“Shit, you don’t want to hear this, we should probably—”
“Thank you,” she said, “For telling me.”
Why had I told her?
It was a long time ago and I wasn’t a kid anymore. Being in the spotlight came with the territory, and the light would only get brighter when I went to college. To survive you had to build walls. Maybe I’d built them higher than others, but it was only because I wanted it more than most.
“It explains a lot.” A smirk tugged at her mouth.
“Oh yeah?”
“All that pressure, the expectation… it explains why you’re a grade-A asshole.” Hailee laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. But I didn’t laugh. I didn’t even smile. Because she was right.
I was an asshole because I could be. People treated me like the prodigal son of football and somewhere along the way, I started acting like it. But what most people didn’t realize was, it was a defense mechanism. A way to protect myself.
“I’m joking, Jason.” Hailee added when I didn’t reply.
“No you’re not.”
“Then maybe, but now? Now, you’re not so bad.” She grabbed the door handle to studio two and slipped inside. “What the—” Her words trailed off and I stepped up behind her to see what had rendered her speechless.
Art supplies were strewn everywhere. Red and white paint was splashed up the walls, and across the canvasses lying haphazardly around the place.
“I can’t believe someone did this.” Hailee’s voice trembled as she swiped tears from her eyes. “It’s all ruined; the Seniors Night project is ruined.”
I looked at my step-sister, the person whose life I’d made a misery in the past, and felt like the worst kind of shit. For so long, I’d used Hailee as a punching bag to deal with my anger at her mother and now she was being used in the same way by someone else.
All because of me.
For a moment it was like I was looking in on us, for the first time actually looking beyond the armor I put around myself, the ‘hurt people before they hurt me’ principles I lived by, and I didn’t like what I saw.
I stepped closer to her and I put my hand on her arm, causing her to jump slightly, as her attention shifted from the ruined canvasses. “We got this, okay? What do you want me to do to help?”
Hailee took a deep breath. “Can you help me get them back on the stands?”
I nodded.
The silence was deafening as we worked together to clean up the studio. I spotted my face amongst the chaos. Cam’s too. Some of the canvasses looked worse off than others. When we stood back to survey the wreckage, Hailee let out an exasperated breath. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” her body shook with anger. “Tell me Thatcher didn’t break in and ruin my hard work because of some stupid football rivalry. Tell me, Jason.” Her eyes flew to mine, pinning me to the spot, making me feel five inches tall.
“I can’t,” I ground out, my fists curled tightly against my thighs as I took in the devastation. Art wasn’t my thing, but I knew how hard Hailee had worked on the project. How many hours it had taken her to paint each portrait.
A beat passed.
Another.
Until I could hear nothing but the roar of blood between my ears, the thud thud thud of my heart against my ribcage. “I’m so fucking sorry,” the words sliced through the air like a hot blade through ice, as my fist smashed into the wall.
“Shit, Jason,” Hailee rushed over to me, trying to get a look at my hand. But I shook her off, cradling it against my chest.
“It’s fine,” I said. It wasn’t, but I’d had worse. It was nothing a little ice and a few shots of whisky wouldn’t solve.
“You weren’t supposed to see it until tonight.” She sniffled, ignoring my apology.
“I never realized you were so talented.” Even covered in red and white paint splatters, I could make out the intricate detail of my helmet, the way my shirt seemed to ripple as I hiked the ball. It wasn’t just good.
It was fucking incredible.
“You should have seen them before...” she trailed off, sadness radiating from her.
“Can you fix them?” The one of me was the most affected but at least four seemed to have escaped the paint splatters.
“I’m not sure. I’ll need to talk to Mr. Jalin.”
“Hailee—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Jason, and I get it. If we bring Thatcher into this, Principal Finnigan will intervene. But I have to tell Jalin. I’ll think of something to protect you, but everyone’s going to know something happened when we unveil them tomorrow. Maybe if we get this place tidied up and I speak to him, we can control the story.”
It wasn’t ideal. But it wasn’t like we had a list of options.
“When did you get so devious?” I asked around a half-smirk, brushing over the fact she was prepared to lie to protect me because I didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.
“I learned from the best.” She shot me a knowing look.
“You know, if I didn’t hate you so much, I think I could probably grow to like you.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual.” Hailee mirrored my expression. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do if we want to get this place tidied up before class tomorrow.”
I pulled out my cell phone.
“What are you doing?” Hailee sounded wary.
“Calling in reinforcements.”
Chapter Nineteen
Felicity
“Want to talk about it?” Mya asked me.
“Nope. I want to get wasted, flirt with cute guys, and then eat my body weight in ice cream. Maybe not in that order.” I took a long pull on the liquor Mya had sequestered off her grandmother. It almost blew my brains out the first sip I had, but at least it left me numb.
“I hate to break it to you,” my partner in crime said, “but I’m not exactly sure this is the place to meet guys.”
We were down by the river, huddled on a bench. It probably wasn’t my brightest idea ever, but I couldn’t sit at home, wallowing. Deflecting Mom’s incessant questions. It wasn’t like I could call Hailee; not when she was off with Jason preparing for the Seniors Night thing tomorrow. At least it was family and close friends of the team only. I wouldn’t have to survive sitting there, watching him, remembering how he made me feel... how he trampled all over any hopes of there being something real between us.
Fuck you right out of my head.
He hadn’t meant to say the words. I’d seen the surprise in his dark eyes, the flash of panic. Any other girl would have probably slapped him across the face and run a mile. But not me.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“You’re in deep with him,” Mya said, and my head whipped up to hers.
“Huh?” I slurred.
“I said, ‘you’re in deep with him’.”
“I’m not... I wasn’t supposed—”
“Girl, we both know it doesn’t work like that. You don’t get to decide who you fall in love with.”
“I’m not in love with him.”