A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the long hiatus, I've been busy with other things lately (ya know, real life and stuff) and I've been focusing on updating on Wattpad and FictionPress and nearly forgot about this one :O255Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2oXt55gT46
Anyway, here are two more new chapters! Thank you for reading thus far, I hope you've enjoyed this story. There's still more to come, and I've just started diving into the second part of the whole book, so stick around! :)255Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGAGPMI04NY
Anyway, on to the story!
I was going to die tonight.
The statement repeated itself over and over again as I walked down the hallways of Willowside High, and sometimes thought that it might happen literally rather than taking its figurative meaning. Unlike myself, however, Mel was being my complete opposite yet again; her elation from the moment Conrad asked her to the dance lasted up until now and, to be completely honest, it was rather annoying. She was the stereotype hopeless-romantic who could go on and on about her ridiculous little fantasy of how tonight would play out for them—he would pick her up in some fancy limousine that he probably wouldn't hire just for Homecoming Dance, then at the dance, when a romantic slow song would come up, they would waltz across the dance floor and be the center of attention at the dance.
As the good friend I am, I did encouraging her for having high hopes, though deep inside I cringed at how much she wanted tonight to be like some Disney fairy tale movie, complete with a passionate kiss at the end with birds chirping all around them. When I told Conrad about it, he only felt even more pressured to fulfill Mel's expectations of the dance, though I did attempt to reassure him that she would enjoy the night anyway, regardless of whether or not he would make it seem more like a fairy tale or not.
When I told Jake about it, he laughed himself shitless.
"And this is why I asked you out instead of her," he said with a joking smile on his face, leaning back on the tree bark again as he took a drag off the lit cigarette wedged in between his fingers. It was in his left hand now because I was resting my head on his right shoulder, something he did not mind at all while giving me the friendly support I needed for tonight. It would've been worse if someone was nearby and saw the two of us just sitting around in this position because once we re-entered the building, everybody would instantly start making fun of us. Fortunately for us, nobody else was around other than the birds chirping quietly in the trees, and the faint cheering in the background coming from the gym where the Homecoming game—which, for our school, was a basketball match between Willowside Crocs and Northridge Wolves—was taking place.
"Other than the fact that she will beat you to death?"
He gave me a skeptical glare. "I'm taking the same risks here asking you. It's like trying to dodge a bullet only to immediately get hit by another one."
"Then why were you in the battle in the first place?" I raised an eyebrow at him, lifting my head from his shoulder, immediately locking eyes with his. "I mean, like, why did you bother wanting to go to the dance in the first place? You could've stayed at home—well, I guess that's not really an option—but you could just stay over at my place and do something else other than standing around and maybe be forced to waltz by the teachers whenever a song comes up."
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, closing his eyes back shut to enjoy the serenity around us. "I honestly don't mind it all that much. And besides, I get to spend time with you regardless, right?"
I was taken aback by this—scared when I realized how casually he seemed to be while saying it, as if it were nothing at all. As though what he'd just confessed to me was his true intention this whole time. I couldn't help but admit that I was in disbelief, though, especially after he made it seem like he wouldn't mind what situation we were in as long as he got to spend time with me.
And just before I could second guess his motives even further, he had read my mind for one time too many that it made goosebumps appear along my arms and legs when he added, "And yes, I am only doing this because I just want to spend more time with you—I know what you're gonna say, 'as if all the time that we spend here, alone from the rest of the denizens of this damned school, isn't enough for me.' To be completely honest with you, Hayley Montgomery—and I always am—it isn't."
Without lifting his head from his favorite spot on the tree trunk, he opened his eyes again and turned his head ninety-degrees to his right so that he was staring right at me, with a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips and a glint of something in his eye that I couldn't recognize but also never noticed in those dark pools, even since the first day I met him.
"I like spending time with you, all right?" he murmured to me, his voice almost turning to a faint whisper. "Heck, I won't even bother to deny it anymore at this point—I like you, Hayley Montgomery. Okay? And if this somehow disturbs you, to the point that you want to end our friendship right now and banish me from this 'Emotionally-Damaged Club' for the rest of eternity, then I have no problem in leaving right here, right now. I'm even willing to leave this school if you're sick of seeing my face after I say this to you, but yes. Hayley Montgomery, I like you. I like you and I don't even deny it. Still, the statement is free to interpretation, so interpret it however you see fit. I just... want to get tonight over with because it's a semi-formal dance and I hate semi-formal or even formal occasions, but that does not mean that I do not look forward to this occasion. Not when I get to spend more time with you."
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. It seemed that Jake was the only person in this world who could literally stun me to silence with whatever he said to me, no matter what the situation was. He was also the only person who could instantly brighten my day by letting me have a single glimpse of his playful, slightly-lopsided grin that I enjoyed seeing so much. The only person who could crack my heart and chip parts of it off with a single frown or the pained expression across his face whenever he just left his house.
What, to me, was worse was that the last part happened much more frequently now, too. I didn't know what else was his mother's boyfriend doing to him, but whatever he did was clearly hurting him, physically, mentally, emotionally or even combinations of any of them. Sometimes I would notice scars and even fresh wounds on his cheeks and forehead, his arms and hands, the only parts of his skin that were visible to me. When I questioned him of whether or not the beatings were getting worse, assuming his alcohol addiction or family financials were becoming worse, he shook his head.
"He's always like this," he'd murmured distinctly when I asked the day after Conrad's proposal to Mel. Then he'd turned to me and sighed with a ghost of a smile on his face that somehow remained peaceful despite bringing up the one topic that would usually turn his mood sour in a blink of an eye. "I just didn't want any of you to see how things really were back home. I didn't want you to see how vulnerable I really am. And, well, the jocks will probably think I'm a pussy and shove me in a locker, something I've surprisingly avoided this far along the school year."
I'd smiled then, albeit with a hint of sadness that mirrored the one in his eyes. "It's okay to be vulnerable every once in a while. After all, it's what makes us humans."
"Sometimes I wish I wasn't a human," was the only thing he'd replied before his eyes began to close again, leading me to wonder if he was just trying to relax and listen to the music blaring in his ears through the earbuds stuck in them, or if he was truly tired and had slowly been falling asleep. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to mind if I disturbed the peaceful moment to ask him mindless and often random questions or just to share sometimes hilarious stories of my childhood or whatever crazy antics Mel was up to, such as right about this very moment, just a few hours before the damned dance itself.
I brought my attention back to the present and took a moment to recall everything that he'd just said to me—everything that silenced me up until this point. I knew I should say something, in case he took my silence as a bad thing and go through with banishing himself from our 'Emotionally-Damaged Club.'
But instead of saying a simple, direct response like any other normal, boring person would, I once again spiced up our conversation and made him seem more intrigued than ever when I finally replied to him in our shared habit of indirect and sometimes cryptic way of response.
"Rose," I said to him. I paused for a moment, letting it sink inside him as he finally turned to me with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Hayley Rose Montgomery. I only started being a Montgomery after I was officially adopted. Hayley Rose was the name I got from my mother—my biological mother. It's the only thing I got from her. I've never met her though, but I've always liked the name so my adopted parents let me keep it."
I thought he stopped breathing for a moment until he finally inhaled sharply and sighed, the corners of his lips curving up to form a smile that instantly melted my heart. He was the only person who could do that, too.
"Well, in that case," he then said, "I like you, Hayley Rose Montgomery. I hope you don't mind me doing so."
I almost laughed as soon as he said the last part. "Not at all."
But just before I could say anything else in response, the bell rang and we had no choice but to return to the dreaded world of academics and confine ourselves within the plain, barren walls of the classrooms again. Jake was the first to stand up as I took a moment to think twice about what I'd wanted to say.
I like you, too. Or did I? He'd been so sure with his own statement that he seemed to say those three words so fluently, like stating the ordinary obvious like 'I'm hungry' or 'I like food.' Unlike him, however, I wasn't even completely sure of my own feelings towards him, and whether or not I would say those three words back to him because they came from my heart or because I felt obliged to, in fear that he might be offended or even hurt if I didn't.
So, in a way, and for the first time in my life, I was thankful that the bell rang and interrupted us. Because for the first time in my life, I was second-guessing my judgement on someone whose importance to me I was so sure about, whose relationship with me I'd thought had been cemented over since the first day we met.
For the first time in my life, I might actually like him.
Let me rephrase my earlier statement: I was going to be buried alive in this godforsaken dress tonight.
I was thankful that I didn't gain or lose any weight between the time I tried this dress on back at the store and tonight, though I didn't think it would matter anyway. But something that distressed me, however, was when I realize that I was going to wear that exact outfit for the rest of the night—something I hadn't done since the freshman year, and that wasn't an entire night because I skipped at least half of the festivities. I hadn't even shown it to Jake yet, who was to arrive at my house six o'clock that night because he insisted on driving me to the dance, despite Betsy.
He did have some initial qualms, which I suppose was natural to all guys who were picking their dates up with an old pick-up truck that was nearing the brink of its death. I tried reassuring him, however, that my parents wouldn't care less because he already made a good impression to them—of course, courtesy to Gwen's blabbering mouth—and our family's own financial situation wasn't necessarily doing well, either, since the only car we had was a little family car bought about a decade ago.
"He's hardworking if he pays for his own personal vehicle, no matter how... decrepit said vehicle is," Mom told me as she ran the brush through my hair with the gentleness of an angel. I was sitting in front of her vanity table, staring at my own frowning expression through the mirror adorned with lightbulbs around its frame. Various make-up tools and equipment littered the top of the table and many stuffed into a clear plastic box in the corner. There was another wooden box that sat at the opposite corner, but I knew that I didn't want to have my face painted with those equipment because I was not a canvas on an easel but a human being with a face that would become even worse if she used watercolor paint on me.
As soon as I got home from school, I immediately ran upstairs and didn't even bother greeting any of my family members as the panic came rushing at me like a tidal wave when I had been completely calm and contented throughout the otherwise normal school day. I showered and washed my hair at least twice before leaving the bathroom, immediately greeted by my mother's radiant smile as she raised two handfuls of make-up and hair equipment that I couldn't exactly identify.
It took me quite the persuasion to convince her to not put too much stuff on me that I would literally be unrecognizable, but I did accept her offer to do my hair and apply only slight make-up, as 'slight' as Mom could be with her extensive make-up kit and the blood of an artist that ran in her veins, something I eventually picked up as well despite not being biologically related to her.
Instead of helping me get ready in my own room, however, she led me to Dad and hers and literally pushed me to sit down on the stool in front of the vanity table. I didn't dare to move even as she was brushing my tangled, untamed hair while blowing it dry, but did attempt a conversation with her just to calm my nerves for the night.
"I don't even know if he has a job like I do, though," I murmured with hesitation, tilting my head a little as she furiously tugged on a clump of tangled brown hair. "And I'm not sure if that's actually his personal vehicle or a family vehicle, too."
"So, his parents bought it for him?"
I scoffed at the thought of it. "I doubt that his mother's boyfriend would ever buy him anything even remotely as good as Betsy. Or buy either of them anything at all, really."
I glanced at Mom's reflection through the mirror and saw her frowning as she continued to struggle taming my hair, even though it was still drenched in cold water after the shower. "Uh, I'm not sure if it's safe to ask, but what happened to Jake's father? Did his parents get a divorce or—well, that is if you mind me asking."
I bit my lower lip as soon as she said this, hesitating whether or not I could trust her with it. It wasn't that I would mind if she asked, but I knew that the subject was a particularly sensitive one to Jake and I didn't want any of my chatterbox family asking him too many questions that he could handle.
But I knew my own mother, and she was the gentlest out of all of us. She was the only person other than Mel that I nearly trusted with what really happened between Justin and I two years ago. The only reason why she had yet to know was because I still couldn't gather the courage to tell anybody, even though practically everybody around me knew that something was wrong and that something had changed between us that we became mortal enemies ever since.
"His father was a war hero," I simply said, staring at my own two hands folded on top of my lap. I felt the full force of the cold draft from the half-broken air-conditioner situated at the opposite corner of the room from where we were, considering how I had yet to change into my dress and was still in nothing but a crisp white towel. Thankfully, Mom had shooed Dad to wait in the living room to greet Jake should he arrive here early, though I winced when she told me this because Dad might possibly scare Jake away with the same intimidating, 'Imma slice you in half if you do anything to my daughter' look that I was sure all fathers used whenever a guy arrives at a girl's home to pick her up.
"Ah, he was a great man then, having served this country well," Mom said with a slight sorrowful tone. "I'm guessing his future stepfather isn't gonna be in the running for 'The World's Number One Dad?'"
"Not a chance," I muttered with a scowl on my face, crossing my arms as I recalled all the horrible things he'd done to Jake already, not to mention the abuse he was giving to Jake's mother as well. How could they stand being around such a horrible person? Just because he could provide the family to some extent, that didn't mean they had to tip-toe around the fucking bastard, did it?
Mom flinched a little hearing my response, especially after seeing the discontented expression across my face. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But do tell him that Jake can come over as much as he wants to, if he gets in any trouble with his mother's boyfriend. Perhaps even invite his mother to dinner sometime, if she can. Just... let him know that our doors are open to him, if he'd like. As long as you two don't sneak off to do anything I never want to see or hear with my own eyes and ears, I'm fine with him around."
"Really?" I was actually surprised that she didn't have much of a problem with him being here, although Dad would probably have a worse reaction than her. Still, I didn't exactly ask them if he could come over the other day to watch that stupid movie of his, and I figured they might've freaked out about it when Gwen told on me the other day, too.
"Yes, really," Mom reassured as she straightened the last clump of hair and set the brush back down on the table, taking out her curling iron instead. I flinched where I sat and she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll just to a little bit at the ends so that it'll look a bit wavier. Trust me, I'll make sure that Jake won't be able to speak the moment he lays his eyes on you."
"That's because I'll threaten him not to say a single word," I grumbled in response, crossing my arms as I mentally prepared myself for whatever torture I had to endure next. A second after I said it, however, my phone started buzzing where it sat on top of the table, and despite the fact that Mom was tugging on strands of my hair behind my back, I ignored her incoming complaints anyway as I quickly reached over, pulling my head as my hair got yanked a little bit from Mom's grasp, but managed to wrap my fingers around my tiny phone before leaning back onto the chair.
It was a text message, and though I'd hoped it was from him, Mel's name was written across the brightened screen.
Can't come over. Conrad's picking me up. Meet u there! xoxo
I nearly gagged at the four letters at the end but had gotten used to seeing it enough that I was able to hold down the annoyance that came from seeing them. Apparently it was a thing that teenagers do nowadays—the preppy kind of teenagers, at least.
"Mel's not coming over," I said instead, frowning at the message. From the mirror, I saw Mom's face peeking over my shoulder and read the text.
"Oh, she's going with Conrad?" Mom raised an eyebrow in delighted surprise. "Well I'd say it's about time. I'm pretty sure that kid's got a crush on her since middle school, if you asked me."
"That's what I was thinking!" I exclaimed, grinning.
Just as I was about to type a reply back to her—maybe teasing her about her date with Conrad—we had to be interrupted yet again when the doorbell started ringing downstairs with its familiar, generalized tune. Both Mom and I exchanged glances and we knew that we were thinking the same thing when all of a sudden came another voice from downstairs, this time someone's yelling.
"I'll get the door!"
I instantly recognized it as Dad's voice and froze.
"I think I'm about finished here," said Mom as she uncurled the last bit of hair and turned off the curling iron, setting it down on the table next to the brush. "You better hurry up and get yourself ready for the night while I try to make things less awkward between the two men downstairs before your father starts strangling the poor kid for asking you to be his date for the dance."
"Mom," I said for possibly the twentieth time today. "We're just friends."
"I know, I know." Worry was written all over her face. "Though I'm totally fine if you two are... well, something more than just friends. I'm just afraid that your father gets the wrong idea and starts beating him up. You know how he can be around boys your age, after what happened last time."
I winced. She was clearly referring to what happened between Justin and I—just like everybody else, she didn't know exactly what happened but she knew it was bad enough for me that it made me lock myself up in my room for entire days without any human interaction.
I tried suppressing the memory away more than usual this time. Being part of the popular crowd, I wouldn't doubt the fact that he would make an appearance later on during the dance, probably with some blonde bimbo he was screwing over this time. And to think that most girls would be more careful around him after all the girls he screwed around with...
As if you were any better than the others back then.
I scowled at the patronizing voice appearing in the back of my mind. The same voice that continued to taunt me for the first few months since the incident occurred. The same voice that made me loathe myself for how naïve and gullible I used to be. And now, the same voice that constantly judged me for my current relationship with Jake, something that I hoped tonight would help define, much to that annoying voice's dismay.
I could only hope that the asshole wouldn't do anything to screw this night up, especially when it could potentially be either the best night of my life or the worst.
I got dressed quickly, as usual, even though it had been a long time since I last worn a dress. Fitting it on was easier than expected—thank God Mel didn't make me choose one of those complicated ball gowns that her stepsister would probably wear. Within fifteen minutes, I was already fitting the shoes that Mom had lent to me for the night, a pair of silver, open-toed shoes with two-inch heels. I wasn't used to wearing shoes with heels either, but it was the only length of heel that I could handle, especially when I would be forced to dance to at least one song by the teachers supervising throughout the event.
Taking one last look in the full-body mirror beside the wardrobe, I inhaled sharply and crossed my fingers to hope for the best, before grabbing my phone and the handmade purse my grandmother gave me for Christmas last year—it was at least better than another ugly sweater—and headed downstairs.
My presence did not go unnoticed because as soon as I set foot on the ground floor once again, I looked up to see practically everybody in the room staring right at me, with both their eyes and their mouths wide open. Mom was standing by the open archway that separated the stairs from the living room, and was nearly moved to tears and was cupping her mouth as soon as she saw me. Dad was sitting on his favorite spot on the couch, twisting his body around so that he could see me and had an unmistakable look of shock across his face, probably stunned by the fact that I looked completely different than normal, just for tonight. Or, maybe, he was facing the fact that his little girl was already grown up now.
Jake had been sitting on the armchair across from Dad and stood up at my presence. He was indeed wearing the suit he showed me the other day, and it clearly fitted him well when I couldn't help but admit to myself that he looked rather dashing in a proper formal suit, with the exception of a tie but with his shirt tucked into his pants and everything, showing the true gentleman he was. His hair was still the way it always had been but was tidied up a bit to make sure that he didn't look like he just literally got out of bed, his snakebites were nowhere to be seen, and the scar that he'd showed up with yesterday—probably caused by the hands of the bastard his mother was dating—had faded into a faint blemish on his skin, right underneath his eye.
All in all, I dare say that he looked stunning. Handsome, even.
I raised both eyebrows and couldn't help but smiled as his lips quivered, parting and closing multiple times, apparently struggling to find words to say. At first I feared for the worst; what if he didn't like it? The dress, my outfit, everything? What if I looked terrible in his eyes? What if he changed his mind about bringing me to the dance as his date?
"Wow," he managed to blurt out loud, laughing to himself. I frowned at first, then saw him shaking his head to himself as his lips curved up to form his trademark grin. "Words can't even describe the way you look right now."
"What? Do I look bad?"
"Bad?" He shook his head incredulously. "More like the opposite. To put it to simpler words, you look... amazing. Just utterly amazing. 'Amazing' is an understatement, even."
"Hey." Both our heads shot to where Dad was, who was glaring at Jake. "That's my daughter you're talking about."
"Uh, yes, of course, sir," Jake stuttered, much to my amusement. Under the presence of my father, he seemed to be far more polite and respectful, even to the point that he readjusted his posture and went stuff when the older man stood up from the couch and began walking over to where I was. He then slung his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and giving me a kiss on my head just like he used to when I was still a little kid. Having constantly occupied by work meant that I couldn't spend as much quality time with my parents again, but I wouldn't doubt how heartbreaking must it be for them to see me like this, in a dress, minutes away from heading to the last Homecoming Dance ever.
"They weren't kidding when they said that kids grow up so fast," Dad sighed. "It felt like it was just yesterday that we took you to your new home—our home. Our little girl has grown up now, it seems."
"Patrick." Mom placed a hand on Dad's arm. "You're gonna make her cry and ruin the mascara. And besides, it's not like she's leaving for college yet. It's just a dance; she'll better be home by ten, if you know what I mean."
She gave glares at both Jake and I, and it was him who returned to his stiff posture and nodded firmly. "Of course, ma'am."
I could barely hold back the snort, receiving a narrow-eyed look from my date for the dance tonight while giving me a mischievous smirk that was only visible for me to see and neither of my parents.
Both Mom and Dad then gave me a quick hug each before they finally allowed me to walk over to where Jake was, willingly accepting the hand that he offered as he guided me towards and out the front door. As expected, he walked ahead of me to open the passenger's door for me, and just before I disappeared into the car, I glanced back at the doorway where they were both standing and waving their goodbyes, along with Gwen who had appeared out of nowhere but waved goodbye more ecstatically than our parents, smiling as soon as she caught sight of Jake.
I got into the car and he got into the seat next to me, turned the engine back on and we were off into the night.
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