Jaded by Tijan

"Coffee's a good antidote," Bryce deadpanned.

Denton scowled his way, but recovered almost immediately.

Bryce and I both caught it and shared a look. I shifted in my seat and introduced, "Mena, this is Leisha. Leisha, this is Mena. Mena's first day was yesterday at our school."

"Oh really? I don't remember seeing you." Leisha said warmly. I enjoyed her naiveté.

"So why was your friend in jail?" Denton said abruptly. I don't think he enjoyed the naiveté.

I ignored him and murmured, "Mena, do you have a fever now?"

"No," she said quickly.

"See? Coffee heals anything," Bryce said easily, but kept his eyes on Denton, alert.

"Look, man, I was concerned for my sister. What's your problem?" Denton bit out and flexed his hands.

"I think I skipped my second day when I started high school too." I laughed and shifted in my seat, getting comfortable.

Denton caught the insult and glared at me. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

"Me?" I asked innocently, fighting a smile.

Bryce bit back a smile.

Leisha gulped and had the whole deer in headlights look again.

Mena just frowned.

Denton leaned forward and retorted, "It may work wonders in bed, darling. In real life, people are going to stop dancing to your tune real quick."

"Funny how you're still dancing," I mused.

A wall slammed in place over Denton's eyes and he stood up. "Let's go, Mena. You're feeling better. I should take you to school."

Mena stood reluctantly.

I suggested, "You can ride with us. We should get going too."

"No," Denton said quickly with a hand at his sister's elbow. "I'll take her. I don't know if she'll actually get there with you."

Bryce laughed.

"Was that an insult?" I joined in Bryce's amusement.

Denton shook his head and dragged Mena behind him. We watched through the window and saw him shake his arm in the air at her. Mena shrugged him off and got into the passenger seat. A moment later Denton followed and his tires squealed out of the parking lot.

"What…," Leisha breathed out. "What was that?"

I shrugged and stood, "Let's go." Game over.

Leisha led the way and Bryce fell in step beside me. He ignored my back pocket and slid his fingers into my thong's top strap. His thumb gently caressed the outside of my pants and he murmured into my ear, "Big Fame Steele's got a temper on him."

"I know."

He held me back and the coffee shop's door shut with us on the inside and Leisha on the outside. She stopped at my car and glanced back for us.

He nipped at my bottom lip and murmured, huskily, "Can we please ditch this girl?"

"And do what?" I nipped back.

Bryce slid his tongue against mine before he replied, "Do what we should've done yesterday."

"Spend the whole day in bed?" I laughed and pushed away from him.

"Why not?"

I looked in surprise and saw that he was serious.

"Whatever, Bryce. You have scouts all this week." I moved to leave, but he caught my arm again.

"What?" I asked again, breathless.

"I'll still play. Let's skip. Come on."

"You won't play and you know it." His coach was strict, which was needed with Bryce. Coach Bewer was also a pseudo father figure to Bryce, including punishment and discipline. The soccer field was probably the only place that Bryce didn't get away with our games.

"Seriously, Sheldon."

"Seriously, Bryce," I said firmly. "No." I slipped out of his hold and was outside before he could drag me back inside.

Bryce followed reluctantly and shot me a dark look as he sat in the passenger seat.

Leisha just watched us both warily. She was like a breath of fresh air.

Chapter 7





Bryce didn't comment the entire drive back towards school, but it wasn't a long drive until I turned the engine off.

A group of students stood just outside the school's doors. Some smoked, some just chatted.

"There's Yerling," Bryce noted and gestured towards the door. Sure enough, Yerling and his posse stood amongst the group.

I sat back with the keys in my hand. I wasn't sure I wanted to be around for whatever was going to happen.

Leisha had moved to the door handle, but she paused and waited for us.

"Go," I said briskly and she left. Bryce and I both watched as Chad stepped to the front of the group. He threw his cigarette to the ground and watched my car. His eyes trailed to Leisha, but he let her pass without a second look.

He still looked bloodied. A large bruise had formed at his jaw and at the corner of his eye. His nose was swollen and his eye was bloodshot.

"Holy," I murmured. "He looks awful."

Bryce bristled beside me.

"Your knuckles didn't look like they'd done that."

Bryce didn't comment on that, but he said instead, "Let's go back to your place." He grinned charmingly, "You can put ice on my knuckles."

"It's not the only thing that needs ice."

He grinned faintly, but moved across and kissed the underside of my jaw.

"Seriously." I put a hand on his chest, intending to push him away.

He slid a hand down the inside of my thigh until I firmly pushed him back.

"What is up with you?" I demanded, seriously. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't spend my days on my back." At the glint of amusement, I added, "Or straddling some guy or on my knees. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing," he said tightly and settled back in his seat.

I watched him, concerned.

"Bryce," I said softly. No more games.

He glanced away, but I heard his breath of surrender.

A moment later, he relented, "I don't need to be at practice anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm off the team."

"What?!"

"It's not like that," he said hastily. "I already got the scholarship. They don't want me to play high school anymore."

Oh.

I sat back stunned. And then I cried out, "That's not fair. They can't do that." He'd miss everything. His senior games, play-offs, even state—and that's if they got there without him.

"They already did. Dad met with them last night and finalized everything."

"You're really not playing for the rest of the year."

He nodded.

"How's your coach feel about that?"

Bryce's jaw clenched and he replied tightly, "He's not happy."

"Did you go to practice last night?"

"Yeah, but I didn't need to."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to be having this conversation," he pointed out.

"Bryce, you're such a shit."

He chuckled.

"Does Corrigan know?"

"Yeah."

"Corrigan knows and I didn't?"

"Because of this. You're acting like a girl."

"I'm acting like your best friend, idiot," I retorted and slammed the door as I got outside. As I stalked away, Bryce called my name. I ignored him and kept going.

I had moved almost all the way to the door before Chad caught my elbow.

"Back off," I snapped as I wrenched my arm free.

In a flash, Bryce was at my side. He maneuvered to stand between me and Chad.

"Hey, hey." Chad had a feral smile on his face. He raised his hands and backed up. "I'm not going to hurt her. Oh, that's right. I never hurt her in the first place."

"You're a wounded animal." I grinned at him, back on familiar ground. "You've been put down, but you just keep coming back for more."

Bryce moved so his back was to me. He had effectively cut me off from Chad's glare.

"What's wrong, Scout?" Chad taunted. "You don't even want your girlfriend talking to me?"

"Back off, Yerling."

A sophomore had come to the door, but turned back when he noticed what was going on.

"Or you're going to mess up my face again? I heard Raimler got arrested for my car. Thanks, by the way. Now I know where to send my insurance information. Are you going to pay for my medical bills?"

Bryce remained silent. Again, he didn't have to say anything.

It seemed to infuriate Chad even more because he shook his head and spat, "You know what pisses me off about you, Scout? You, Raimler, and your little girlfriend walk around this school like you own it. The only reason you get away with everything is because you do to everyone else what you did to me and to that kid from the office. Someone goes against your unspoken rules and you knock him down."

The door shoved open behind me and Corrigan pushed his way to Bryce's side.

Chad glared at him now.

"What do you want, Raimler? You weren't a part of this conversation."

Corrigan grinned, self-assured, and shot back, "Maybe I should've been. You mess with my friends and you mess with me."

Bryce shifted on his feet. Corrigan moved forward, just a slight inch of a step, but everyone knew that Corrigan was the threat now. Bryce had moved to the background.

I had become nonexistent to the guys. It wasn't even about me, not anymore. I wondered if it had ever been about me. I remembered Chet's words and Bryce's. They had both said that Chad had been off lately. He'd pulled some stunts that weren't okay with the guys.

There was a code among the guys. They could do a lot, say a lot, but nothing would be done as a reprimand. It makes a person wonder what was so bad for Chad to be taken down. And to have all the guys be okay with it.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a bunch more had followed Corrigan. Chet, Holster, and some others must've left through a side door. They came from behind us and had formed a circle around Chad and his group. Some of those guys started to look nervous.

Corrigan was saying, "You know what you did, Yerling. You better watch it."

"Or what?" Chad sneered. He took a step closer. "You're going to hurt me, Raimler? You and Scout. You can't hurt me by yourself. We both know that."

Corrigan bit back his words, but Bryce shifted again. That same inch and suddenly he was back in charge. He murmured, seemingly relaxed, "I can hurt you."

Chad's glare seemed to darken and his eyes skimmed over me. Whatever he thought, he didn't share. A second later, one of the guys murmured, "Teacher."

Immediately the group dispersed. Chad and his friends took off into the parking lot while everyone else either took a lounging stance or walked back inside the school. And me? I headed inside and actually went to the rest of my classes. I even disappeared to my art room during lunch. I wasn't eager for a replay with Chad Yerling and the rest. I didn't even want to banter with Corrigan.

Mr. Sayword glanced at me questioningly, but he didn't say anything. When I was in the developing room later, a brisk knock sounded and I called out, "Yeah?"

Mr. Sayword called through, "Can I come in?"

I flipped the switch and the door opened. He closed it behind him and flipped the switch back.

I waited. He'd never come in before.

"Uh huh." Mr. Sayword cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet. My art teacher was nervous. He tucked his longish sandy-colored hair behind his ears and straightened the wire-rim glasses over his nose bridge. His buttoned-down shirt was a little rumpled, but his pants were still nicely pleated.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Uh…Miss Connors called me into her office for a consultation."

"What?" I asked sharply.

"She has heard about our unique teacher-student bond."

What bond? I respected the guy. That was a bond?

I remained silent.

"Yes, she—uh—she wanted to ask my opinion on your state of well-being."

"What'd you say?"

He blinked, his eyes were magnified behind the glasses, but he gazed in stupefaction to me. He stared another moment and I noticed that his eyelashes were rich and plump. I was jealous. I wish I had those eyelashes.

"I said…well, to be quite honest, I told her that I had always thought you were a magnificent student. You've always been on time. A hard worker. You've never talked back to me or bullied another student. Your projects are always done wondrously with a touch of genius."

What the hell? I blinked.

"Miss Connors was…she was, well…she was—she seemed a bit taken aback by my opinion and thought perhaps we have an unusual bond."

My smile was barely constrained when I guessed, "She thinks we're sleeping together?"

He coughed and pounded his chest. He needed to turn away and cough some deep wrenching hacks before he was composed. When he turned back, he gulped and looked at me.

I held firm and stared him down. That's when I saw the truth.

The one teacher that earned my respect is the one rumored to be my lover. Poetic, really.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Well," he began, "I really just wanted to make you aware of the situation. Miss Connors seemed to have quite a list of concerns about you."

"Do I quit the class?"

To this, I saw my first glimpse of anger in my normally-composed teacher.

"No." He said it short, simple, and final.

I grinned despite the situation and replied, ruefully, "I'm guessing Miss Connors doesn't know about those balls."

He frowned, but replied, "Well, Miss Jeneve, now that you have been apprised of the situation, I will leave you to your work." He