Take Me On (7 page)

Haley

God hates me. It’s the only explanation when West appears in my first-period class. My best girl friend, possibly my only girl friend, Marissa Long, lowers the book she’s been absorbed in since I sat at our science table.

“Wow” is the word that slips out of her mouth.

Unfortunately, I have to agree. The boy is fantastically pretty, that’s for sure. His golden-blond hair is cut short and is styled. Trendy yet not. Exactly like the rest of him. A combination of dangerous and steaming hot.

He wears jeans, the sexy kind. A bit baggy, not overly. Just enough that his black boxers peek out when he walks. And thanks to the clingy T-shirt, the world knows he’s on-fire ripped in every single delicious way.

I close my eyes and suck in air.
Stop it.
West is not hot. He’s a fighter. He’s trouble. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt and the associated heartache.

Marissa touches my arm, and, when I open my eyes, I find her camped in my personal space. “He’s staring at you.”

Sure enough, while our Biology II teacher shuffles through the drawers of his desk, West flashes me this glorious smile that causes me to melt into a puddle. Crap. Just crap. I
am
attracted to him. This isn’t good. Not good at all.

“Do you know him?” Marissa asks.

Yes. “No.” And it’s going to be hard for anyone to believe that answer when he continues to stare at me like he’s seen me with my clothes off. I run a finger around the collar of my shirt, releasing some trapped hot air. If West doesn’t rein it in, he’s going to get us both killed.

“Are you
sure?
”

I told him to stay out of my way because that’s how West will avoid trouble with Conner and Matt. It’ll be amazing if I can remain unscathed through lunch.

Our teacher motions with his hand for West to take a seat. “Any seat.”

West’s eyes roam to the spot next to me and I grab Marissa’s hand. “Do not leave your seat. Not to sharpen your pencil. Not to use the bathroom. Not to pick up your backpack.”

“Ooookay,” mumbles Marissa and sticks her head back into a book.

West strides down the small space between the tables. I keep my eyes forward, ignoring he exists, ignoring that on Friday he almost pancaked me with his car, that he went kamikaze on Conner and that I had to fight to bail him out of trouble.

I ignore all of that, but more importantly, I ignore how my senses heighten as West pauses next to my table, plants a hand flat on the surface and leans into me. I swear the heat of his body wraps around mine. An extremely tempting musky scent enters my lungs when I inhale. Oh, God, he’s mouthwatering.

Everyone turns and watches because the most beautiful boy to ever step into this school is next to the girl no one but Matt has ever wanted to date.

“Hello, Haley,” he says in this deep voice that curls my toes in that
Notebook
movie kind of way.

I can’t look at him. I can’t. One, because he’s not supposed to be talking to me. Two, because he’s gorgeous and I’d prefer for West to remain in the dark that I think that. “We have an agreement.”

West chuckles. “You said something. I disagreed. Later, we’ll come to an agreement.”

Mr. Rice asks everyone to settle in, and West continues toward the back, but not before skimming one finger down my shoulder. I let out a rush of air between my lips as goose bumps tingle on my arm from his touch. West does not fight fair.

I return my gaze to the front and my heart slams out of my chest when I meet stone-cold eyes. Matt walks into class at the sound of the bell and there’s no doubt he saw part of the show.

He stalks down the aisle and I wish I could blend into my chair. Without breaking stride, he mumbles as he passes, “We’re talking today.”

My hand presses against my neck as if that will help open my clogged air passage. Whether he wants to talk about West touching me or the fact that Conner may have told him what happened between us or if he just wants to rehash previous fights in our defunct relationship, I don’t know, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s no way I’m talking with Matt—not if I can help it.

West

I drop into a seat at an empty table in the back and a dishwater-blonde slithers into the chair beside me. “You’re West Young,” she says.

“I am.” I edge away from her. The last thing I want is my reputation with girls or my rep with fights following me. Something good should come out of this. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve attended some parties at Brian Miller’s house with my cousin. She goes to Worthington Private.”

Shit. I assess her, praying we haven’t hooked up. I don’t fuck girls. It’s not my thing. I’ve witnessed guys spiral and burn because of an unplanned pregnancy, getting too emotional after the fact or a good ol’ STD. Thanks, but no thanks. I might not be hitting it in that way, but I hit it in other ways and girls appreciate my creativity.

The blonde twists her hair around her finger, makes full-fledged eye contact and sends me an I’ll-go-down-on-you smile—all signs indicating we have had previous carnal knowledge of each other.

“I’m Jessica,” she announces. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself since I saw you at a party a year ago, but by the time I get there, you’re usually a little far gone.”

Thank you, Jesus, for saving me from the why-didn’t-you-call guilt trip.

Our teacher calls the class to order and I open my lone notebook. With twenty bucks in cash to my name, I bought this and a pen, then spent the remainder on gas. Food wasn’t on the priority list this morning, and as my stomach growls, I’m beginning to regret the decision. I haven’t had a decent meal since Thursday night.

I’m terrified to use my credit card and learn it’s been denied. There’s a limit to what my mental stability can handle.

A few tables up, Haley sits curtain-rod straight.
Come on, give me something. Anything.
I got the hell beaten out of me over her, plus I saw the attraction stirring in her eyes in the stairwell. Hell, the girl flushed the moment I stepped into the room.
Look at me. Just look at me.

My pen knocks against the table as it bounces in my hand, then freezes the moment Haley glances over her shoulder. In rabbit-fast movements, she switches her gaze back to the front, but it won’t erase the fact she looked.

Why it’s important to me, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because everything in my life is screwed up and I need to know at least one person cares. Maybe...but who knows? Right now today almost feels doable.

“You know Haley?” The lines cluttering Jessica’s forehead spell jealousy.

What were Haley’s words to me? To stay away? Not happening. “Yeah, do you?”

“She’s a friend of mine.”

Our teacher passes out an outline for an upcoming project and mumbles something about having to leave for a moment to help a class across the hall but being able to see us from there, and that he expects us to watch the documentary he cues up on the SMART Board. With the lights off and the door behind him clicking shut, the class loosens up with low buzzing conversations.

Jessica faces me, props her elbow on the table and rests her head on her hand. “How do you know Haley? From the fights?”

The fights? “Yeah.”

A relieved grin eases onto her face. If I play this right, maybe I can figure Haley out.

“That’s what I thought,” she says. “After she and Matt broke up last summer, she swore she was done with that tough man stuff, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out. Haley’s been a tomboy since kindergarten.”

A tomboy? Are we admiring the same person? Haley’s all curves. She may be in high school, but she’s miles from that in-between stage.

Jessica’s seat scrapes against the floor, creating an earsplitting squeak as she slides closer to me. A chorus of
damns
fills the room. Most everyone looks back, including Haley. Fuck me. Another girl up in my business is not what I want Haley to see.

“So tell me,” Jessica says in a way that indicates we share secrets. “Is she fighting again? I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Meaning she won’t tell anyone until she leaves class.

With her head lying on an outstretched arm on the table, Haley’s pen moves in circles. She’s a doodler, like my brother Ethan. When he’s trying to clear his head, to think things through, he scratches away on any paper he can find.

Haley’s shorter than me. Tall for a girl, yet not. And very, very feminine. Jessica has to be joking. There’s no way Haley’s a fighter. “I haven’t seen her fight.”

“Oh. Well. Then you must have seen her cousin and brother fight, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Haley and her family are fighters. I roll the words around in my head as if taste-testing them. It feels off, but then I think of how she challenged me the other night when I almost hit her with my car.

Haley’s a fighter. Interesting. Like the info on the flowers, it’s duly noted and filed away for future use.
What other secrets are you hiding, Haley?
“Who’s this Matt guy you mentioned earlier?”

“That is Matt.” Jessica points to the large son of a bitch at the table behind Haley. His dark hair is shaved close to his scalp and his ears are a bit deformed. I’ve seen the full-blown deformity before on pay-per-view, though it was a much more intense version. Cauliflower ears. It’s what happens after a fighter gets hit too much and the cartilage doesn’t heal correctly.

What’s important is how the guy watches Haley, his eyes memorizing her every move. Has Haley informed him of their breakup or is he pining? “What’s up with the two of them?”

“They got together our sophomore year and split a week after Haley moved into the homeless shelter this past summer. I have no doubt Matt will win her back, though. He’s crazy obsessed with her.”

“What?” My head snaps in Jessica’s direction and my heart pounds as I wonder if I heard her correctly. She said Haley, right? Not me. But then the wonder turns to dread. Haley can’t be living at a place like that.

“That Matt’s crazy obsessed? It’s not in a weird way, well, it is, but it’s like romantic, you know—”

“Not that,” I cut her off. “The homeless part.”

She presses a hand over her mouth. “Oops. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell Haley I told you. She’d be mortified.”

“I won’t.” But what she should be mortified about is that she spilled. Minus the fake hand over her mouth, Jessica wears smug well. At my old school, girls conducted war and annihilated opponents using words. That “slipup” was meant as an execution shot to Haley’s head.

“Good.” She surveys Haley as if she grew a conscience, but then abandons it as she lowers her voice. “Haley’s dad was laid off over a year ago and they lost everything. It’s been rough for her, but we’ve all tried to rally around her. You know, be good friends.”

I’d rather drink arsenic than enjoy a friendship like Jessica’s. “Does she still live at the shelter?”

She shakes her head. “They moved in with her cousin’s family. Seriously, don’t tell her I told you. She’s sort of private.” Finally Jessica’s cheeks flare. Maybe she’s slightly redeemable.

“Tell you what, if you keep it a secret I’m a Young, I’ll keep my mouth shut about Haley.” I’ve got no problem with blackmail. The last name Young is common enough. Hopefully no one will associate me with the richest family in town.

“Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know you’re a Young? Oh, my God, I’d spray-paint it in the sky.”

“I don’t, all right?”

“Okay,” she says.

The door to the room opens and conversation ceases. I relax in my chair, stretch my legs under the table and cross my arms over my chest. When I glance over at Haley again, she’s still resting her head on her arm, but this time I’m met by those gorgeous dark eyes.

Unexpectedly, she holds the gaze. One second. Two. Turning into three. Did she overhear my conversation with Jessica?

Haley breaks our connection and focuses on the movie playing up front. My mind bounces with the new information and it only piques my curiosity.

Haley

I’ve successfully avoided Matt since this morning and I’m betting that the refuge of the cafeteria will save me from him for at least twenty more minutes. There’s no way he’ll corner me in front of Jax, Kaden and the other fighters from my grandfather’s gym, right? I mean, no one’s that bold.

I bite my lip, starting to rethink my plan. While I don’t think Matt will, Conner might. His judgment has been off since he started using drugs.

Annoyingly enough, the buzz at my lunch table is the new boy at school, West. I stab at the pizza on my plate. The boy could be the death of me. Literally. West...the gorgeous, full of himself, infuriating, not-listening knight in shining armor is in three of my classes and there are two more periods to go before the final bell rings. I’m willing to bet money I don’t have he’s going to be in those, too.

West.

West, West, West. Last name Young. And right now, as he struts into the cafeteria, he releases that blazing, agitating grin.

“Check out the new boy.” Jessica drools from across the lunch table. “He’s definitely a walking piece of art.”

“With arms like that,” says another girl, “it makes you wonder what he looks like with his shirt off.”

Yes, it does.

Several other girls verbalize their agreement and I focus on my uneaten tray of food. My freshman year, I used to sit with Kaden and the other guys from the gym at lunch. I stupidly fell for Matt my sophomore year and ended up sitting with him and the guys from Black Fire. I was forced to find a new lunch table when things between Matt and me exploded like a hydrogen bomb.

Up until that point, I had never done girl before. It’s not bad if you don’t mind strolling in a field of unmarked land mines.

“I heard you and Jax were hanging out in the office this morning.” Marissa eyes the other girls still ogling West and slides a French fry off my tray when she thinks no one is watching. Marissa’s always on a diet. Not because she’s fat but because Marissa believes she’s fat and the other girls pamper her fears. “Jessica saw you guys and told me.”

Marissa has been hot and bothered by Jax since he helped her when she tripped in elementary school. Fortunately and unfortunately, Jax has no idea that the mostly mute honor student exists. Bad for Marissa, yet great for her. Jax would devour her as an appetizer.

“He kept me company while I searched for scholarships.”

Marissa nervously tucks her hair behind her ear three times. “Did he mention me? We were in a group last week in gym. There were four of us, but he was next to me so...you know...he might have remembered me...or something.”

Conversations like these are why I am welcome at this lunch table. As Jessica lovingly had put it:
She’s the girl who knows the hot guys.
Yep. That’s me. The living, breathing Wikipedia of Eastwick’s hot guys. I keep it to myself that they all currently hate my face.

“You know Jax.” Though she doesn’t. “He doesn’t discuss girls with me.” He used to, but then Jax and I lost the ability to talk with ease. He and Kaden have a hard time forgiving me for leaving the gym.

She nods. “You’re right.”

Movement to my right catches my attention and I become one of those oil-slicked birds smothered and weighed down. Conner, Matt’s little brother, enters the cafeteria with his wrist in a brace. Yellowish fading bruises cover his face and the remnants of a black eye mark his skin.

I scoot my chair back, preparing to bolt. Conner’s a year younger than me, so I’ve been able to avoid him...until now.

A few tables away, Kaden and Jax slide to their feet. Jax leans one shoulder against the wall with his arms held tight to his body and fists clenched. He’s burning a hole through me. Kaden, on the other hand, paces like a pissed-off tiger behind Jax, his sights set on Conner.

“Oh, my God,” whispers Marissa. “He’s coming.”

He who? My head whips so fast in preparation of finding Conner at our table that my hair stings my face. Nope, not Conner, but someone just as bad. “Really?”

“Ladies,” says West. “Mind if I join you?” He’s asking the table, but he’s surveying me.

Does the boy ever listen? I shoot up and my chair rattles against the floor. “You can have my seat.”

His smile grows. “I don’t have personal space issues so you can sit on my lap.”

My mouth pops open. Did he just say... “You...” No words. “You are...”

West gestures with his fingers for me to continue. Oh, my freaking God, this is a game to him. “Handsome? Irresistible?”

I slam my chair into the table and head for the food line, hoping to blend in with the stragglers. The only way out is past Conner. I’ll buy another lunch if it means he won’t spot me. I peek over at the entrance and blow a relieved rush of air out of my mouth. Conner’s deep in conversation with Reggie, his dealer. I have a reprieve in being hunted by him—at least for today.

“Me and you, Haley.” Matt’s familiar gravel voice sends a shock wave of shivers through my soul. “We need to talk.”

“My family is watching.” I have to force my eyes up and, even as I curse myself, I begin to shake. I don’t want to show fear, but he scares me. Matt is the stuff nightmares are made of.

“You’re the one who chooses whether or not Jax and Kaden get involved. Make this hard and they will. Make it easy and they won’t.”

There’s a faint resemblance to the cute guy I fell for my sophomore year: tall, dark hair, hazel eyes. He shaves his head now, his ears are a bit deformed from fighting and there’s a roughness to him, an edginess that wasn’t present when I first met him. Who knows, maybe the edginess always existed and I was too naive to notice.

Matt turns and heads to the front right corner of the cafeteria. Toward where the other Black Fire fighters sit and in the exact opposite direction of Kaden and Jax. Matt doesn’t look back to see if I follow because he knows I will. He controlled me then—even when there was blood on his hands and blood on mine. Any self-respect, any self-confidence I thought I had built disintegrates. He controls me now.

I can’t glance at my brother or cousin. My cheeks are on fire and I stare at my moving shoes. Six months ago, Jax and Kaden found me as a lump, alone in a garage at a party. My body shook, my teeth chattered and all I could think was that Matt was stronger than Jax and Kaden.

With my body still pounding with the proof, I lied. I protected what I loved—I protected Jax and Kaden, and then walked away from fighting. A decision I still bleed over.

With a few hushed words, the guys seated at Matt’s table disperse, leaving me and him somewhat alone in the crowded cafeteria. None of them make eye contact with me because each of them is fully aware that they had a hand in what happened. They’re the ones that pointed out Conner’s drug use to me. They’re the ones that begged me to talk to Matt because Matt wouldn’t see what was in front of him.

“He’ll listen to you, Haley. You’re the only one he listens to.”

Nope, he didn’t listen to me and I figured out quickly why no one else had the courage to speak badly about Conner to Matt. A right hook to the head is a great deterrent.

Matt crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t take to people hurting what’s mine.”

No, that job belongs solely to him.

Matt used to hold me in his arms. He’d caress my face, my body. I realized too late we were an inferno and that I had been chained to the stake. He touched me. He kissed me. He said words to me no one else ever had. He made me feel special.

After being with Matt, I don’t care if I ever feel special again.

“Because of what we were to each other,” he says, “I’m giving you a chance to explain.”

My toe nudges a spot of dried ketchup on the orange tiled floor. Telling him the truth enraged him last summer. Nothing since then has changed. He steps closer and cold sweat breaks out along my neck.

“I hated it when you wouldn’t talk to me,” he whispers. Once upon a time, he whispered the words “I love you” into my ear and I kissed him in return. Hurt and regret can slowly kill a person from the inside out.

“You have never wanted to hear what I’ve had to say,” I respond.

“Not true,” he says. “That’s not true.”

It is and somewhere deep inside he knows it.

“What did Conner tell you?” If it doesn’t damn me too bad, I’ll go with Conner’s version of the truth, because real truth doesn’t exist. There are only other people’s perceptions of reality.

He drops his arms and his shoulders sag. This is what snagged me initially to Matt: his ability to appear vulnerable when he’s physically anything but. “He came home all beat to hell and he said you were there and I know that can’t be true. You’d never cross me like that.”

The little liar actually told the truth for once. Where was the fib when I needed it? “Conner told you I did it?”

“He started to tell me what happened. Said you were there. Then he realized the guys were in the other room.”

“The guys” being the other fighters from Black Fire. He’d never admit to them what transpired between us. Matt continues, “When Conner wouldn’t talk, we drew the natural conclusion—Jax and/or Kaden jumped Conner. Out of respect for you, I kept everyone from going after your family that night.”

“Respect for me?” I echo.

A muscle under his eye jumps. “You covered for me once. Consider the debt paid.”

Tremors run down my spine. He’s never mentioned that night before. Just hearing him acknowledge it...

“Tell me who did it,” Matt says. “And we’ll take care of this in the cage.”

I wrap my hair into my fist. I don’t want Jax and Kaden paying for my sins, but they constantly go against guys from Black Fire at matches. Better the cage with a ref than on the street, with weapons, which has been my greatest fear. “What event?”

“No event or referee. Conner’s wrist is sprained. There’s no mercy rule on this.”

No mercy rule meaning no tournament. No public event with rules or referees. No ability to tap out if the fight becomes sick or demented or too much. A fight like this—it’s a street brawl and it could mean severe damage... It could mean death and it’s what I’ve been working desperately for months to avoid.

“No. Not happening.” I bite my tongue to keep from informing Matt that if Conner hadn’t tried to use my hair to drag me to the ground I wouldn’t have had to try to snap his wrist. What’s unreal is that if Matt looked at me, like really looked at me, he could see the bruises behind the makeup, he’d see my red knuckles, he’d see the truth, but Matt, like always...like most people, only sees what he wants.

“Then we go after both of them,” he threatens. “Hit them whenever and wherever we want.”

He moves to walk past me and I grab his arm. “Did you ever think that Conner was the one doing the jumping?”

“Why would he do that? We fight Kaden and Jax in the ring. We don’t need to street brawl to prove a point.”

“Because Conner has a drug problem.”

“Shit, Haley.” Matt rips his arm out of my grasp. “We’re back to this. Your lies killed us last time. Do you think it’s wise to go there now?”

“Listen to me!” I’m desperate enough to permit the truth to flow. “I did it. I hurt Conner. I had medication for my dad and Conner jumped me.”

“There’s no way you could have done that damage.” A vein bulges in his neck. “You’re covering for someone. Tell me who it was and tell me now.”

I close my eyes the moment I hear the voice that should be nowhere near me. I hear West. “It was me. I did it.”