Your Biggest Fan

19. ROXANNE

Chapter nineteen

One month later and Harley and Riley are still going at it like a pair of tongue-wrestling champions. It seems that after he saw me at the party, he had no problem making his relationship with her public.

Well, at least I can take comfort in the fact that I’m no longer the one holding them back.

Yeah, no . I have to think that way in order to make it easier to see them right now, straddling each other in the courtyard during lunch like it’s their own personal wrestling ring.

The middle of the school has an open courtyard, the brick around the perimeter covered in painted sharks where everyone tries to make an even more ridiculous mascot. A bunch of solid white picnic tables are scattered around the large grassy area in the center, where most of us eat during lunch. Only now it’s currently serving as the stage for Harley and Riley’s performance.

The tall oak trees are at least trying their best to provide me some shade from the blazing sun, but it’s the brink of autumn now, so half their leaves are missing. Not exactly the most reliable shade-givers.

Though as I sit and watch the painful sight of their 37th consecutive day of public displays of affection, I’m thankful the sun is partially blinding me through the skeletal branches. The sting is slightly dulled by now.

Thirty-seven days of watching this can do that to you.

The only thing that keeps clawing at the back of my head is that one single question: why didn’t he ever treat me that way? What was so wrong with me that he didn’t want to make out in the courtyard? Did he laugh at how pathetic I was, thinking he was waiting for me? Did he think it would be funny to get my hopes up that he’d come back?

Maybe it’s more than one question.

He seems to have no issues about showering Riley with affection in public, but whenever I would try to do something as simple as hold his hand… Let's just say I would have had an easier time dragging a toddler through a grocery store.

I don’t care that much about it anymore. At this point, I feel embarrassed.

His flimsy reason for breaking up with me was a total lie, and if they’ve been together all this time, I can only imagine the conversations they had about me while we were still together. Especially after he’d get done seeing me.

They probably made fun of the way I’d throw myself at him and he’d reject me, all the while Riley knew she had him wrapped around her perfectly painted finger. Fingers that I had finished painting for her.

“Gag me,” I say out loud. A nearby freshman shot me a terrified look.

At least Noah started being polite for once. He listened to my words and respected my boundaries, refraining from any further physical contact or “lessons.” He never mentioned the ill-fated kiss either, and I followed suit by keeping it locked away in the depths of my mind, inside a large box labeled “DO NOT OPEN.” Never to be spoken of or pondered upon again.

Ever .

“I never liked him anyway,” Stephanie says, scowling from the picnic table. She’s been my rock through this, letting me vent and cry and eat my ice cream while we bash men.

“Really?” I start fishing for my bag of Funyuns in my backpack. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

A little smile plays on her lips as she leans over the table, gently patting my head. “Because, my dear Roxy, you liked him, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of your romantic affairs. I know you too well. You’re not going to listen to anything I say.”

“True.” My smirk is instantaneous as I rip open the bag. “I wouldn’t have.”

“And, like, I hate to say I told you so, but... ” she gestures toward the making out.

“Except you didn’t actually tell me anything.”

“Touché. Would you like me to do the honors of calling your future romantic interests lame for you?”

“You can try, but I’m probably not going to listen.” I smile at the layers of outrage on her face.

“Why, hello there my lovely ladies!” Tyler chirps in a British accent, plopping down next to Steph. He sets down his loud tin Knight Rider lunch box with a clatter. He claims it’s his shield against the straights, not because he needs to disguise himself, but because he believes “even the most vanilla men can’t resist the Hoff’s charm.”

I sigh. Thirty-seven days.

Tyler follows my gaze and frowns. “Do you think he’d get mad at me if I chewed on his paint brushes?”

“Maybe,” I laugh, wiping off the onion crumbs from my fingers onto my shorts.

“You want me to slash his tires later? Key her locker?”

I shake my head, tempting as the offer is. “Please, they’re not worth the criminal record.”

“Forget about him. You’re too good for him anyway,” Stephanie declares with a smack of her hand against the table, making her tray rattle.

“Yeah.” I suck in a slow breath through my nose, carding my fingers through my hair as I calm myself. “I’m trying to learn that.”

“He needs a mediocre girl who will buy into his bullshit. But guess what? I have something that will bring a smile to your face.” Tyler flips open his lunch box and starts rummaging through before he presents a wrapped sandwich. “For you.”

I gasp and my heart squeezes when I snatch it from him over the table. “You’re shitting me. The legendary Mama S sandwich?! I thought it was a myth.”

“The one and only. She even gave me double the cookies.”

In the years that I’ve known Tyler Soleado, his mom has made his lunch for him every morning, and every single day, he has the same sandwich that’s made me drool with envy. I’ve been begging him to ask his mom to make me one for ages. It seemed like a gourmet delicacy compared to my boring PB&J, Funyun bag, and Cherry Pepsi I’ve been eating every day since freshman year.

The sandwich looks as amazing as always when I peel off the plastic wrap, the bread crispy on the outside but soft inside, loaded with the usual fillings of meats, avocado, and cheese that ooze out the sides. My mouth fucking waters looking at it. I can’t believe he finally convinced her to make me one. This changes everything .

The sun soaks into my cheeks as I take my first bite, listening to Stephanie and Tyler fight over the cookies, and it’s even better than I could have imagined. It’s made even more special by the rare October day where the weather is actually nice enough to be outside without freezing your tits off.

Maybe things will be okay.

“Fuck, this is so good ,” I moan aloud, sighing up into the—

“Sunshine,” an aggravating voice says, ruining my moment as it sits down next to me, plopping a hand right onto my bare knee and bursting through my tranquility bubble.

Remember when I said Noah had been polite lately? I take it back. Apparently that was short-lived.

I glare at him and wish I could brush his hand off my knee, but this sandwich is a two hand job.

“Rule number three, Noah.”

“Do you always live your life with rules?”

“Big time. Now what do you want?” I ask through a mouthful of heaven.

“Yeah, go on, impress us sunshine ,” Steph mocks. “What are your brilliant words of wisdom today?”

He gave me that same grin—yes, that one. “Aw come on, don’t be like that. We wanted to see how our favorite girls are doing.”

Right on cue, Daniel hops up onto the tabletop, resting his feet on the bench beside Stephanie. God, it’s like an infestation with boys invading our picnic table. He leans in, whispering something in her ear that makes her cheeks turn a shade redder than her strawberry jello. She giggles back at him, twirling a lock of hair around her finger and resting her elbow beside his thigh.

Tyler, who’d been shaking his head while taking a bite of his sandwich, suddenly pipes up. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man of the hour himself.”

Noah turns to him, eyebrow raised. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” he responds, returning the same raised brow. “Roxanne and Stephanie’s best friend, who also happens to be really good at M.A.S.H.”

“M.A.S.H.? That game where you predict your future?”

“Yeah, that one,” Tyler confirms, giving Noah a once-over. “And just so you know sweet cheeks, you always end up as my ‘husband’ whenever I play.”

Dear God, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Did Tyler just call Noah “sweet cheeks”? And did he basically out himself to the most popular guy in school? I brace myself for Noah’s reaction, but to my surprise, he only laughs.

“Is that so?” Noah asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Every single time,” Tyler nods, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’s like the game knows something we don’t.”

“Do we at least get a mansion?”

“A huge one, with a pool and arcade.”

“And what about our honeymoon? Please tell me it’s somewhere exotic.”

Tyler’s face falls. “Close. Mall of America. We blew all our cash on the mansion, so we had to settle.”

Turning to me, Noah grins. “I like him.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my own amusement. “Ugh, don’t encourage him.”

Stephanie chokes on her jello, trying to stifle her laughter. Even if it’s annoying that they crashed our lunch, I still have to admit Stephanie and Daniel do make a cute couple. His boyishness with his shorts and beanies and loud jewelry compared to Stephanie’s dainty femininity makes me want to squeeze them until they pop. Sometimes I wonder if Noah ever feels weird, seeing his best friend with my best friend.

The look on his face indicates he couldn’t care less. My anger flares again.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I want to eat my sandwich in peace, but he grins wider, showing all his pointy teeth.

I picture myself flicking a lit match straight at his face.

“No, I don’t. And you certainly seem like you need bothering.” He leans forward, gaze flicking to my sandwich before meeting my glare. “You know, I think you get the same look on your face as the Gremlins when they say 'yum yums.'”

From across the table, Tyler barks out a laugh so hard that he sends food flying from his mouth, then starts choking once he tries to take a deep breath. I turn my glare to him, and he quickly quiets down, then I whip back around to Noah.

“At least I don’t look like a scrawny sewer dweller who got run over by a truck,” I fire back, taking an even bigger, angrier bite of my sandwich. Tyler sputters again.

Noah’s smile faded. “Wow, you are vicious when you are hungry, aren’t you?”

A mean smirk curves my lips and I go back to my sandwich. Chalk one up for me.

“You should see her when she’s starving,” Tyler says, rubbing his throat. I sit up a little taller.

“No, I’m always like this. You’re just not funny.”

I take another big bite and glance up in time to catch Harley and Riley walking past our table, his arm wrapped around her waist. As they pass by, Harley’s eyes meet mine, and then so do Riley’s—a pair of The Shining twins staring me down as I shove this sandwich in my mouth like a literal Gremlin.

My fingers dig into the bread and Noah scoots closer to me on the bench, his jeans brushing my outer thigh as he squeezes my knee tightly under the table.

Oh . Is he trying to make Harley jealous?

“Don’t listen to her.” Tyler’s still giggling and oblivious to the undercurrents of the situation. “She gets even worse when the 7/11 is out of donuts.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m already picturing the scene.” Noah leans back slightly, but never breaks his death glare with Harley from over my head. His jaw is tight when he drops his eyes back to me, ocean waters flickering while making sure he makes his interest very fucking clear.

I glance down, then back up within a second. His hand is splayed out over my knee, so strong and sure, his thumb rubbing slow circles on my skin. My heart beats in the center of my stomach as he leans in close to my ear, the aroma of minty toothpaste and strawberries filling my nose, and he says in the most serious voice possible: “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hangry either.”

“Trust me, Noah, I don’t like you even when you’re not hangry.” The tips of his fingers flit over the scar on my knee, his ring brushing against my skin, and I try harder than I’ve ever done anything in my entire life to ignore it.

Every nerve ending of mine goes haywire as he leans forward, startling me as he takes a big fucking bite out of the sandwich clutched between my hands.

“Hey!” I cry out in horror, nearly dropping it. How dare he! I’ve been dreaming about this sandwich all my life and he gets a bite on his first day at this table?

My horror intensifies when he pulls back and wipes at the corner of his mouth, then sucks the avocado right off his thumb, staring straight at me. I’m going to kill him.

“This is really good,” he murmurs, all rasp in the quaint space between us.

“Wow, you really are a leech,” I blurt out, my face bright red. “Who takes someone’s sandwich like that?”

Tyler bursts out laughing again, this time with Stephanie and Daniel. But Noah… Oh he stares at me with that smile pulling at his lips that makes me want to take this sandwich and shove it so far down his throat.

“Mmm.” His tongue darts out, sweeping his lower lip, and I think that maybe my skin underneath his hand is now goosebumped from his touch. “I think the gremlins do.”

“I’ll literally kill you. I’ve waited an eternity for this sandwich.”

“You know, I can only imagine what your rage would be.”

“You have no idea.”

“I bet I do.” His nails gently tracing the contours of my knee, causing me to finally set my sandwich down.

“Do not make me go Super Saiyan on your ass,” I threaten, grabbing my can of Pepsi.

“Super Saiyan is from Dragon Ball...” Noah starts before I throw a napkin at him instead. He snatches it out of mid-air and proceeds to wipe his mouth with it.

“I’m aware of where it’s from.” My fingers dent the cold aluminum. One well aimed splash would wipe that look away for good.

His eyes drop to my lips before meeting my glare again, and it makes me so anxious that I have mayo smeared everywhere. He then smacks his lips together in an obnoxiously loud pop and flings the napkin onto Daniel’s shoulder.

“What?” He shrugs as he slips a finger under the crook of my knee to follow along the tendon there. “Am I not allowed an appetite? I’m growing, don’t you know, and a healthy young man needs his food.”

Needs a knuckle sandwich, more like it.

I take a pointed sip of my Pepsi, keeping my voice cold. “An appetite, yes, manners, of course not.”

“Manners are for people with no charm.”

Daniel laughs, spinning around and sitting criss-cross on top of the table. “Noah’s right. We’re all a lil’ charmed by his no-manners attitude.” He nudges Stephanie as if sharing an inside joke. “What’s more charming than wiping a napkin on someone else’s shoulder? It’s a sign of affection. A way of showing we care. Roxy should be flattered that Noah is willing to share those germs.”

“See, here I am, simply showing my affection, and I’m met with the cold shoulder.” His thumb continues tracing slow circles right under my knee. Is Harley still watching ?

“I don’t even know why I try anymore.” I take a deep breath and turn to Noah. “Why are you sitting here? Did you get lost on your way back to the sewer?”

He snorts and squeezes my knee tightly in warning. “I was on my way back to the sewer, when I decided I had to see you and tell you how wonderful you look today.”

Oh, he’s up to something.

“You’re such a liar. I look like a goblin who hasn’t seen the light of day in years, and you know it.”

Stephanie scoffs, coming to my defense. “You do not look like a goblin. If anyone here is a bestial goblin, it’s him.” She points a finger at Noah, squinting at me. “I, for one, think you look lovely.”

Noah purses his lips, tilting his head as a slow, devious smile stretches across his face. And not for the first time, I think he looks like the Grinch. His hand slides higher up my thigh, and I have to plant my foot firmly on the grass to keep from kicking at the tingling sensation. Tyler must notice the color on my cheeks, the faint sweat matting hair to my forehead. I know I look fucking erratic.

“Are you okay? You’re jumpy today.”

“Yeah,” I snap, harsher than I wanted to. I swallow hard, the leg farthest from Noah bouncing with bottled-up energy. “I’m fine.” Narrowing my eyes at Noah, I clench my thigh as he squeezes tighter.

He narrows back. “I came to tell you I’ll be a bit late to practice. Principle Phillips wants me to stop by after the final bell. God knows how long that’ll be.”

I turn my chin up towards our bassist. “What about you? Gonna leave me hanging too?”

Surprisingly, Daniel is never late to practice, and Noah was right in saying his friend is a pretty good bassist.

He shifts on top of the table, pulling his gray beanie off his head and shaking out his hair. “Well, my mom has been on my case to help out at the store. They’ve been short staffed, so I figured I could go in and watch the register for an hour, make sure no one steals the begonias or some shit.”

I wave my half-eaten sandwich through the air. “Fine, fine. Abandon me too.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! My mom can be scary when she’s on a warpath. She’ll probably make me rearrange all the fertilizers and weed the petunias again as punishment for skipping last week’s shift.”

I place my hand over my heart, feigning betrayal. I can’t really blame him.

That store’s been in his family for ages—pretty sure Bellpond Historical Society has it in their records as being around since the town’s founding, supplying floral arrangements for every occasion. And one of his mom’s cardinal rules was to never let band practice interfere with helping out at the shop.

Daniel’s laugh crinkles his eyes. “One day when you meet her, you’ll understand. Angry Mrs. Amari is not someone you want to mess with.” His face grows serious, leaning in. “Legend has it she can kill a man with a look. Like Medusa, but with a green thumb.”

Stephanie’s eyes go saucer-wide. “Yikes, remind me not to get on her bad side.”

I smile up at Daniel. I don’t want him to feel bad about running late, even as Noah’s hand moves to the top of my thigh, wrapping around the muscle there as far as he can reach. He squeezes. Hard.

The press of his fingertips leave a residual pressure I can still feel even after he’s moved back to my knee. And… Great. Now I’m obsessing over his hands again.

Okay, brain. Focus . Smile at Daniel again. Don’t let Noah win.

Daniel lurches forward and smacks hard at Noah’s chest, the force of the punch pulling the skin of my leg back with him. “What does the old guy want to see you for? You in trouble?”

Noah shrugs, rubbing at his chest. “No idea, he only said he wanted to speak with me. Could be anything, but my guess? Probably a lecture about the graffiti caricatures of the teachers on the bathroom stalls.”

He brings his hand up to my inner thigh, higher than he’s risked before, alternating between gentle skimming and tight grabbing. My heart starts to beat too hard, making my throat close up so I can barely swallow my sandwich. He only has a few more inches before this starts to get really fucking questionable, and I can’t tell if I’m thankful for the tight fabric of my shorts or not.

“That was you ?” Tyler asks.

Stephanie perks up, steepling her fingers together. “Ooh, is it an artful rendering of Principal Phillips’ derrière ?”

“No, but I have always wanted to do a detailed drawing of Principal Phillips’ ass,” Noah laughs, pinching at my skin. The others all laugh with him around the table as I shake my head and crumple up the plastic wrap into my fist.

“Wait...” I pivot in my seat to face the vandalizer. “You’re an artist?”

“You didn’t know?” He gives my knee another little squeeze under the table, sending tingles up my leg. “Those drawings weren’t only limited to bathroom stalls. I think most walls and mirrors in this school have gotten a taste of my craft.”

I fold my lips behind my teeth to hold back my smile. I don’t know why that makes me want to smile, but it does.

“No, you never told me.”

A new smile turns my way as he rubs the back of his neck, one that seems almost shy. “Well, now you know. It’s a hobby though, nothing serious.”

Seeing this bashful side of Noah is new. I decide then and there that I think I like it.

“You’ll have to show me your art sometime.”

He shoots me a sideways glance, and I have to suppress my own blooming smile as he pushes his hair back with his fingers. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

The sun does its thing, shining down on his dark hair, one curl gently falling over his bright blue eye, and I bite the skin of my cheek when my stomach tightens inside me. His confidence is not some cheap knock-off. It's the real deal, tattooed on his soul. He wears his identity like it's the coolest band tee ever made, and his blatant attitude about not giving a damn what others think isn't turned all the way up—it's snapped off the damn dial. He always keeps me guessing, and I can't decide if I'm fascinated or freaked out. All of it crashes into me so hard and all at once, leaving me dizzy and breathless like I've been spinning in circles and suddenly stopped.

I quickly turn my head away. “Now I know why you’re never without a marker.”

“You know me so well, Wishmore.” He grins, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially. “A true artist is always prepared. I could decorate this entire cafeteria with my signature if I wanted to.”

I snort and pull my left leg back, pressing my knees together. “I think the school custodians would hunt you down if you tried that.”

But Noah just pulls my leg back, using his first two long fingers to pry open my pressed thighs. My breath hitches as he nudges my right leg outward, leaning into my space until I can feel him through my clothes. “Ah, but it would be worth it for the sake of creating a true masterpiece, would it not? I could be like Keith Haring, leaving my mark upon society.”

Jesus . I’m grateful Stephanie and Tyler are too busy scarfing down cookies to notice what’s happening underneath the table.

I blink. “Didn’t Haring get arrested multiple times for vandalism?”

“Semantics.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, my hands going to my cheeks as I straighten up against the bench, scooting closer to the edge.

His passion is kind of endearing, even if criminally misplaced, and I make a mental note to pay more attention to the artwork around school from now on.

“All great artists are persecuted in their time.” Daniel claps a hand on Noah’s shoulder, swaying him back and forth, forcing his hand to slide up to the top of my thigh. “And my boy here is a renaissance person. An artist, a graffiti writer, a vandal, a ladies man. What can’t he do?”

Noah preens under the praise, puffing out his chest similarly to the peacocks I had to watch a documentary on in science last year.

“You’re a lot more talented and a lot less lazy than you make yourself out to be,” Daniel continues. “I’d say you have a gift for doing the things normal people don’t dare to do. You’re creative, innovative, free. And now that I got all of that out, all I want to do is graffiti a stall.” He brandishes a black marker out of his back pocket. “And I have this right here.”

Noah’s face lights up as his hand reaches out for the marker. “Oh, it is fucking on.”

Daniel whips the marker out of reach and shoves at Noah’s shoulder, then bolts off the table. Noah lifts his legs and spins around on the bench, removing his hand from my leg entirely. He pauses before he takes off, reaching out to push the hair out of my ear, and leans into it.

“You should stop being so hard on yourself,” he murmurs, voice unexpectedly gentle as he brushes my back with his other hand. “Besides, what’s wrong with a goblin? I’ve always thought them to be kinda cute.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as he pulls back with a wink, and then he’s gone, sprinting across the courtyard after Daniel, the two of them shoving and tackling each other with boyish fun as they race inside. Touching my tingling ear, I risk a glance across the yard to see Harley leaning against a wall, nodding as Riley talks into his ear.

Except his hazel eyes are on me.

What a prick. I hope he saw Noah’s hand.

My back turns away and a chill runs down my spine, though I’m not sure if it’s from Harley’s icy stare or the breeze hitting my now-empty knee.

My mind is still trying to figure it out when Stephanie huffs. “Those two are idiots.”

I grab a cookie out of Tyler’s ziplock bag. “Yeah,” I murmur, replacing that crumb of a feeling in my lower tummy with real ones.

Noah’s effect on my confused body has to be a strictly physical attraction since he’s the first guy to be touching me, and since Harley left a void inside me, it’s easy to find people to fill it quickly to forget him. I no doubt want to do that soon so I can stop having these intrusive, unwelcomed thoughts about he whose name we will not say .

“I think I need to have sex.”

Stephanie chokes on her cookie, coughing it up violently while she pounds a fist against the center of her chest. Tyler does a spit take with his soda, the dark liquid spraying across the table as he drops his can.

They gape at me in astonishment.

The sun burns my face.

Engage brain before sharing intimate thoughts .

“What, do you want me to do something about it?” Tyler gasps out, wiping the soda off his chin.

“Ew, no. But it’s the truth. I’m not dating anyone, and it’s not exactly my first rodeo, so—” I take a deep breath and wave my hand around, looking at Stephanie to try and gauge her reaction.

“You say it like it’s something shameful,” she says, her face in its usual cheerful smile. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, babes.”

Tyler finally recovers enough to speak. “Okay, wait, back up. What did I miss? You think you need to what now?”

I give them an overly bright everything-is-fine grin as I pick at the tab of my Pepsi can, talking slowly through my clenched teeth. “Do you guys think I could have casual sex?”

“Girl, who says you can’t?” Stephanie answers enthusiastically.

“Definitely not us,” Tyler adds, nodding. “You can do whatever—or whoever—you want.”

“But—” Stephanie starts, swallowing down another handful of cookies. Here we go. “Are you sure that’s, um, really the solution to all of your problems? I get the feeling you tend to gravitate towards serious relationships over fun flings.”

I shift in my seat, that ole’ reliable instinct to be defensive flaring up. But Stephanie’s tone is gentle, not judgmental.

“I think I just want to be alone right now and have fun,” I say slowly, picking at a loose thread on my shorts. “I got my heart shattered into pieces, so I don’t really want to be with anyone in a serious manner. But I’ve still got some…itches to scratch.”

“I see,” she sighs, taking a dainty sip of her milk. “Yeah, sure, that I understand.”

I can tell she looks a bit flustered by the blunt direction of the conversation. At least Tyler takes it in stride, unfazed as always and refusing to turn a hair .

“I get it,” he nods. “You’ve been through the wringer, so it makes total sense that you’d want to do your own thing for a while.”

“Exactly. I feel like I’ve moved past the breakup enough now to focus on myself—to do me and be alone while getting my dick wet.”

Tyler snickers at my word choice, and the corner of Stephanie’s lip quirks up the tiniest amount. And now that I’ve started, that need to over explain is coming in too hot—I can’t stop.

“I don’t want to worry about anyone seriously yet because I’ve been burned too many fucking times over these last few months.” My hands are everywhere, like if she can see how nervous I am about all my oversharing she’ll still love me anyway. “I’m not ready to share myself or my heart yet.”

But I definitely want to share my bed.

“It’s like... imagine if you had a favorite mug, and it kept getting knocked off the table and chipped. Eventually, you’d want to keep it on a high shelf for a while, right? That’s my heart right now. I’m putting it on a high shelf, but I still need a glass to get a drink of water.”

“Hell yes. That is my girl right there, pump it.” Tyler’s fist is out, and I bump it with a grin.

“And you know what else I realized?” The words are tumbling out now, no filter.

“Say what you feel!” he preaches.

“How much Harley wrecked my self-esteem.”

The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and I get a perfect view of their faces falling as my words land way heavier than they did in my head.

“I never used to doubt myself,” I go on quickly. “Like, I know I’m a really fucking cool person, right? But he made me feel not good enough. Like something was wrong with me.”

Harley came along and destroyed my confidence by making me feel inadequate and defective because of how things ended. Of course, there were still times I didn’t like myself—how shy and quiet I could be when having to read a book out loud in class, never having the balls to stand up for myself, or meeting someone new and not knowing how to find my footing with them, and never feeling comfortable in the total silence of my backseat with Harley when I never felt the great pleasures everyone talks about.

Even with all that, it was nice to know I always had me. Friday nights alone with a big pizza, a horror movie rental (and my own hand) always felt amazing. Sure, I didn’t have the highest confidence levels in everything, but I was comfortable in my own skin.

Now those same Friday nights feel depressing. Harley turned everything into a sad reminder of what I wasn’t.

Not good enough. Not sexy enough. Not lovable enough.

“And feeling desired by someone for once sounds pretty goddamn good,” I finish firmly, summing up my little rant. I know that sex isn’t a magic cure-all for a broken heart and low self-esteem, but it feels like a chance to take control again. It’s a way to reclaim my body, my desires, and my sense of self. A way to feel desired and wanted, even if it’s for a short time.

“There’s the badass girl power I like to hear!” Tyler grins. “You go, Rox. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

Stephanie nods. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense. But, like... what about, you know... feelings?”

I shake my head. “Trust me when I say that won’t be happening. I don’t think I’m even capable because I still hold too much anger and hurt feelings over what happened. That needs to fade before I can even think about opening up again. And honestly?” I meet Steph’s eyes. “I still hate Harley too much. I want him to get a taste of his own shit.”

A silence follows my venting. Eventually, Tyler clears his throat loudly and pats my hand. “As long as you’re careful and be safe and you know... do it with a person who’s caring and nice and not a jerk. I say go for it.”

I flip my hand over and squeeze his palm against mine, lifting my eyes back up to Stephanie. Who’s biting her lip and looking like a concerned mother hen.

Weirdly, it makes my heart squeeze.

“I’m not looking for love or commitment,” I say, poking at her arm with my other hand. “This is about reminding myself I’m awesome. Strictly fun and self-care.”

She nods slowly, holding my left hand in both of hers. “Okay, okay. The real question is...” She leans in, glancing around before whispering, “How do you plan on accomplishing this goal of yours?”

My neck warms thinking about the subject and what the right answer to her question even is. “I guess find someone, talk to them, and be with them like... that...” I look away from the table and narrow my eyes at everyone else outside, pulling my hands back and crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “I guess the main question is who?”

“Yeah, who? Who would even be good for that?” Steph wonders aloud.

“There is one person,” Tyler says way too softly as if the answer has been obvious from the get-go.

My other friend tilts her head, and Tyler’s eyes widen as she leans forward, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She shifts backward in her seat, slowly coming to the realization of whoever he’s talking about.

“You’re not serious.” Her voice is flat with disbelief.

“I’m mad serious. Dead serious, buried, and haunting you with this brilliant idea.”

My fingers dig into the crook of Tyler’s elbow. “What? Who are you talking about?”

“Why not have some fun with that very hot, very attractive guy in your band?” he suggests, examining his nails.

“Who?” I know exactly who he means.

“Noah J—”

“Ha ha,” I cut him off sharply before he can even finish the name, my nails digging into his cardigan. “Very funny, Ty. I don’t think I’m at that level of desperation yet.”

“Desperation? Girl, it's called having taste. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Those muscles, those abs...”

Immediately, an unwanted image of Noah Jackson’s very pale, very bare stomach and thick veins floating up to a trail of tattoos flashes through my mind, down to the belt that’s always catching the sun in English, hinting at a treasure trail leading to... nope.

Nope nope nope.

Aghast with myself, I wrinkle my nose, erasing the mental picture with a thorough shake of my head. “Yeah. Definitely not Noah.”

“If you say so. But imagine—”

“Nope!” I clamp my hands over my ears. “Not another word about it, Ty. I mean it.”

He mimes zipping his lips, but Stephanie waves a hand flippantly. “I don’t think you have to worry about him anyways. Daniel told me Noah’s trying to get with Wendy Turner, so why not look around for a while? You know, see what your options are?”

“Wendy Turner?” Super-popular, super-pretty, super-petite Wendy Turney? “That seems like a huge reach on his part.”

“Do you really think Wendy Turner is going to be interested in a guy who writes ‘Don’t be a dick’ on all of the bathroom walls?” Stephanie asks, and I hum, zoning out on the table top where a piece of gum and ‘I love Angie’ is marked into the plastic.

Wendy is pretty in that wholesome, girl-next-door way. Innocent enough to find crude boys like Noah daring and cool rather than obnoxious.

She’s slightly taller than me, too. Noah wouldn’t have to crane his neck down to kiss her like he had to with me. A perfect match, I guess.

“Are you kidding? They’re perfect for each other. Both are good looking. Both terrible,” Tyler laughs.

I wonder if Noah puts his hand on her knees too, or if that was a thing he saves for me because he knows how much it annoys me. Does he try to wrap his arms around Wendy’s waist as he teaches her how to bowl—how to play his guitar? What’s so different that he does to me, that he does to her? What does Noah do when he’s really flirting?

“I can imagine their couple pictures now. Wendy will have her hair and makeup all done, and she’ll be wearing one of those shirts that says ‘I’m with dick-face.’ It’s...” Tyler draws his finger across his lips. “ Mwah , perfection.”

Okay, Wendy is actually really pretty. Them becoming an item would make sense. They fit the archetype: hot rocker boy falls for beautiful princess.

“Dick-face?” Stephanie laughs. “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Wendy would wear that shirt to any family event!” Tyler insists.

Noah and I barely know each other. I shouldn’t give a shit who he dates. Why the fuck do I care?

“They would probably even match their dick-face shirts together,” Tyler goes on.

I don’t care . At least if Noah did get with Wendy, it would mean he’d stop bothering me. But then why does that make me... sad inside? Noah pestering me might be the only normal, constant thing in my life right now.

“I mean, they already have matching dick-face behavior,” Stephanie laughs.

“I kissed Noah once.”

The words flew out of my mouth before I had time to consult my brain (again) and Tyler spews his drink out across the table (again), hitting the side of my cheek. Stephanie’s mouth falls open so wide I can see her tonsils.

“You... you what ?” Her furrow deepens.

“You kissed Noah! WHAT?” Tyler shrieks. “You did? When? And how? And where? And why didn’t you tell me?” He’s bouncing up and down in his seat, still coughing up his drink across the table.

Stephanie laughs, patting at his back. “You okay? Need my inhaler?”

“NO. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.” I watch as he pauses—with great difficulty—to collect himself, a flock of birds that he had no doubt startled, flapping around behind him as he picks back up his drink and takes a long slurp, then slams it on the table. “Okay, talk. What happened?”

“It... it wasn’t like a big deal or anything.” I wince, squirming under their stares. “Just a short little kiss, like I was trying to get back at Harley for cheating on me. I dunno. It was at the bonfire. We were playing Power Hour, and I was drunk, and he was just there. And I kissed him.”

“Oh. Oh my god, I think my heart stopped.” Stephanie pretends to clutch her heart as I shrivel up on the inside. I knew they’d have questions, which is exactly why I didn’t want to tell them in the first place.

“Seriously? You kissed him? Casually?” I nod, and she keeps going. “A casual kiss, like you kiss your friends? You kiss your friends on the mouth ?” This time, she hits Tyler on the back a little too hard. “I mean, you do you, but I didn’t know you were so friendly with Noah.”

“Oh, my god. This is...” Tyler looks up at the sky, prayer hands covering his mouth. He stands up from his seat and shoots his arms out wide. “This is news! This is so news.” His palms smack back down on the table. “What happened after the kiss?”

I cut off a sigh, trying and failing to stave off a grimace. “Not much. The kiss was really short, so we both kind of stood there for a moment, then I told him it was a stupid mistake and I apologized. I don’t think he was into it at all.”

“What do you mean he wasn’t into it? Oh, Roxanne, I came over here to tell you how wonderful you are ,” Tyler mocks, and then he and Stephanie face each other and start making fake kissing noises, complete with wet smacking sounds and pornographic moans.

I flick my balled plastic wrap at Tyler’s forehead.

“Ow, okay, okay, jeez.” He holds up a hand, but the grin never leaves his face. “How was it?”

I tense, knowing the question was coming, but still feeling totally unprepared.

“It was...”

I officially wasn’t a stranger to Noah’s lips, and nothing my subconscious had conjured up could compare to the real, bonafide living thing. I wanted his lips to be cracked and dry, but no, they were quite soft and plump. Which irritated me more, honestly. How can he have great lips on top of everything else? It’s fucking rude.

And then when it was happening—his hand on my cheek, sliding back into my hair, the way he held my head, those fingers pressing against my skull, solid and sure, pulling me closer…

God. That kiss obliterated every thought and feeling besides the heat of lips on mine.

It went from the biggest yeah, that’s right. Regret your life. Feel jealous about how great I’m doing , to nothing else mattering. Nothing. Fucking. Existed.

That kiss let me forget it all.

Fire explodes in my lower belly thinking about it again, throbbing in my veins, the suddenness and intensity of it destabilizing me, my head rushing with it. In reflex at the feeling, I squeeze my knees together and drag both palms down my face.

“It was weird.”

Stephanie grins. “Damn girl, maybe you can do casual afterall.”

Maybe, but it won’t be with Noah Jackson. That was confirmed when later, at the end of the school day, I found a hand-drawn caricature of me as a Gremlin inside my locker on a piece of paper and heard Noah whisper “yum yum” as he passed by me on his way to the principal’s office.

Prick.

Friday nights would be mine again, at least, and I will certainly be avoiding all jerks that don’t deserve to get their socks rocked off with me. Especially guys who use their hands to draw shitty caricatures of me.

Fuck. Now I’m thinking about his hands again.

My drumsticks poke out between my thighs as I savor the sweet taste of my small victory. The driving beat of Stargazer still pounds in my ears, and my hands tingle with the ghostly reverberations of each snare hit. After weeks of banging my head against the wall (metaphorically and literally), I finally nailed that fucker. The sticks flew in a perfect row and I destroyed the drum pattern that had essentially become my white whale.

Look at me now, pops.

The only difference now was that I could hear Noah’s voice pushing me on every time I played it. Picturing his calloused fingertips guiding my arms, steady and sure, a small smile still tugs at my lips. I see pride swimming in his blue eyes, the corner of his lip twitching.

Oddly, I was kind of sad he wasn’t here to see it. So I have to smile at the cinder block walls.

Glancing at my watch for the millionth time, I start to wonder what the hell is taking him and Daniel so long. An hour feels like an eternity when you’re stuck in a garage with only your neuroses for company and I’m trying not to spiral into self pity. My boots thump against the floor, matching the beat of my Journey cassette tape playing on my Walkman—a backdrop to my boredom and impatience.

Lovin, Touchin, Squeezin ’ is blaring while I spin around in circles, swaying and humming along. It’s been my anthem as of late, the lyrics resonating with my own sad stupid life, particularly the part about being alone while your boyfriend is out with someone else.

Shafts of sunlight stream through the open door near the ceiling, illuminating the floating dust, and I keep spinning in circles on the stool until the room blurs into a smear of posters and band stickers. The toes of my boots kick me around one more time until my gaze lands on Noah’s microphone stand, tall and alone, waiting for his little voice.

Lovely, now I’m projecting emotions onto inanimate objects.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. The silver stand glints in the sunlight, and I imagine it pouting at me, asking me where its owner is.

“Beats me.” I shrug, checking my watch again and trying to ignore that unmanned mic.

It keeps standing there in my peripheral, looking so sad, with Steve Perry’s smooth voice whispering in my ears, its silver shaft begging to be grasped.

I eye it warily. The mic still staring, judging me with its nonexistent eyes.

C’mon Roxy, you know you wanna , I imagine it crooning in a sultry, Barry White-esque voice. Just one little touch...

I glance at my watch again. The distant wail of a siren blares outside, but still no sign of the band. My eyes flick back to the microphone’s pouty round grille.

Don’t be shy, baby. I promise I’ll make you sound real good , Mic cooes. Is it my imagination, or did it bat it’s microphone stand lashes at me?

I shift on my stool, arms folded across my chest. “Don’t even think about it.”

Singing out loud is not my thing unless the music drowns out my voice, or I’m completely alone in my car or bedroom. My dad catching me putting on concerts still scarred me for life.

And, you know, the whole not liking your own voice can really mess with your head.

Mic doesn’t care though, purring, You know you want to feel my power button beneath your fingertips...

It’s seriously testing my resolve. I can’t take the temptation anymore. I leap up, arms outstretched.

“Alright, alright!” I cry. “You win this round.”

Before I can second-guess myself, I’m crossing the room in a few quick strides. My fingers brush the power button, drawing out a loud squeal of feedback that makes my shoulders hike up. I glance around the room like I’d been caught and Noah was about to storm in, but the garage stays empty.

I pluck the microphone out of the stand, feeling the solid weight of it in my hand. It’s way heavier than I expected, but the metal feels strangely empowering, like a newfound source of control in my life. A new weapon.

I tap at the screen, giving it the whole “is this thing on?” routine and covering my ears when another piercing squeal of feedback rings throughout the small space. Now I at least know audio engineering is not my calling.

I closely inspect the steel mesh grill on the mic. You never know what nasty surprises Noah might have left in here, or if he has a knack for secret hair traps too.

Satisfied it’s crumb, spit, and hair-free, I rewind the Journey tape to the beginning of Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ . Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Time to really vent all my feelings.

And nothing had ever felt so right.