I Hate You (I Think)
"Hey Monster Girl, going to a funeral?"
I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker closed with thundering force. "Don't you have somewhere to be Trevor? Like Sears? I hear they're having a sale on khakis," I retorted, walking passed him towards the main doors to freedom.
I was just about to push through the heavy metal doors when his hand grabbed my wrist, jerking me backwards. I lost my footing and fell back against his chest, my free hand waving around in the air before me.
"Let me go."
"Why would I ever do that?" he asked seductively in my ear, wrapping his other arm around my waist, my back pressed against his chest. I could feel his warm breath against my skin.
"Someone will think you're holding my hand or worse: hugging me. You wouldn't want to ruin your reputation and I really just don't want you touching me so I suggest you let go before I kick you where it hurts," I threatened, lifting one of my feet to show off the four-inch platform of my black combat boots. My shoes, when used properly, could do some serious damage.
"You use big scary words, Bat Girl, but I know you like it," he said. "And besides, there's no one around to see us. Just you and me, together."
The thing was, he was right. I did like it. I didn't necessarily like him, but I would be lying to say that having the gorgeous (albeit annoying) Trevor Mitchell holding me wasn't nice. There was a reason he was the most popular among girls with his movie star looks. Even I, the independent monster Goth outcast who shunned anything popular and colorful, couldn't help but turn to mush when staring at Trevor too long. I may be Goth but I was still a teenage girl, which meant that I had hormones just like everyone else. Under certain circumstances, they knew how to go crazy.
But I still had my pride. "You have 'til three and then my foot is going to be planted between your legs."
"I'd much rather have you between my legs," he growled, flicking his tongue against my earlobe. I shuddered.
"Or beneath me…"
"…your ghostly white legs tight around my hips..."
"…moaning my name."
I clenched my fists and lifted my foot to deliver the hardest kick my fishnet-covered legs could manage when he released me from his hold. I whipped around to glare at him, wishing more than ever that I had the power to shoot laser beams from my eyes.
Trevor was standing inches from me, his tan, muscled arms crossed cockily over his polo covered chest, a satisfied smirk plastered across his chiseled face. His green, almond shaped eyes were twinkling. "You're blushing."
I self-consciously touched my face to find it burning beneath my fingers. "It's sunburn."
"I didn't know vampires could go out in the sun."
"Oh, how original. I didn't know trolls were allowed to attend school but you learn something new every day."
"Then I guess we're both monsters, aren't we? In that case, we're made for each other. The troll and the vampire." His smirk turned into a smile worthy of a Colgate advertisement. "Sounds like something you'd be into."
"In your wet dreams," I sneered, flipping my black hair behind my shoulder and turning on my heel as I headed towards the main doors.
"You know it."
I glanced behind to see him walking in the opposite direction towards the gym where he would join his soccer team for practice, his hands tucked in the front pockets of his ironed khakis and his golden blond hair shining beneath the glare of the hallway's fluorescent lights. He looked like a model and the freshly waxed tile of the school hallway was his runway.
I rolled my kohl-lined eyes and pushed through the doors into the blazing afternoon sun.
"I'm home," I announced as I walked into the house, breathing a sigh of relief as I crashed onto my living room couch and switched on the TV.
"Why are you so late today?" Entering the living room holding a basket of clothes, mom dumped them onto the recliner and began folding. They were whites; not mine.
"I was helping Mrs. Baker clean her classroom. Just doing my daily good deed for the community," I said dully, flipping through the channels, searching for something that wasn't Oprah or Dr. Phil.
"So, why exactly were you in detention?"
Leave it to my mother to see straight through my lie. "What was I supposed to do? Not throw my pencil case at Jennifer Warren after she sprayed me with her disgusting watermelon sparkle perfume? She said I smelled like garlic!" I exclaimed, throwing the remote control at the loveseat opposite the couch and punching the cushion next to me in anger. Jennifer Warren was lucky there wasn't something more dangerous for me to throw at the time…like scissors.
"Raven! You're seventeen years old, not seven," my mother scolded as only a mother could.
"So I'm just supposed to shrug my shoulders and thank her when she sprays me with that fairy juice? I don't think so."
Mom shook her bobbed highlighted head as she finished folding the fluffy white towel in her hands. "Of course you should stand up for yourself, Raven, it's just not necessary to use violence. There are other ways for you to solve your problems. Grown-up ways."
I sighed. My mom obviously wasn't past her hippie ways. Peace and love were the only two words in her suburban mother dictionary. Well…peace, love, and school.
"I think you should go see Becky. You need to leave the house. All you do is sit in front of the TV. It's no wonder why you're so angry all the time. I would be too if I had no one to talk to," she continued.
I buried my face in the cushions to dampen my frustrated groan. The truth was, I would like nothing more than to hang out with my best friend. Unfortunately she didn't feel the same way now that she spent every waking moment with her new boyfriend, Matt Wells. I, Raven Madison, her dark, vampire-loving, monster movie watching, black eyeliner wearing best friend had been replaced by the khaki wearing, soccer kicking, rich boy Matt Wells. Not only was Matt Trevor Mitchell's best friend, but he was also a really nice guy, which sucked because it gave me absolutely no reason to dislike him. Long story short, I'd been abandoned and I didn't even have a good reason to hate the boy responsible for it.
"Huh?" my mother probed. Her curiosity was relentless.
"I can't," I mumbled into the couch.
"I can't hear you."
"I said I can't," I grumbled, lifting my head from the couch and flipping onto my back to stare up at the white ceiling. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and examined my chipped black nail polish.
"She's going to Matt's soccer game tonight."
"I think you should go with her."
"I don't want to," I stated simply, accentuating each word clearly. I really was beginning to sound like a seven year old.
"Well, now you're just being stubborn. Get up off your butt and call her," my mom ordered.
When mom didn't reply, I closed my eyes, figuring she'd given up. My head was starting to throb behind my eyelids and I rubbed my temples to soothe some of the pain. Beeping came from the kitchen, signaling the dialing of our phone.
"Hello, Becky? This is Raven's mom, hi. I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind picking Raven up on your way to the soccer game tonight? She'd really like to go but was too shy to ask; you know how she is…yes…yes…oh, that's great! Okay, we'll see you at six…yep…bye dear."
As soon as I heard the phone click back into its stand, I was off the couch and sliding into the kitchen in my black dress and fishnets. "What did you just do?"
My mom jumped when she saw me, her hand coming up to cover her heart as if to keep it from leaping out of her chest. "Oh, you heard that? I wanted it to be a surprise."
"I told you I can't go," I growled.
"Well, obviously you can. Becky was actually very excited that you're going," my mom said, turning on the oven to begin dinner.
"Okay, fine. How about I don't want to go?"
"And why not? I thought you wanted to see Becky?"
"I do, but not when she's hanging all over Matt. With him there, I'm like a third leg: not needed and very awkward," I explained as if it were scientific fact. "And I really don't want to see Trevor any more than I already have to."
My mom nodded her head knowingly as she dumped a box of spaghetti noodles in a pot. "That's what this is all about."
"That's what what is all about?" I asked, quirking a thin eyebrow and crossing my arms defensively over my chest.
"Trevor. You talk about him almost every day. If you have such a problem with him then why don't you just throw your pencil case at him like you did that Jennifer Warren?"
Because he'd steal it and hold it in his hands while he slept, I thought with sour amusement. "I'm plotting something much worse for him. Something horrific."
"Oh no," my mom muttered, rolling her eyes.
"I'm so glad you wanted to come. We haven't hung out in forever!" Becky squealed as we climbed into her truck. She was dressed up in a conservative light pink dress, most likely in the hopes of impressing Matt. "When was the last time we actually did something together outside of school?"
"I don't know, when did you and Matt start dating?"
"Two weeks ago," she stated.
"Then two weeks ago," I answered.
"Oh come on Raven, you totally could've hung out with us. Matt's not going to drive a stake into your heart or anything."
My mouth dropped open in shock and my eyes bugged. "So now you're making vampire jokes about me also? Great. You must be hanging around Trevor," I spat, looking out the window at the setting sun.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she apologized.
"So are you?"
"Am I what?" she asked naively.
"Hanging around Trevor?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering with a weak 'yes'.
I groaned. "You're being taken over by the dark side and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Don't you mean the light side?" she joked. I couldn't help but laugh.
By the time we walked onto the metal bleachers lining the side of the school soccer field, the sun had already set. We were early and the game hadn't begun yet so Becky scurried off to talk to Matt, leaving me to sit alone. Most of the soccer team was out on the field kicking around a ball. I easily spotted Trevor. He already had a thin veil of sweat shimmering on his forehead and his blond hair was plastered to his face. He was breathing heavily, pausing to press his palms to his knees, smiling brilliantly at a teammate.
I caught myself staring as he lifted his soccer jersey to wipe the sweat from his forehead, exposing his perfectly muscled stomach. The guy was modeled like a Greek god.
I peeked behind to see Jennifer Warren and her best friend, Heather Ryan, standing up and waving at Trevor like two obsessed fan girls. "Oh look, he's coming over!" giggled Heather.
I turned just in time to see Trevor running up the bleachers, his eyes not on the two varsity cheerleaders but on me. I actually felt the teensiest bit thrilled…or maybe I was just confused.
"Hey Elvira, came to cheer me on?" he asked, taking a seat beside me. He was close enough that I could smell the masculine spice of his cologne beneath the pheromone-ridden perfume of his sweat. Heat from his skin radiated off of him in waves, his breath still uneven and weighty with exertion.
"As if. I'm here on behalf of the other team," I said, leaning away. "Back off Trevor, you're getting me all wet."
He smirked mischievously. "What was that Raven? I'm making you wet? I'm flattered."
My jaw dropped open in shock.
"Oh my God, what a freak." Jennifer's voice was scathing, her attempt to mock me ruined by her overzealous jealousy.
Trevor glanced over his shoulder and smiled, his eyes lingering on the two cheerleaders, his amusement failing to look sincere. "They're making fun of you."
"Yeah, I got that," I retorted. "It's because you can't shut your ugly mouth."
"Ugly?" He forced a hurt expression. Forced because he knew, just like I and everyone else knew, that Trevor Mitchell's mouth and everything else was, in fact, not ugly. "That's not very nice."
I rolled my eyes and turned away to stare intently at the rolling soccer ball, trying to ignore the giggling cheerleaders and Trevor with great effort. I felt like I'd stepped too close to a hornet's nest and the little buggers were waiting for the right time to sting the hell out of me. If I just didn't move, if I didn't say another barbed word, maybe I'd manage an escape.
Movement in my peripheral prompted me to glance over to find Trevor peeling off his jersey. It was unnecessarily fluid, like something out of an advertisement for men's deodorant, the flash of his bronzed skin and the casual way he shook his hair back into place unfairly captivating. I was pretty sure it wasn't natural for a mere human to be so visually appealing. Maybe he was an incubus. I might have to investigate.
The two girls sitting behind us sighed like lovesick fools. At least I knew how to keep my admiration to myself.
The disgust I managed into my expression was Oscar-worthy. "Really?"
He paused, glancing down at the jersey in his hands like he hadn't even realized until that moment that he'd undressed in front of an audience of attentive girls. The smirk that curled his mouth wasn't as cocky as usual, green gaze dark with quiet uncertainty. "Does it bother you?"
Instantly we both seemed to realize that we'd had what one might call a normal and civil moment of conversation, which was new and weird and insane because it was us and we hated each other.
My immediate response seemed to surprise Trevor because he was staring at me, except it wasn't the kind of staring I was used to. It was strange. Thoughtful and kind of…captivated.
"I mean, it's not like I haven't seen you shirtless—I mean, I—who cares? It's not anything to—um—" Great. I was floundering. In all my nervous babbling, I didn't realize he'd been drawing closer until our noses were brushing. Our eyes locked. "What are you doing?"
"Making your life hell."
His hand was in my hair just before his mouth was against mine, the gesture unexpectedly gentle despite its suddenness. My lips parted to protest, my words silenced beneath the slide of his tongue against my lower lip. I stilled the moment I felt his tongue brush mine, slipping between my lips.
Trevor tasted like mint. That was the last thing I managed to process before my brain switched off, my eyelids lowering as I parted my mouth to allow him further access, my tongue shyly pressing against his. I felt him sigh against my mouth, the fingers in my hair tightening just before the artificial snap of a shutter drew the both of us back to reality.
The accompanying flash from Jennifer's cell phone camera startled me enough that I bit down on Trevor's tongue. He cried out in pain, his words muddled, hand cupping his mouth. Pressing my hands to his chest, I forcefully pushed him away before standing to put distance between us. Wiping my moistened mouth against the back of my hand, uncaring that I was smudging my black lipstick, I glared daggers.
"You…" I growled threateningly, narrowing my eyes at Trevor who had stood to face me, looking at me as if daring me to hit him.
I never turned down a dare.
I balled my fist and pulled it back, poised like a snake ready to strike. Trevor's green eyes bored into mine as he stepped closer, bracing himself for the attack. I waited for the right moment when I would catch him off guard. Then I would hit him in that pretty face of his with everything I had, a hundred punches not close to what he deserved.
Deserved because what he did was a jerk move, even for him.
Trevor Mitchell, king of assholes and my childhood nemesis, had just stolen my first kiss. Something that was meant to be special, something that teenage girls, even girls like myself, fantasized about, had been ruined as part of some practical joke. A personal moment had just been robbed from me, put on show and ridiculed by a guy who only pretended to have some screwed-up crush on me so he could mess with my head and embarrass me in front of his friends.
He was not going to get away with it.
A whistle blew on the soccer field, signaling the players to meet before the game, calling Trevor's attention away from me for the slightest instant. I took advantage of the opportunity and lunged forward, my fist flying and heading straight for his perfectly straight nose. It was like a scene from Spiderman and I briefly wondered if Trevor had superhuman powers as he quickly dodged my fist so it flew right by his left ear. He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him, my face almost smacking into his naked chest.
"I've got to go. How about one more kiss for good luck?" he asked, leaning down so the tip of his nose was touching mine.
I swung my free hand up but he caught that one too and pinned both my arms behind my back, forcing me into an awkward hug. My spine arched towards him and I had to look up into his face to avoid face planting into his smooth chest. It was a very compromising position.
"Let go Trevor," I demanded through gritted teeth.
"Or what?" he teased.
"Or I'll never speak to you again," I threatened. I wasn't sure how effective that was going to be but it was all I had.
His smile actually seemed to falter a little bit. "You wouldn't do that."
"I would too. I hate you. It's not like it'd be hard."
"I think you're lying," he whispered. He leaned down and I clenched my eyes shut, fearing another kiss. My eyes popped open in surprise when I felt his warm, soft lips press against my cheek.
What was that?
His mouth was then at my ear and I had to strain to hear him. "You can talk big all you want, Monster Girl, but just remember one thing…"
My heart thudded against my chest and I knew he could feel it too. I heard him chuckle. "What?"
"You kissed back."
I stared after him as he ran down to join his team on the field, not paying any attention to all of the fan girls waving at him on the bleachers. A hard tap on my shoulder shook me out of my numbed trance.
It was Jennifer Warren and I could tell by the look on her face that she was not happy. "What was that?" she asked viciously, throwing her blonde ponytail behind her shoulder.
"What was what?"
"With Trevor. There's no way you two are dating. So explain why he kissed you?"
Me as in not her. I would've smiled if I weren't still reeling with shock. "Why don't you ask him?" I spat back as I pointed towards the soccer team, which was now dispersing to different sections of the field.
"Whatever. I bet you think you're really special or something, but you're not. A guy like Trevor would never want a girl like you. You're not his type and he's way out of your league so you just need to back off," she warned, placing her manicured hands on her size zero hips.
Now I was beyond angry. "I think you're jealous. I bet you that if I wanted, I could have Trevor and I wouldn't even have to try half as hard as you do," I bragged, folding my arms across my chest and glaring up at her.
She sneered at me. "Please. To Trevor, you're nothing but another piece of ass," she muttered before grabbing hold of Heather's hand and dragging her towards the other end of the bleachers where some of the other cheerleaders were sitting.
I spent the remainder of the soccer game alone, fuming over the evening's events. Of course I was mad at Trevor for stealing something as important as my first kiss and I wanted to murder Jennifer Warren and her pom-pom wielding best friend for teasing me, but the person I was most mad at was myself.
After everything Trevor and me had been through, after all his teasing and abusing me over the years, after the heated threats and angry outbursts, and even though he only pretended to want me and his kisses meant nothing, the reason I was so angry with myself was because suddenly…I wanted them to mean something.
I, Raven Madison, had some screwed up, weird, insane, out-of-this world, small, (pretty much microscopic) crush on Trevor Mitchell.