I walked into the kitchen and took out the lasagna from the dark grey fridge, set it on the black marble counter and turned on the oven which matched the fridge. I retrieved my bag from where I left it and started up the stairs.
"I guess I will show you around the house." I stated in a not so confident and extremely nervous tone. For me, this was strange having somebody "over" because I don't like people really, and just stay away from them because I live in fear of being hurt.
Now that I think about it, I'm not so different from my sister. We both are restricted in some emotional or physical way. 'But she isn't a loner, or socially awkward with people.' the little voice in my head said.
'I'm not socially awkward though!' I replied to the evil little part of my brain that was trying to make me hate myself more. I don't even remember this twisted development forming anywhere in the midst of my head.
"You probably hear this a lot, but this house is epic! I mean honestly I haven't ever seen one this big in our community!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Yeah, the only people that really come out here are the customers and employees, and well, us." I replied quietly. Once we reached my room, I walked into my closet and hung up my coat and threw my bag on the floor of the closet. I heard the math text book hitting the floor with a loud thud, and I stared at the stupid math book, then walked out nonchalantly.
It hit me that he had to be thinking of something rather than to just be here because of football. Why can't I understand boys?! They are apparently "so easy to read", but I feel like I have a blindness and that is it.
I had doubts that he came just to tell me about football. I don't know anybody who couldn't just call me. I mean, there are still phone books out there. But I guess my trust and faith in the human race has gone down, seeing as half of them live for cellphones. It is apparently considered a "first world problem" if your phone battery is at five percent.
"What was that?" Ethan said curiously. I didn't realize the kid was going to be there as soon as I turned out the door and ran into his chest.
"Sorry," I blurted out. "I didn't realize you were right there."
As I started to step backwards out of my daze, Ethan's firm hands held me by both my shoulders. He looked down at me and I up at him.
"What are you doing?" I questioned shakily. I wasn't used to being less than five feet, let alone half a foot away from a gorgeous heart stopper.
"You truly don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" Ethan asked spontaneously. "The football and cross country stuff was just an excuse, but I thought by now you would've asked why I came here other than the other shit - why I've stayed."
"What are you trying to say, Ethan?" I demanded with absolutely no hint or speckle of confidence.
"I have a crush on you. That is what I have wanted to tell you since grade eight." He confessed some what frustrated. "The guys always bug me about it, and tell me to make a move."
"This is coming up now?" I fumed. "You used to make fun of me! You drove me to near suicide! How in the hell do you like me? You made my life what was and is a living hell!"
From grade four to grade nine, Ethan and his clique always bugged me. When I was young, it was about my clumsiness, my looks, my clothes because they were not brand name, or my hair wasn't styled to flawless perfection, and I tripped occassionally. They called me a bad athlete because I didn't always get the goal, or win first place, and whenever I wore shorts or a swim suit, they made fun of the birthmark that goes from right underneath my ribs to my knee on my left side. They used to say I was the wrong answer someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. They called me mean names, that at the time I wasn't allowed to say but now I do. They used to call me a disease, running away from me at recesses and staying away from me in classes.
After we got to the high school where the grade seven to nine students go, they matured and made it worse; I was shoved in lockers, pushed down the stairs, they called me a teachers pet because I never stepped out of line, listened and did my homework and even studied because I had gotten bored. At lunch breaks they would "accidentally" spill stuff all over me, in Physical Education I used to be the person that everybody hit with the ball at once.
I used to have to take depression pills, and they called me a "druggie", and when I did something better, they used to either copy all my work for good grades without my permission, or they'd rip it to shreds.
Of course, they weren't the best at anything to do with school, because the teacher always managed to see it, but I didn't dare get any apps that they used without disguising myself as a nickname that nobody new and a cartoon picture or animal or something for an anonymous user.
I used to cut, and so when I was in grade seven to ten, I covered up my arms. The scars all faded on my arm; even the one on my wrist from when I attempted suicide, but failed because they sent me to the hospital. It was a touchy subject.
Throughout the years I've always been athletic, but I became part of the track and cross country teams. I ran every day, as far as I could without stopping to walk, for three hours each night. It made me happier, and I was allowed to think about random subjects like birds or history. It helped a ton and I don't have pills to shove down my throat.
"It's not like I meant to hurt you that bad!" Ethan tried to convince me. "I didn't think it would get that far."
I jerked back and got out of his grasp, poking him hard in the chest. "Don't even go there. You know full well what the consequence was, and what I was going to do!" I whispered so my father wouldn't hear. "You and your ass-hole group can go fuck themselves for what happened.
"Look, I have to make supper, and you have to leave!" I stated angrily.
"Are you having a party or something Cailin? Another boy is in the porch wanting to see you." Tari called from the top of the stairs.
I heard her go down the stairs, and I let out a frustrated sigh. "Never mind the last part, I'll be back, and you stay put. Snoop through anything, and I will know." I warned and walked downstairs to be greeted by the warm smile of Hayden.
I smiled, and walked to the kitchen after inviting Hayden in. I put the lasagna in the oven after setting the timer for two hours, and Hayden and I headed up to my room.
Ethan at least had ears and hadn't moved from the spot where I told him to stay, and I noticed the disgusted look he gave Hayden when we walked in.
"By the way if there is one more of your new little group that comes in, I might murder somebody. Okay? Okay. Hayden why are you here?" I questioned. "If it's about football, I already know."
"I was wondering if your Dad needed another mechanic... I was hoping you could help me out." Hayden answered.
"I'll see. Ethan, before I kick your ass, you better-"
Dad cut me off. "Hunny!"
I gave both of the boys warning looks, and looked down the stairs that led to the kitchen downstairs from in my room. "Yes, Dad?"
"Walter just needs some parts for the shop okay? I have to go to town, and Tari wants to come and get the parts with me. I'll be back in around an hour. I love you, baby."
"Love you most, Dad." I replied heart warmed to my father. Tanner Quin was by far the best Dad.
"Why does Ethan have to leave?" Hayden asked. Hayden looked over at Ethan, who just shrugged and gave Hayden an innocent look.
"I'll be waiting right here with Hayden for you to tell Hayden what just went down fifteen minutes ago." I said, leaning against my wall. Hayden gave a puzzled look to me and glanced between Ethan and I.
"Uh, well, uhm... I confessed my crush that I've had for a while, and uhm, well..." Ethan scratched the back of his neck before continuing the story. "She doesn't understand that it's a guy thing to tease girls when they like them."
My jaw dropped to what felt like should be the floor. That ass-hole just lied!
"You don't understand that and took it the wrong way?" Hayden said with his eyebrows creasing. Got he was hot.
"Get out of my house!" I yelled at Ethan, before I dragged him down stairs and shoved him outside. When he tried to say something and come back in a slammed the door in his face, and just fell into a sobbing heap on the floor, obstructing the entry of anyone.
Hayden came down the stairs, and there was a knock on the door. I didn't want to look up as I felt him get closer. He didn't need to see me cry. I hated it when that happened.
Hayden sat his muscular frame down beside me and just sat there. He waited until I was done choking down on my tears and pain, then quietly asked in a concerned voice: "What is the actual story, Cailin?"
I got my crying under control and somehow mustered up the strength to sound as strong as possible. "You don't believe him? He said some truth, too."
"Cailin," Hayden sighed, "Anybody can see Ethan lies through his te-"
Another loud couple knocks were put on the door, vibrating it. I got up, grabbed a hockey stick out of the closet and walked to the door. When my hand was on the handle, Hayden covered my hand with his and gave a firm squeeze.
"Don't do anything irrational - don't resort to violence."
I headed for the other door in the living room, and came around to the front porch where Ethan was. "Get in that damned truck of yours and go to hell, Ethan. I don't want you back here." I threatened, hold up the hockey stick.
"Fine. I'm going." He surrendered. But his feet came closer to me, and I came into a stance. 'Stay strong, Cailin. If he is a gentleman, he won't hurt you.'
'Yeah, that is a big if there, oh smart one.'
He got even closer, and I shoved the end at his gut, but he grabbed the end, twisting it in all sorts of ways that confused me, until he and I were both holding the stick in between the small space that was next to none between us, and I was trapped between the stick and the side of the house.
Ethan leaned his head in close to me, making eye contact. "I like you a lot, and you shouldn't cry over the past, babe."
I struggled against the strength out behind the hockey stick and was trying to get out. But when he said babe, I had lifted my hand and slapped his face hard and it left a bright red hand print on his left cheek. "Don't you ever call me babe, you fucktard."
The hockey stick dropped and was kicked aside, and my hands were pinned above my head with one of Ethan's large hands, and the other was pointing at me. "Don't ever slap me, or you won't like the outcome." He spit out venomously.
As Ethan looked down at my lips, I knew his intentions. I turned away and struggled, but I was in a tight situation.
Then the front door flew open with a raging Hayden walking out furiously like a hurricane.