Sadie is straddling me. I've been lying awake for twenty minutes and my brain can only seem to focus on this fact. She's lying on her side, facing me, with her legs wrapped around my waist and her arm slung around my chest. I wasn't any better when I woke up, with my legs tucked up to meet hers and my hands resting on her hip and thigh. The worst part: I didn't want to move. I was perfectly content with my hand rubbing up and down her bare thigh and her warmth pressed against my bare torso. Now, I keep my hands pressed together above my head because I don't know what came over me.
The clock is flashing 5:07 AM and I know I should wake Sadie up, but I can't bring myself to. She looks so peaceful. Her hair is messy and resting atop her head, a few pieces coming down to frame her face and cover her closed eyes. Her soft lips are slightly parted, releasing the soft sounds of her breathing. I can see her chest rise and fall with every breath, and occasionally her breath will catch and she'll snuggle closer to me. It's taking every bit of restraint I have to not return the favour and wrap my arms back around her frame. I don't know how I'm going to spend six more nights like this, with her body so close to mine, sleep lulling her away from her hatred for me. It scares me that I can feel my heart leap at the idea of her spending more days pressed so close to me; her scent practically engulfing me.
My mind wanders over to what happened last night; waking up to her screams. I've only ever seen Sadie in control. There's always this calculated confidence in everything she does; it's what makes her so alluring. As much as I hate to admit it, there's something that catches your attention when you see Sadie walk into a room like she owns it. She definitely caught my attention the first time I saw her. But last night she seemed so... vulnerable? Shaking and mumbling like she didn't know where she was or what she was doing. I wonder what she saw behind her closed eyelids that made her so scared. I can't imagine anything that would've made her willingly rest in my arms. I never thought of Sadie as someone that deals with any sort of trauma behind closed doors; she seems too put together for that. Now I feel like an idiot that I didn't know. It could have been a one-time thing. Maybe it was just a regular nightmare about being chased by clowns or falling off a rollercoaster. Even as I try to convince myself that I know it's not true. Even in the dark, there was this look in Sadie's eyes that stretched across her whole pained expression, like she was reliving a memory. This wasn't the first time and it won't be the last.
I feel her stir ever so slightly against my frame, about to wake up any second. Before I can think about it, I close my eyes and slow my breathing to pretend I'm still asleep. I can't let her know that I've been awake for almost thirty minutes with her pressed against my body. I feel her sleepily lift her head, survey what position we're in, and jerk her body away from mine, clearly not caring if she wakes me up or not. The sheets are rustling and I hear her mutter "fuck" under her breath, whether it's from seeing the time on the alarm clock or how close we spent the night. I hate myself for feeling disappointed that she moved away from me so fast when I just wanted to bask in her closeness. I'm a weak man.
I hear her footsteps as she walks over to my side of the bed. Two fingers nudge my arm. She leans in, her breath fanning my face. "Wake up, Conners."
I use my one month of theatre experience to put on a show of fussing, stretching my arms, and opening my eyes, pretending to blink away the tiredness. I stare up at her and feel my eyes widen when they land on where my shirt has risen up on her thighs. Catching me staring, she clears her throat and my eyes move their way up to meet hers. She has a crazy case of bedhead going on and I have to physically stop myself from getting to my feel and running my fingers through it. Get it together, Carter. There are bags under her eyes and faint lines creasing her forehead, but those seem to be the only indications of her rough night.
I shift and perch myself on the edge of the bed. She's staring at me with an a slight tinge of fear in her eyes. She's practically yelling at me to not bring up what happened last night. I oblige. If anything has become apparent, it's that Sadie doesn't talk about her feelings. At all. It must be killing her to keep all of that–whatever that is–bottled up. Regardless, she doesn't want to talk about it and I'm not going to force her to.
Sadie's eyes dart around my naked–except for a pair of boxers–frame, and I can't help but feel a little smug when her gazes falls on my abs. It's hard to be friends with Landon without sporting a six-pack. The guy practically lives in the gym. She shakes her head a little, flicking her eyes over to my face. "When do we need to be there?"
The board office is only a ten minute walk from the hotel, so we can get away with leaving at 6:45. Now that I think about it, I don't know why we woke up so early. I don't think we'll need nearly two hours to eat breakfast and change. Well, we're awake now, so I suggest we head down for breakfast. Sadie doesn't object and pulls on a pair of sweats, leaving my shirt on. It looks good on her so I don't mind. I slip into a pair of black sweats and a grey muscle tank before following her out of the door.
Being on the top floor makes for a very long and quiet elevator ride. Last night seems to have made it a little awkward between us and I find myself craving for the awkwardness to go away. I'll even take one of her insulting quips right now.
"So, we're separated for the day," I say. Today we are doing two individual debates each, so the only time we'll be seeing each other is for "lunch" at 10:00.
Sadie smirks. "I don't think until 2 PM is considered 'for the day.'" Such a simple comment, but it evaporates the tension hanging in the air.
I can't help but smile. "So, what shall we spend the rest of the day doing?"
"I don't know. Let's not get ahead of ourselves and focus on winning first." And she's back. Confident and in control.
"Oh, we're going to win, alright. We're going to crush those motherfuckers."
She lets out a breathy chuckle. "We better."
"Oh, c'mon," I say. "When was the last time we lost a debate competition?"
"Never," she replies, a fond smile dancing on her lips.
"Exactly." It's not a lie, either. From the start, Fairridge has been known for its outstanding debate team, and Ms. Davenport wouldn't send anyone to a competition unless she was positive they were ready to win. A few students were given some tough love when she would place a hand on their shoulders and tell them they wouldn't be boarding the bus in the morning, but she was in this to win and so were we. I've only done a handful of individual debates where I had to be first and second speaker. Usually these types of debates are just used for practice, but JW Debate wants to see the individual skills of every person in the competition to ensure that the winners both deserve the title. It's safe to say that this is a big deal.
Ms. Davenport made a risky move, though, pairing Sadie and I together. We've only been in a competition as partners once, and it was a couple years ago, before our constant bickering prevented us from being able to work side-by-side. Every other competition has allowed more than one entry from schools, so we usually brought a couple teams of two. The JW Debate Competition, on the other hand, is exclusive and rare. It occurs every four years and only the best schools get to compete. Some even travel hours by plane just to have a chance at winning.
We manage to get through the whole elevator ride without anyone stepping on to join us, so when it finally opens up we find ourselves on the first floor of the hotel with people bustling around trying to get to breakfast. For some reason, Sadie works to avoid the waffle maker today and settles on a bowl of coloured cereal and a bagel with cream cheese. I gravitate towards the hash browns, scrambled eggs, and sausages, along with an English muffin. A white paper cup is quickly filled with coffee, milk, and sugar before I snap on its black lid. Sadie fumbles with the lid of her streaming black coffee beside me.
With out plates and cups in hand, we move over to the same seat we used yesterday before devouring our breakfasts. I can't help but notice how Sadie pushes her cereal around with her spoon for minutes at a time before ever actually lifting said spoon to her lips.
"You okay?" I ask.
She startles at my voice. "Yeah. Just tired."
I don't ask why because I know why. "Yeah, you're definitely not a morning person."
She takes a sip of her coffee, "Definitely not."
"My brother, Conner, is," I say, taking a bite of my English muffin. "My parents wake up early most days to stop by the diner they run, and he's always up with them, trying to help my mom make breakfast for him. One time, when he was a little younger, he woke up at 6 AM to make me breakfast in bed and when he was done, at 7, he brought up the tray and rested it right on top of me while I was still sleeping. Needless to say, I was very surprised two hours later to find my bed covered in orange juice and syrupy pancakes."
She laughs lightly, "You're brother seems like fun. How old is he?"
"Twelve, but I swear he thinks he's forty or something. He's already got himself a girlfriend and spends some days helping out at the diner."
"Do you work at the diner?"
I swallow. "Yeah, sometimes. I spend summers and breaks working there. I went there a while ago during a free weekend with Landon and Dimitri to work a shift, but I don't usually do that." Or, at least, I try not to.
"Do you like it?"
It's such a simple question, yet when I open my mouth I find myself closing it quickly. Do I like it? I like cooking and I like my co-workers, but every shift feels like an obligation. Like a push to get me closer to a dream that I don't want to fulfil. "Sometimes."
"My sister loves–loved–diners," a pained expression flashes across her face so fast I almost miss it. "She said they made her feel like she was in a movie."
I don't have to ask who her sister is. Maddie is kind of a legend at Fairridge. She was a talented artist and excelled at pretty much everything else. No one really knows why she disappeared after her sophomore year, but the next year we got Sadie, a genius just like her sister, and no one questioned it. As far as I've heard, Sadie never talks about her sister–or any member of her family for that matter. However, I don't miss the use of past tense from when Sadie just spoke about her sister.
Tentatively, I ask, "Loved?"
Sadie understands the meaning of my question and lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah. She's, um, not with me anymore."
She seems to notice the recognition flash across my face because, before I can offer my condolences, she says, "Recently."
"I'm so sorry," I breathe, moving my hand to rest over hers, stroking my thumb over her wrist. I wonder if they were close. If this has anything to do with her nightmares. Mostly, I wonder how she's managed to remain so intact. Had her sister passed a few days ago? Weeks? Months? Not once have I seen Sadie's usual bravado falter. I've seen her come to every class. Go out to social events. Hell, if anything, she's been more focused than ever.
"It's okay," she says.
"Is it?" I ask.
She nods her head, but the look on her face is uncertain. Then, in a voice so faint I almost think I'm imagining it, she whispers, "I miss her."
Sadie wears a fierce expression that I desperately try to mirror as we enter the board office. After collecting name tags and schedules from a middle-aged lady with too much blue eyeshadow, we are both led into a conference hall with a smart board plastered on the wall behind a circular stage. The rest of the room has a few narrow desks outlining it with the rest of the space being filled up with black chairs. Most of the chairs are already occupied with pairs of students and a few teachers. Everyone is dressed in pristine outfits, pressed and tucked. Sadie wears a plaid skirt with a Fairridge button up while I match her button up, but with a pair of black slacks.
Sadie's eyes are trained on a short woman who runs around on the stage at the front of the room, checking the microphone to make sure it's working. I remain facing forward as the room fills up until someone slumps down beside me, letting out an audible breath. I turn to spot a boy who I believe is the first person to have let his posture go in this entire room. His red hair is disheveled, the top buttons of his black shirt are unbuttoned, and the pair of gold-framed glasses perched on his nose are tilting slightly to the left. He attempts to suppress a yawn, but fails and sinks down further into his seat. The girl that takes the seat beside him is a lot more put together, wearing a simple black dress with her hair pulled back in a French braid. The logos on their clothes read "Fale Academy" with some sort of crest.
The boy attempts to calm down the mess of curls atop his head before he turns to face me. He juts a hand out in my direction, urging me to shake it. I do, albeit a little reluctantly. "Hi."
"Hey," I reply, retracting my hand.
"I'm so tired. We had to fly here and landed last night. I tried to convince Mr. Kell to let us go a day early, but he wouldn't listen and told us to sleep on the plane. I am actually petrified of heights, so if the man thought that I would sleep peacefully knowing I could fall to my death at any minute, he was greatly mistaken."
I laugh, "Damn, that sucks. We just had a car ride that lasted a few hours, but we were able to arrive yesterday."
"Wow, at least they care about you at your school."
"Yeah, they treat us well."
The boy narrows his eyes on the school logo on my shirt. "Well, maybe I'll have to transfer to Fairridge. If it was up to me, I wouldn't even be at this competition."
The girl beside him slaps him on the shoulder. He shrugs her off, "Don't worry, I'm still in it to win it or whatever."
He turns back to me. "That was rude, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Felix Arnold. My friends call me Arny and I hate it, so please just call me Felix. Oh, and this is Mariana, but if you look closely you can see that she has her game face on, so don't expect her to speak to you."
I crack a smile, "I'm Carter Conners." I jab a thumb to my left, "And this is Sadie."
Sadie looks over at the sound of her name and Felix offers her a small wave. She nods her head in reply and goes back to looking ahead. I'm about to explain to Felix that Sadie also isn't here to mess around, but, before I can, he plucks my schedule out of my hands and looks over the timetable.
"Oh, good," he says. "We're not going to debate each other, so we can be friends. Everyone here is so uptight. I swear one guy even growled at me. Growled."
I can't help but laugh at that. I guess it'd be nice to have someone who's not Sadie to hangout with at this thing. "Yeah, everyone is pretty focused."
Before Felix can say anything else, a voice rings out through the conference hall. Everyone quiets at once. "Testing, testing. Everyone hear me? Good. Hello, everyone. Thank you for joining us on the twentieth anniversary of JW Debate. We hope everyone is ready for an exciting week. My name is Dr. Snyder and, over the past few months, my colleagues and I have had the pleasure putting together this completion."
I crane my neck to spot the man who is speaking. He's standing in the middle of the stage in front of a microphone being held up by a plastic stand. He's wearing a black suit and a matching pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Behind his bald head, the smart board has been turned on and the words "Welcome Debaters" is written across a white background.
"Now, I assume you all know the rules by now, so I'll make this short and sweet so we can begin debating. Firstly, today is the first day of the completion, and, following tradition, we will be having individual debates. Therefore, you will be separated from your partners for the first and second half of the day. The first debate will begin at 8 o'clock. Breakfast, brunch, or lunch, however you wish to call it, will begin at 10 o'clock, and you will have two hours before the final round of debates begins at 12 o'clock. If all goes according to plan, the day will be done at 2 o'clock and you'll be free to use this hall to meet up with your partner and faculty member–if present–and head back to your hotels.
"Make sure to look to your schedules for room numbers, debater names and schools, and debate times. If you need any help throughout the day, please look for an adult wearing a red pin and they will direct you on your way. As always, we do not tolerate harassment of any kind, and have no problem removing you from the competition if you choose to ignore this rule. For a full list of prohibited objects and actions, please look to the backs of your schedules or to the official JW Debate website."
Dr. Snyder continues going over the rules and layout of the completion, sneaking in a few historical facts about JW Debate once in a while. After a while, I begin to tune him out because Ms. Davenport has recited this information to us more times than I can count. When he finally finishes, we have twenty minutes to find our rooms and get settled before the first round of debates start. Everyone stands up and groups of students begin rushing out of the conference hall. My schedule reads room 201, and my tour with Sadie yesterday tells me that it's the room that the random spiral staircase leads to.
As I stand up from my seat, I feel a hand tap me on my shoulder. Felix stares at me, Mariana seeming to have disappeared to her first debate. "Well, good luck. I know we're not supposed to say that because we're supposed to hate each other and kick each other's asses or whatever. And, while I hope to win for Mariana's sake, I don't hate you. You may be the only cool person here, even though we just met."
"You're pretty cool, too," I say, and I mean it.
"Good," he smiles, flashing teeth lined with blue braces to match his eyes. We exchange numbers and he promises to invite Sadie and I to the movies this evening if he can convince Mariana to go.
When I make it to the doors of the conference hall, I'm surprised to see that Sadie stands there waiting for me.
"Standing around to wish me luck?" I tease.
"That's exactly what I'm doing," she says, pushing herself off the heavy wooden door.
"I don't need luck," I tell her. "But if you do, then good luck."
"I'm sure you don't. And neither do I," she smirks. "Who are you competing against?"
I look down at my sheet. "Jermey Springsteen. Pronouns: he/him. School: Sydney Morgan. What about you?
"Damion Davidson. Pronouns: he/him. School: Crestwater."
"Sounds like an eventful morning," I say. "Good luck."
She rolls her eyes and walks over to me until we are inches apart, looking up at me through her long eyelashes. "Still don't need it. But kick his ass, Conners."
"You too," I reply. She winks at me before turning around and walking away.
It doesn't take long to find my room because the staircase is not hidden at all and there's only one room connected to it. When I walk through the door, I find that three judges, all in their thirties and forties, sit behind a table covered in a black cloth. There are two stands along with two chairs in front of them, one already occupied by a boy with blonde hair and dark jeans. I go to sit in my chair, and rest my notebook and a pen on my lap.
Sensing my presence, the middle judge stands up from her seat and claps her hands together. "Okay, let's get started."
Superstar: Please tell me you won. Ms. Davenport is having a frenzy.
Creepy Journalist: She even came after me and I'm not even in debate.
Superstar: Aw, did she interrupt your date with Angie?
Creepy Journalist: Shut up.
Superstar: I saw you carrying her books to class. You're whipped as fuck.
Creepy Journalist: Shut up. No, I'm not.
Superstar: YOU'RE CLASS WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF CAMPUS.
Creepy Journalist: Fuck off.
Superstar: Whipped bitch.
Me: I won.
Superstar: FUCK YEAH!
Creepy Journalist: CONGRATS!
Me: Thanks. I'm going to lunch. I'll talk to you guys later.
Jones: Ass kicked.
...
A/N
... And here we have another update. I'm sorry if there were a few more editing mistakes in this chapter; I tried to get rid of as many as I could, but the bulk of this was written and edited at 2 AM, so I'm not sure how successful I was.
Either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll update soon with the rest of day one of the competition from Sadie's POV :)
Happy reading!