Chapter 22
brIE
I’m sitting across from Tess in a booth at Jolly Jalapeno. It’s early on a Tuesday, so the place isn’t busy. We’re both silent. I refuse to meet her eyes as I take a totally natural, super casual sip of water.
“So are you guys furries, or what?”
I spit the water right back into my glass. “No!”
Sawyer’s body pressing against me barely half an hour ago, hard and eager, flits through my mind.
“Maybe.”
Then the way he left hits me like a brick wall. That will never happen again.
“Definitely not.”
Tess’s laugh, a piercing shriek of delight, is loud enough for the whole bar to hear. People look over. I wave at our server in apology and turn to Tess.
“Shush! What you saw was an accident.”
Her eyes glitter across the table. “I’m sure if I hadn’t cockblocked you, there would have been an accidental kiss, too. Maybe some accidental groping. Your pants might have accidentally come off—”
“I mean it happened so fast I wasn’t thinking about where we were or who he was.” I drop my head into my hands. “I can’t believe I dry-humped Funny Bunny in my classroom.”
She lets out another giddy laugh, and bounces in her seat like she can’t contain her joy.
Leaning forward, she whispers, “I knew it! I just knew you two liked each other. The sexual tension when you’re together” —she fans herself with her menu— “I mean, I could cut it with a knife.”
“There is no sexual tension,” I say flatly.
But really? I want to scream and thrash and maybe even break something. I am not an overly sexual person. I have no idea where this lusty version of Brie came from, but she had to come out of hiding for Sawyer? Of all the men on Earth, it had to be him?
Tess’s grin is wider than the Cheshire Cat’s. “There’s sexual tension, alright. I get second-hand horny when I’m around the two of you.”
“Oh my god!” I glance around to see if anyone heard her. “What has gotten into you?”
She sips her water, cheeks high with a suppressed smile and tinged pink. “I just feel lighter since the restraining order.”
I can’t help beaming at her. Tess asked me to meet her Saturday morning after the Taco Tursday fiasco, and I went with her to the police station. I was so proud of her.
“I’m glad you still feel good about it.”
“I do! Now I’m free.” She lifts her arms up and flaps her hands in the air.
“What did Nash say when you told him about it?”
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
“Tess! Tell me you told your brother about the restraining order. He has to be worried about you after what happened that night.”
“Doubt it,” she says, ducking her head.
And then I understand. “You never told him about that night?”
She drops her chin. “He’s just so busy! I don’t want to add another thing for him to worry about.” Sitting up straighter, she adds, “Besides, it’s all over. I have the restraining order. CJ can’t bother me again.”
I don’t like it, but I understand her reluctance, I’m not one to spew personal details either. And all I know about her relationship with Nash is what she’s told me. I don’t want to overstep. Besides, she’s right about the restraining order. This should be the end of her problems with her ex.
Still, I know that’s not always realistic. I read somewhere that abused women are statistically most vulnerable after attempting to leave, or after reporting the abuse.
And I also know from my many attempts that Tess is steadfast in staying at her apartment. She won’t even consider staying with Gia and me for a few weeks.
“Just promise you’ll be careful. And come to me if you ever need help,” I say. “With anything.”
“I promise. Two Emerson Ave.”
“Good.”
Our server comes by to take our orders. I hope it acts as a tidy little bookend to all things ex-boyfriends and bunnies, but as soon as she’s gone, Tess leans in again, eyebrows drawn up in expectation.
“Now, tell me why you’re here with me instead of anywhere with Sawyer.”
I huff. “I will never be anywhere with Sawyer. What you think you saw won’t ever happen again.” As I say it, my heart sinks into my stomach.
“Why not?”
“For one, Sawyer said it would never happen again . . . immediately after he jumped away from me like a celiac from a croissant.”
Her head tilts to one side. “He said that?”
“Literally used those words.”
“Why?”
I shrug like I’m totally unaffected. But I’m really really affected.
The truth is, the Funny Bunny incident was so inappropriate, so out of character for me, that I can’t deny my attraction to Sawyer anymore. I’ve always known Sawyer is hot, just like everyone in town knows it. But I, Brie Casey, am drawn to him like a shark to blood.
No, that’s not right. Something less predatory.
Maybe a fly to shit.
Either way, it’s pretty damning evidence, right?
Despite the headless bunny costume, he was still the hottest person I’ve ever seen.
There’s no getting around it. It’s nonsensical.
Infuriating. And, because of our past, there’s no winning with him.
When his attention is on me, I want to choke him.
When he’s ignoring me, I want him to choke me.
Wait. No. That’s not what I meant.
But see? I’m not myself anymore. This is why a repeat of the Funny Bunny incident can never happen.
That and . . . he’s my boss. Add that to the mile-long list of reasons why I can’t stay in Blue Ridge. I can’t keep working under him.
Before the stupid voice in my head can make a pun about wanting to work under him, I say, “It doesn’t matter because I can’t get involved with someone at school anyway. No sex with colleagues. It’s my rule, and I’m sticking to it.”
“Wait, why?”
My lips press tight. I won’t be telling anyone here in Blue Ridge—or anywhere—everything that happened at Everett Academy, but Tess has become important to me. She’s a friend, and I know she can keep a secret. I can tell her something.
When I lean in, she mirrors me. “There was this older teacher at my last school. Christopher.”
Her eyes narrow on the name. “He sounds like a dick.”
This is what friends are for.
“He was, I just didn’t know it yet.”
I tell her the abridged story, focusing on it being a short-lived, unsatisfying relationship and learning he was not divorcing his wife who—surprise!—was on the board. I leave out the gossip that spread like wildfire, turning me into a pariah, and how all the parents and staff turned on me.
She leans back in her seat. “You literally got the phone call about subbing that morning, packed up your apartment, drove all night, and then you came in to discover Sawyer is your new principal?”
“Uh-huh.” I suck down the cocktail our server brought during my monologue.
I can tell she senses there’s more to the story, but she doesn’t ask. “That must have been one hell of a breakup.”
“More than you know.”
She nods, like this confirms her suspicions.
“You know what?” Tess says. “Fuck ‘em. I’m glad you’re here.”
Her eyes are so fiercely sincere, I can’t help being grateful too. “Same.”
Tess settles into her seat like she’s ready to pounce, and dips her head forward. “Now tell me what Sawyer did to you when ya’ll were younger.”
I tip my head back against the booth. “No,” I groan.
“C’mon! I feel like I’m just coming back into the world. I need some hot goss!”
“This isn’t ‘hot goss,’ it’s old news.”
“Not for you it’s not. You’re still hung up on it like a sheet on a clothesline. And not for me either because I’ve never heard it.”
I snort out a laugh, but my skin begins to itch. The only way she’ll let this go is if I make it clear I don’t want to talk about it, but then it’ll be a capital-T Thing.
“There’s too much to tell,” I hedge. “Sawyer was a constant bruise in my life from the first day of kindergarten.”
“Give me the highlights.”
My knee bounces as our server drops off another round of drinks and our food.
People start to trickle into the restaurant.
More than half come carrying guitar cases.
Two or three sit at a table with notecards, mouthing to themselves as if prepping for a comedy set. It’s Talented Tuesday, open mic night.
I turn back to Tess, who’s watching me with keen eyes, and I know I have to tell her something.
Prom is the first thing that comes to mind, but even after fourteen years, that memory is raw.
The way I’d let myself be taken in by Sawyer months earlier, think he was a good guy after giving me a ride in the rain, only for him to make a giant fool of me in front of everyone in our class at prom.
But as I try to land on a different memory, I realize they all still sting.
Instead, I punt. “Sawyer just wasn’t very nice to me.”
She makes a Go on gesture that has my heart pounding. I wipe my hands on my pants. I’ve never willingly told anyone one of these stories. People know of course, but not from me.
Tess’s eyebrows knit, and her expression turns tender, like she’s about to backtrack in order to spare me. I almost hate that more.
I blurt, “Do they still do the fifth grade sleepover at the library?”
She nods, “It’s a beloved tradition.”
As I tell Tess about Squeakers, our food comes, but neither of us touches it.
“And then Sawyer tied off the trash bag and took her out to the dumpster.” It’s ridiculous, I know it is, but I’m shaking.
“I am so sorry, Brie. Kids can be so mean.” Tess shakes her head.
After a moment, she says, “I just can’t believe Sawyer was like that.
I can’t picture it.” She looks at me, startled at her own words.
“I mean, I believe you! One hundred percent, I do. But it’s hard to fit that version of Sawyer with the Sawyer I know now. ”
Tess is so young she never overlapped with us in school.
I hold my hands up helplessly. “I mean, you’re a Brooks. The Blue Ridge I grew up in was different than the one you did. You and Nash lived in the best part of town while I had a cemetery for a backyard. Your dad’s a senator. Mine was the town drunk.”
“We moved here after Mom divorced my dad. But . . .” she levels me with a guilty look, “we did live in Belmont.”
“And that’s okay. But I bet you were never bullied. And Nash sure as hell was never teased about anything.”
She dips her chin. “You’re right.”
Thunder booms outside, followed closely by a flash of lightning.
“The weather’s been so weird,” she says, and I’m grateful for the change in topic. “They said it’ll snow tonight, but this feels like a summer thunderstorm.”
“They predict snow?” Yesterday, the temperatures got into the high sixties. Pink and purple cherry blossoms are already starting to bud along Main Street.
“Yeah,” she says. “They were even talking about closing school, but look.”
She points across the street and behind me, so I have to crane my neck. The garage to the firehouse is open and men in brFD t-shirts drag lawn chairs just outside reach of the rain to watch the storm. They don’t look even a little cold.
“No way they’ll close school, right? It’s March.” I think about the kids’ seeds that just sprouted while we read The Secret Garden, and wonder how long they can go without water.
She shrugs. “It’s possible. It’s up to the district, and that includes the towns over and past Ormewood.” Ormewood Mountain borders Blue Ridge to the north.
Another boom of thunder claps overhead. Tess and I eat as we watch the sheets of rain pour into town, and I try not to think of the last time it rained like this when I was in Blue Ridge.