Page 98 of Offside Attraction
Her white dress shirt is missing its tie, and the top two buttons of her blouse are left unattended. She's not wearing her blazer as she walks down the steps. Without an invitation, Shay sits down next to me, letting out a heavy sigh as she stares at me.
“You mind?” She asks, pointing at the cigarette in my mouth. I shrug, taking it out of my mouth and passing it to her. She takes the cigarette and slips it between her lips and I watch her take a drag, inhaling the smoke down her lungs, and exhaling it through her nose and mouth.
“I didn’t know you smoke,” I say, starting a conversation a part of me isn’t willing to start in the first place.
Shay Cassidy is a girl born with a silver spoon. I haven’t been to her house but I’m sure as shit it’s luxurious. The way she carries herself, it’s like she’s got everything figured out. Poised, well mannered. I know she’s a bitch, but she always tries to act like she’s above it all—like the petty drama of Crestview doesn’t touch her. Her confidence is always unnerving, like she knows she can always get what she wants without even asking. So now you understand why I’m surprised she’s hiding out in a stairwell smoking with me.
She shrugs as she leans back against the stairwell wall, her eyes half-lidded and distant. She exhales another plume of smoke, her movements practiced, like she’s done this a hundred times before. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Dakota,” she says, her voice low and dry, carrying a hint of something I can’t quite place—bitterness, maybe.
I lean back as well, glancing sideways at her. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you were the type to hang out in stairwells and steal other people’s cigarettes, either.”
She smirks faintly, taking another drag. “There’s a lot you don’t know about a lot of people.”
Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning I’m not sure I want to unpack. I don’t know why she’s here, why she’s talking to me, or what she expects to get out of this, but I can’t bring myself to ask. Instead, I let the silence stretch, watching the smoke curl around her as she stares ahead.
“I heard you grew up in this town before moving to New York,” Shay says, her gaze focused on me as she smokes my cigarette.
“Yeah,” I reply, leaning back against the railing, trying to sound indifferent. “Born and raised here. Left when I was fourteen.”
She nods, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, her expression unreadable. “What was it like? Growing up here, I mean.”
I glance at her, unsure of where this sudden curiosity is coming from. Shay doesn’t strike me as the type to care about anyone’s backstory unless it benefits her somehow. “It was fine,” I say with a shrug. “Same as it is now, I guess. Small town, small minds.”
Her lips twitch, like she’s amused by my answer. “But now you’re back,” she says, her tone soft but probing. “Why?”
I hesitate, my jaw tightening as memories I’d rather forget bubble to the surface. “It wasn’t my choice,” I admit, keeping my voice even. “My mom wanted to come back. Said it would be good for us.”
Shay raises an eyebrow, taking another drag of the cigarette. “And is it? Good for you, I mean?”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Not even close.”
She hums thoughtfully, flicking ash onto the floor. “So, what’s the deal with you and Hayes?” she asks at once, her voice casual, but her eyes sharp. “You’ve got history, don’t you?”
I freeze, the question hitting harder than it should. My first instinct is to deny it, to brush her off, but the way she’s looking at me—like she already knows the answer—makes it clear that won’t work.
“What makes you think that?” I ask instead, keeping my tone neutral.
Shay smirks, leaning in slightly. “The way you two look at each other,” she says, her voice low. “Like you’re either about to kill each other or…” She trails off, her smirk widening. “Well, let’s just say it’s intense.”
I swallow hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but the words feel hollow, even to me.
“Maybe,” Shay replies, leaning back and exhaling another plume of smoke. “People always think since I'm blonde, pretty, and from a rich home, I’m automatically dumb. But I’m good at reading people, Dakota. And whatever’s going on between you and Hayes, it’s not nothing.”
Her words hang in the air, thick and unsaid. For once, I’ve got nothing—no snark, no clever retort. Just silence as I stare at the faint curl of smoke drifting upward, wondering how the hell someone like Shay Cassidy sees right through me.
“Are you two fucking?”
The question slices through the quiet, catching me off guard. I snap my head toward her.
“Excuse me?”
She shrugs, like she didn’t just lob a grenade into the conversation. “Just an observation. If you’re not already screwing each other, it’s only a matter of time.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She tilts her head, her blue eyes sliding over to meet mine. There’s something piercing in her gaze, like she’s trying to dissect me, to pull me apart piece by piece. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know?” she says simply. “The way you look at him. The way he looks at you.”
I stiffen, my jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re wrong.”