Shea

I haven't seen Brenna at school yet. She's missed our first class.

And let me tell you, it's fucking strange to sit with Tucker and the rest of her friends without her there. KJ is my saving grace. He's a goddamned social butterfly. While I sit there, poking at my taco salad, KJ talks with the power of a hurricane. He jumps into each topic, starts new conversations, and distracts everyone from my brooding attitude.

Well... almost everyone.

Ella knows something's off. Her expression turns calculating whenever she makes eye contact with me.

It's annoying.

A rude comment sits on my tongue. One that would drag Ella and KJ into an argument. I don't understand how they can sit at the same table after breaking up. They still act like friends. It's weird. Sometimes I wonder if they're hooking up, despite being broken up.

My thought pattern is broken by KJ. He snaps his fingers in front of my face.

"Earth to Smith," he says.

"Hello," I say. The glare I shoot at him is dirty. I've got better things to worry about than whatever conversation they're having. Like where the hell is Brenna?

My best friend's grin is lopsided. "Welcome back. We've missed you. Cutting to the chase. Are you ready to tattle on Connor this Saturday?"

"This Saturday?"

KJ exchanges a worried glance with Tucker, Charette, and Wright.

"Yeah," Tucker says. "After our game. Our teams play against each other. We were thinking post-game is the best time to tell your coach. About Connor. That way—"

Tucker stops mid-sentence and cocks his head to the side. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

My frown deepens. "Nothing."

"Dude. Tucker's right. You're acting strange."

I glare at KJ. Way to back me up, loser.

"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm fine. Just a little tired from work. I had to close the coffee shop. Didn't get out until late."

Across from me, Ella chuckles. Thankfully, she keeps her head down and continues to poke at her veggie burger.

"Sure," Tucker drawls. "Whatever, though. Are you in?"

I run a hand through my hair. There's no other option. After meeting Randy, Brenna needs some stress eased from her. Besides, I have to fix the mess I created. I owe Brenna that much.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I'm good with that. As long as you guys are my alibis."

All of them nod.

Some tension eases from my chest. Maybe tattling on Connor won't be so hard.

No, stop.

Wrong phrase to use. I'm not tattling. What I tell Coach on Saturday isn't because I'm bitter or jealous. My actions result from concern. Connor's scheming against me, his teammates, and an opposing player. This isn't how hockey players win. That's not sportsmanship. 

In addition, he's also disrespecting Brenna. If I'm to set a good example for my sister and forgo the patriarchy in my head, I need to take the proper steps.

Even if my mind is begging me not to.

Telling Coach will harm my reputation, but I can't allow it to bother me.

I refuse to.

"Then it's settled," KJ says. He reaches over and grabs a fry from Ella's plate. She shoves the small container of ketchup his way. "We're taking that bastard down."

Grunts of agreement echo around the table.

While conversation switches topics and trickles around the table, I glance at Ella. 

Ella raises a blonde eyebrow. It's easy to translate. What's going on?

I shake my head, shovelling a bite of taco salad into my mouth. There's nothing to say. Ella's up to date on everything.

Okay, that's a lie.

These... caring feelings I have for Brenna are new. I'm... worried about her. And maybe I was serious when I asked her to the Winter Formal. Tucker wants to attend with someone else. I want to go with Harrison. Sue me. 

Setting my fork down, I lean away from the table, cracking my back over the edge of the chair. Until last night, I never realized how serious Brenna's addiction to exercise is. Tucker told me she was there for four hours. She took part in three classes. After classes, she ran on the treadmill. I'm an athlete and even I know when too much is too much.

Next time I talk to her, I'm bringing this topic up. Even if she tries to punch me. Or if she tells me to fuck off. Too much exercise can do damage to your body. It's not healthy. Health is all about staying on the equilibrium. Not overdoing it. That counts for every category, too. Not just exercising. 

Now, if only I could figure out where the fuck Brenna Harrison is.

A sigh escapes from my lips. She left my messages on read. She didn't return my calls. It was kind of... offensive. Almost rude. Which is a first for me. Before all this shit, I couldn't have cared less about her. A mistake on my part. I was rude and inconsiderate. That coffee Brenna threw at me? Yeah, I deserved that.

I'll admit I care about her.

Just as I'm about to return to eating, a purple hoodie catches my eye.

Brenna has one of those. That exact colour, too. 

Glancing over Ella's shoulder, I see Brenna. The hood of her purple hoodie is pulled up, shadowing her face. Her shoulders are hunched and her backpack hangs on her frame. She looks mussed.

At least, I think it's Brenna.

I will not sit here and continue guessing, though.

I jump to my feet, earning strange stares from the group.

Embarrassment creeps into my cheeks. They're waiting for an explanation. I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. "Just remembered the upcoming test. I need to go to the... library to do some, uh, last-minute studying."

KJ doesn't believe me. Nor does Ella.

The rest of them do, though, which is all I need.

"Good luck, man," Tucker says.

"Yeah. Good luck with your studying." KJ cocks an eyebrow at the end of his sentence.

In response, I shake my head at him. I'll explain everything later. Right now, I need to catch the girl in the purple hoodie. If it's Brenna, I want to know why she ignored my texts. How she's doing. If she's talked to her dad. How she's dealing with her mom's understandable lies. 

Backpack slung over my shoulder, I leave the table and head up the small set of stairs. My eyes are fixed on the purple hoodie. She's heading somewhere. I can see the determination in her stride.

During lunch break, the hallways are busy. I have to wind my way through groups of ninth graders. Ones who have the audacity to shoot me dirty glares as I shove past. Fucking ninth graders. Think they own the place. Do they not realize moving results in no shoving?

At the end of the hallway, where it splits off into two separate wings, I don't see the purple hoodie. It puts a damper on my mood. Fuck. I need to talk to Brenna. My gaze sweeps across the area, searching for a splash of purple. My eyes land on the entrance to the stairs. They lead to the basement classrooms. The ones that feel like freezing dungeons during the winter.

There, I catch a flash of purple. 

I jog after her. People stare at me as if I'm a madman. I ignore them. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Brenna refuses to return my texts or calls. She didn't play for bronze at the tournament. Tucker told me she's been skipping practice. Ella thinks she's considering skipping the game on Saturday. If she does that, she's giving Connor power. That fuck doesn't need more power.

Connor's games aside, she has a group of friends that's concerned about her. Someone has to talk to her. Which is what I plan on doing.

I catch her at the bottom of the stairs. She hasn't noticed my presence, which gives me an advantage.

God, I hope this is Brenna.

Without thinking twice, I grab the hood and pull it down.

Brenna spins around, her gaze fiery. Her mouth opens. Closes. Then she says, "What the hell, Shea?"

I paste on a cheery smile. Relief also courses through me. I'd have some serious explaining to do had the purple hoodie not been hiding Brenna's face. "Good to see you, too, Harrison. Missed you in class this morning."

"Really?" Her tone is flat.

My fake smile morphs into a crooked grin. "Yeah. There was no one to annoy."

She presses her lips into a flat line. I know what's coming. She'll tell me to fuck off. When Brenna doesn't want to talk, she doesn't want to talk.

Too bad for her. We need to talk.

Hooking my hand around Brenna's arm, I pull her into the stairwell. No one ever comes down here during the winter. It's too fucking cold. 

Brenna smacks at my hand. "Let go of me. Leave me alone."

Ignoring her, I guide us beneath the bottom stairs, next to the emergency exit. This is about as private as shit can get at MBSSS. Unless you're taking a shit in the bathroom. Still, those are questionable. People never use the one by the art room... unless you're hooking up. Plus, hall monitors will check the bathrooms when classes are in session to make sure kids aren't skipping class. It's fucked up.

I make sure Brenna is stuck in the corner before I release her arm. Being controlling isn't something I'm fond of. I don't like it when people try to control me. You treat people how you want to be treated. With everything that's happened, I'm realizing that's true. It's not a cliché saying when it holds value.

This is an exception, though. I'm not giving her options. If I do, she'll shut me down and run away. Here, she can't get past me.

"We need to talk," I say, tossing my backpack to the floor. It lands on the damp cement with a thump. "You didn't reply to my texts. Or call me back. What gives?"

"You already know," she snarls.

Christ. I knew she had a temper. Aside from the time I punched her (by accident), I've never been a victim to it. She's a goddamned viper. 

"Maybe I want to hear it from your mouth," I shrug. Feeling bold, I glance at my Apple Watch. "Look, Bren. I've got all the time in the world. Skipping out on class? Doesn't bother me. I'll play catch-up over the weekend. We're staying here until you talk. We're worried about you."

Her face falters, and I see a piece of the Brenna I know. Willing to be strong but vulnerable at the same time. She can be strong and power through meeting her dad but also accept help from others.

However, that icy gaze returns. She's emotionless. My concern spikes. Nothing good will come out of this if she doesn't talk. KJ and Jayden are why I'm still sane after all this shit with my parents. Talking helped me gain support to put this bet to an end. I hope she can see that.

Brenna shoves me. "Piss off, Shea. I don't want to talk."

My lips twist into a frown. A crease forms between my brows. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Just because your dad showed up doesn't mean you can be pissy about it."

Even before the words have left my mouth, I know they're wrong. I was pissy and drunk when I agreed to the bet. Look where that got us.

"Hypocrite," she spits.

"Noted," I drawl.

She glares at me.

I glare back.

The tension is killing me. It's as if we're about to partake in a jousting competition. We're poised, ready to charge. Brenna looks like she could stab me. Just like a single spark could ignite the air between us. Her blue-violet gaze is deadly. My stance is prepared. If she tries to shove me again, I'll pin her to the wall.

I cock an eyebrow, challenging her. "Anything else you want to say?"

"Fuck off," she repeats.

My mouth curves into a grin. "You said that already."

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. She tries to shove past me again. I grip her shoulders and step forward. My feet continue to move until she's trapped between me and the wall. Although Brenna's tall, I still have a couple of inches on her.

Still grinning, I cock an eyebrow. "When I say we need to talk, we need to talk. Talk to me, Harrison. You're going through a rough patch. We—your friends want to help you."

Brenna's swallow is audible. Her gaze flicks to my lips. "I don't need help."

"On the contrary," I continue. My heart is racing. Being close to her is messing with my head. "Tucker said you were bawling. You didn't play hockey. You skipped practice. Also, being at the gym for four hours isn't good. The human body can only handle so much exercise. In conclusion, something is wrong. Keeping it bottled up won't help, Bren."

She snorts. "What? We're friends now. You hate me, Smith. Remember? As soon as Connor's put in his place, things will go back to normal."

"I don't want them to go back to normal," I blurt.

Her eyes widen. "What?"

I dip my head down. There I go again. With my big mouth. But what I've said, I can't take back. The truth snuck out. I might as well continue with it. "Liking you is easier than hating you. After all this is over, I want us to be friends again. Go ahead, laugh at me. Call me a fool. You're not too bad, Harrison. And... and I hope you feel the same way."

When I work up the courage to look at her, she's staring at me. Her expression is vulnerable again. I can see the pain in her eyes. Maybe some relief, too. Yet the tension is still volatile. I think she's torn between speaking and not wanting to bother others with her problems.

Again, it fades. I feel offended. Even though I shouldn't. I've fucked everything up year after year. My behaviour is inexcusable. I was rude and disrespectful. She has no reason to trust me with her words.

"This isn't your problem, Smith. Don't bother. I'm not talking."

I love the way she says my last name when she's pissed. Smith. 

"What would you do if I kissed you again?" I ask. My voice comes out rougher than I intended. Again, words have slipped from my mouth. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Do it, and you'll find out," she snaps.

A grin encompasses my face. "That wasn't consent."

Her fake smile is wicked, dripping with venom. "Looks like someone's learning." She reaches up, brushing her thumb against my chin. "Do it, Smith. I dare you."

Our heated gazes are locked. The tension volatile. We're a combustion waiting to happen.

Which is why I'm not surprised when Brenna's mouth connects with mine. Who made the first move, I'm not sure. Do I care?

Yes and no.

Breaking the kiss, I jerk back and stare at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Shut up," she replies.

She doesn't have to tell me twice.

Our mouths connect again. The kiss is frantic and intense. My body pushes against hers, pinning her to the wall. She tangles her fingers in my hair, tugging and scratching my scalp. My hand cups her cheek. The other rests on the back of her neck.

Her lips moving against mine is blissful. They taste of something sweet. It's artificial, but I can't get enough of it. She smells good, too. Like lavender and mint. My head is dizzy. Although I'm positive my logic is screaming at me, I can't hear it. Instead of staying in this dingy stairwell talking all day, I think we should continue doing this. Anyone who sees us, well, I'll tell them to fuck off.

Brenna's enjoying it, too. Little gasps of breath escape her mouth as we kiss. She also can't stop running her fingers through my hair. Good thing I didn't wear a hat today.

This kiss... It's perfect.

But the moment that thought crosses my mind, it's ruined.

Her knee comes up, connecting with my balls. The impact isn't devastating. It's enough to make me flinch, though. Stepping back, I groan, my hand finding the pain and clutching it through my jeans. At least she went easy on me.

The shock is enough, though.

I glare at Brenna. "The fuck was that for? I asked!"

She licks her lips as she adjusts her backpack. "Excellent kisser, Smith. But seduction won't work. Hope you like the mango chapstick."

When Brenna turns her back to me, I lick my lips. Artificial mango flavour explodes across my tongue. Goddamn her.

"I'll see you around," she calls over her shoulder.

Brenna disappears around the corner, pulling the hood of her hoodie up. Something tells me I won't see her in class after lunch. I think she's gathering her homework and then heading home.

Even as I stare at the space ahead, I can't prevent myself from smiling. Harrison deserves a point there. She played me good. I'm not offended by it. Those emotions weren't fake. No way in hell. Neither one of us was playing the seduction card. 

I bump my fist against the cement wall, chuckling again. Goddamn Harrison. She's a sneaky one. Next time, she won't get away so easily. That won't be a problem.

However, there is one problem.

I run my hand through my hair, sighing.

It's right now, in this dingy stairwell, I realize these feelings for Brenna Harrison are a helluva lot more than I thought.