Anyway, when Logan called out behind me at going-home-time, I slammed my locker shut and turned around, ready to share my beef and wail about the unfairness of the system, knowing my brother would at least understand. Kiara didn't.
But no words escaped my mouth. My breath and everything else got sucked out with force by teasing bright apple eyes. The hot-as-hell eight-grader standing next to my brother filled out his uniform better than Thor himself ever would, his raven hair was messy and that skew smile churned the cafeteria food in my tummy.
And BAM - another moment. Same eyes. Same boy. How could it not be fated?
At first, I thought … this is it - the true storybook meet-cute at the locker on the first day of school.
And I felt every feeling in the book. The increased heartbeat, the butterflies, the sweaty palms. I thought for sure he was the one.
But fate laughed in my face - turns out the boy Logan started a lifetime BFF friendship with was the same obnoxious boy who helped Kiara out of the hole at the haunted house; the boy who gave me his jacket cause I was cold; and the boy I would learn to hate. And I mean passionately HATE.
Who knew that hate feels disturbingly the same as love … your stomach flips and twists; your heart rate increases way over the limit of normal; you get drunk and high on adrenaline; obsessive thoughts, and behaviors cloud your mind; and you feel out of control.
"You still got his jacket in your cupboard?" Kiara flings something against my head. "Don't you ever learn?"
I stare at the black leather jacket as if seeing it for the first time and not as if I've had it for the past 10 years. Running down the right sleeve is a strange green M with the words 'Monster Energy', while the Reaper skull with wings decorates the other sleeve between smaller patches with different logos. On the back is a huge number 13.
I quickly fold it and stuff it into my bag. To burn later. Probably.
But Kiara is wrong again. I did learn my lesson. The hard way.
Another piece of clothing hits my head.
"Are you done packing?" she asks. I nod and close the suitcase. I can come back for the rest anytime I want. It's not as if we're moving out of state … just to our own beautiful townhouse complex.
The one built on the site of my sort-off childhood home. Sort-off, because we only lived in it for a month or so, before Mom was murdered … what … eight years ago … almost nine. And the home then mysteriously burnt down to ashes only a week after we moved to Uncle John's. Faulty wiring the police said.
It was then that Uncle John decided to build five separate dwellings on the property - one for each kid. It's ideal … we all stay together but separate.
It's there where we will reside while at Standford … Kiara is enrolled to study accountancy, while I finally decided to study art for now. And then I'll see where life leads me then. I'll probably keep on freelancing for both Ubisoft and Rockstar games, or I could try getting in at Googleplex or Applepark.
I put the discarded novel on top of my suitcase. I don't know why I even bother to read it. It's not well written, the grammar sucks - a bunch of crap really. And the couple on the cover is so cliche. The whole stereotypical romantic pose makes my skin crawl with frustration. I sigh deeply. I'm so uptight my neck is pulling into a spasm.
"You know he's going to be here tonight?"
Of course, I know. That's the whole darn problem.
I hate Damion Grimm so much that I feel sick whenever he's around and frustrated when he's not.
He's like an itch under my skin I just can't get rid of - and I swear it's increasing in intensity each year. It's getting almost unbearable - so much that I'm scared of doing something irresponsible one of these days - like ripping off his balls or worse … licking them.
Yeah, there's that. Don't judge - I have a theory: Because the feelings of love and hate are so closely related, a person's hypothalamus gets confused and wrongfully floods the body with dopamine, a neurotransmitter that produces feelings of euphoria and pleasure. It's why hate can feel so thrilling and, at times, even addictive and why you can't stop thinking about the hated person. The problem is that it also triggers the release of estrogen, which increases your libido. And voila … you want to seriously jump the bones of the person you hate. It's all natural.
I realize Kiara is staring at me, tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for a response.
"Yes." I pull my lips into a serious pout. I need her off my case.
"But I'm seeing Ren remember," I say, having learned the trick to dealing with Kiara is a solid diversion. However, the same trick applies to me - I'm easily distracted.
"So is he your for-real boyfriend now?"
"You know it's complicated. He's the first guy ever to ask me out." I pout my lips at Kiara as she shoots me a pitty-full look.
"Actually, he's not the first guy to ask you out … remember Jake?"
"Yeah … the hunky junior who asked me out in our freshman year but never showed. How can I forget? I sat at that coffee shop for two whole hours." It was embarrassing and humiliating - everyone stared as if they knew I'd been stood up.
"At least he had a vivid excuse … he was in an accident."
I remember him apologizing profoundly the next day, avoiding my eyes. He said he fell off his bike. And it's not as if he made it up … the injuries on his face and body were evidently real.
"Yeah, but he could have asked me on another date, at least. But instead, he was too scared to even talk to me properly. Hell, he could not even look me in the eye."
"Maybe because he nearly died," Kiara sounds sarcastic.
"It was not because of the curse," I snap. Some moron started telling the whole school that any guy who dated me would experience excruciating pain. And that's how the Mel-curse started.
She frowns while folding a shirt. "I still don't understand WHY though." That's a very good question… what could anyone gain by cursing my social life?
"Or who." Another good question. Who would start such stupid rumors?
"I always suspected Pink Scarlet," Kiara tops.
I remember the poor girl. Not the most beautiful being in the world - a large black mole on her hairy chin; mousy-brown locks like a dirty wet mop; and she was big … huge as an ox. And for some reason, she hated my guts at first sight.
"Maybe."
"I still can't believe she had a date for prom," Kiara says as an afterthought. "And even got shagged - TWICE."
Yeah. Jake's accident was the huge dip in my social status (mentioned previously) … and it never recovered.
Every guy in school seemed to swipe me into the 'friend shone' - they would talk to me, sit with me at lunch (not too close) - appropriate stuff. But I could never join in on spin-the-bottle, my 'dares' never involved physical contact and I never got asked to dance by someone other than my brothers and Axel.
I even went to my prom with Axel … or rather my brothers forced him to go with me.
I seriously thought they were the reason for my awkward social life. But they denied starting the rumors - and I know my brothers don't lie.
Ug, it doesn't matter anymore - this guy, Ren, asked me out and he lasted more than two dates now - without any injuries.