I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

Tad’s a good looking guy, if you’re into that classic blond-haired, blue-eyed, prince charming wannabe look with the attitude of Gaston. He has no shortage of self-entitled princesses throwing themselves at him.

I shake my head and push his arm back. My checking account may be teetering on the edge of zero, but I’m not this desperate. “Why not hit up one of the JV cheerleaders. They’d jump at the chance to get tangled up with you. For free.”

“Because they aren’t Piper fucking Lovelace. Now come on.” Tad’s hand curls around my arm. He squeezes, pulling me towards the stadium bathrooms.

One Mississippi.

My airway constrict. Bats swarm in my stomach, threatening to bring up the vending machine cinnamon roll I had after fourth period. I absolutely detest being touched; it sets off a catalyst of reactions that steadily get worse. My one and only thought at this point is to make Tad let go.

I dig my heels into the ground and yank my arm back, but my efforts are useless. I try to pry his fingers off me, punch him, kick him in the leg. Nothing I do makes a difference. Tad’s too strong. Even with my best attempt at a struggle, he drags me clear across the parking lot almost effortlessly.

Two Mississippi.

My hands tremble, sending vibrations up my arms and throughout my body. I need help. I hate asking for help almost as much as I hate being touched, but I don’t have much choice. I look to my left and then my right, but there’s no one in sight. No one to hear my screams. I try anyway, opening my mouth to yell, but nothing comes out. This can’t be happening. I swallow the tiny bit of saliva in my bone dry throat and try again.

Nothing but air.

Beads of sweat drip down my neck as the feeling of imp

ending doom lingers. The memory of a crooked grin I’ll never forget flashes before my eyes, amping the intensity of my breakdown.

I spent a good part of this year in counseling to learn how to manage my panic attacks. Finding ways to keep everyone from noticing my freak outs, but Tad makes me feel like I’m trapped. Watching from the outside, I lose all control.

Three Mississippi.

Logically I know it’s been more than three seconds. It had to have been, but I’m stuck in a time warp. Everything happens at a snail slow pace yet lightning fast at the same time.

Tad pushes me against a wall near the entrance of the girl’s bathroom, just outside of the football stadium. He lets go of my arm and presses his hands on either side of me. I realize that this situation probably isn’t going to end well, but my anxiety begins to subside. As close as Tad is, he’s not touching me anymore.

I can think again.

Feel again.

Pain surges through my arm like a lightning bolt. It was probably there the whole time, but I didn’t notice. I’m going to have five little bruises from the pressure of his fingers but I don’t move to soothe the throbbing. I hold my ground, fists balled at my sides, and stare up at him.

“I'm not above dragging you into the bathroom, but I don’t want to do that. I just need you to go in there with me, Piper.” Tad rests his forehead against the wall. His breath was loud and shaky beside my ear. “A thousand dollars,” he says suddenly, turning his head, begging me with his eyes to concede. “Walk in there with me. Please. You have to… ”

If my heart wasn’t already racing, it would be. That’s a lot of money, enough for a ticket out of town and a few nights at a cheap motel. It’s not nearly enough to pay my bio-mom’s debts, but it would put a dent in it and maybe keep everyone off my back a little longer.

I don’t know though. Whatever rumor is bound to start about me would be gone in eight short weeks, but this situation doesn’t feel right. Something’s off. “I need that money. More than you can imagine, but no.”

Tad beats his fist on the wall beside me. I flinch, but he’s so lost in himself he doesn’t seem to notice. “What the fuck, Piper? I’ve offered you ten times more than your worth. If you don’t go in there, I’m gonna be...” He shakes his head.

“I don’t want—”

Tad turns to me again, this time crashing his lips onto mine. He tastes like cigarettes and tuna fish, two things I hate. His hands push into my hair, tangling and pulling my roots. Bile creeps up my throat.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want him.

No! I bite down on the tongue that’s invaded my mouth and press my palms to Tad’s chest, pushing as hard as I can. He stumbles back a step and stares at me, wide eyed, apparently shocked that I rejected him.

“You bitch!” He grunts, raising his hand and slapping me across the face. “You don’t want to do this the easy way, fine. We can do it—!”

“Hey!” A deep voice booms from my right. A wide, tall body comes out of nowhere, physically shielding me with its massive frame while a hand shoves Tad’s shoulder.

Tad loses his balance and stumbles a step to the right. “The fuck you want, Montgomery?”