Burdened (A Burdened Novel) (8 page)

I lie. “I think he likes you, he just won’t admit it.” She softens. “But every time I brought up your name he turned red, like blushed.” I shrug. “And he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” I add for leverage.

She smiled, getting a little giddy. “Thank you,
Cey. Do you think I should talk to him?”

“I wouldn’t. I think he is a little shy about you. I would wait until
he
approaches
you
.” I don’t know what else to say. I have no details, no part of the conversation, I can share. And I know she’s going to question what took us so long.

So I change the subject. “Then I ran into Pepper and the followers in the hall.”

“I know she had something to say about nothing. I don’t even want to hear about her.” She rolls her eyes. The moment she prepares to say something else, the bell rings.

That bell is always right on
time, saving me from whatever that was. I missed all of lunch, messing around with Scott.

“I’ll meet you in sixth,” I call to her as I walk away. I feel bad about lying, but I couldn’t hurt her, and it was clear that Scott didn’t want me to hurt her either. Once again—
this
shit is crazy.

Walking out of the classroom, after the bell rings, I spot Glen, waiting for me by the door. “What’s wrong?” It’s rare she does this.

“Nothing.
I walked out of my last class early so I could walk over here, so that we can walk to Mrs. Kimble’s class together.” She looks sad.

I don’t want to push. I’m feeling better and I do not want anything to ruin it. I have been in enough pain the last few days.

I’m a bad friend.

We walk into Mrs. Kimble’s class and tests are waiting for us on our desks. There is a sigh from everyone in the class as we sit down. She provides instructions to turn them over once we finish, and then we can leave for the day.

I finish fifteen minutes ahead of time. Following her instructions, I leave and stand outside the room, waiting for Glen. She comes out eight minutes later.

“You ready to go?” I ask her. “I’m thinking about taking a nap before we go tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Just let me stop by my locker to get my stuff.”

We walk to Glen’s locker, and by the time we make it there, all the other classes are out too. Everyone who approaches us on our walk out of the
school, asks if we are going to the party. We tell them ‘yes’ as we walk out the brown doors to the parking lot to meet the girls. I stop abruptly and my stomach drops to my butt. A few people bump into my back.

Oh, shit.
The black Silverado.

I shuffle between going back into the school and making a run for my car. My brain is racing, but my feet are standing still.

“Tracey, what’s wrong?” I can’t answer. I just dumbly stare at the truck. I’m stuck—frozen. “Tracey, snap out of it!” She’s right. I need to let it go, get him out of my head.

I clear my throat, pulling it together. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw something.” It’s not until that moment that she realizes what I had saw.

“OMG, it’s his truck, isn’t it?”

“No, it could be anybody’s truck. Let’s go.”

“Okay, Tracey. You think he’s going to the party?” No, I know he is—thanks to Scott’s insinuation.

“I don’t think so,” I answer, hoping she lets it go.

“Well, what if he does?” She doesn’t.

“Glen, I
do not
want to talk about this,” I say too aggressively.

“Him.”

“What?”

“You do not want to talk about
him
.” She is an ass.

“Whatever. Let’s just go.” We start towards my car and I feel a demanding presence that covers my skin in goose-bumps. It gives me a chill.

“Tracey.” Deep and demanding, his voice sounds like a triumphant, yet smooth, melody, playing through my ears. My stomach flutters.

I turn to look at him as nonchalantly as I can. Glen follows my steps. Even if I wanted to resist the urge, I couldn’t. “Hey, long time no see.”

He gives me a cocky smirk and my mouth falls open. I really embarrass myself around him. I can’t pull it up. “You headed home?”

Pull it together, Tracey, pull it together. “Uh,” I stumble over my words. “Yes.” I want to slap myself.

He nods. “I promise I won’t run into you today.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder. “I found my cousin already.”

“Thank you, because I don’t think my car can take it.” He steps closer and my body absorbs his energy. He touches my chin gently and pushes it up slowly, until my lips meet.

So embarrassing.

“Better?” he asks, low and deep.

Breathlessly I say, “Yes.”

His hand, still holding my chin, lifts my head up to face his so that I’m looking up at him as he is looking down at me. His eyes travel over my face and rest on my lips. The butterflies speed up and I bite the inside of my bottom lip, stopping the tremble.

Glen moves to her right, and it seems like we both forgot she was there, and where we were, for that matter.

Moving his hand, he looks over at Glen. “Hi,” he says strongly,
then clears his throat. “You’re Tracey’s friend?”

“Yep, I’m Glen.” She reaches her hand out to take his. My insides beg him not to touch it.

He looks back to me. “I see Tracey is not good at introducing people.” He takes a couple of steps back from me.

“Hell, I wouldn’t be either if you were looking me in the face.” He gives her his cocky smirk.

He turns to me. “Bye, Tracey. I’ll see you around.” He turns, walking away. Simple as that.

My good feeling is gone. I’m cold, empty, and confused. Watching him walk away, my chest aches and cries out for me to go after him. I want to clutch at it for comfort, but instead I decide I will not give in to my ridiculous obsession with this guy and accept this pain. Ignoring it, I turn and we walk to my car.

“Oh my gosh, Tracey. Is that him? No, don’t answer that—stupid question. Of course that was him. You could feel the intensity coming from you two. And yes, yes, yes, he is hot, hot, hot. Super-hot! He and Scott are like equally hot. I think Scott looks a little better, but your guy is definitely hot.”

“He’s not my guy, Glen,” I say mellow-toned.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” She rambles on and on the whole ride home.

It takes us less than ten minutes to get home, because I drive like a bat-out-of-hell. I can’t take the pain, or Glen’s rambles. Now I
really
need a nap—to sleep off this pain.

“So, are you going to tell me his name?” she asks, closing the car door.

“No.”

“Why not?
And why do you think he wouldn’t shake my hand?”

“I don’t want to, and I don’t know.” I scrunch my face at her questions.

“He doesn’t seem like he doesn’t want you. He seems very interested in you.”

“Well, he doesn’t. All the guys I don’t
want, want me. But the one guy—” I stop myself as my frustration boils.

“What?” she probes.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, opening the door. “I’m just over him. I can’t take it. It’s stupid. We’ll go tonight and enjoy ourselves. I will not think about him and you will not think about Scott.”

“Right…” she drags out. I shrug my shoulders, feeling indifferent. My mind says one thing and my heart feels another. Why can’t our hearts just do what the hell our mind wants it to?

I go to the family room and lay across my mattress. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me in a couple.”

“I’m going to set my phone, because taking a nap sounds kind of refreshing.”

I close my eyes, looking back at green and brown eyes, holding my chin as they stare at me. His expression, wanting me as bad as I want him, the want in his eyes reflecting my own. He was enraptured, making me want him even more.

He is killing me.

We get up at a quarter to eight, shower, and do our hair. I beach-wave curl mine and she does hers in big, beautiful, bouncy curls, which goes well with the lace shirt she bought. We dress and do our makeup. I do not wear a lot of makeup, only eyeliner and pink blush.

Andrew’s house isn’t far from mine. Thanks to all the directions I received from people at school today, I know exactly where he lives. His street is full of cars. I resist the urge to look for the black Silverado or Scott’s car. Parking four houses down, Rachel and a few of the other girls arrive at the same time as us.

We meet them on the walkway to Andrew’s front door. “What happened to you two after school?” Angela asks.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I went straight home,” I lie. I will not tell them what I told Glen: ‘Oh, after I see
him
, I break down and can’t do anything.’ Instead I say, “I laid down for a while, and now I’m feeling better.”

“So if we are all feeling better, let’s get to the party!” Rachel is loud and her words are slurred. I can smell the alcohol on her.

We start walking towards the house and Glen grabs my arm, making me walk at her pace. “Let’s just stay back a little from them tonight. The majority of them are already drunk—save Angela—and I really do not want to get embarrassed.”

I nod in understanding. The other girls clearly have forgotten about us. They are through the doors.

We follow behind them. “Okay, keep calm. Keep me in check if I see Scott, okay? I don’t want to freak out if another girl is on him, or if he is on another girl!” Her voice is full of anxiety.

“Calm down, Glen. We are here to have a good time, not to worry about guys.” I move my hair from my neck. “Everything is going to be fine.”

She nods.

The music is loud once we are on the other side of the door. I’m surprised I couldn’t hear it from the outside. We dance around, laughing and having a good time. The girls are pumped up after taking multiple shots. I might end up driving them home tonight, at the rate they’re going.

A few already-drunk guys get thrown out from trying to start fights. They aren’t from our school. Now that I’m thinking about it, they didn’t look familiar at all. The ruckus calms and everyone starts to enjoy themselves again.

Sam comes up and starts dancing with me. I’m okay with that—Sam is cool. Glen dances with Toney, and she’s enjoying herself too. We’ve been here for a while already, but it’s unnoticed. I’m free, no worries. It’s just what I needed, to let loose and clear my head, until I shiver and my skin covers in goose-bumps. That demanding presence fills the room.

I look around me as I slowly get back to dancing. No one else seems to be faltered.

Glen grabs my arm and turns me so that I’m dancing with her. She’s all into it, rolling her body to the music. I match her, trying to dance off my feeling of discomfort. The girls and a few others join us. Someone puts a water bottle half-full of clear liquid in my hand. I assume it’s not water by the way it sloshes around in the bottle as I move.

Glen grabs it, taking no time throwing it back down her throat. She makes a strong face towards the taste. “Needs some juice,” she says, with a twinge to her words as she coughs.

I laugh, taking the bottle back. “I’ll go get some.” She nods, turning around to dance with a drunken Rachel.

I go to the kitchen where the food and drinks are supposed to be. Sam walks with me. He’s cute, just too skinny and tall. He’s a nice guy most of the time, but he has an anger problem. Not my type, although he is an okay friend.

“Where are you going, Tracey?”

“Trying to find some juice to go with this moonshine,” I joke.

We laugh. “Yeah, that is what it tastes like, huh?”

“No, it probably tastes like rubbing alcohol.”

He pulls out his bottle. “I found some strawberry pop in the fridge and put it in mine.” He takes a gulp. “It doesn’t taste too bad.”

“Good idea.” He throws his arm around me, and we laugh and talk about how the drunken girls are dancing. In the kitchen, he opens the fridge, his arm remaining around my shoulder. He grabs the pop and I open the top of my bottle. With great talent, he pours the strawberry pop in the bottle without spilling a drop, filling the other half of the bottle.

“Shake it up.” He puts the top back on the pop, putting it back in the fridge. “See if that’s better.”

I shake it and taste it. “Tastes fine to me.” I smile at him. “Thanks!”

“Good! Now…let’s get back to the party.” He closes the fridge and we turn to walk back, seeing Scott standing two feet from us.

Accompanying him is his cousin and two other guys I’ve never seen before. They all slightly favor in build and height.
He
—standing near Scott—stares at me with Sam’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. He looks a little…thrown. I don’t know if I feel bad or just confused. I’m not supposed to get involved, right? Let it go, right?

Nothing is going on between Sam and me anyway. We are just having a good time. “That’s
not
what I meant, Tracey.” Scott glares at me, looking at me as if I am doing something wrong.