High School Lover Read online

  “Sorry.” Okay, I needed to get it together. I didn’t dare glance back at Bryan; I was too embarrassed.

  As we stepped outside to the oversized covered patio, there were several small groups of people scattered around the pool area. I scanned the space and spotted Andrew on the other side of the pool talking to Mike. He had a cigarette in one hand and was running his other hand through his hair. It looked more like he was tugging his hair in frustration. He turned his head and spotted me, lifted his chin as a hello.

  I looked at Jamie after she nudged me with a red cup. “Wow. This is a nice place,” I said and forced down a sip of beer. It tasted horrible.

  In addition to the pool, there was a fully decked outdoor kitchen and cabana, a putting green, and batting cage. Damn, the perks of your father being a professional baseball player. I mean, my house was nice, but nothing compared to this place.

  “Go check it out,” Jamie told me as I walked around. I turned back and saw her go inside. I felt somewhat panicky that I would be left alone to make conversation by myself, and was about to conclude my tour and go find her.

  “Hey, Scout.” Andrew approached, dressed in a black fitted T-shirt and low-slung black jeans.

  “Hi.”

  “So, you’re here with the crème de la crème, aren’t you?” He had one hand shoved in his pocket, and his eyebrows were raised, seemingly interested in why I would be here with Jamie.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I gazed around when he didn’t respond. Deep down, I knew what he meant. Since middle school, seeing Andrew in the hallways or classes, I’d always pegged him as more of a loner or nonconformist. I also gathered that he probably looked down on people he thought were followers. If that were the case, why the hell was he here? “What are you doing here?”

  “Why? I don’t look like I fit in with this awesome crowd?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I replied. But he didn’t look like he fit in with this crowd.

  “I had to bring John since he wanted to hang out with his teammates and doesn’t have his license yet.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot you were his brother. He’s a really good player.” John was a freshman who not only made the varsity team, which was rare, but was also a starter.

  “Yep. He’s the all-star in the family.” His words did not come out as a compliment, and he shrugged like he couldn’t care less. Then he asked with a little shock in his voice, “You went to the game?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “I wasn’t. I had to work today, and I hate baseball.” I wondered where he worked. He glanced down at my cup. “So, you do drink.”

  I lifted the cup and studied it as if it were a foreign object. “Actually, this is my first. I’ve never had one before.”

  “Be careful. Don’t drink too much. There are a whole lot of Neanderthal douchebags here.” I thought he was joking with me again, but his eyes appeared solemn.

  I laughed. “Said the guy who asked for a Jack and Coke at my house.”

  “Hey, you know I was kidding. Just be careful.” I stared at him, wondering why he was so concerned, as though there were some imminent danger lurking around here.

  I heard Jamie calling my name. Andrew looked her way. “You’d better go hang out with your friends.” Jeez, I got it that he wasn’t into the popular crowd, but why did he seem so bitter about it?

  Ignoring the sarcastic tone, I said, “See you around.”

  As I caught up to Jamie, she had one hand on her hip. “Why are you talking to him?” Jamie’s usually sweet, angelic voice was dripping with disapproval, almost ugly, as we stepped into the house.

  “We have English lit together.”

  “He’s weird.”

  “How so?”

  Jamie glanced at him from inside. “I think he’s a devil worshipper.”

  I had a strange urge to laugh at her statement, thinking she was trying to be funny. When she didn’t crack a smile, I knew she must’ve been serious. Who says things like that? Living in a small town, there were always rumors about certain people who were satanic worshippers, but I’d always believed the rumors as I believed urban legends—that is, they were so bizarre that it was difficult to believe.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, somewhat shocked that she believed it.

  “Well,” she began, “he was in my art class last year and always drew disturbing pictures of people. One day I noticed on one of his class books there was a pentagram he had drawn. I would also hear him talking about all the disturbing music he would listen to. There’s something seriously wrong with him, Loren.”

  What the hell? Had she been watching Footloose? I didn’t agree with her, but I wasn’t going to argue about it either. Maybe it was just me, but I thought Jamie was being somewhat melodramatic. But she’d been very nice and helpful to me, so I pushed it aside.

  “Quit nursing that beer.” Bryan tapped me on the back as he paused beside me, apparently waiting for me to finish my drink.

  I took a swig, and he egged me on. “Drink! Drink! Drink!” Causing other people around us to start chanting, too. I downed the remaining beer. Everyone cheered as I finished, and I had to clamp my mouth shut to keep anything from coming back up.

  Bryan slung his arm around me. “Get this girl another one!”

  An hour and two beers later, everyone was bouncing to the loud music in the living room. Somehow, I ended up dancing with Bryan. I glanced around and saw Andrew standing off to the side by himself, leaning against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest. His eyes followed me but he seemed disappointed, as though I were a walking cliché for bad decisions. A flash of remorse surfaced in my gut before I pushed it aside and downed the rest of my drink, focusing my attention on Bryan, the blond god in front of me. After a few minutes I chanced another glance at Andrew, but he wasn’t there. To make matters worse, I was displaying what I thought were my sweet dance moves, and then the room began to tilt.

  I felt Bryan’s hands on my shoulders. “You okay?” He grinned like he knew an inside joke, but my head was too fuzzy to know what it was. “I think you’re a little buzzed.” He moved a piece of my long, dark hair behind my ear.

  My face felt hot from the beer and the intimate gesture. “Yeah, I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “It’s down the hallway to your left. Hurry back, cutie.”

  I smiled at the compliment and wobbled on my feet, trying my best not to make a fool of myself. Finally making it to the bathroom, I closed the door and leaned over the counter to get my bearings. I looked in the mirror and reeled back in horror. I was a drunken mess. Oh, my God, I hate mirrors.

  I willed myself to get it together as I stood gripping the counter. I took a few deep breaths and patted my face with water, trying to sober up. Feeling more in control, I ran my hand through my hair and left.

  As I entered the living room, I searched for Bryan. Finally, I spotted him dancing with Jamie. It was a slow song, and he was holding her close, whispering in her ear. She was tossing her head back and smiling at him. It looked very intimate.

  I was disheartened and somewhat confused, wondering why Bryan had eyed me like he thought I was hot, and had spent time with me that night, but now was dancing with my friend like they were a couple. I was upset, but I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself by standing around awkwardly in the living room while couples drunk-danced to a slow song. Besides, it was very crowded, and I was feeling a bit claustrophobic and needed fresh air. I finally made it to the back door after being bumped into about twenty times.

  I stepped outside, took a steadying breath, and navigated to a lounge chair I had spotted. I lay back and closed my eyes, listening to the loud thumping of the music inside. I could hear snippets of conversations that carried through the air.

  “Loren.” His voice was a deep, soothing caress.

  I opened my eyes. Andrew.

  “Are you all right?” His eyes that seemed to condemn me earlier were fil
led with concern, and his hair was mussed as though he’d been running his hands through it all night.

  “I’m good.” I gave him a thumbs-up. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

  “Okay, sleepyhead.” He dropped down beside me, sitting with his hands on his knees. I scooted back to give him more room.

  We both fidgeted with our fingers in our laps, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. “This is such a nice outdoor area,” I said, not knowing what else to talk about. He was probably going to make fun of me for being materialistic or something.

  “It is, isn’t it?” He turned to the pool. “I helped build this pool.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Your dad owns McKeon Pools?” That was his last name, and it was the only pool company in this small town.

  “No, I work for my uncle. My father’s an insurance agent.”

  “Oh.” No wonder he was so fit and muscular. “That’s cool. Is that what you plan on doing after high school—working in the family business?”

  “No. I mean, I enjoy working outside and building and fixing stuff, but I don’t see myself doing this for the next thirty years.”

  I asked in a mock serious voice, “What do you want to do with your life?” Our junior year was coming to an end, and it was time to think about life after high school.

  He looked at me and shrugged. “I like to write.”

  “Like books?”

  “No, I think I would prefer to write features in magazines like Spin or Alternative Press—that type of stuff. However, I wouldn’t rule out writing the next great American novel.” I took the last part of his statement as I’m joking, but really I’m not.

  “What about you?”

  “I like to write, too.”

  “You do? What type of writing?” He edged in closer, interested in what I might say. His hand landed next to my hip, not touching me, but I could feel the warmth.

  “Um, I like to write poetry.” The only person who had seen my work was my mom. She thought I needed counseling after she read one of my pieces, because of the darkness of content.

  “I would like to read some of your poems.”

  There was no way in hell that he wanted to read my work—he was probably just being nice—but I said, “Okay, maybe.”

  We heard raucous laughter and loud chanting coming from inside. “Drink, motherfucker, drink, motherfucker, drink…”

  With our heads turned toward the house, Andrew said, “God, I feel like my IQ level has dropped just from being here. How can you hang out with these idiots?” He ran a hand over his face, exhaling, and gave me a disappointed look. I wondered again why he was here if he hated it so much.

  I saw the back door open and a couple stumbled out the door laughing. The guy led the girl to the batting cage off in the distance, where they could be alone, I assumed.

  “Jamie is my friend, and Bryan is nice, too. Why are you being a hater?”

  “Because I hate when people have an elitist attitude and sense of entitlement. I’m willing to give your friends the benefit of the doubt—but growing up with most of these assholes for the better part of my life, I’ve seen how they’ve changed over the years. I especially don’t condone the behavior of some of the guys on the baseball team, and how they feel it’s their right to take whatever they want, especially from girls.”

  I scrunched my brows together. Was he implying that these guys were sexual predators? I’d never heard about any incidents happening, but Andrew seemed like he had some inside information. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen how some of them try to get girls drunk, so they won’t resist when they want to have sex.”

  “So, is your brother an asshole, too?”

  He snorted. “My brother is a fucktard, but he knows better than to take advantage of girls. I would kick his ass if I ever found out he did that.” His smile faded and his forehead furrowed. “Just be careful around this crowd, Loren.” Another warning.

  I nodded. “If you hate this crowd so much, why do you go to the parties?”

  “Like I told you earlier. I had to bring my brother here because he’s not old enough to drive. So, all of these stupid parties that he wants to go to, I have to take him. My parents wouldn’t let him go unless I was with him. I’m the DD.”

  “Designated driver.”

  “No, designated dumbass.”

  I laughed and shoved his arm. He playfully grabbed my hand and smiled—a genuine smile, showing two gorgeous dimples, which I’d never noticed before—and stared at my mouth. “You have a pretty smile, and…I like how you laugh at the stupidest things.”

  My face felt warm at the compliment. I heard MGMT’s “Electric Feel” playing in the background. His hand still held mine. “Thank you. You might try smiling more, too, so you won’t look so intimidating.”

  He frowned. “Do you find me intimidating? Why?”

  I pulled my hand away and shifted in my spot. “You kind of seem pissed off at the world and you’re very sarcastic. Sometimes when you talk to me, I don’t know whether you’re being sincere or making fun of me.” I looked down at my hands, mentally kicking myself for saying something so honest to him.

  He leaned in closer, and his smell of cologne and cigarettes filled my senses. “Did it ever occur to you that you might intimidate me?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “Why are you laughing?” His eyes were narrowed, and he tilted his head, waiting for my explanation, as though I’d offended him in some way.

  “I’m nervous. I laugh when I’m nervous. How am I intimidating?”

  He ran his thumb under his chin thinking, measuring his words. “Because you’re shy, reserved in class, but when you do have to share or participate, you always have a unique perspective. You just seem like you have more to offer than what you let on, kind of a mystery. And I like how you seem interested in my drawings. Sometimes when I sketch, I catch myself wondering whether you’ll like my work or not, hoping that you will. And you’re a natural beauty. You never dress up or wear a lot of makeup, and that makes you even more…beautiful.”

  I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I was actually caught off guard that he’d noticed so much. I didn’t know how to respond, so I stared at my feet dangling at the end of the lounger. “I think I need to go find my friends.”

  He let out a sharp breath. “Okay. That was awkward.” He sounded pissed and stood suddenly; a chill ran up my spine as the warmth of our connection was broken. “Later, Loren.” He shook his head and stalked off.

  Way to go, Loren! I chided myself as I sat frozen, wondering what just happened, and why I said what I did. Finally, I went off to find Jamie.

  “Loren, where have you been?” Bryan asked as I nearly ran into him coming through the door.

  “I was outside getting some fresh air and talking to some friends.” He steadied me, although he had a goofy smile on his face and seemed to teeter a little.

  “You okay?”

  “Yep.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the couch. “I need to sit down. Join me?”

  He tugged me down with him. Soon, he leaned his head back with his eyes closed. “I thought maybe you had left, baby girl.” I felt a rush of excitement that he had been concerned where I was.

  “Nope, still here,” I said, and he put his beefy arm around me and pulled me into the crook of his shoulder. Initially, I sat, pressed against him, thinking that I was dreaming. I would’ve never thought that I would be sitting beside him in his arms. However, the more time that passed and, as my head rose and fell with his brick wall chest, I frowned. He wasn’t the most comfortable. I finally asked, “Have you seen Jamie?”

  No response. He’d passed out with his head back and his mouth open. As gently as I could, I slid out from under his arm. It was getting late, and the house was quieter as people had already left or, like Bryan, passed out.

  I went out the front door and saw Jamie, Miley, and Leslie standing
around in the driveway talking to a group of friends. “Loren, where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you.” Jamie spread her arms wide, showing me the expanse of her search. I don’t think it would’ve been that difficult to find me.

  “Yeah, we almost left you here because we were ready to leave like an hour ago.” Miley’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked down her nose at me. Her lip curled into a sneer. I knew she thought I was beneath her. And, I knew she wondered why Jamie was including me in her clique. The sad part was…I was wondering the same thing, too.

  “I’m sorry. I was outside trying to sober up.”

  “Who cares? Let’s goooo!” Miley ordered and stomped off, with Leslie in tow, to the car.

  “Jamie, I’m really sorry,” I said quietly as we lagged behind them.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she replied and lowered her voice. “Miley’s pissed because she had a big argument with her boyfriend, Steve.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Steve was the one who had taken a girl, definitely not Miley, to the batting cage.

  She stopped short and raised her brows at me, waiting for me to fill her in.

  We were almost to the car, and I didn’t want to add more drama to the situation. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Eight Years Ago

  On Monday morning, I apprehensively entered my English class wondering how Andrew would treat me after our conversation had ended so weirdly. I glanced at him as I sat down. His head was down, as he seemed enthralled in another dark sketch.

  “Hi.” I slid into my desk.

  “What’s up?” he replied, not bothering to acknowledge me.

  “Did you make it home okay the other night?”

  He finally looked up; his ever-present smirk in place. “Obviously, I did, Sherlock. I’m here today.”

  My face dropped, knowing that I’d upset him. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but Mrs. Wright started her class lecture.

  As fifty minutes of class time passed, Andrew never even looked my way. He would turn and say something to Mike, and they would snicker, but I was clearly being ignored by Andrew. I guess I deserved it after the way I left him hanging the other night. Most normal people would’ve said something polite back or at least said thank you.