Ella's Twisted Senior Year (6 page)

“What the hell are you doing in my boyfriend’s bedroom?”

Huh? I look up from the staircase to find Kennedy’s hands balled into fists as she stands in the doorway of my bedroom. I jog up the rest of the stairs to see what’s going on. Kennedy had been ahead of me since Mom stopped me in the hallway to give me yet another warning to be nice to Ella. As if her five texts weren’t enough.

Ella’s face stares back at me as I look over Kennedy’s shoulder. She’s gone completely pale, her fingers still resting on my sketchpad. She stands and shoves my computer chair under the desk. “I got lost,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “Where’s the rec room?”

She tries to leave but Kennedy blocks her in the doorway.

“You didn’t answer my question, bitch. Why are you in Ethan’s room? Why are you even in his
house
?”

I take Kennedy’s arm and pull her into the hallway. I keep my voice as level as possible. “I can explain all of this but you can’t keep yelling. I don’t want my mom coming up here.”

“Is this better?” Kennedy whisper-yells. She throws a finger toward Ella’s chest. “Why are you here?”

I take her finger and bring it down. “She’s staying here until her parents get a new house.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Kennedy snaps. She launches toward Ella again but I hold onto her arm. “Get out!” she yells, and there’s no way my mom didn’t hear that. This is not how I planned this afternoon. We were supposed to go to Kennedy’s house but then she’d insisted on going to mine. Then, I was going to sit her down and tell her exactly why we were breaking up. Looks like Kennedy won’t get to hear my well-rehearsed break up speech right now.

“Look, you need to chill,” I say, leveling my gaze at her. “I’m not letting you start drama in my own house.”

“Ella’s starting the drama here, not me,” she snaps. Even shorter than I am, she manages to look terrifying. “You said you weren’t friends. So why is she here?”

Ella moves forward, shoving Kennedy out of the way so she can step into the hallway. “We’re not friends,” she says, standing tall to Kennedy even though she’s shorter than my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. “I was in his room because his mom asked me to check it for dirty dishes. Trust me, this is the last place I want to be.”

She steps right past me as if I’m not even here and then she sweeps her hand toward my bedroom. “It’s all yours.”

“
Skank
,” Kennedy mutters as she walks into my room, taking me by the hand. Ella slips into the rec room and closes the door behind her. I look down at my hand as it sits in Kennedy’s, our fingers laced together. Everything about this girl disgusts me now. Even if Ella was just some stranger I didn’t know from my past, I’d still be appalled at how Kennedy is treating her. I pull my hand out of hers and shove it in my pocket.

“Listen, Kennedy.” I stop and take in a deep breath. I can’t remember any of the words I’d had before we came up here. Guess I’ll be winging this break up. “We’re breaking up.”

Her brows pull together and her cheeks flush pink. “What? No we’re not.”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t a question. I’m breaking up with you.” My eyes slip from her eyes to her trembling jaw. She’s either about to cry or scream and I don’t want to deal with either one so I just keep talking. “There are a lot of reasons why, but I’m just not into this relationship anymore. I’m sorry, but we’re done.”

Her tongue runs across her bottom lip and she sighs. When she looks up at me, her eyes are filled with tears. “Why are you doing this to me? We just got together, Ethan.”

“I know, but I’m just not feeling it.”

She huffs and crosses her arms. “Do you want sex? Because I’m cool with that.”

I shake my head. “No. There’s no fixing this, okay? Let’s just end it now and go on with our lives.”

“We can’t just go on with our lives,” she says, agitation returning to her voice. “We’re the future prom king and queen, Ethan! I worked really hard to get us to this point so you’ll still have to stand on stage with me and be my date to prom, boyfriend or not.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

That can’t possibly be how it works. I’ve never been a prom person and this whole time, I guess I’d been hoping the prom king nomination wouldn’t end in me winning. I’m still not psyched about the idea of wearing a tux, much less of going with Kennedy. If given the choice, I’d stay home and binge watch Netflix while eating a large pizza.

She stares at me, wanting an explanation. There has to be a way out of this that doesn’t end in total humiliation in front of my mom, but I panic and do exactly what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do. Make a fake promise.

“Look, maybe things will be better by prom, okay? Let’s just break up for now and see how it goes.”

Her jaw goes rigid. “Are you going to hook up with Ella? Is that what this is about?”

I laugh so hard it comes out like a snort. “Not happening. She hates me.”

Kennedy puts a hand on her hip. “I’m sure you can change her mind.”

I shake my head. “Stop making this into something it’s not. I’ll walk you to your car.”

All of my prayers are answered when Kennedy leaves without causing an epic scene in front of my family. Dakota’s bus drops her off right when I’m walking Kennedy to her car and she doesn’t say anything. Not that she would I guess, since Kennedy doesn’t really like my little sister.

“So Ella’s family is staying with us, did you hear?” Dakota says as we walk back inside. Her long black hair is in two braids that hang over her backpack straps. She’s tied a pink ribbon bow around each braid and I think about how Ella used to do the same thing a long time ago. Maybe that’s what inspired my sister’s hairstyle.

“Yeah,” I say quietly as we reach the stairs. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Are you gonna get all sad again like you did when she quit being your friend?”

I give her a playful shove into the wall as we climb the stairs. “Shush.”

Ella stands in the rec room doorway, leaning against the frame as we walk up the stairs. Dakota’s mouth falls open. “Ella? Your hair is so short!”

She laughs and touches her hair. “It’s not
that
short.” It stops a few inches below her shoulders.

“Well I remember when it was down to your butt,” Dakota says. Then she drops her backpack to the floor and wraps Ella in a hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, kiddo.” Ella pulls back and compares their heights with her hand. “Okay, you’re like exactly as tall as I am now. Not fair.”

My sister smirks. “I think I’m a
little
taller, actually.”

Ella’s eyes go big. “I’m totally beating you up for that.”

They laugh and a weird knot forms in my stomach. Seeing Ella have fun with my sister is exactly what I’d imagined having a girlfriend would be like. Only with Kennedy, she always wanted to be alone and never missed an opportunity to say how annoying it was to be around a thirteen-year-old.

I made a good call breaking it off. Now I just need to find a girl like Ella. You know, one who doesn’t hate me.

Ella lingers in the hallway after Dakota goes into her room to do homework. She stares at her fingernails. “I hope that wasn’t because of me.”

I lift an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Her lips slide to the side of her mouth. “I wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, but you did break up with Kennedy just now, right?”

She tilts her chip up as she waits for an answer and the skylight over the stairs shines directly into her eyes. I have the sudden urge to sweep her hair behind her ear, to see if her cheek feels as soft as it looks.

Damn, this is not good. “Have you seen the rec room yet?”

She nods. “For like two seconds, yeah.”

I ignore the tingly feeling in my stomach and motion for her to follow me. Mom’s already set up an air mattress and cleaned up some of the mess I’d left behind. For so long Ella was my best friend and then she was just the stranger next door. The one who’d broken my heart. Now she’s here, in my house, sleeping in the same room that used to hold our blanket forts and Harry Potter movie marathons.

I run a hand through my hair. “Let me show you the liquor cabinet. Something tells me we could use a shot.”

The rec room has also been through a renovation since I was last over here. There’s brand new brown leather couches behind a gorgeous blue and gray rug that’s so fluffy, I want to kick off my shoes and walk across it. There’s still a foosball table and Mr. Poe’s old Pacman arcade game in the corner. The TV has been replaced with a flat screen that’s mounted on the wall and it’s at least as long as I am tall. The other side of the room has the door to the small bathroom and the floor is covered in rubber mats instead of carpet. Various weight lifting equipment fills that corner, making Ethan’s own personal gym.

I imagine he must use the weights a lot, because a chest as filled out as his doesn’t just happen without dedication. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Will he be working out while I’m crashing in here?

“Here we are,” Ethan says, rising up from the mini fridge in the corner of the room. Above the fridge is his dad’s treasure: a framed Dallas Cowboy’s jersey signed by Troy Aikman.

Ethan holds up a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. “Get over here,” he says, setting the glasses on a nearby end table. “Let’s toast to how freaking awkward this is.”

I walk over but I don’t reach for the shot glass. I give him a pointed look, stalling for time while my brain tries to figure out what’s happening here. “So you’re a drinker now?”

He throws his head back and downs the shot. “Nope. Not really.”

“Kind of seems like it,” I say with a snort as he pours himself another one.

He holds the other glass out to me. “You gonna let me drink alone?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I say, lifting the glass and holding it up eye level. “This is totally illegal, Ethan Poe.”

He shrugs. “I’ll be eighteen in two months.”

I down the shot in one gulp. “Still not legal.”

Ugh, the vodka burns my throat and stings my eyes. I try to act like it doesn’t affect me.

Ethan grins. “It’s legal in Europe.”

I shove my glass out to him, motioning for a refill. This stuff is gross but if it takes off the edge of being around my enemy, then I guess I’ll have to down another shot. “We’re not in Europe.”

“Ah, you’re just as snarky as I remember.” He takes my hand, holding the glass to keep it steady while he pours another shot. The feeling of his fingers over mine sends a jolt through my body that’s stronger than anything in his bottle of vodka. How is it possible to hate someone so much, yet still want them to like you?

I take a deep breath to steady myself and then down the second shot. I’ve never drank pure liquor before so I have no idea how my body will handle it. I set the glass back on the table and walk over to the couches. I get the feeling Ethan and I are both playing a game where we act like we’re not freaking out about being around each other.

So much for ignoring him.

The TV turns on and the couch sinks as Ethan sits on the opposite side, as close to the armrest as he can get. “I’m three shots deep and you’re only two,” he says, pointing at me. All I see is the sexy way his forearm muscles tighten while his finger aims straight at my chest. “You owe me one.”

“Save it for later.” My muscles relax and I sink into the couch, not knowing if the alcohol or Ethan’s smile is making me feel so weak.

“So I guess you’re stuck with me,” Ethan says while he scrolls through the channels on the TV guide.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I play with the seam on the couch, running my finger over the stitches. “I could kick you out right now if I wanted. I think your mom would back me up.”

He gives me a sideways smile. “I’ve been expecting that ever since I walked in here,” he says. “Guess I keep getting lucky each minute you don’t tell me to leave.”

“Why is that luck?” I ask, turning toward him on the couch. “Why are you even in here, trying to be friendly? Trying to make up for the past or something?” The room is spinning a little but I keep my jaw rigid. “Look, the past is the past, Ethan. You don’t have to make up for what you did. I’m over it.”

Lies, of course. But he can’t know that.

He blinks and sits up straighter on the couch. “What
I
did?”

I stare at him, deadpan. Are we really going to get into this now? No, I decide. “New subject,” I say leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m homeless and stuck living at my old best friend’s house. Also I’m pretty sure Kennedy might try to murder me in my sleep and yet, that scares me more than the fact that my parents are totally broke.”

“I won’t let her kill you,” he says as he looks for something to watch. But he’s scrolling so fast, I don’t think he’s actually reading the titles on the TV. “She’d have to sneak in the house and I’m a light sleeper, so I’ll catch her.”

“Good to know. If she tries stabbing me, she’d puncture your mom’s air mattress and we don’t want that happening.”

“Definitely not. God, there’d be blood everywhere. Mom would be pissed.”

He meets my eyes and we both break into a smile. Part of me can still see the old scrawny Ethan beneath his gaze. The floppy mess of black hair is still the same, only now he keeps it shorter in the back, plus he has a dark scruffy beard that he shaves off every few days. Not that I’ve been paying attention. Ethan runs his tongue across his lip and butterflies freak out in my stomach.

“So did you say your parents are broke?” he asks, his expression turning serious. “How is that possible?”

I could really use more liquor. Maybe enough to make me stop talking, because right now I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. “I don’t know. We didn’t have insurance on the house so they’re totally screwed. We can’t rent a new place until they get some money saved up and even then, Mom’s worried about how we’ll pay rent and the deposit and manage to survive without furniture and stuff.” I hold out my hand, stopping just an inch from touching him. “You can’t tell anyone,” I say.

“I won’t. You can stay here as long as you want. I know my parents won’t mind.” He glances up at the TV and stops it on a channel playing a Twilight Zone marathon. “Plus it seemed like Dakota was excited to see you.”

“Yeah she’s cool. I’ve missed her,” I say, pretending to look at the TV as if I am more interested in watching a black and white science fiction show than staring at the muscles in Ethan’s shoulders, watching them flex and tense as we talk.

“She is cool, huh?”

“That’s because your sister has a mind of her own,” I say, meeting his gaze for just a second before I look away. “Hopefully she stays that way and doesn’t let high school change her.” I can feel Ethan looking at me so I give him a smirk and shove him in the knee. “Unlike someone I know.”

“Hey now,” he says, grabbing my hand quicker than I can pull away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I glance down at our hands and he pulls away, leaving my skin feeling cold and desperately wanting more of his touch. My chest tightens. “You know what I mean. So how does it feel to be so popular?”

He snorts. “I’m not popular.”

“You were dating Kennedy Price, dude. That’s as popular as it gets.”

“And she was a terrible person and I’m glad it’s over.” His hand slides across the empty seat between us, his eyes deep in thought. “When I joined the football team I did it because Dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps and be some kind high school football hero like he was. I didn’t think it’d rocket me up the social ladder, ya know?” His fingers trace invisible lines on the leather. It would be so easy to reach out and touch him. I slide my hands between my knees, keeping them tucked in safely where they can’t do anything stupid.

“Really, Poe?” I roll my eyes. “Football players are at the top of the social ladder. Don’t act like this wasn’t your plan all along. My little dorky friend from four years ago has made quite the transformation. They should make a reality show about you.”

He scratches the back of his head and gives me this half-smile that I am certain has won an award on some social media site for hottest smiles. “I
was
kind of a dork, huh? How did you put up with me?”

I gnaw on the inside of my lip. After all these years, after so much time spent hating him, we can still sit here and chat like it’s all okay. Like my heart isn’t twisting into painful knots with each beat, longing for what might have been if he’d only liked me back.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” I say, shifting until I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch. I turn to face him and try to search for those little bits of him that are the same Ethan I remember. “You managed to climb up out of the loser realm and become a famous jock.”

Maybe it’s the vodka, but my hand acts on its own, reaching out and squeezing his bicep. “You went from a skinny nobody to a hot, desirable athlete.” I lean back and nod. “Good job.”

He shakes his head, fidgeting until his arm slides across the back of the couch, his fingers just a few inches from my shoulder. He stares at the muscle I’d just grabbed. “It’s not like that. I’m still the same person.”

“
No
, I’m still the same person.” I point to my body and then to his to compare the two. “I’m a loser nobody. Your girlfriend sure had a lot to say about that.”

Tension rises up around us and I shrug it off. “It’s no big deal though. I’m fine with who I am.”

“You should be,” he says, drumming his fingers on the couch. “You’re a cool chick now. You do what you want, and not what people might want you to do, and that’s respectable.”

Oh my god. Ugh.

“Yeah, I can’t do this right now.” I throw up my arms and stand, needing to be away from him, from this. I don’t need his stupid pity or his false compliments. “I’m gonna go downstairs,” I say, turning to the right even though my vision is suddenly spinning every which way. I go to take a step forward and trip over the stupid fuzzy rug.

“Whoa,” Ethan says as I tumble forward, right into his arms. “Maybe you should sit for a minute,” he says, setting me back into the couch, only now I’m just a few inches away from him. The leather is cold and Ethan’s face is gorgeous and I am intensely aware that two shots of vodka are not a good thing when you’re in a room with your enemy.

“It’s not fair that you got so hot,” I mutter as I stare into his dark eyes. “It makes it really hard to hate you.”

His lips slide up in a half-smile and his hand is warm on my arm, leaving a trail of tingles as he lifts it to my neck and then my cheek.

We are so close. Too close. Alarms go off in my head, dulled by the alcohol and somehow even more enhanced at the same time.

“You were always hot,” he says, his eyes lowering to my lips. “You killed me that summer.”

That doesn’t make any sense but the tingling in my toes takes over my body and nothing logical matters at all. I can smell his cinnamon gum, mixed with vodka and the scent of his body wash makes me want to snuggle into his chest and never leave. I lean forward, thinking solely about the fact that he just called me hot.

I part my lips as Ethan’s strong hand pulls me closer to him. I close my eyes and melt into his kiss.

This is a really bad idea.

But I can regret it later.