Until You
Page 82
“Belated birthday present,” I explained. “I was waiting for them to go on sale.” A grin tickled my jaw as I tried to hold it back. “You like Avenged Sevenfold, right?”
As much time as Tate and I had spent apart, I still had to remind myself that there was stuff I may not know about her anymore.
She looked at me like I had three heads. “Like Avenged Sevenfold?” She held out her arms for me to see the black T-shirt—the Avenged Sevenfold T-shirt— she wore under her little, black cardigan. “M. Shadows is my everything,” she teased.
“Hey.” I partially scowled and partially smiled, pulling her into me. She let out a raspy laugh.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my lips, pulling me in.
“You can thank me more later.”
Pulling back, she playfully shoved my chest away. “Go. Go to your appointment and make plans for a New York college.”
I barely had time to roll my eyes before she turned around and walked down the hall.
“So your grades look good. Not great but enough to get into a good school.” Ms. Varner opened a file folder—my folder—and regurgitated the same conversation she’d no doubt spewed at the other three hundred seniors she’d talked to this month.
I sat there, arms at ease on the arm rests with one ankle resting on the other knee. The air in the room was thick, but I stayed because the principal would harass the students who made these meetings difficult. I sat, I stayed, and I would get out as easily as possible.
“What colleges are you considering?” she asked, looking at me with concern.
“Undecided.” I barely unclenched my teeth for my usual one-word answers.
Her eyes narrowed, and she studied me for a moment before pulling a packet out of the folder.
“Are you interested in seeing what the career test said about you?” she asked without even looking at me.
“No.”
“It said,” she continued as if I’d said nothing, “that you have strengths in leadership.”
What the…?
“Like a coach?” I blurted out.
Me and sports? Me working in a school for the rest of my life earning shit pay. Yeah, that’d be a whole f**king waste of a life.
She covered her smile with her hand. “No,” her voice cracked with a laugh. “Like the military or politics.”
Like West Point, Mr. Brandt’s voice came back to haunt me.
No, maybe owning my own shop someday or running races, but not driving tanks or flying jets…
Wait…
“Yeah, okay.” I shook off the images of me in a cockpit. “I’ll think about it.” I stood up to leave with no intention of thinking about it.
“Jared,” she called, and I stopped. “The test also says you’re a protector, a nurturer...” she trailed off as my eyes widened.
What the f**k?
“You might want to consider careers in health care or youth guidance.” And she looked down, almost embarrassed.
Youth guidance?
My face probably looked like someone just told me I was born from wolves. When I looked at her, I saw a crazy lady.
“Get your test checked,” I grumbled and walked out the door.
A f**king youth guidance pilot?
And she makes money at that job?
My head was all over the place now, and I’d lost the calm from this morning. Usually my brain was like a warehouse. Take one box, open it, deal with it, and put it away before I deal with another box. Now all the goddamn boxes were open at the same time.
Was it so wrong to just want Tate on the back of my motorcycle forever and not want anything else?
I marched through the front office and yanked open the door leading out.
“Jared!” I heard my name yelled—no, bellowed—off to my left and turned to see Madoc stomping towards me.
My shoulders straightened immediately.
He looked pissed. His hair looked like he’d been combing his hands through it, and his lips were tight.
“What the f**k is the matter with you?” he accused, and I braced myself for a punch that I was sure was coming for some reason.
What?
“What are you talking about?” If the counselor’s office was hot, I was in a frying pan now. I pulled the collar of my black hoodie away from my sweaty neck.
Holding up his phone next to his face, I grabbed it out of his hands and stared in horror as I watched a video of Tate and me ha**ng s*x Homecoming night.
What?
My heart was jackhammering through my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
Jesus.
Hot air poured in and out of my nose.
We were in the Beckman’s bedroom, and she was on top, completely f**king naked.
How the hell?
Madoc had this video.
He saw her like that.
My fists balled up, ready to slam him to the ground.
But… why would Madoc have this video?
And then another thought occurred to me.
“Who else has seen this?” I growled, ready to either throw up or thrown down.
“Um, everybody,” he spat out sarcastically. “You didn’t send this, then?”
“Of course I didn’t send this! We didn’t record a sex video. Jesus Christ!” I hollered and vaguely noticed students around us hauling ass outdoors when they should’ve been in class.
He looked down. “Well it came from your phone.” He spoke softer.
I closed my eyes. No, no, no…
“Tate might’ve got this video. Shit.” I started for the stairs, knowing she was on the third floor for French, but Madoc grabbed me by the inside of my elbow.
As much time as Tate and I had spent apart, I still had to remind myself that there was stuff I may not know about her anymore.
She looked at me like I had three heads. “Like Avenged Sevenfold?” She held out her arms for me to see the black T-shirt—the Avenged Sevenfold T-shirt— she wore under her little, black cardigan. “M. Shadows is my everything,” she teased.
“Hey.” I partially scowled and partially smiled, pulling her into me. She let out a raspy laugh.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my lips, pulling me in.
“You can thank me more later.”
Pulling back, she playfully shoved my chest away. “Go. Go to your appointment and make plans for a New York college.”
I barely had time to roll my eyes before she turned around and walked down the hall.
“So your grades look good. Not great but enough to get into a good school.” Ms. Varner opened a file folder—my folder—and regurgitated the same conversation she’d no doubt spewed at the other three hundred seniors she’d talked to this month.
I sat there, arms at ease on the arm rests with one ankle resting on the other knee. The air in the room was thick, but I stayed because the principal would harass the students who made these meetings difficult. I sat, I stayed, and I would get out as easily as possible.
“What colleges are you considering?” she asked, looking at me with concern.
“Undecided.” I barely unclenched my teeth for my usual one-word answers.
Her eyes narrowed, and she studied me for a moment before pulling a packet out of the folder.
“Are you interested in seeing what the career test said about you?” she asked without even looking at me.
“No.”
“It said,” she continued as if I’d said nothing, “that you have strengths in leadership.”
What the…?
“Like a coach?” I blurted out.
Me and sports? Me working in a school for the rest of my life earning shit pay. Yeah, that’d be a whole f**king waste of a life.
She covered her smile with her hand. “No,” her voice cracked with a laugh. “Like the military or politics.”
Like West Point, Mr. Brandt’s voice came back to haunt me.
No, maybe owning my own shop someday or running races, but not driving tanks or flying jets…
Wait…
“Yeah, okay.” I shook off the images of me in a cockpit. “I’ll think about it.” I stood up to leave with no intention of thinking about it.
“Jared,” she called, and I stopped. “The test also says you’re a protector, a nurturer...” she trailed off as my eyes widened.
What the f**k?
“You might want to consider careers in health care or youth guidance.” And she looked down, almost embarrassed.
Youth guidance?
My face probably looked like someone just told me I was born from wolves. When I looked at her, I saw a crazy lady.
“Get your test checked,” I grumbled and walked out the door.
A f**king youth guidance pilot?
And she makes money at that job?
My head was all over the place now, and I’d lost the calm from this morning. Usually my brain was like a warehouse. Take one box, open it, deal with it, and put it away before I deal with another box. Now all the goddamn boxes were open at the same time.
Was it so wrong to just want Tate on the back of my motorcycle forever and not want anything else?
I marched through the front office and yanked open the door leading out.
“Jared!” I heard my name yelled—no, bellowed—off to my left and turned to see Madoc stomping towards me.
My shoulders straightened immediately.
He looked pissed. His hair looked like he’d been combing his hands through it, and his lips were tight.
“What the f**k is the matter with you?” he accused, and I braced myself for a punch that I was sure was coming for some reason.
What?
“What are you talking about?” If the counselor’s office was hot, I was in a frying pan now. I pulled the collar of my black hoodie away from my sweaty neck.
Holding up his phone next to his face, I grabbed it out of his hands and stared in horror as I watched a video of Tate and me ha**ng s*x Homecoming night.
What?
My heart was jackhammering through my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
Jesus.
Hot air poured in and out of my nose.
We were in the Beckman’s bedroom, and she was on top, completely f**king naked.
How the hell?
Madoc had this video.
He saw her like that.
My fists balled up, ready to slam him to the ground.
But… why would Madoc have this video?
And then another thought occurred to me.
“Who else has seen this?” I growled, ready to either throw up or thrown down.
“Um, everybody,” he spat out sarcastically. “You didn’t send this, then?”
“Of course I didn’t send this! We didn’t record a sex video. Jesus Christ!” I hollered and vaguely noticed students around us hauling ass outdoors when they should’ve been in class.
He looked down. “Well it came from your phone.” He spoke softer.
I closed my eyes. No, no, no…
“Tate might’ve got this video. Shit.” I started for the stairs, knowing she was on the third floor for French, but Madoc grabbed me by the inside of my elbow.
