Page 2 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)
Maybelle
The little voice in my head and soul was still screaming as I entered the gym, melding with the ridiculous cacophony of cheering from students that covered the bleachers.
I searched for a vacant seat to take refuge in. As I looked, Hannah Lacy was a beacon of hope as she stood above the crowd, signalling me to join her at the top of the right-side bleachers.
I strode to the steps and climbed up to the secluded corner, where I found Hannah sitting alone.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” I sighed. Hannah pushed her round glasses up the bridge of her nose as she gave me a soft smile. It was the only real greeting I could ever manage to extract from the shy girl.
Her attention retreated to the small book she had propped on her legs while I adjusted, placing my shoulder bag down between my knees. With my breathing calm and my cheeks no longer scalding, I peered over at the book she was devouring.
I couldn’t contain my excitement as I tapped a finger on the edge of the book. “ Flipped ? That’s my favorite book. Do you like it?”
Hannah eyed me from her peripheral. We were usually content just using each other for companionship in crowded situations.
Other than that, we weren’t exactly friends in the general sense of the word.
We never once hung out outside of campus walls—but we looked out for one another.
I never liked that, but I also had never cared to change it until now.
I don’t know if it had to do with the school year ending, my Trey-encounter-high or my social heart trying to break through my self-inflicted walls... But I felt it couldn’t hurt leaving our time together with at least a small effort to be actual friends.
Hannah scrunched her nose and adjusted her glasses. A habit I noticed each time she engaged with something or someone other than her latest read. “Uh, it’s alright, Bryce is kind of a jerk though.”
I feigned astonishment. “What? — Well yeah, at first, but he’s still cute.”
Hannah stared back at me, unamused.
Feeling defeated, I surrendered instantly. “Keep reading. He gets better at the end.”
She obeyed without another word or glance at me.
I loved my books, but only if they had romance, of course. Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen was the official start of that obsession when I read the book in sixth grade. Now, a little older, I was into romances with a lot spicier tension.
The surrounding students all jumped to their feet, ripping me from my daydreaming of romance books.
I stood on my bleacher seat, leaving Hannah below to her book to see what had everyone’s undivided attention.
The football team and cheerleaders galloped to the front and center of the gym, with Liam and Trey at the head of the herd.
Those on stage settled in as the students’ lungs deflated from the sheer force of their screams, the crowd slowly sinking back into their seats.
I followed, taking my seat with the rest of the calming audience. As a whole, the student body waited eagerly on the edge of their uncomfortable, bleacher seats while the president and his VP got their hands on a microphone.
The boys exchanged a glance I immediately recognized as an unspoken code between the two friends. One that radiated confidence and unity.
Trey, standing to the left, accepted the microphone first, a charming smile pressed up his lips. “Good morning, Harbor High!”
This greeting, alone, sent the fans back into a riot of enthusiasm.
Trey and Liam joined forces. They took turns rattling off the agenda for not only the rest of the assembly today, but event specifics for the rest of graduation week.
Today, we would be dismissed to go home after the rally.
Tomorrow was class party day, in which each class would have an activity planned for the hour.
Wednesday was the official graduation ceremonial day.
Even just announcing a lame, not so extravagant schedule, Liam and Trey really knew how to work a crowd. They got the audience excited about boring things like Tuesday night’s graduation rehearsal. They did well together, neither overpowering the other, both complimenting each other.
“Now for The Senior Last Dance,” Trey yelled into the microphone. “Teachers and staff, we love you, but cover your ears because this is a senior only event!”
He handed the microphone off to Liam, who turned a dazzling smile on the students.
“After graduation, spend time with your families, and don’t rush. Because we’ll be meeting on Rodeo Beach at midnight, and we will be partying until the sun rises!” Liam punctuated his announcement by throwing an elated fist into the air, spurring the crowd into an upheaval of roaring applause.
The senior girls sitting directly in front of me were already tittering about what they all planned to wear for the night out. The boys to my right boasted about the alcohol they planned to snatch from their dad’s personal coolers and sneak to the beach.
And that there is the difference between men and women, ladies and gentlemen…
Trey and Liam proceeded with the rest of the rally program: a game of musical chairs made up of a few chosen faculty and students, followed by a dance routine put together by the cheer team.
The cherry on top of the whole thing was the football team tackling their head coach, Coach Matthews, and slamming his face with a coconut cream pie.
Soon after that, to my delight, the rally was concluded, and everyone was excused to go home. I picked up my bag, said a quick goodbye to Hannah, then clomped down the bleachers, all while contemplating my plan of action for getting home unnoticed.
Option one: I could beat the boys to the Jeep and pretend to not exist in the back seat. Option two: I wait to see if they forgot about me entirely, allowing me to walk home alone. Thus, robbing me of the opportunity to humiliate myself in front of Trey again.
As I processed my options and concentrated on the steps down off the bleachers, I failed to notice the looming danger ahead. When I made it to the hardwood of the gym floor, a possessive, rough hand found its place at the small of my back.
Startled, but unfortunately, expectant of who I’d find, my gaze shot up to meet with the dark eyes of Clayton Thomas. The overpowering scent of too much aftershave singed my nose hairs as I gaped at the boy.
“Hey, Mason,” Clayton said, smirking at my alarmed reaction.
My body instantaneously tensed and froze. I hated the reaction my body gave him. The paralyzing instincts that glued my joints still .
“Can I help you?” I tried to bite out. I glanced sideways at the surrounding crowd of students, but the gathering was too thick and noisy for anyone to notice my unmistakable discomfort.
Clayton Thomas. Your generic, not all too original bully. A boy who felt he could get away with anything because of his daddy’s deep pockets. Pockets that offered up large sum donations to the school anytime Clayton found himself in a pickle with higher-ups.
The first time Clayton harassed me was behind the building at the end of junior year. I was scared, frozen then too, my only weapon being to glare at him with absolute disdain.
Thankfully, he didn’t get past grabbing a handful of my rear before a group of prying eyes came around the corner, scaring him off. I never saw who witnessed the situation. Humiliated, I hightailed it out of there almost immediately after Clayton.
The jerk hadn’t bothered me since then. He slid me an unwelcome wink here and there in the halls, making sure I knew he hadn’t forgotten about me, but he hadn’t been near as assertive or vocal. Which left me antsy and unnerved, wondering when he would strike next—until now.
His hand remained on my back with the delusional feeling of slime and snake scales against my skin. “I wanted to see if you’d be going to the bonfire after graduation. I’d love to see you there. Maybe we could hangout, and talk?”
He leaned in too close for comfort, but I didn’t move, didn’t push him away. I gripped the shoulder strap of my bag, knuckles white.
Clayton drew in closer, beginning to whisper something in my ear, but he halted abruptly. From the one hand still on my back, I could sense his body stiffen.
I peered up, tracking his gaze to—Trey. Clumped between a thick clutter of students, Trey’s piercing green glare hit its mark. I’d never seen Trey look so intense.
The flexing hand on my back had me returning to Clayton. He had a fleeting look of fear, then frustration, before he slanted me a lazy grin that made me want to outright gag.
“See you around, Mason.” Then he was gone, and with him left the ice that coated my joints. I spun back to where Trey had been, but he was engrossed in conversation again. Like nothing between the three of us had occurred.
My heart kick-started with the deep inhale of fresh, untainted air I sucked into my depleted lungs. Without wasting a second more, I opted for option one. I beat the large ensemble of students out to the parking lot and waited in the unlocked Jeep for Liam and Trey.
Almost forty-five minutes later, the boys dragged themselves free of the cheerleaders and joined me in the car. I kept my head down, refusing to acknowledge either boy, hoping to keep any and all attention off myself.
Except, as we started on the road home, I swear I could feel Trey’s eyes on me. Like a sizzling awareness warming my skin. When we pulled up to the house, I exited the vehicle, this time, thank God, a lot more gracefully, and started up the driveway.
Before I could reach the front door, Liam finally brought me back into existence. “May, let mom know I went to the beach with Trey to surf. Thanks!”
I opened my mouth to reply, but the Jeep was already peeling down the road.