**PG 14 TW: SEXUAL HARASSMENT, F-slur**
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The name’s Cassidy. Softball player. Not much for all the pretty stuff, if you know what I’m saying. The last time I painted my nails was June 2016. Long story. Not in the mood to share it with you right now.
So anyway, I was sitting in the back of the class. Not cause it looks good, but because I can either doze off or get a good view of everyone. I don’t know, I just like getting the feel for the room.
I get told a lot to get my foot of the desk, but I feel like the more those teachers tell me the more I’m not fazed by it.
“Goddamn, Cassidy, your fucking foot is touching my back,” said the most annoying basketball player in the world.
“So quit whining and move forward,” I scoffed. I hated guys like those. I hated guys in general. My head was practically touching the wall behind me. There was nowhere to go. He was the only one in that situation who could move, and he was just being stupid.
In walks in another girl with her boyfriend. Her hair was long, brown, and wavy. I’d imagine that it’d feel beautiful to the touch. I watched her from the back as she sat somewhere in the middle.
I checked her out. She looked beautiful. Her legs were so exposed. My eyes looked her up and down as I held my head in my hands, tired from our game yesterday. She turned around to talk to a friend. I didn’t think she was going to notice me, so I kept staring.
Her eyes met mine.
This had happened before, but I’d never actually keep staring. I don’t know, but her gaze would always make me blush for some odd reason, so I’d look away. But that day I kept my focus on her.
Her.
Oh, god, her. She was so nice. So beautiful. And she goes ahead and dates that sonuvabitch. She’s probably straight as a track-runner’s arm, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look from afar.
I looked away, finally. We’ve exchanged little words here and there but never a full-on conversation. I’d always wish we would just happen to get paired on a project for something like on those chick-flick high school movies. Never happened.
The day ended like any other. Prom was coming up, and guys were doing their usual thing. Asking girls out. Nobody would ask me out. No guy likes a girl bigger than him. Makes him feel insecure.
Today, though, by the front gates I saw the girl with her boyfriend. Her name was Bella. I didn’t know the name of her boyfriend. All I knew is that he played basketball too. I had come to a conclusion that all basketball players were annoying, and nobody could change my mind.
When Bella met my eyes again, she said something to her boyfriend and came over to me. Me. I pretended like I didn’t see her and looked at the ground, my hands in my pockets. I didn’t want to stare at her and then have her walk to somebody directly behind me.
“Hey! Cassidy, right?”
My name was mentioned. I looked up. “Yeah,” I managed to say, “What’s up?”
“I don’t think I have your number yet. You mind if I have it?”
Was she joking? Was this a prank? I didn’t take her as the type to do such a thing. But here she was, asking me, Cassidy Turner, for her number. What, was she on a quest to get everyone’s number? Just me in particular?
Does she have a thing for me? No, what are you thinking? She’s straight as the leg of a table.
“Oh yeah, sure, it’s,” and suddenly, I heard myself repeating my phone number to her as she typed it in her phone. My hands were glued to my backpack straps. I was glad I didn’t stutter.
“Thanks!” she smiled, “You just seemed pretty cool—a cool person to talk with.” Bella looked back at her boyfriend, and he was waving her to go over to his car. I guessed they have somewhere to be.
“Sorry. I have to go. Talk to you later, though!” she said, with that cute smile of hers. She ran back to her boyfriend. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
The hell was that conversation?
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It was around 9PM, and I found myself in my bed, my legs spread and my finger continuously scrolling through social media. I wasn’t actually paying attention to whatever people had posted.
I was waiting for that text.
I was really hoping that she would text me. The thing is, I didn’t get her number so I couldn’t initiate the conversation. I was just waiting, waiting, waiting.
I was getting anxious. I needed to release the tension, but she wasn’t texting me. I sighed. My hands slowly moved down my stomach, almost reaching my underwear, when I heard a ding.
My hand shot up from whatever they were about to do when I realized I got a text from an unknown number:
Hey, it’s Bella. What’s up?
Oh nothing, I thought to myself, was about to touch myself but then you texted me.
I scoffed at the thought of texting her that. Not in a million years. I told her I was watching tv.
We talked and talked, almost for the rest of the night. We talked so much that by the end of it we could’ve been best buds. And the funny part was that my face would light up whenever she would text me back. I would literally smile.
This whole texting and chatting at school lasted for about two weeks. A long time, I know, but nothing happened. I mean, we did become friends but my urge to become more than that was stronger than ever. The more I texted her the more I liked her. The little things that she did, like continuously raking her hands through her hair or biting her lip when she was thinking would make me like her even more.
She was what I thought about. I knew she was straight, but the way she would look at me in class would make me think otherwise.
Women are so confusing.
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Prom was approaching fast. We were texting almost every night. I had no one to go with, but she was definitely going with her boyfriend.
I had to ask.
I know it was stupid what I did, but I would’ve exploded if I didn’t end up asking. Not asking would hurt me more than getting rejected at that point. I needed to fucking know.
I had a plan. I would catch her when she wasn’t with her boyfriend, which would be after school that day. I knew she wouldn’t be with her boyfriend then because there was a basketball game. Anyone who plays sports would know there is a basketball game. The biggest one of our season.
The more the day progressed the more anxious I got. We exchanged our daily looks to each other, and then the day ended.
Bella was the first to leave. I was in the back of the class.
I had to catch up with her.
I pushed my way through the crowded hallway and sped walked towards Bella. She was heading towards the gym for some reason. I hoped not to watch the game, because that would mean bad news for me. But why would she go so early? They’re just practicing.
“Bella!” I yelled through the chatter of eager students. They either wanted to go home or watch the game. I shoved my way through the hallway as people yelled at me to watch where I was going.
“Bella!” I yelled even louder this time. And this time, she stopped. Her eyes were frantic, searching the crowd for where that came from. I shoved my way through the last batch of kids when I finally caught up with her.
“Oh! Cassidy!” she said, turning her heads backwards as if I was wasting her time.
“I need to talk to you,” I said, firmly, “But not here.”
“Er. . . “ her head flipped from behind her to back at me. Finally, she made a decision. “Cassidy. . . I uh—I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to go,” she said. This wasn’t like her. Before she could escape my vision I grabbed her wrist.
“It’ll take just a second,” I pleaded, but I saw her eyes were getting watery. I needed to ask before I’d go home and never ask her again. I didn’t know why she needed to cry, though.
“Cassidy,” she stated, her voice shaky and hands grabbing onto my shoulders, “I need to go. He’ll get mad.”
I furrowed my brows. Who? Who’s he?
Finally, it set in what she was saying. Her boyfriend would get mad. If she was late. I let Bella escape through my grasp as I watched her run down the hall.
Now, I was really angry.
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I didn’t end up asking her that day. My blood was boiling. Not only that I couldn’t ask her, but her boyfriend was on my bad side too. I knew he was a sonvabitch from the beginning. He plays basketball, to top it all off.
I checked the time. It was 9:30PM. The game had to be over by then. I initiated the conversation by a simple ‘hello’.
It took her about 15 minutes to answer. But as always, my face lit up whenever she would answer me. I hated that.
‘Hey! Sorry about today. I didn’t mean to say what I said. I really wanted to hear what you had to say but I couldn’t. You know, Jackson and all. What did you need to tell me?’
‘It doesn’t sound good over text,’ I said.
‘Come on, just say it! I won’t judge.’
I forced myself to type it. I knew I would get rejected. But this girl made me do things I’d never think of doing.
‘Bella, do you want to go to prom with me?’
I hit send, wincing at my very own words. The gray typing bubble of hers seem to last forever. I watched the three dots fade in and out. Then it went away. Then it came back.
This is torture, I thought, Just tell me you’re going with your boyfriend already.
I saw words pop up after five minutes. Words.
‘As friends?’
I knew it was already over when she asked that. I just went ahead and said it. ‘No. Not as friends.’
There was that goddamn typing bubble. I hated that. I wish I could’ve just faced her in person. There’s no such thing as a typing bubble in real life. The thing is the bubble would leave then come back, as if she was deleting what she was going to say.
‘Yes! Yes, I would love to but. . . Jackson, he already asked.’
I would love to. She would love to. I punched the air out of victory. She would love to. Not even like to. Love to.
‘Do you want to go with Jackson?’ I asked.
‘No. But I don’t want him to get angry.’
‘I’m confused. What will he do?’
‘I don’t know. It’s always been threats.’
‘He’s not going to do anything to you. I’ll promise you that.’
I didn’t know what I was saying was true. But Bella, oh god Bella, I hoped to god Jackson wouldn’t lay a hand on her. I also hoped that I wasn’t being selfish. Is it selfish to want her to come with me to prom when she’s getting threats from her boyfriend?
We arranged to have Bella reject Jackson’s request then meet me up at the gym doors. I was excited to see what cute dress she would have on.
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My mom let me wear a suit to prom, because she doesn’t really care who I date or what I wear. She’s a laissez-faire kind of mom, while Bella described her mom as a helicopter. Her mom thinks she’s going with Jackson. I sort of wished sometimes that my mom was like that, to be completely honest. It makes me wonder if she actually cares about me. You can tell the helicopter-moms care. I don’t know if my mom cares.
I walk out of my old ford pickup and walk through the parking lot, my hands in my pockets. I scan the crowd. They’re in their usual outfits, the senior girls in huge dresses while juniors are in mini dresses. I didn’t care.
My girl, though, Bella, she was in a beautiful, maroon-colored dress that worked perfectly with her skin tone. Her ass really. . . really. . .showed. I tried not to look there. Her lips were pink, and she had minimal makeup. My dirty mind wondered what she was wearing under that dress. I smirked devilishly as I approached her and instinctively grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close.
“Jackson? Oh, Cassidy! Haha, hi,” Bella looked up at me in my suit and her eyelashes fluttered. I held back a smile.
Other students stared at the woman in a suit, while I whispered, “You look beautiful.”
She smiled and looked down. Her cheeks flushed which I found very cute. “Come on,” I continued, “Let’s get inside.”
I held those heavy gym doors open for her, and inside, even more students were crowded around. They were taking pictures with hilarious props, and the guys were patting each other on the back. Some were making their way to the gym floor, which is what we were going to do.
I held her wrist lightly as I led her through the crowd. She was looking for a special someone, and his name was Jackson. She had good reason to, too. Her eyes weren’t totally focused on me, and I hated that. I wanted her to look at me. I wanted her to stop worrying about Jackson.
The DJ had already been set up and was bopping his head up and down as guys and gals danced on the floor, their shoes squeaking and party music. There was always party music in the beginning, but as time went on more romantic music would play.
Instantly her mood lifted as we went on the floor. Her face lit up and she started dancing, moving her hands up and swinging her hips. I just did a simple sidestep as dancing wasn’t really my thing.
“Come on, Cassidy! Dance!” Bella exclaimed.
“It’s not. . .”
“What? I can’t hear you!”
“I can’t dance!” I repeated even louder. Nobody heard us, though, because the music was blaring.
“Yeah you can!” Bella replied. She took my hands and started swinging it, singing along to the music. It made me happy to see how happy she was, so automatically I got a little looser, dancing a little harder to the music.
All of a sudden, she turned around--that little devil--and started dancing in front of me. Our bodies were touching. That evoked some looks and whistles from some teenage boys. Nobody could see us fully because we were drowned in the crowd. It was nice. My only focus was her, and her only focus was me. Dancing along to the music, the rest of the world was blurred.
From all that yelling, my throat was beginning to get dry, “You mind if I get some drinks for us?” I asked loudly, putting my hands on her shoulders.
“Yeah, go ahead!”
I walked through the crowds and approached the long table of drinks and food. Store-bought cupcakes and cookies made my mouth water, but I said I was going to get drinks, so I ignored that side of the table and went over to the cooler. Before I stuck my hand in the ice, another hand went in obnoxiously before me.
I looked up. Jackson. He wasn’t wearing a suit but just a button up and a tie. While he opened the bottle of Pepsi, he gave me a nasty look. Before I reached in again, I heard a familiar word spoken, but the music was so loud I couldn’t hear him properly.
“Faggot.”
My heart pumped harder as I was fuming. That sonuvabitch. And he drinks Pepsi. I reached in and grabbed 2 coke bottles. I shook the water off of it then walked back to Bella. We sat and drank the coke for a minute, but she said she had to pee, so I just sat down and watched everyone.
It was funny to see the atmosphere. There was always the awkward guys and gals off to the side of the whole ordeal, and then the more extroverted in the middle, pulling off crazy dance moves. Some guy would do a backflip. I think at one point a guy was in the air. The DJ played ‘YMCA’ which made everyone join in.
I felt like I was watching everyone for too long. I checked my watch. I get that girly girls liked checking themselves in the mirror, but it had to be at least 10 minutes since Bella left. Was I a bit worried? Yes. Was I going to check on her? Yes.
I got up and scanned the crowd for Bella. No Bella. Suddenly, my mind feared the worst. I couldn’t find Jackson.
Oh, Jackson.
My blood was boiling at this point. If steam could come out of my ears it would. I stormed out of the gym, pushing through the tipsy students and students who didn’t even go to our school. I was back in the lobby, but I turned left and went down a separate, quiet hallway to go to the bathroom. Nobody was going to be in there.
“Stop!” I heard, muffled from the girl’s bathroom door. I plowed my way through the door.
Jackson had Bella pushed up on the sink and was trying to force Bella’s shirt off. She was trying to push him off of her, but to no avail.
“Cass!” she called. Jackson turned around but I didn’t think he even saw me before he hid his big head on the stall.
Bong.
“Aw, shit!” Jackson held the back of his head. I knew exactly what was happening. There was no need to explain.
Bong.
I punched his big head back to the stall again, hitting his head in the same place. I grimaced as Jackson tried to keep his body up using the counter.
“Cass!” Bella said again.
“We need to get out of here,” I explained. Bella hopped down from the counter as we ran out of the bathroom. We also ran out of the school. We ran out into the parking lot, feeling the cool air wash over us like a shock from the overcrowded gym.
Before Bella could say anything, I swiftly wrapped my arms around her torso to pull her in. Her head reached my shoulders. She was fairly small compared to me.
She was panting from the run, but I was used to running miles. I rubbed my hand down her back.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you sooner,” I said, softly.
Bella just stayed silent, her head buried into my neck. We swayed silently. I knew the feeling. Millions of women and men worldwide knew the feeling.
“It’s okay, I got you,” I whispered again, still holding her close.
“Cassidy,” she managed to say. She pulled away from my hug and looked up at me. “Thank you, Cass. But. . .I don’t know what to do now.”
“You don’t have to think of anything. I know exactly what to do.” I reached my hand in my pocket as Bella looked at me with a confused face. She raked her hands through her hair.
Beep.
My truck doors unlocked as I opened the other side. “Come on.”
I’d understand if she’d be a bit wary going into another person’s car then, but she quickly hopped right in.
It was awkward in the car. I swiped my dashboard and flung all my stuff from the cupholders into the small back area.
“Sorry, I uh, didn’t except this would happen today,” I stammered. I flung an old magazine before Bella could even look at it. Bella didn’t answer me. She just looked out the window. And that was completely okay. She didn’t need to say anything the entire trip. Her presence in my car made up for it.
We made it to my house, which was empty cause my parents were out of town. She didn’t say anything until we made it to our kitchen, which was actually our living room since they’re mashed together.
Bella sat on the couch, her arms folded. I couldn’t tell if she was scared, mad, or sad. Maybe a little bit of all of them.
I poured sparking water in a glass and set it down in front of her. I played an old romantic playlist. ‘Fly Me to The Moon’ was the first one. I dimmed the lights.
Bella looked up from her lap upon hearing the song. “Care for another dance?” I asked, reaching my arm as an invitation.
Her pink lips formed a soft smile. “I don’t mind.”
She sat up and I rested my hands on her hips. I didn’t know how to dance professionally, but I did know how to slow-dance. Bella’s eyes were the color of deep chocolate, while mine were just a regular light blue. Hers were mysterious. While I studied her face, she seemed a bit embarrassed. She looked down.
“No, baby, look at me,” I commanded, tilting her chin upwards. It seems me calling her baby just made her cheeks flush even more. I was about to die from cuteness.
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The night ended with us just lying on the couch, our bodies close. I didn’t want to make any more advancements. I didn’t want to scare her on accident, so we just cuddled on the couch accompanied by slow dance music.
“Bella,” I asked, “Is everything alright? Like, are you okay after that incident? What did he do to you?” I was still concerned. I looked down at my knuckles and they were beginning to become purple.
“Don’t worry, he didn’t touch me. But. . . I know if you hadn’t gotten there in time maybe he would,” Bella explained, still looking like she needed to say something.
“I’m still so sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” I said, “I just-” I got cut off by Bella.
“And besides, I wouldn’t let him touch me anyway,” Bella said, looking up at me, with a smile only I was allowed to have, “my body is yours, Cassidy.”
Suddenly I felt hot from that remark. I stayed frozen as Bella climbed on top of me, flustered as hell. I wasn’t supposed to get flustered. But I just let Bella climb on top of me and take control.
Her lips were on mine, her hands grabbing my face as we kissed passionately. Something I wanted to do for a long time. I restrained myself from getting on top of her and doing things my way.
We broke apart to breathe, but this time when we kissed our tongues intertwined and she did a small whimper, almost breaking my self-discipline in that moment. I didn’t let myself loose, and I let her know.
“Next time, you’re not going to get away with doing that,” I grumbled.
“I know,” she snickered.
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