I watched Will, smiling as he hung onto his friends as the auditorium echoed with noise, chatter, and music, celebrating the win.
Not that I cared. I barely ever paid attention, only knowing it was my moment when the others around me stood up or readied their instruments.
Will pulled off his shirt, sweat glistening on his back and darkening his chocolate hair as he swung the shirt over his shoulder and nodded to whatever some guy from the opposing team was saying to him. I let my eyes trail down his spine.
I paid attention to the game tonight, though. He was good.
And he was fun to watch.
I followed the rest of the band off the bleachers as everyone started to clear the gym, and we made our way into a spare room to put our instruments away.
But then some girl yelled, “Emmy, catch!”, and I spun around just as a cup of something ice-cold crashed into my chest.
I sucked in a breath as cola spilled down my navy and white uniform, seeping through my pants, down my legs, and coating my flute.
I shot my eyes up. Are you kidding me?
Maisie Vos hung over the railing of the bleachers, feigning a look of surprise before breaking into a laugh.
“I thought you were the trash!” she explained, jogging down the bleachers and rounding them to approach me. “I mean, you clear our trash at school, so I thought you’d help me out here. That’s what I meant. Sorry.”
Air poured in and out of my lungs, but I still couldn’t catch my breath. She did that on purpose.
Elle stopped at my side, gaping, while others tiptoed around us, laughing under their breaths. A couple of guys followed Maisie, all seniors at my school, and I wanted to spew every dirty word in the book at them and their stupid faces.
But I just swallowed it down, because if not, then they’d win. They’d know that they mattered.
This was just my weekly reminder that I wasn’t one of them.
“What’s going on?” Will said, coming through the crowd with his shirt still hanging over his shoulder.
Maisie bit back her grin, while the two guys she was with made no effort to hide their amusement.
Will looked me up and down as the soda dripped off my clothes and flute, and then he turned his narrowed eyes on the two guys.
“Cover me,” he gritted out.
They stopped laughing, and I watched as Michael, Damon, and Kai took up position, surrounding Will as he stepped up to Hardy Reed and Silas Betchel.
The two boys straightened, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and no one said anything as the Horsemen shielded Will’s body from our view.
What…?
I looked around Michael to try see what was happening, but all I could catch was Will staring into Silas’s and Hardy’s eyes, doing something with his hands, but I couldn’t see what.
Then, Will froze, blinked once, and I heard it. The steady stream, almost like something was being ripped in a slow, constant line.
A wicked smile spread across Damon’s lips as Silas squeezed his eyes shut, and Hardy’s chest moved up and down faster as he turned his head away and cursed under his breath, “Son of a bitch.”
But whatever Will was doing, they stood there and took it.
After a moment, Will shifted again, never breaking eye contact as the Horsemen backed away and Silas and Hardy came into full view.
The whole place erupted in hoots and laughter.
My eyes fell, seeing the streams of piss wetting their jeans all the way down to their shoes, and Maisie dropped her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks as everyone made fun of her boyfriend standing there in a mess.
I clenched my teeth. They weren’t fucking laughing now.
Will bent down and swiped the cup off the floor and tossed it in the trash, but before he could meet my eyes, I spun around to leave.
The muscles in my throat ached as I struggled to keep back the tears.
But someone shouted behind me again, “Emmy, here.”
I tensed, but then a cheerleader rushed up and dug inside her backpack, taking out some clothes and handing them to me. Band came here in our uniforms. I didn’t have anything to change into.
I was tempted to toss it back at her and choke on my pride, but Martin would drill me if I came home like this.
I nodded once in thanks. “I’ll bring them back Monday.”
And I made my way for the bathroom to wipe up and change.
My chin trembled, everything threatening to spill over, and I didn’t know why. Stuff like that had happened before. It was no big deal. It wasn’t like it happened all the time.
I could’ve shoved Maisie if I wanted to. Yelled at her, maybe. Definitely bit back a little.
This time I just wanted to run. I didn’t want anyone to see me, like I was so embarrassing I wanted to erase myself from people’s memories and cease to exist.
Just disappear.
I cleaned and stashed my flute, changed clothes, and stuck in my earbuds, carrying my instrument and bag to the bus. It was an hour drive back to Thunder Bay, and I wished I could damn-well walk it.
Hanging my head, I charged toward the back of the vehicle, slid into an empty seat, and dumped my case and clothes on the floor. I held my phone in my hand, my playlist on Teenage Witch as I stared out the window.
People passed me, quiet and not a snicker to be heard, because Will Grayson had cast his net, letting them all know I was off limits.
It was actually okay. Scared or not, most of them weren’t going to sit down next to me anyway. They never did.
The bus filled up, and I waited for the seat next to me to dip, but as the doors closed, the lights dimmed, and the engine started, I remained solo.
I chewed the corner of my mouth to hide the tremble. What did I care? What did it matter that I’d been humiliated again? What did it matter that he saw that in the gym?
The tears welled.
He saw me. He saw that happen to me.
He saw what the whole world thought of me, and now he…
Now he…
A hand slipped under mine, warm and smooth, and I snapped my head left, seeing Will in the seat next to me.
What…?
A lump filled my throat as I gaped at the side of his face, wanting to be raging mad that he was there and touching me again without my permission, but…
He curled his fingers, gripping me, and…and it took a moment to get a hold of myself.
Finally, I forced a scowl and yanked my hand away.
Or tried to.
He wouldn’t let go. Or look at me. He just tossed his black hoodie over our hands and chatted to the guy in the next seat like I wasn’t here.
My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the music from my earbuds, and I had to force my breathing to slow down.
I closed my eyes and turned toward the window. Why was he doing this?
And why was I just sitting here? The warmth from his strong fingers seeped into mine as he held me, and I looked over at him again, seeing him slouched in the seat, long legs stretched into the aisle as the players, cheerleaders, and band carried on around us.
He just stared at his phone now like there was nothing going on underneath the hoodie between us. Like he wasn’t completely aware that he was holding me.
It took three tries, but I eventually swallowed, wetting my dry throat as I pulled his sweatshirt over us more, making sure our hands were covered. Maybe he thought I didn’t want anyone to see. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to see. Either way, I didn’t care anymore.
The bus jostled side to side, taking us back onto the highway, and I fisted my hand, too, a fire burning low in my belly at the feel of his skin.