Of course, I wasn’t tormented by confusing, conflicting feelings and memories of Valerie kissing my neck, so it’s definitely different.
Still the same basic problem, though.
A popular, well-loved pain in my ass.
___
When Monday morning rolls around, it feels like I’m shipping off to war instead of getting ready for my second week of senior year.
All the coffee and avocado toast in the world can’t help me, but I make some for myself, anyway.
Mom already left for work this morning. I’m dragging. She offered to give me a ride to school if I wanted to leave early, but I’d rather walk than spend any more time there than necessary.
Walking would ordinarily mean cutting through the woods behind Hunter’s house, but I’m too concerned he would anticipate that and be waiting on the footbridge when I needed to pass.
I won’t be cornered by him. I won’t let him get me alone. I don’t care what he has to say for himself this time—I don’t want to hear it.
I would have forgiven him for the lie, maybe I could have even found a way to get past him deliberately humiliating me the night he took my virginity, but not Valerie. I warned him, and he stepped over my line like it didn’t mean anything to him. So, I’m going to believe him. If he shows me he doesn’t give a shit about my boundaries, then that must be the truth.
Fuck Hunter Maxwell.
He and Valerie deserve each other.
I still feel a pang in my tender heart even thinking that, but I ignore it and lace up my shoes, ready to take the long way to school.
Just as I’m gathering my things and preparing to head out, the doorbell rings.
I frown. Ray should know my Mom is at work. I don’t see why he’d stop by with coffee if only I’m home.
When I open the door, I’m stunned to find the same delivery man that stood there last Monday. This time, he’s holding a huge bouquet of red and white roses.
“Someone’s popular,” he says good-naturedly.
I narrow my eyes at the little white teddy bear accompanying this bouquet. “No, someone’s just an asshole.”
The delivery man appears startled by my comment.
“Sorry,” I say, directing my gaze away from the flowers and meeting his eyes. “I don’t want these. Any chance you can use them if you just take them back with you? I won’t tell the sender, so you won’t get in trouble.”
“Um… no, we can’t really do that,” he says a touch awkwardly.
I figured, but at least I tried. There’s no sense in slowing this man down just because his job today was delivering flowers I didn’t want. “Okay, then. Thank you. Did he tip you already?”
“Generously,” he assures me.
I nod, unsurprised, and take the delivery.
Once I close the door, I haul them straight into the kitchen, take the flowers out of the vase they came in, and stuff them into the trash can.
I dump the water in the sink and leave the vase. I don’t have time to wash it right now. I’ll clean it later and hopefully take out the trash before Mom gets home. She’ll definitely have questions about a second flower delivery—and I haven’t even answered her questions about the first.
I look at the fluffy little white bear on the counter. His big, somehow cute beady black eyes stare back at me.
“I can’t throw you away, can I?” I murmur. “It’s not your fault the man who bought you is such an enormous jerkface.”
The bear sits there, all fluffy and adorable.
I sigh and scoop it up. I haul it to my bedroom and put him on a chair in the corner along with the snake Anderson won me at the fair and an assortment of stuffed animals I still have from my childhood.
___
Dread falls over me like a weighted blanket as soon as Hawthorne High comes into view.
There are still kids gathered outside talking, so I put my head down and start walking faster.
I can’t slow down.
The moment I do, he’ll catch up to me.
Not in person. I haven’t seen Hunter yet. But the memories I have been so expertly avoiding all weekend… they’re just waiting for a chance to wallop me.
I’m prepared for it, but not yet. I’m not supposed to see him until that one class we have together. I just have to get through that one class.
A shoulder slams into me as I walk the crowded hall. The girl doesn’t stop, so I glance back.
She glares at me. “Watch where you’re going.”
She’s the one who ran into me, but I know she’s one of Valerie’s followers, so I figure she’s being bitchy on purpose.
The sad part is, she’s not even in Valerie’s main crowd, just someone who wants to be close to her, will do anything to be close to her. And why? Just because she’s popular.
Gross.
I shake it off, unwilling to lend any brain space to someone like that.
The problem is, she’s not the only person like that. As I make my way to my locker, I can feel eyes on me, hear people whispering as I pass. Some don’t even bother whispering.
One girl speaks at regular volume as she stands by her locker and tells her friend, “That’s the slutbag Hunter banged at that party.”
“Her? Why? Who even is she?” asks the other girl, whom I sat next to on the bus on the way to our first grade field trip. She had strawberry blonde hair and a loose tooth. We discussed how much money she would find under her pillow and what she would do with the money once she got it. It’s the only time we ever spoke, but I still know her name is Rachel Witten.
“Who cares?” her friend asks, turning back to her locker to retrieve her books.
I do my best to ignore my sinking stomach and keep walking.
I knew today would be a bad day, so it’s fine. I knew this was coming. It doesn’t matter.
The school day can’t last forever, then I’ll be free again until tomorrow.
When I finally make it to home room, I sink into my seat.
My shoulders are tense and I feel strangely exposed sitting at the front of the class, but at least the only person I’m facing is the teacher.
Class hasn’t started yet, so I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Anderson.
“Hey, so, don’t take this the wrong way, but I just realized since everyone knows some version of what happened at the party Friday night but a lot of people might NOT know we broke up and then got back together… I don’t think we should go public with our relationship yet. Let’s keep a low profile until we see how things unfold.”
It doesn’t take him long to answer, “How low profile are we talking here?”
I’m not sure, but I type back, “I don’t know, but… don’t sit with me at lunch today. Maybe don’t mention it at practice. I’m not saying lie about it, just try to avoid telling anyone we got back together. In a week or two when everything has calmed down, then we can ‘get back together’ and it won’t be such a hot topic, but I think today is too soon. I don’t want you to catch heat, and you will if people find out today.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” he tells me.
“It’s up to you,” I text back. “I think it’s asking for trouble, though.”