I couldn’t do it. I was supposed to go out with Quincy, but I got scared and cancelled at the last minute. Instead I spent the night with Drew at Xerxes’ house, cuddling up next to him on the couch. I made out with him and we watched movies. Part of me hoped Quincy would get the hint and go away, but that never happened. The more I avoided him, the harder he pushed and the more animosity built up between him and Drew.
I keep waiting for things between Drew and I to go back to normal, but it hasn’t and I’m worried. Halloween is only a few days away and we have yet to talk about what we plan to wear. Hoping to kick-start things in the right direction, I convinced Drew and Scott to go to the mall with Patrice and I. Don’t even ask me how an outing between the four of us somehow turned into an outing with the entire boys varsity basketball team. Apparently, they were all running on C.P. time when it came to buying a costume.
“I was thinking King and Queen of the Nile,” Patrice suggests to Scott.
“Whatever you want babe,” he shrugs.
“Have you given any thought to your costume?” I ask Drew.
“Yeah, he’s going as count Blacula,” Xerxes jokes.
“Not bad. I’m sure I can find something to make a vampire costume out of.”
“Sid, I’m taking Courtney to the dance,” Drew tells me.
“Yeah right,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
“I’m serious.”
I meet his gaze and quickly realize he’s serious. He couldn’t be. I’m his girlfriend…his number one. There’s no way he’s taking Courtney to that dance.
“You’re kidding me right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He didn’t. I look around at his friends, Patrice who seems to be just as in shock as I am, and then back at him, “What do you mean you’re going to the dance with Courtney? No, YOU’RE NOT.”
“Look, me telling you is a courtesy. I’m not asking for your permission.”
“We’re supposed to go together Drew.”
“Since when?”
“Since that day in your hammock.”
“I never said we were going together, you just assumed.”
Crap. He’s right. Still, I’m supposed to be his number one. That was the deal. “I’m your number one, right?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to go out with just you Sid.”
I was wondering when he’d get around to punishing me for agreeing to go out with Quincy, and this is it. This is my punishment. He’s purposely plunging a knife in my heart just to watch me bleed out, and his friends all think its funny. I’m a joke to them.
The worst part about it is this is what I signed up for. I can’t say anything. He’s free to do what he wants, with whomever he wants whether it hurts me or not. And I have no choice but to take it.
I hate him…I hate him…I hate him…
“Fine.” I glare at him.
Drew and his friends move throughout the store, going through all of the various costumes. Patrice and I make eye contact and she drags me into one of the dressing rooms under the guise of trying something on. Tears swell in my eyes.
“Don’t let him see you cry,” Patrice wipes away my tears.
“He did that on purpose.”
“I know,” she pulls me into her arms.
We wait until I’m composed and then we leave the dressing room. Quincy is waiting for me when we come out, “I’ll go with you to the dance.” He offers.
“It will only make things worse,” Patrice replies.
“Yeah, thanks but no thanks.”
Drew intends to make me suffer, so if that’s what he wants I’d let him have his moment. I’d suffer for our love. I want him to know it’s him that I want and no one else. Maybe then things will go back to normal between us. I hope.
It was an assassin’s costume that caught my eye inside the costume store. It’s fitting since all I can think about is murdering Drew right now. I try it on and Patrice gives me a wicked smile otherwise known as her stamp of approval. We buy the outfit and catch up to the boys who have somehow escaped to the Nike store where Drew is eyeballing a new pair of Jordan’s.
“Which one do you like?” He asks me.
“The red ones.”
“That’s right,” he smiles, “red is your favorite color, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Drew is a total sour patch kid right now. First he’s a complete jerk, and now he’s sweet. And he’s good at these head games he likes to play with me.
“I’ll get this pair. One for me and one for her,” he tells the sales associate.
“What?” I gasp, “Drew, those shoes are almost four hundred dollars.”
“I know how much they are.”
“At least let me pay for half.”
“No.”
His total came up to almost eight hundred dollars and Drew tossed several hundred dollars bills on the counter. Was this his way of apologizing? If so, saying the words would simply suffice. Still, I say nothing but ‘thank you’ as he hands me the bag containing my shoes.
Drew slid his hand into mine as we went into several different shops before eventually settling into a table at the food court. Patrice and I swoon over my shoes while the fellas talk basketball until a group of guys came walking up.
“Andrew Taylor,” the guy in front addresses Drew.
“Deon Maverick,” Drew stands to greet him.
The two of them look anything but friendly, exchanging murderous eye contact with one another. After a second glance I understood why. Deon and his group of friends are all wearing Franklin High letterman jackets. Franklin and Consumnes are bitter rivals.
Deon’s eyes shift over to Patrice and I, and he smiles, “Sidney Stansfield, right?”
“Don’t talk to her, talk to me,” Drew steps in his face.
“If I were you, I’d keep her far away from me.”
“As if you’d have a chance,” I scoff.
“Feisty…I like that,” Deon laughs, licking his lips, “Where did you find her?”
Drew’s hands clench up into fists and before I can get to him he lays Deon out. All out panic ensues as both teams come to blows. Drew is tackled to the ground and people run screaming from the food court. We have to get out of here before security catches us or we can all kiss our sports careers goodbye. I quickly weave through the clusters of boys to get to Drew who fights off two guys from Franklin High just so he can keep pounding Deon’s face in.
“Drew, we have to go!” I shout, snapping him out of his rage, “security is coming!”
Drew whistles to his team who has dropped the remaining guys from Franklin. We all grab our stuff and take off for the nearest exit. “Crap! I forgot my bag!” Patrice shouts.
“Just go!” I shout.
I run back over to the table we were sitting at and her grab her bag. Before I can leave someone grabs hold of me and slams me into a rail. It’s Deon.
“Tell that punkass boyfriend of yours I’m coming for him!”
Three blows to my stomach and a blow to my face later…and I feel like I can’t breathe as I drop to my knees. I began gasping for air and coughing all at the same time. Deon lifts me up by grabbing a handful of my hair and smiles.
“You’re lucky we’re in Public or I’d slip a little something between your legs and show you what a real man feels like,” He whispers to me.
“Thanks for idea,” I smirk, then knee Deon so hard in the groin that he drops to the ground in front of me, letting go of me, “didn’t your mother ever teach you not to hit girls? This is for my face.”
I kick him as hard as I can in the face and he goes down a second time. I grab Patrice’s bag and quickly run past the tons of people with their phones out. Are they really recording this? Head down Sidney, head down!
I make my way out to the parking lot and Drew is going off on Patrice for letting me go back in there without saying anything to him.
“It’s not like she gave me much of a choice Drew, you know Sid!”
“I’m fine, let’s go,” I toss Patrice her bag.
“You don’t look fine,” Drew’s mouth drops open.
He’s right. I’m not. I was punched in the stomach, my face and I was slammed pretty hard backwards into a rail, which I’m pretty sure is going to leave a mark.
“Did they hit you?” Drew’s eyes burned with rage.
“I’m fine, let’s go.”
He hesitated, weighing finishing what was left of Deon and his crew and getting out of there. Police sirens in the distance caught his attention, snapping him out of it, and we all get out of there as fast as we can. We meet back at Drew’s house and he refuses to let me go home. He’s afraid my parents would take one look at me and want to kill us both.
“What happened?”
“Does it matter?” I shrug, “Drew I’m fine.”
“Your lip is busted and your face is bruised. You are NOT fine.”
Gripping my waist in his hands, he hoists me up in the air and I wince from the pain in my stomach. Noticing the pained look on my face, he sits me down on his bathroom counter and lifts my shirt up to examine my wounds. My stomach is bruised where Deon hit me and its painful to the touch.
Using peroxide and some cotton balls, he tends to my face first. “You going to the dance with Courtney…its punishment for Quincy, isn’t it?” I ask.
“I’m just guarding my heart.”
“From me?”
“Yes. You make me do stupid things. Really, really stupid things,” he smiles, “like pick a fight in a mall full of security cameras because I don’t like the way some guy is looking at you.”
God, why does he have to be so friggin gentle and sweet right now? I want to be mad at him for thinking I would ever do anything to hurt him. I would never intentionally hurt Drew. I just want to get past the walls he’s put up with me. The walls I’m sure he’s put up to protect his heart.
Grasping his face between my hands, I pull him into a kiss. We kiss until my lips start to hurt and I pull away. Holding his eye contact I graze his lips with my thumb, “Let me love you Drew,” I plead with him, resting my head against his, “no walls, no fear and no drama. Let me love you.”
His lips form into one of the sexiest smiles I’ve ever seen, but it’s his eyes I focus on. In them I can see his reply before he even speaks it. He wants to, but he fears being hurt more than he fears losing me, even though they’ll both have the same result.
“I can’t,” he sighs, “I’m sorry.”
There was more I wanted to say to him, but none of it would’ve mattered. He was going to the dance with Courtney, which left me dateless, and miserable. He was reducing me to a bystander, which is what I call sidechicks.
Silence fills the spaces around us. We exchange glances, but neither of us spoke while he fixes me up. It wasn’t until Patrice knocks on the door to find out if I’m okay that we both snap back to reality.
“Patrice I’m fine,” I shout through the door.
Satisfied, she leaves to find Scott. Drew leans in to kiss me, but I turn away. Kissing him is no longer appealing to me now that I know he’s ditching me to go to the dance with someone else.
“Okay, what was that?” He asks.
“I should go.”
“You just got here.”
“I know, but I…Drew I need to go.”
He backs away and now I’m disappointed. I know I said I wanted to go, but I’m hurt he isn’t fighting to keep me here. Why isn’t he fighting for me anymore? Has he already given up on us?
Against Drew’s protests, I went home. My mom took one look at me and followed me upstairs to my room, “Sidney, what happened to you?” Her concerned voice provokes the tears I’m trying to hold back.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did someone hit you?”
Oh no…I can’t stop the stream of tears working their way to the surface. She closes and locks my bedroom door, and sits down next to me on my bed, “Sweetheart what’s wrong? Did Drew hit you?”
At this point I realize I have to explain things to my mom. The last thing I want is for my parents to start jumping to conclusions. I lay my head down on my pillow and she scoots over closer to me. She begins rubbing my back and telling me everything is going to be okay.
“Some guys from Franklin started a fight with Drew and his friends. Everything was fine until Patrice forgot her bag and I went back to get it. Some guy named Deon punched me in the stomach and hit me in the face, but I fought him off and I got away,” I explained the bruises on my face. She lifts up my shirt and winces when she sees the bruises on my stomach, “I’ll be fine mom and I don’t want you or dad to call the police.”
“Sid-”
“Mom I said no. You want me to confide in you so I am. Don’t make me regret it. Don’t call the police.”
“Okay,” she nods, “well that explains the bruises, but it doesn’t explain why you seem so sad.”
“I just don’t understand guys,” I sulk.
“Ah, so this is about Drew.”
“If I confide in you mom, you can’t tell dad and you have to promise not to get all preachy on me.”
“I promise,” she does her best Girl Scout salute.
Sitting up to face her, I dive into all of my issues with Drew. I need someone to talk to and who better to talk to than my mom. She’s married so she’ll understand.
“Drew and I have an open relationship. I figure it’s a good thing so I won’t just get hung up on one guy, but I am. I’m hung up on Drew. Mom, I think I love him. Anyway, I want it to be exclusive between him and I, because my feelings are stronger, but he doesn’t want that. He still wants to see other people and I don’t…and it hurts. I feel like he’s doing it on purpose to hurt me because of this guy Quincy. Add that to the fact that he’s taking someone I hate to the Halloween dance instead of me, and I’m really really confused.”
“I see,” she smiles, “Well…you can’t control what Drew does and by your own admission the two of you have an open relationship. Perhaps you should change your mindset about your relationship. You seem to want more but the fact of the matter is you agreed to less. Set your expectations to less, date other guys and table your feelings for Drew for now.”
“How?” I huff, “It was easier when I barely had feelings for him, but now…now the thought of him talking to some other girl or going out with someone who isn’t me just…HURTS.”
“And I’m not saying that will ever go away, but sweetie, Drew has made his choice. Sometimes if you love something enough you have to let it go. I know this all sounds like cliché advice, and truthfully, you’re probably not going to understand what I mean or listen to a word I say. But…it will make sense to you when it’s supposed to and then you’ll know what to do.”
Huh? I think I’m even more confused now than I was before. Mom kisses me on the forehead, tells me she loves me and gives me some space to figure things out.
Drew calls my phone mere moments after she leaves. Staring at his name on my caller ID, my first instinct is to answer it. I want to hear his voice more than anything in the world, but that ‘want’ is also what keeps me from answering his call. I hate not having control over my feelings for him. I hate that everything he does matters to me as much as it does. I also hate that I’m painfully aware of everything that has anything to do with him. In translation…I need to detox from all things Drew.
He calls a few more times and sends me several texts, all begging me to talk to him. Drew reaching out to me only further confuses me, but he doesn’t want me. That’s how I feel. Even now, staring at the four hundred dollar pair of shoes he bought me, all I can think to myself is…he wants me, but he doesn’t want me. Boys are so CONFUSING!
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