Distance. Safety. But the knot in my throat suggests otherwise. Before he can disappear around the corner and maybe look back, I force myself to turn and walk in the opposite direction.
What if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life?
No. It’s for the best. People like us don’t mix. We never have. We never will.