Testosterone was in the air, and I was feeling good - well as good as you can be when you're intoxicated.
In an instant, my heel caught under me and my body collided with the floor, causing me to giggle like a first-time drunk. Of course, I wasn't in my right mind when I grabbed the palm hovering above my head. I was struggling to keep my balance when those familiar eyes scared me sober.
His honey blonde hair was spiked, the dark tips reminding me of barbed wire. Just seeing him hurt me, and I was absolutely petrified. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, I could hardly even breathe as his gaze pierced right through me. I dared to look up and immediately regretted it, because his eyes were waiting there to meet mine.
The brilliant blue that I had once fallen in love with, now only reminded just how dangerous they really were. What I used to refer to as diamonds when they sparkled, now left me drowning in their sea's rapids. The orbs were the darkest thing in the room as they focused on only me. Not the people surrounding us in drunken stupors, but me.
"Thank you." I mumbled quietly. I was surprised once he replied, I had hoped he wouldn't attempt to converse with me right now. Let's be honest here, I was a mess - a drunken disaster.
His husky voice sent shivers down my spine. "What are you doing here, Brooke?" The question was laced with worry and vexation.
I rolled my eyes, making sure he took notice. "What's it look like? I'm getting drunk," I cheered, hating how my words slurred together. This is what I get for drinking so profusely.
Picking up a random cup, I tipped it back and prepared for the sensation of the warm liquid to numb away all of the pain enduring. But those feelings never came. I let out an audible gasp as he smacked the booze out of my grip, and onto the floor. "What the hell?" I yelled in aggravation. Why couldn't he just go away, and let me wallow around in my misery - or vomit - which ever came first.
"What the fuck are you trying to prove? That you can die of alcohol poisoning?" I had nothing to prove to anyone but myself. I wanted to prove that I was exactly what I had been acting like. Once I had come to terms with it, everything would go back to normal, right?
He gripped my wrists tightly, but before I could utter a single syllable, I was caught in his trance. Just standing here with him was surreal. "Whatever's going on, whatever's happened, I just wanted you to know that I'm not sorry about what I said, but I was right to tell you the truth. Before I go, I just want you to remember one thing..."
My heart ached for his voice to lull me to dreamland, or anywhere but reality. The reality of the situation left me embarrassed of myself - of what I've become - and I could see that he was too.
What am I doing? I was pulled out of his spell by the tears that began to cloud my vision, I couldn't even stand looking at him without feeling guilty. This was my fault, not his. I'm the one who agreed to this. I was so determined to win, but why? Did I want to show Lindsey and everyone else that I could be the biggest slut? If the only thing I won was a title, then maybe I didn't want to play anymore...but second chances were just a puerile dream now. And I was no longer a child - no longer pure and unscathed.
"I will always love you." His words caressed me like a silk blanket. My insides were warm and fuzzy from something besides all of the alcohol and meaningless sex. I honestly felt love for once in my entire pathetic existence. He then kissed the top of my head softly and rested his forehead against mine. His hands were cupping my cheeks, causing my breathing to quicken anxiously. We were so close, our lips were only a mere inch apart. With such close proximity, all I had to do was lean forward the slightest bit, and they would be touching.
But before I could even comprehend was what happening, he was pulling away from me, leaving my body uncomfortably cold. He gave me a faint smile and turned around, leaving me alone to fend for myself.
My emotions were running rampant. Do I chase after him, only to be turned down? Do I bawl my eyes out, just knowing that I'll never have him? Do I keep drinking, in the hopes that I can drown out the pain forming in my chest? Do I crawl in a hole and die, somewhere where nobody will ever find my body?
I wish I was able to laugh at myself right now. If I wasn't so heartbroken, so lost, I might've been able to get a chuckle out of all of my ridiculous options. But they were all the fallacious choice, because no matter which one I decided, in the end...I'd still lose him.
*
Two Months Earlier...
The cafeteria was lively as I slid into a chair at a table amongst my closest friends, setting my tray down. "Ugh, do they have to do that publicly? I mean come on, nobody wants to see them get into a tongue wrestle." I complained, watching Lindsey Altum and Ryan Bennett makeout at the table in front of us.
"Somebody's jealous," Chelsea sing-songed right before taking a bite of her juicy red apple.
"I am not jealous of that." I stated as I motioned towards the couple once again. "Oh look, now they're dry humping. Great." I muttered out sarcastically, wishing I could catch those horrid images on fire. I popped the tab on my Coca-cola and took a sip.
"You're jealous," she stated. The idea had already been processed in her head, so I just ignored her comment, and tried to change the subject.
I was practically done with my lunch when my other friend sitting across from me spoke. "So, what's this about you and Matt Renard doing the naughty?" Nichole wondered eagerly, her eyebrows dancing.
I scoffed, and then thought about throwing up. "We've never had sex, nor will we ever have sex. He's a disgusting boar." He was thought he was some big-shot because he could tackle men in a pair tights. The egotistical douche, like I'd ever even consider losing my virginity to him. We were all giggling when they silenced and went wide-eyed.
And bulky arm leaned on my chair, the owner whispering in my ear. "You have such a way with words, doll face." I pushed the arm off and crinkled my face in disgust. Doll face? Out of all of the pet-names I've ever heard, doll face had to be the worst.
"I'll give you points for creativity, jar-head. But don't ever call me doll face." His jaw clenched momentarily, whereas I was waiting patiently for a nasty comeback.
He shook off my comments and plastered an obviously fake pout on his face, holding his hand to his heart. "That hurts, Brooke."
"The only thing that hurts right now, are my eyes. You're B.O. is burning them." Not my best line, but it did cause him to nonchalantly sniff his armpits. I scooted my chair back and patted Matt on the chest. "But kudos on remembering my name, doll face." I told him with a sneer. I then grabbed Chelsea's hand and dragged her behind me.
We waited until we had rounded a corner before out we bursted out laughing. "Did you see his face," she questioned through breaths. "Priceless!"
She continued to exalt me as we sauntered down the halls towards our lockers. Thankfully, Chelsea was president of the debate team, otherwise the principal wouldn't have given into her demand for a locker-switch.
Gnawing on lower lip, she thought deeply when I reached over and swiftly entered her combination. "How is it that you can remember my combo, and I can't?"
Her whining made me smile as I simply stated, "because I'm your best friend."
"Yeah yeah," she grumbled, grabbing an over-sized textbook.
"What class is that thing for," I wondered in amazement. We were both petite, and it was huge.
"My AP World History class." She grunted out, her arms wobbling. "We have a huge test coming up next week, and if I fail it my parents will murder me." I yanked my locker open when a slip of paper fluttered to the floor. "Hey, you dropped something." Chelsea casually informed me, peering over her shoulder. After picking it up, I wished I hadn't.
Pulling the fold apart, a sloppily handwritten message in black pen stared back at me. A shiver scampered over my spine.
Brooke Carter,
You better enjoy life while you still can. God forgives, I don't.
Was this some kind of sick joke? I reread it over and over again, tears forming on sight. This was clearly directed to me, but this wasn't even funny. Somebody had left a death-threat in my fucking locker! I crumpled the note and angrily hurled it into the garbage can. I acted enraged, but suddenly sobbed out in defeat. The truth was that I wasn't pissed off that someone had written that to me, I was scared.
"What's wrong Brooke?" Chelsea inquired frantically. I gripped the door of my locker for balance and continued wailing. Do I tell her what it said? Do even tell her that it was because of the note? Of course I should tell her, she's been my best friend since we were kids!
It was really hard to tell her through my cries. "Th-The note."
"What about it," she asked calmly.
"S-Somebody's going to kill me." After reading between the lines, that's basically what it said.
Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What the hell do you mean? Nobody's going to kill you, Brooke." Marvelous, she doesn't believe me. I refused to go digging around in the trash just get my point across, so instead I steadied my breathing and pretended as if the words never left my mouth. But they never left my head.
"You're probably right."
"Probably," she teased, a grin spreading across her face.
"Okay, okay. You're right, just forget I ever mentioned it." I hoped that we could just move forward, and that I could just ignore that stupid letter.
The bell ended our conversation as students began to clutter the hallways. "I gotta get to class, but good luck in history." I slammed my locker shut after gathering my belongings, waved her off, and made my way to fifth period Biology.
*
All of my classes seemed to fly by, mostly because everything the teacher said went in one ear and passed right out the other. I honestly didn't give two fucks what they were saying at the moment. My brain was too busy trying to figure out who wrote than damn letter!
I felt weird looking around my classes for anyone who might've subjected themselves to being so heinous, but everybody looked like a suspect in my eyes. Whoever did write it was most likely just bullshitting, but murder wasn't something to joke about. And it definitely wasn't something to be taken lightly.
Of course, I just wanted to forget about this all together, but I couldn't. It was creeping it's way into every thing I did! I was constantly peeking over my shoulder, waiting for them to swipe a knife across my throat. Maybe this is what they want. Maybe they want me to become ridiculously paranoid over nothing. They're probably laughing at me right now.
A chime disrupted my stream of thoughts and suddenly everyone was filing out of the classroom. End of the day already? Well that was fast. I packed up my things slowly, which left me being the only person in the classroom. Well, aside from my English teacher that is. "Brooke, you seemed a bit...distracted today. Is everything alright?" Mrs. Jansing's tone was careful, yet concerned. I could sense she was choosing her words cautiously, so as not to upset me.
Mrs. Jansing was a fantastic teacher. She made things easy to understand, and she genuinely cared for her students (which is more than I can say for any of my other teachers). Though the occasional smart-ass would tip the scale from it's usual 'nice' to 'demon-spawn-from-hell'. I'm beginning to suspect that she may be bipolar. In all seriousness, her mood changes more than the weather, though is still as unpredictable. Maybe that's why I like her so much. Like a moth to a flame, I seem to be drawn to the people who enlighten me to the crazy of the world. Mrs. Jansing just so happened to be exuding light at the moment.
"Everything's fine Mrs. Jansing. I've just got a busy weekend planned is all. So I'm just a bit stressed," I told her wearily. All of this thinking was making my brain feel like mush. As I arose from my seat, the room began to spin. I regained equilibrium momentarily when the educator spoke.
"Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about? You know I'm always here for you, right?"
"Yeah, I know." I replied, a little too cheerfully I might add. "Thanks for asking though, I really appreciate it. Have a good weekend!" The smile on my face instantly fell flat once I passed through the doorway.
"You too..." I heard her mutter. She didn't seem too convinced. Dammit! I knew I should've taken those acting classes with Nichole last semester! Oh well, too late now I suppose. As I continued walking, my mind continued to wander. I was at my locker now. I spun in the combination and gulped. I didn't want to open it. What if there was another note?
After internally debating, I realized that I had to open it sooner or later - my car keys were inside. With a quick tug, it was open. My heart stopped when I saw it. There really was another piece of paper laying at my feet. The majority of emotions in me were demanding that I toss it now, but eventually my curiosity got the best of me.
Let's just hope that this time curiosity doesn't kill that cat, or in this case...me.
I hope you liked (if so VOTE, COMMENT, FOLLOW), I'm so frickin pumped for this book...I just hope I can finish it by the due-date! (: Also, pic to the right is Brooke! >>