Adrien Walker
Before I can take out my lunch from my bag, Jayden decides to park her ass in my lap, "Adrien baby, I've missed you so much," she tells me in between the kisses she leaves along my jaw and neck.
It takes everything in me to not physically cringe.
Did she brush her teeth this morning?
Why the fuck does she keep licking me? Why the hell does her tongue feel like goddamn sandpaper?
Does she think she's turning me on? Cause fucking hell, I would much rather my dick shrink.
There's a reason we only fucked when I was drunk. And I'm not even sure if those times count.
"Great, now get the fuck off my lap."
She ignores me and bites my neck, "Oh, baby, I know you're mad that we didn't spend the weekend together, but I promise I'll make it up to you."
I'd rather you fucking not.
She's literally biting my neck like a fucking animal. So, I tilt my neck backwards, shooting her a repulsed glare. Stop means fucking stop.
What the fuck made her think I wanted to spend the weekend together?
When have we ever spent the weekend together?
Bitch, we've only fucked twice.
"Jayden, I honestly don't give a damn. Now, get off me!"
Again, she ignores me. Does she not fucking understand what stop means?
Finally having had enough, I put my hands around her waist, gently sliding her into the empty chair next to me.
There was an empty fucking chair beside me this whole time, why the fuck couldn't she sit there, to begin with? Not that I want her anywhere near me, but next to me is way better than on me.
I don't know why she keeps doing this, it's as though she doesn't get the fucking message. We're not dating, all she is to me is a simple, easy fuck. Even that's a stretch.
I made that very fucking clear from the start.
I don't do all this touchy-feely bullshit. Or whatever the fuck this biting/licking shit she's doing is.
But I guess it is my fault. Everyone knows that you only fuck a one-night stand once, hence the damn name. Never go back.
Fucking idiot.
Why the hell did I go back?
She huffs immaturely and turns to speak to Britt.
I can't help but roll my eyes; she thinks that ignoring me will just make me want her more. How the fuck does she come up with these disillusioned ideas? I've already made it blatantly obvious that she genuinely means nothing to me.
If she got hit by a bus after school, I wouldn't feel a damn fucking thing. Actually no, I'd probably feel relief and be eternally grateful that I never have to smell her damn breath again.
I take out my lunch, but staring down at it makes my stomach churn. Fucking dimwit has put me off my food. Does she not know what a fucking toothbrush is? I'm seriously considering buying her a bottle of mouthwash, but I doubt one will suffice.
As I mentally curse her to hell and back, I tune in and out of the conversation about basketball tryouts. Thankfully they're not talking about something mind-numbingly dumb.
But despite that, I still feel uncomfortable. Why the fuck am I sitting here?
I force myself not to look towards the back of the cafeteria, to the table now seating two. There's no going back now, I've made my choices. And as much as I hate myself for it, I've got to live with it now. But no matter how many times I tell myself that, a part of me wishes that I could just get up and walk over to them.
Why do things have to be like this?
Instead of sitting here reliving the memories, I shove my Tupperware box into my bag.
Before storming off, though, I turn to the dimwit sitting beside me.
"Jay-den," I say firmly, my jaw clenched. I keep my eyes pinned on her until her eyes meet my own; I need her to hear me and understand my words. I'm not going to say them again.
She looks at me, completely unfazed.
"We're done."
Hopefully, that should do the trick.
And with that, I storm out, ignoring the confused looks.
It only takes a few minutes to reach the school roof. Sighing, I sit down in my usual spot and take out my earphones.
I hate Mondays so fucking much. I don't know what it is about the day, but they always feel as if it'll never end.
There are only two hours left, but I don't feel as though I can put myself through a double lesson of Algebra, especially with Slinski spraying everyone with spit.
Fucking Algebra.
I lean my head back against the brick wall, closing my eyes.
I just want today to end.
Sighing for the hundredth time today, I glance up at the sky, taking in what's left of the warm summer air.
I chill on the roof for the remainder of the school day, it's only when the final bell rings do I bother moving.
Tryouts and then I'm finally able to get out of here.
Just gotta get through tryouts.
As I'm about to cross over towards the boys changing room, I spot Ethan standing in the hallway, placing a textbook inside his locker.
Of course, he was unfortunate enough to have his locker near the boys changing rooms. I wonder how many beatings he's earned him over the years.
My feet carry me towards him without me even thinking. I watch him tense as he hears my footsteps but his shoulder's physically relax when he realises it's me.
The dried-up blood near his nose and his half-swollen face has me clenching my jaw. Those fucking dickheads will pay.
I haven't beaten them up since last year, they're in for a real treat. I've been through three punching bags just over the summer.
His dull brown eyes break me out of my thoughts, they're looking more and more lifeless each time I see them.
"We need to work on the project," I hear myself say, "So meet me at the front gates at 5 and we'll work on it at mine. I'll give you a lift."
He quickly nods about to say something but stops when we hear footsteps. Before either one of us can say anything, he hurries off towards the library stairs.
Just as I turn into the boys changing rooms I hear a massive crash.
Wonder which dickhead it is this time.
I jog towards the stairs and see Matt kicking the shit out of Ethan. Even now, Ethan doesn't dare make a sound.
What the fuck is this dick doing?
Haven't they beaten him up enough today?
But I guess Matt's making up for the fact that he couldn't get his hands on him over the summer.
Quickly I storm towards Matt and shove him away.
"What the fuck man?" He shouts, seething at me
Without hesitation, my fist connects with his jaw. I smile at the sound of the jab, yeah he definitely won't be opening his mouth fully for the next week.
Matt holds his jaw as he stares at me.
"Have I not fucking told you enough times to lay off?"
He doesn't verbally respond just nods.
"Go get changed for tryouts." He obeys, practically falling face-flat on the stairs next to Ethan.
What an obedient little bitch.
I look back at Ethan, an apology stuck in my throat.
Why is it that I'm always able to feel guilt settle in the pit of my stomach, but I'm never able to voice it?
There's something about those lifeless eyes that hits a little too close to home.
I glance down at him again, "You okay?" I ask as I offer him a hand, he leans forward and slides his hand into mine.
He doesn't respond, so I ask, "You good getting to the nurse's office?"
He nods his head, his curls bouncing with the movement but stays silent.
I sigh before pulling him to my chest and wrapping my arms around him.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier," I say quietly.
"It's okay."
We stay like that for a few more seconds before I reluctantly pull away, "I need to get ready for tryouts, but I'll be out front at 5."
Before heading back into the changing room, I watch him leave the hallway to make sure he'll turn left towards nurse Macie's office.
As I stroll into the changing room, everyone begins greeting me. Instead of acknowledging their presence, I look around the room, hoping to see Luke and Trevor. I don't see them, but I can hear Luke's voice coming from the back.
It suddenly goes silent. I look towards the door wondering what they're all gawking at. Trevor and I stare at each other for a few moments, not knowing how to react. He gives me a small nod of acknowledgement, so I do the same back. He quietly walks past me, heading to the back row of benches where the three of us used to get ready together.
Every part of me longs for the past. But I know it's not possible. There's no forgiving my actions, or should I say lack of.
So why am I screaming at myself to walk to the back row of benches and join them?
I have no right to.
"Right, you asswipes," I interject. "You got three minutes. If you take any longer than that, you'll be running 10 extra laps after tryouts," I shout. That prompts everyone to get moving again.
Trevor gives me a glance to show me he's grateful that I got the attention off of him. I give him a slight nod, allowing my lips to move upwards. I'm just glad I could help, even if it was just a little.
But as I watch him walk to the back of the room, the sinking feeling starts to suffocate me. I look around trying to distract myself but the atmosphere becomes more and more unbearable as the seconds go on.
I don't bother tying up my laces before hastily walking out, as soon as the door closes behind me I let myself release the breath I was holding.
Coach beckons me over when he sees me, "Walker, remember that I will not be announcing captain until after the tryouts are over. This means that I can change my mind, so you'll still have to prove to me that you are worthy of being the captain."
I nod, "Yes, sir."
But we both know that the captain spot is mine, solely mine.
Everyone runs out onto the field, I notice Trevor lagging a fair bit behind. Knowing him, he's probably debating whether it's worth it. I wish I had it in me to run up to him and walk beside him, letting him know he's not alone. But like the asshole I am, I stay rooted in my spot.
I'm thankful when I see Luke run to join Trevor instead. Luke gently touches Trevor's arm, I don't know if they're talking, but Trevor looks down at Luke for a few seconds before nodding.
Together, side by side, they walk onto the field. Even if all Trevor wants to do is quit. I know he'd never do it because of Luke. He wouldn't ever trust any of these assholes.
Coach blows his whistle, telling us to huddle around him. We do as we're told. He slowly makes eye contact with every single one of us, summing us up. When his eyes land on Trevor, it's obvious he's surprised to see him, "It's good to have you back, son," Trevor nods in response.
The first day of tryouts is always a fitness test out on the field.
The bleep test always comes first, whoever taps out before the 15th bleep is automatically disqualified from tryouts.
Coach keeps us going non-stop for the entire two hours, and by the end of it, it's pretty obvious who will be coming back tomorrow for round two, and who won't. The main goal of the first three days of tryouts is to weed out the weaklings, the last two days of tryouts are when we compete for a spot on the team.
I'm just hoping that the rest of the tryouts week flies by so we're able to get back on the basketball court, it's been a while.
I hate that tryouts are a whole fucking week long. But it's one of two sports played at this school, which usually means between 40 to 60 people try out every year and only 12 make it onto the team. For a lot of guys in this shitty town, an athletic scholarship may be the only way they're able to go to college/uni, depending on where they want to go. So to make it fair, every single person wanting a spot on the team has to go through tryouts each year regardless of whether you were on it last year.
I quickly shower and dress, not bothering to participate in any of the idle chit-chat.
Just like I did during tryouts, I completely ignore Trevor and Luke, not even bothering to look in their direction as I walk out.
But Trevor also seems to have the same idea as he walks out with me, neither one of us saying anything as we walk side by side out of school. If only we could have walked onto the field like this.
As soon as I realise we're about to part ways, I will myself to say something, anything. But nothing comes out of my mouth.
Why am I like this?
It's so easy to spew bullshit, but when it comes to saying something meaningful, I become a fucking mute.
I throw my bag in the backseat, with a little more force than necessary, and get in the driver's seat. Before starting the car, I look over towards Trevor's jeep again. He's just sitting there in the driver's seat unmoving.
Just as I'm about to climb out of my car and finally go speak to him. Luke rips open the passenger side door of his car, "You waited for me!" He screams in surprise, as though they don't drive to and from school together every day.
Trevor just nods in response as he starts up the car, but he doesn't set off until Luke puts his seatbelt on.
I can't help but smile as I watch them leave.
It's only once they've left the car park do I start up my car, and drive towards the parking lot's exit.
I can't wait to get into bed. I'm fucking exhausted.
Not even a second after thinking this do I notice the small frame of a boy sitting on the pavement. I'd recognise that mop of brown hair anywhere.
Fuck.
I forgot about him.
Why the hell did I sign myself up for more work on a goddamn Monday? And after tryouts!
I honestly hate myself.
I'll just tell him to go home.
But as I watch him sitting there with his knees pulled up against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them, I feel bad making him wait two hours after school. He's nervously looking around the parking lot, I wonder how long he's been sitting there.
Waiting a few more hours to get into bed, won't kill me. But it'll definitely make me wish I was dead.
I pull up right in front of him and lower my window.
"Get in, kid." He glances up at me before grabbing his bag and getting into the passenger seat.
We drive in silence for a while before stopping at a red light. I decide now might be a good time to speak up, "Was it Matt who did that to your face?"
Ethan continues to look out the window but I catch him shaking his head, "No."
"Nicki?"
He pauses for a second as if he's debating telling me before finally nodding, "Yeah."
Tomorrow's lunch is going to be productive.
"Were Nicki and Matt the reason you weren't in Singh's class?"
"Yeah," He says quietly.
Real productive.
"Did Tom join in?"
This time he just nods, and I leave him to looking out the window.
I live about ten minutes away from school, but with this fucking traffic it's going to take almost thirty minutes.
I glance over at him only to see that he's already asleep with his resting on the window. I swear he's able to fall asleep anywhere.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the driveway.
"Hey, get up," I say, raising my voice as I gently shake his shoulders.
No response.
I try shaking him awake once again, a little more roughly this time, but he doesn't even twitch. He's usually a very light sleeper. Macie must have given him some sort of painkillers or something. He seems to be out cold, completely fucking unconscious. The rise and fall of his chest is the only real indication he's still alive.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I look down at him curled up in the passenger seat.
Can I just leave him in the car? I don't want to disturb him.
No, Adrien, he'll get cold.
I could keep the heater running.
Adrien, don't leave him in the fucking car. Wouldn't do that to an animal never mind a human.
Sighing, I get out the car and walk over to the passenger door. I take off his seat belt and pick him up. He somehow stays in his curled-up position. Awkwardly, I reach into my pocket and take out my house keys and open the door, all the while trying not to drop him.
I manage to get him inside without dropping him. As I shuffle over to the living room.
I look down at his small frame curled against me, his head tucked into my chest.
I almost feel like Hagrid carrying Harry. Keyword being almost.
This is who everyone abuses.
A guy who does nothing but sleep.
A guy who looks like a 12-year-old.
What the fuck is wrong with them?
What the fuck is wrong with me for just sitting there and doing nothing?
I'm just as bad as them.
I gently put him down on the couch.
IÂ grab our bags from the car, dumping them at the bottom of the staircase.
Walking past the living room, I notice that he's curled himself up into a tight ball; maybe he's cold? I grab a blanket, gently draping it over him. As soon as he feels it touch his skin, he immediately wraps himself into it, only his curls are left peeking out from the top.
Once I'm sure he's comfortably settled, I run up the stairs so I can change into sweatpants and a baggy top. My muscles are aching from today's tryouts, so I decide to eat and then sleep. It doesn't look like we'll be working on the project anyway.
I'm far too relieved to get mad.
We really do need to start planning the project soon. Seven months may seem like a long time to do it, but we'll be on holiday for like two out of those seven months. It'll take us forever to plan, research, and write the damn thing. Especially if he sleeps through most of our lessons. I don't want the stress of doing it last minute. I need a decent grade, what I get on this project will determine just how far I'm able to move away from here. I don't feel confident with the idea of me being the "smart" one in the pair.
I head into the kitchen and take out a microwave meal from the fridge. There's really no point in warming one up for Ethan as well. Knowing him, he'll sleep through till morning. But after remembering how boney he is, I take out a random box and put it on the table just in case he does wake up hungry during the night.
I dump my backpack on the bottom of my bed, I grab my laptop from the bedside cabinet. I might as well get a head start on homework, because this year is going to be hard enough I don't need to be falling behind second week in.
I need to finish Singh's worksheets, whatever the fuck Slinski covered in Algebra and start planning the research project.
Fucking hell, I'm already behind.
I tip the entire bag on my bed, I really didn't sort any of my shit out after Singh's lesson. I grab the crumpled worksheets from her class and they've got blue smudges all over them. Groaning I toss them into the trash, I doubt there's anything important on them it's only the second week in.
I open up my laptop and log into in the school portal. Thankfully, all the teacher's upload their work on their and you can just go through the online worksheets and sumbit them without having to physically turn anything in. If it wasn't for this portal, I'd pretty rarely hand anything in.
It takes me hours to catch up on history and algebra and do homework. I had to watch far too many fucking YouTube videos to understand shit.
I put my laptop back and toss my backpack on the floor before collapsing backwards on my bed.
I feel around for my phone and check the time, it's 22:21. Fucking hell I've basically spent over 4 hours on work. I mean I did take breaks to listen to music and play tetris, but still 4 fucking hours.
I close my eyes and breathe out.
It's been a very long day.
--
Thoughts? Lots of different sides of Adrien in this chapter.