002: Miss Not-So-Goody Two-Shoes

I gasp. “Excuse me?”  

“Come on, look at yourself.” He takes in my form with blatant disgust. “It’s a fucking college party and you’re dressed like my grandma. Scratch that, even my grandma dresses better. You’re wearing an oversized wool cardigan and mom jeans, Skylar.”  

Ouch. Is it so bad to prefer comfort above all else? I clutch the cardigan tighter around myself. “Bu-but you said you loved how I looked. You said you liked that I was different.”  

The mocking laugh he lets out is absolutely brutal.  “I fucking lied, Skylar! Just to make you feel good. But use your sense. You’re a bookworm. You’re supposed to have some. Look at me. I’m VSU’s star running back. I’m a big deal on campus. How do you think it’ll look if I’d walked up and claimed you?”  

I open my mouth to reply, but no words make their way out.  

“Exactly!” he scoffs, misinterpreting my stunned silence. “That’s why I chose Cherry! Have you seen her? She’s a fucking stunner. She looks sexy twenty-four-seven. She actually fits the image of someone like me.”  

Tears well up again and the crushing ache in my chest intensifies. At this point, I should get the award for most pathetic.  

What Shawn doesn’t know—what nobody knows, because Dad made sure of it—is that Cherry is my stepsister.  

That fateful night that ruined everything and destroyed us completely, Dad chose Cherry and her mom over Mom and me.  

And now history was repeating itself.  

I must look wrecked, because guilt paints Shawn’s face. Posture softening, he reaches out and takes my cold hands in his.  

“Look, Sky,” he says, using that tone that always turns me to mush. “You know I love you. I really do. But I just can’t be with someone like you openly right now. We can still be together. Cherry’s just for show, okay? You’ll be my real girl behind the scenes. And hey, we can work on your looks. Get you some new clothes. Then, once you’re ready, we can go public.”  

My mouth practically hangs open.  Wow. Just wow.  

How have I never realized what a monumental piece of dirt he is? He wants to parade my stepsister on his arm and keep me hidden in the dark like a grateful dog?  

Why am I even surprised? He’s literally best friends with Chris.  How’d that saying go again?  

Right. Show me your best friend, and I’ll tell you who you are.  

Slowly, I peel my hands from his. “No.”  

“What?”  

“No, Shawn,” I repeat. The tears dry up as cold reality smacks me in the face. “I refuse to be your side piece. Unless you walk back out there right now and choose me instead of Cherry, then I don’t think I can do this anymore.”  

The guilty look performs a magic trick and disappears. His face goes stone cold. “What does that mean? Are you breaking up with me?”  

I give him no reply. And a tiny, stupid part of me still hopes he’ll grab me. Choose me.  

That hope dies a brutal death when he sneers, “Fine. Let’s break up then. Let’s see who else will ever want a granny like you.”  

He can’t possibly mean that. “What–”  

“Yeah. You should be grateful I even looked at you. No guy, I mean no guy, will ever choose someone like you.”  

I’m completely paralyzed, unable to form a single syllable. Leaning down, he presses a patronizing kiss to my forehead.

“Good luck finding a guy like me, sweetheart,” he whispers. “When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”  

With one final, arrogant smirk, he turns and walks back to the bonfire, leaving me stunned in the moon-lit woods.  

Once I can breathe again, I collapse against a tree and sob silently into my hands. I regret everything. I regret dating him. I regret coming to this stupid party. And I deeply regret letting Jade blackmail me over a Kindle.  

I’m so done. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this.

Wiping my eyes furiously, I bolt through the trees. I don’t care that Jade has the car keys. I don’t care how I’ll get back to the dorms.  

I just can’t be near Shawn and Cherry for one more second.  

“Skylar boo! Where to? It’s your turn to play!” A honey-sweet voice rings out the second I break past the tree line.  

I don’t bother with a reply. I try to keep walking instead, only for Shawn’s booming voice to stop me dead in my tracks.  

“Leave her, babe,” he laughs. “You know what a nerd she is. She doesn’t have the guts to leave her granny shell anyway.”  

The cruel laughter that follows has my fists clenching.  That’s it. I’ve had enough.  

Blood boiling, I turn around slowly. The party is still going strong around us, but the main bonfire circle has settled down. And sitting right in the center, perched smugly on Shawn’s lap, is Cherry.  

I march straight back in.“Dare.”  

The laughter dies, a collective shock moves all around, and Cherry’s smirk has fallen. Perfect.  

“What did you say?” she asks.  

“I said dare,” I bark, staring dead into Shawn’s eyes, only for him to raise a brow at me. That arrogant, amused smirk sliding back onto his face. Oh, how I want to wipe it off with a brick.  

Chris lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn. Guess Miss Goody Two-Shoes has some balls after all. Hmmm. Okay then, Miss Not-So-Goody Two-Shoes. Before I give you your dare... do you even have a boyfriend?”  

The question catches me completely off guard.  “What?”  

“I said, do you have a boyfriend? Or are you a virgin who’s never even been kissed before?”  

My face instantly goes tomato-red. Of course I’ve been kissed. I’ve been kissing Shawn in secret for weeks. We just haven’t... gone all the way. I’m waiting for the right time. I want it to mean something.  

My silence and red cheeks are all the answer Chris needs.  

“Oh, shit!” He gasps. “You actually are a virgin!”  

The circle erupts.  

Cherry buries her face in Shawn’s neck, giggling. “Why are we even surprised? Look at her. Who would ever want to fuck that?”  

I don’t know what comes over me. Everything is just too much—the humiliation, the rejection, the bullying—so I snap.  

“I’m not a virgin!” I shout over them. “And I actually do have a boyfriend!”  

Cue the dead silence. Looking downright shocked, Shawn’s head snaps up. I can see the gears turning in his head—he thinks I lied to him about being a virgin, and worse, he looks weirdly entertained, like he doesn’t buy it and wants to see how deep I’ll dig this grave.  

Chris grins. “Oh, really? And is he at this party?”  

Heart thumping, I’m now operating on pure adrenaline. “Yes. He is.”  

“Okay, fine then,” He points a finger at me. “I dare you to walk up to him right now and kiss him.”  

You remember that boulder-sized weight that dropped in my chest earlier? Yeah, it’s morphed into an infinity of boulders now.  

Putting on the bravest face I have, I nod stiffly.  But the second my back is to them, that bravery evaporates.  

Flipping duck. What was I thinking? I don’t have a boyfriend!  Not anymore anyways. I’m going to have to grab a random stranger. If he rejects me, I’ll literally have to transfer universities by mor–

My thought is cut off suddenly by the deafening growl of a motorcycle engine.  

Everyone turns as a massive black sports bike tears down the dirt path, kicking up dust before braking hard at the edge of the woods. The rider kills the engine, kicks down the stand, and swings off.  

Pulling off the black helmet, he shakes out his hair, and under the string lights, his features come into view. He isn’t boy-band handsome like Shawn. He’s dark, dangerous, and devastatingly rugged, with slicked-back dark hair and full, stern lips.  

It’s Trey Parker.  

VSU’s powerhouse quarterback. The guy Shawn hates more than anyone else on this planet because he refuses to share the spotlight.  

Trey is notorious for being cold, keeping entirely to himself, and intimidating anyone who dares get too close. People are genuinely terrified of him. And at the same time, obsessed with him.  

As I stare at him, a reckless, insane plan starts forming in my head.  

“What’s up, Goody Two-Shoes?” Chris’s mocking voice calls. “Is your lie starting to catch up with you?”  

That’s the final push. Before my brain can logically process the suicide mission I’m embarking on, I break into a run straight toward the motorcycle.  

Please, heavens, let him cooperate.  

Trey is hanging his helmet on the handlebar when he hears the footsteps. Turning, his piercing eyes widen as I launch myself at him.  

Arms around his neck, on my tippy toes, I press my mouth to his.