Bad Boy Blues

I drove to school and waited for my boyfriend, Neal. He was new in town and from the south side and as soon as I saw his hipster glasses and suspenders, I knew he was my soul mate.

But he never showed up.

Instead of him, I got a text on my phone – typical of Zach and his minions – with Neal’s picture sucking face with a girl at a party at The Pleiades.

I drove to said party, and laid it to him. Not Neal. Zach.

I laid it to Zach. It was pretty shitty, all the things I said to him. But all of them were true.

“Well, you know, Neal didn’t have to go,” Tina offers.

I whip my gaze to her. “Don’t you think I know that? Of course I know that. Of course I know that Neal didn’t have to go. But the fact that he – Zach – invited him in the first place, bugs the fuck out of me, okay? He did it on purpose. They weren’t even friends. He did it to hurt me and because Neal was such an idiot, my first and only boyfriend was getting a lap dance from a girl who didn’t even go to our school. All on prom night.”

We’re silent for a few more seconds.

“I’m glad we stole all his suspenders.” Tina snorts.

I snort too. “Can you believe he had them in like, every color?”

“Oh my God. He had them in neon yellow, too.”

“Oh God, yes.” I laugh and look up at the ceiling, shaking my head.

“How could you go out with him, Cleo? Like, how?”

“I don’t know. I just…” I sigh. “I guess I just wanted to see what it felt like.”

“What?”

“Falling in love.” I swallow. “All I’ve ever done is hate him. Zach, I mean. All I’ve done is be angry and hateful. I just wanted to see what it felt like to be in love with a guy.”

“That’s fair, I guess.” She sighs too. “Are you ready to go back out there?”

I have no option but to nod and stand up. I can’t stay here all night like a coward. I need this job. I have a goal. I can’t let him keep me from that.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The party is happening in the ballroom, located in tower one.

The space is large and never-ending with high cathedral ceilings and vintage Victorian decor. Every corner is filled with intricate arrangements of flowers and tea-light candles. It’s super understated for me but whatever floats their boat, I guess.

I’ve been making rounds of the floor, serving champagne for the past couple of hours, and so far, I haven’t seen Zach.

I know he’s here, though. I know it. Somewhere, amongst all the slick suits and designer dresses, lurks the guy who’s haunted my thoughts ever since I met him.

A man sporting a tuxedo calls for me as I pass him and his group of friends by. I turn to them with my plastic fuck you smile in place and present them the tray. Without stopping their conversation or even sparing me a glance, they each pick up a flute.

Or at least, I think they do.

I’m not looking at them or even paying them any attention. They are inconsequential. Invisible. They don’t exist for me.

Nothing does except him.

Because the moment I turned, the crowd in front of me parted like some useless, catastrophic miracle and I saw him.

Zach.

He’s here.

The boy I hate, the boy I’ve always hated, is back. And he’s standing just ten feet away from me.

God, ten feet is not enough distance between us. Nope. It’s close. It’s real close. We need an ocean between us. A continent. A whole planet. An entire galaxy, maybe.

As it is, I can see him clearly.

I can see every angle of his face.

The sharp peaks of his cheekbones, the slant of his jaw, his strong forehead. Even his eyelashes, how thick and dark they are. How all together, he has to be the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen. Such a delusion, his beauty.

His meanness comes forth in his size. In the veins of his neck and the way he comports himself. All silent and watching and intense and big.

And Jesus Christ, he’s gotten bigger. He’s taller than I remember. Broader too.

Was he this huge three years ago? This… beautiful, with slick, black hair and full lips?

His shoulders look massive. Even from ten feet away, I can see his chest straining against the dark t-shirt that he has on. His entire body seems to be bursting out of his clothes: black leather jacket and blue jeans.

The clothes that are completely wrong for this occasion. The clothes that only Zach is wearing. The rest of the people are in expensive, formal attire.

And just like that, he sticks out.

He screams rebel. Bad boy. He screams that he doesn’t give a fuck.