Evie
Finally, I made it. After four years of being the perfect student, I finally made it across that stage. The graduation party rages all around me. People are dancing, and singing, and cheering as they all let loose. Not that any of them took notice of me. I tend to stay out of the spotlight.
I had been so excited to receive this invitation. Timothy Hayes himself had personally invited me to this party. It’s my first house party ever. And word had it that Timothy’s house parties were notorious for being crazy and fun. Everyone at school was fighting over getting an invitation. The boys flipped coins. Girls sharpened their manicured nails, getting ready to claw their way to Timothy’s side.
It made sense. He was the hottest guy in school.
“Hey, Evie, I just need one last signature for my yearbook,” I slowly lift my chin to meet the hazel eyes of the only boy I would have risked it all for. Timothy Hayes. “You’re my final signature.”
“I don’t have a pen on me,” I say awkwardly.
He shrugs. “I have one in my room. Come on,” he urges, taking my hand and pulling me up the stairs to his room.
Now, everything has changed. There, laying beside me, was Timothy.
My immediate instinct was to scream. But I bite my tongue and cover my face in the pillows.
When I finally gathered my control, I sit up looking around the room. My clothes had been scattered wildly across the floor. I look down at myself. I had slept in his jersey. The number 9 was boldly printed on the front with a picture of our school mascot, the bulldog.
But the night was over and I had to go home. Slipping out of the room, with my clothes in hand, I make a break for the front door and back to my house.
**
A few days passed and that night was all I had been thinking about. Timothy had chosen me. It felt so good to be seen by him. My eyes haven’t left that jersey. I should give that back. It probably means a lot to him.
So I headed downstairs and started my short walk around the neighborhood. I wondered how he would react to me showing up at his door. I hoped he would be happy to see me, considering how he came to me.
As I approached his house, I noticed a few cars parked in his driveway. Those cars belonged to his friends. Loud laughter came from the back of the house. I couldn’t help but want to listen in to their conversation. It was too tempting. Tip-toeing around the side, I got close to the white-painted gate.
“I can’t believe you did that,” one says laughing. “You have guts, my man.”
“Nah,” Timothy sighed heavily. “She definitely had some potential.”
“Still, Evie Sinclair? Isn’t she like a shut-in? Everyone knew that she didn't care about any boys, except for the damn books.”
“Shut up,” Timothy laughed. “It wasn’t that bad.”
One of them blew a raspberry. “Whatever you say. You followed through on the deal, so I’ll let you take the bike.”
There was a deal. My chest suddenly felt constricted.
“Here’s to getting all the girls ‘signatures’,” one of his friends laughs.
“Hey,” Timothy argues. “It worked didn’t it. I slept with her.”
Oh, god. I felt sick.
I stumble back to the front yard, tears blurring every inch of my vision. I couldn’t be seen here. I have to leave before I humiliate myself any further. I throw his jersey on the front steps of his porch and make an attempt to run, but my legs were barely working. It feels like my body had been stripped of any structure it had. I was nothing but a puddle on the ground waiting for the next person to step on me.
“Evie?”
I stop dead in my tracks, gathering every bit of strength I had left. “What is it?”
“I didn’t think you’d drop by–”
“I was just returning your jersey,” I say calmly, turning around to face him finally.
“You’re welcome to borrow it any time,” he smirks playfully.
I had to force myself to look away. I hated him. He had used me.
“What happened the other night can’t happen again,” I say firmly. “I had fun, but–”
“But?”
His question hung in the air between us.
“But I have to focus on my goals,” I spoke quietly. “And you have your professional career to think about. I think it’s best that we leave it as a one time thing. We both got what we wanted from each other. Right?”
He frowns at her. “What do you mean?”
My jaw tightens, teeth grinding against each other. “Bye, Timothy,” I whisper shakily, and I walked away.
Every step was torture. Every breath was shallow and fast. I wish the ground would just swallow me whole right about now.
The way home felt like it took years. It made it worse that I saw my stepbrother’s car sitting in the driveway. I swallow hard and head inside.
“You look terrible,” he snorts, immediately as I enter the living room. “Your boyfriend dumped you right?”
I shook my head. “He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I whisper.
Bruce chokes on his laughter. “You’re telling me that you slept with some random and took his jersey?”
“Leave it, Bruce,” I snap angrily, bitter tears starting to fill my eyes.
“Aw,” he pouts. “He broke your heart. You gave it up didn’t you.”
“Bruce,” I beg. “Stop–”
“God, you’re so stupid,” he laughs. “All these academic awards and you’re still too dumb to recognize when a dude is using you.”
I didn’t want to hear him demean me further. I sprint up the stairs as fast as I could, practically tripping on the way up. But he just keeps flinging insults at me.
He was right. It was stupid of me to believe a word that boy had said. He was notorious for his acquisitions. His friends were too. And I had just gotten so caught up in the fantasy that someone would actually like me, that I refused to see the signs.
Locking the door, I finally allow myself to break. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling down my face as the heartbreak really sets itself in.
Six Years Later
Work was busy again. It was a Wednesday night at the hottest restaurant in the city. Waiters and waitresses whizzed around the tables with their trays of drinks and food.
I was exhausted after a long day of trying to get clients for my internship, but I had to pick this shift up to get the last of my month's rent.
Behind the long elegant bar, a couple tvs were tuned into some sports events. I didn’t pay any attention to who was playing or what sport it was, until a man asked for the channel to be changed.
“Put on the Thunderbolt game. I hear we have a chance at the Stanley cup,”he says proudly.
Out of sheer curiosity, I looked up at the screen as it changed. Right then, the camera changed and a face I swore I’d never lay eyes upon again popped on the screen.
Of course, it was the infamous Timothy Hayes. The hot rising star that everyone is watching right now. Except me.
Anger burned through me again. I still hated myself for being so naive about him.
Get a grip, Evie.
I had bigger things to worry about. Like saving my money and surviving this job and my internship at the law firm.
Not Him.
