1.) Keep your head down.
2.) Don’t make eye contact.
3.) And whatever you do, don’t let them see you cry.
These are my Rules of Survival for John Adams High School. Some days they work, but others—like today—they’re about as effective as me grabbing a pencil and shouting Expecto Patronum in this crowded hallway.
Jamie’s eyes narrow on me, and I shrink back from her hateful glare. I’ll never understand why my very existence seems to piss her off, but right now, I’ve got a pretty good idea why it looks like she’s trying to use the Force to strangle me.
It’s because I just bumped into her.
Her. Jamie Beckett. My #1 tormenter and Satan’s #1 minion.
I’d ask what the chances are, but considering it was her boyfriend I was staring at, I’d say the chances were pretty fucking good that she’d be close by.
New amendment to the Rules of Survival: don’t get distracted by Nick Coughlin’s hotness.
Clutching my books to my chest, I instinctively glance away from her. Unfortunately, my eyes land in Nick’s general direction.
Shit.
Jamie laughs derisively. “Did you seriously just run into me because you were too busy checking out my boyfriend? Oh my god.” She laughs again, attracting attention from everyone around us.
Great. An audience. Just what I need.
Her pink, glossy lips curve into a sneer. “You know you don’t stand a chance, right? Your zits are bigger than your tits. No guy is ever going to want you.”
Humiliation burns through me, making my face flame. It’s not like any of that is news to me or the dozens of people within earshot. Hell, anyone who’s seen me knows that I’m ugly. I just hate that she’s doing this in front of Nick.
I can’t swallow past the hard lump in my throat, and my eyes sting something fierce. Just when I think the worst is going to happen, that I’m going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry, Nick steps forward.
“Knock it off, Jamie. It’s not like you’re sportin’ D cups over there.”
Her lips thin as snickers erupt around us. I’d probably laugh too if my jaw wasn’t on the floor.
Did he just defend me?
I glance around, seeing that I’m not the only one surprised. Everyone who’s not smirking at his burn has a look of WTF on their faces, and for good reason.
Jamie terrorizes a lot of people—even teachers—and Nick’s never stood up for any of them. Not once. Why the hell would he start with me?
When my eyes land back on Jamie, I suddenly wish he hadn’t said anything.
She’s not used to being humiliated and she doesn’t give a shit that her boyfriend’s the one who did it. The worst she’ll do to Nick is keep her legs closed for a few days, tops. As Queen B, she’d never break up with the hottest guy in school.
But me? I’m just the nerd she got called out for bullying, and I’m the one who’ll bear the brunt of her revenge.
The glare she’s giving me promises pain and suffering for this affront, and I have no doubt she’ll exact her pound of flesh. The thought of her actively putting more effort into making my life a living hell makes me cringe.
“I didn’t hear you complaining about them last night.” Her comment’s directed at Nick, but she’s looking at me while she says it, letting me know in no uncertain terms that she’s the one he’s fucking, not me.
Like I could ever forget that she’s the prettiest, most popular girl in school and I look like someone who belongs in a “before” shot on a Proactiv commercial.
I drop my eyes, wishing she’d just hurry up and leave already. If experience has taught me anything, it’s that she’s got to have the last word. Leaving before she’s done spewing her hatred all over me only makes it that much more venomous.
Eventually she makes this disgusted sound in the back of her throat, then mutters “Whatever,” and rides off on her broom.
People quickly dissipate once they realize she’s not going to lynch me. I keep my head down, intent on making it to my next class without another incident, but someone puts their hand on my shoulder before I can even take a step.
I glance at the hand, my gaze roaming up the muscular arm attached to it, and then higher up until I’m looking at Nick’s concerned face. My eyes widen as soon as I realize he’s the one touching me.
“Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, I stare up at him in shock.
Did he just talk to me?
Me?
I’ve never actually talked to Nick outside of my little fantasy world where I’m Mrs. Nick and we have dozens of Nick, Jrs. I have no idea what to say. “Thank you” seems kind of inappropriate, since he basically just signed my death warrant, but anything else makes me sound like an ungrateful twat. I’m floundering here.
All I can do is nod.
He pulls his hand back and my body instantly mourns the loss of what will surely be the one and only time Nick Coughlin touches me. “You’re Macy, right? You’re in my algebra class.”
Another nod. I’m too dumbstruck to speak, because holy shit, he knows my name.
“We should be study buddies.” He grabs the pen from behind his ear and starts scribbling something on my arm. Oh my god, it’s a phone number. “Text me sometime if you want to come over and study.”
The Twilight Zone theme song starts playing in my head, because I must have stumbled into an alternate universe at some point. What else could explain what the hell is going on?
I stare at his phone number, oddly fascinated by his handwriting and the fact that it’s now marking my skin. “What about Jamie?”
When I look back up at him, the smile he’s giving me—and only me—has my heart sprouting wings and trying to take flight. I swear, I could fly right now if I flapped my arms.
“I won’t tell her if you don’t.” Nick winks at me before leaving, and my stomach does a little backflip at the “dear diary” moment.
I watch him disappear into the crowd and all I can think is, I’ll never forget this day. Not for as long as I live.
Sitting on Nick’s couch, I absorb every detail of his house like a sponge. Or a stalker.
I can’t believe I’m really here. Shit, I can hardly believe I even texted him in the first place. Thirty minutes of agonizing over a single text and damn near working myself into a panic attack were so worth it, though.
“You sure you don’t want a beer?”
I shake my head as Nick starts on his second. “Your parents really let you drink? Mine would kill me.” And then Pet Sematary my ass back to life, just to kill me again.
Nick shrugs. “My old man doesn’t care so long as I save him some.”
He sits down next to me, resting his arm on the back of the couch. I’m here to study, but since he’s made no move to crack open the algebra book lying on his coffee table, I study him instead. Like a creeper, I watch him take a drink of his beer, wishing I were the bottle he has his lips on.
When he catches me staring, heat explodes across my face. It feels like scarlet letters are burned onto my cheeks, spelling out my indiscretion.
Leaning forward, he sets his drink on the coffee table. “Were you really checking me out today?”
Oh, God, he’s calling me out on it. . .
I start looking for an exit I can run to, or at the very least a giant rock I can climb under, but surprise, surprise, Nick doesn’t have one of those just sitting around his living room.
“It’s okay if you were.” He scoots towards me. “I kinda like the way you look at me.”
Come again?
He smiles at my dubious expression. “You look at me like I’m something special.” Shrugging, he laughs. “What can I say? It makes me feel good.”
I roll my eyes and bite my lip. “Glad I could give you an ego boost.”
Nick leans in, dropping his gaze to my mouth. “I can make you feel good too.” I freeze when his fingers start stroking my thigh. “Would you like that?”
My mouth is suddenly dry, and I seem to have forgotten the English language. All I can do is nod and then sit here, stock-still, as his lips meet mine for my very first kiss.
I can taste the beer on him as he pushes me onto my back, his hand slipping up my shirt as he hovers over me.
No one’s ever touched me like this before, and my heart rate increases with every inch of unexplored territory he covers. I feel like America to his Columbus.
Discover me, Nick.
When he makes contact with my nipple, I gasp, breaking the kiss. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, my head swimming. It takes me a good second to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth and come to my senses. “What about Jamie?”
Last time I checked, they were still together. And last time I checked, she would straight-up murder me if she knew her boyfriend was feeling me up on his couch.
He tugs at the button of my jeans with one hand, trying to work them open. “Jamie fucked Chris Belzar last weekend, so she can’t say shit to me.”
The bitterness in his voice is all I need to read between the lines and God, do I feel stupid for not seeing it sooner.
I mean honestly, what the hell did I think was happening? That Nick was so enamored with me that he was willing to cheat on his gorgeous girlfriend? Please. I’ve gone to school with him for three and a half years, and not once has he spoken to me before today. The sudden interest alone should’ve been my first clue that something wasn’t right, but I was too hung up on this romanticized version of Nick that I’ve created.
Now that I know the real Nick, I don’t want him anywhere near me.
Shoving him away, I sit up. I can’t hide how much this fucking hurts, so I don’t even try. “You’re trying to get back at her by hooking up with me.” The girl she despises more than anything.
The confused look on his face tells me he doesn’t see the problem with this. “Don’t you want to get back at her, too? She’s such a fucking bitch to you. Just think how pissed she’ll be when she finds out you fucked her boyfriend.”
My eyes sting as I get up and grab my bag. “I’m not losing my virginity for something as petty as revenge.”
Nick rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Why are the ugly ones always such prudes?”
I rush out of his house as the first tear falls, painfully aware that I was right—I’ll never forget this day for as long as I live.