Chapter 17: Suspended

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Lovely fan art above of Brett and Becca is by @arnielia on Instagram! She drew me this months ago and it has remained one of my all time favourites even after all this time. Thanks, love! x

Becca

After Brett and I said goodnight, our conversation from the rooftop settled into the back of my mind. I finally felt like things between us were in a good spot now that we didn't have to pretend anymore.

The smell of my mother's cooking greeted me as I walked back into my apartment. She was in the kitchen, her back towards me as she bustled around the stove, stirring the contents of several pots as steam rose up into the air.

She was still wearing her work clothes, a black pencil skirt reaching her knees and a fitted black peplum jacket that accentuated her thin waist. Her blond hair, the exact same shade as mine aside from a few grey strands, was hanging straight as a pin, stopping bluntly at the nape of her neck.

My mother had been working non-stop the past few weeks. With everything that had been going on, I didn't even realize how much I missed her.

As if sensing my presence, she turned around quickly, a smile lighting up her face as her eyes met mine.

"There you are, my love!" She exclaimed, rubbing her hands on her apron before walking towards me and pulling me into a big hug.

"Hi, Mom." I murmured into her hair, wrapping my arms tightly around her back.

She gave the best hugs, I always thought that as a child. Her floral perfume lingered on me after she pulled away. Her eyebrow pulled down in confusion, her lips pursed as she watched me intently.

"Why do you smell like cologne?" She asked.

Crap, I thought.

"And where have you been, Becca? It's almost eight thirty and you are just coming home." Her warm tone was gone, replaced by the motherly-worried one I know all too well. Her hands were placed in her hips as she waited for me to answer.

I smiled. Oddly enough, I loved it when my mother was upset because it showed me that she cared. After my father left, I always doubted my parents love for me, even my mother's. Whenever she was angry at me or concerned, it reminded me of how much she loved me, how she always stuck by my side no matter what. She was my rock.

"I was on the rooftop with a friend," I shrugged, brushing it off like no big deal. Her eyes widened as her mouth formed an O. I stood there and waited for her to yell, but she did the thing I least expected: she smiled.

Her hands crossed over her heart as she watched me with a dreamy expression on her face.

"You were with a boy." Not a question, but a statement. I guess the smell of Brett's cologne on me made it pretty hard to hide.

I felt my cheeks heat up as the memory of the kiss we shared broke free from the back of my mind and replayed itself over and over.

"You were!" My mom exclaimed, grabbing my hands in hers and leading me over to the kitchen table. She pulled out a chair and pushed me into it, taking the seat opposite me.

"What's his name, love? Tell me everything," she gushed, leaning eagerly towards me and waiting for me to fill her in on every single detail.

I know my mom had been deprived of this mother-daughter gossip for my entire life. I never had a boyfriend before, nor had anything remotely interesting happen to me. Because of that, I rarely had anything exciting to share with her. But now, I had too much to tell her and was afraid of how she would react if she knew all the details of Brett and I.

Choosing to leave out the fake dating bit, I simply told her about Brett -- how I had managed to become friends with the most beautiful, kind and special person I'd ever laid eyes on.

She sat in front of me the whole time with her eyes wide, drinking in every single detail. She literally squealed with delight when I told her about Brett being captain of the football team.

Sheesh, she's worse than Cassie, I thought to myself.

"I'm so happy for you, my love. Brett sounds remarkable." I couldn't remember the last time my mother looked this happy. A wide smiled stretched across her face, her eyes crinkling at the corners, bright with joy.

"When can I meet him?" Her question caught me off guard. She laughed at the expression on my face, one I'm sure was a mix of horror and slight disgust.

I knew my mother would love Brett. One minute together and she would be swooning over him just like everyone else was. He was that charming, his kindness would win her over in a heartbeat. So why was I so nervous for her to meet him?

I want to keep him to myself, that's why. The thought caught me off guard, but it was true in every sense. Brett and I were in this little bubble where everything felt so personal and hidden and, if I'm being honest with myself, that was part of the fun; part of what made it so exciting. I didn't want anyone else interrupting the world we shared and ruining it.

"Soon, Mom. I promise." It wasn't an entire lie. She would meet him eventually...she would just have to wait a little longer than she hoped. I didn't want her to meet Brett until I was sure there was something real between us -- until I was sure we had the potential to be something more.

My mother had never met a boy that I was interested in before, simply because there had never been a boy that I was interested in. I wanted her to meet Brett when the timing was perfect. And right now, I knew it wasn't.

Satisfied with my promise of someday, she retrieved dinner from the stove and we ate together in silence. A smiled remained on her lips the entire time.

* * *

Brett

"She's not even hot, bro."

I stopped abruptly at Jeff's words, my hands balling up into fists at my side as anger raged inside me. It was lunch time and we were making our way to the cafeteria while I told him about mine and Becca's break up and our new friend-status.

His comment about Becca not only caught me off guard, but made me want to beat his face in.

"Shut the hell up," I sneered, my voice dangerously low. We were standing in the middle of the hallway and I could see a crowd forming from the corners of my eyes, they were expecting a fight. I breathed through my mouth, trying to let the anger pass.

Jeff was my closest friend and he had been since freshman year. But, sometimes, he said the stupidest shit. The way he regarded women, the way he spoke about women, seriously pissed me off. Normally I would roll my eyes and let it slide, but not this time. Not when his insult was directed at Becca.

"Dude, relax. I was just kidding," his hands were raised towards me, palms outwards in a plea. His eyes were wide in horror as he waited for me to react. He wasn't kidding, I knew that much.

I imagined Becca beside me. Her soft hand in mine. Her eyes staring up at my widely, silently begging me to let it go.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and stalked off without a glance back, pushing my way through the thick crowd that had gathered.

You're better than that, I told myself, exhaling deeply to release the tension built up inside of me.

I had never been an angry person. The last, and only, time I punched someone was my father and I hated the way I felt afterwards. In the moment, it made me feel powerful, superior. But after that, the shame and guilt I felt was overpowering. My father was the only person who could ever get my anger boiling but, lately, it had been out of control and I refused to let it get the best of me.

I didn't know what caused the sudden anger onslaught, but it happened as soon as I met Becca.

I didn't know if this anger was a bad thing, slowly turning me into a jealous hot-head. Or was it good thing, signifying that maybe, just maybe, I had something worth fighting for? Something worth getting angry over in fear that I might lose it?

She drives me fucking insane, I thought to myself.

It was the truth. The night on the rooftop nearly broke me, I couldn't stop thinking about it. The way I kissed her, the way she kissed me back. The feel of her body in my hands burned through my mind, threatening to take me into a very dangerous place. I pushed the thought back, locking it away in the depths of my head.

I ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and pushed through the doors that lead outside. Turning left, I walked around the side of the school and entered the picnic area outside the cafeteria.

My eyes scanned the crowd until they rested on her. Becca was sitting under her favourite table, the one hidden under the shade of a large tree. Her face was turned downwards as she read a book, completely lost in her own little universe. I smiled at the furrow in her eyebrow and the familiar scene before me. I loved the fact that it was familiar.

As if sensing my presence, she tilted her head upwards and her eyes met mine. She smiled instantly, transforming her face into a beautiful vision.

Jeff was right, I thought. Becca wasn't "hot". Hell, she was far from hot. The word didn't fit her at all. She was beautiful, shy one minute and bold the next. I had never met a girl that blushed so easily then looked like she could kick my ass a second later.

I returned her smile, the anger completely leaving my body and replacing itself with a new feeling, one I couldn't quite name.

Her eyes held mine as I walked towards her, a smile still playing on the corners of her mouth.

Definitely something worth fighting for, I concluded, answering my own question as I took a seat on the bench opposite her.

She crossed her arms on the table and leaned slightly towards me, her book now resting in the space between us.

"What took you so long?" She asked, the furrow in her brow was back.

I shrugged, not wanting to tell her about the encounter with Jeff.

"You gonna eat that?" I nodded towards her plate where half of a burger and fries went untouched.

"No," she said slowly, studying me curiously.

I pulled the tray over to me, taking a huge bite of the burger and laughing at the disgusted expression on her face.

"Brett, what's on your mind?" She asked innocently.

Was it screwed up that I loved how she was worried about me?

I stared down at the table, remembering the conversation I had with Mrs. Copper this morning after English class. I hadn't told anyone about it, not even Becca.

Maybe that's why I've been so angry today, I thought.

She reached out, her hand hovering over mine before she pulled it back quickly, hiding it on her lap, out of sight. Why wouldn't she hold my hand?

"Sorry," she cleared her throat. Her cheeks turned a light pink while she spoke. What the hell was she sorry about? She could hold my hand whenever she wanted to.

Her eyes were burning into the table, she refused to look at me.

Oh, the realization hit me. She was thinking about our conversation on the rooftop, where we decided to just be friends. That's why she wouldn't hold my hand, she was trying not to cross the invisible line she set.

I reached out and tilted her chin up so that her eyes were staring into mine.

"Don't apologize, Becs." I said, my voice gentle. "You can hold my hand whenever you like," I winked at her, bringing a smile back to her face.

She laughed lightly and reached out, taking a fry from my plate and chewing on it thoughtfully.

"There's something you're not telling me, Brett..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes wandered away from my face.

Dammit, she could read me easier than I thought.

When she looked at me again, her face was hard. Serious.

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Feisty, eh?" I laughed at her impatient tone but she didn't budge, her face remained completely serious.

"There's something I want to ask you." I told her, thinking back to what happened this morning after English class.

Becca simply stared at me, her eyebrows now raised in curiosity.

I ran my hand through my hair, brushing the loose strands out of my eyes.

"I thought maybe you could, ugh -" I struggled to find the right words to not sound like a complete idiot, "-tutor me in English," I finished, smiling awkwardly.

Her eyes widened momentarily at my words, confusion etched into every inch of her face. I sighed, exhaling deeply before explaining everything to her.

"Mrs. C spoke to me this morning after English class. I'm failing, Becca," I ran my fingers through my hair again, trying to keep my hands busy to avoid reaching out and grabbing hers. Her eyes grew impossibly wider at my confession.

"You're what? But I..I thought..." She stammered, struggling to process what I was telling her.

"I'm failing," I repeated, shrugging. I was surprised too when Mrs. Copper told me. I was a good student, I tried my hardest and did well, for the most part, in every class. "I guess English just isn't my thing," I concluded.

"You want me to tutor you?" Her voice raised at the end, emphasizing her question. I nodded slowly, hoping she would agree.

I hadn't even told her the whole story yet. I took a deep breath.

"To play football, we need to maintain a 'B' grade in every class, Becs. Since my English grade is below that, I got suspended from the team," I whispered the last part in shame, so low that I wasn't sure she even heard me, but her face told me that she had.

She reached out and grabbed my hand. Whatever barrier stopped her before was gone now, her instinct to comfort me taking priority.

"I'm sorry, Brett," her face and voice showed how much she meant it. I smiled reassuringly, letting her know that I was alright.

"Don't be, Becs. Just say you'll tutor me," I stared at her from under my lashes, giving her the puppy-dog stare I knew she couldn't resist.

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she removed her hand from mine.

"You don't even have to ask. Of course I will," I sighed in relief at her words, leaning over the table and kissing her cheek. Her body froze instantly, her blue eyes wide.

Dammit. I had crossed the line again without even realizing.

"Sorry," I chuckled, changing the subject. "As soon as I bring my grade back up, I can play on the team again."

"We shouldn't waste any time then," she stated, smiling sweetly at me from across the table. "When should we get started?"

"Tonight?" I offered, shrugging to hide the excitement I felt. I asked Becca to tutor me not only because was she good at English, her nose was buried in a book half the time, but because I couldn't pass up the opportunity to spend more time with her...alone.

She said she wanted to take things slow, see where life takes us. Well, there's no harm in steering things in the right direction, right?

"Sure," she easily agreed.

"Great, I'll pick you up at your place." I winked at her, smiling at the thought of our study date.

"You know what I was thinking?" I said, leaning forward on the table and resting my chin in my palm so my face was inches away from hers. "You should wear glasses tonight, those thick black ones? Maybe a red plaid skirt, one that barely covers your - Ow!" A fry hit me in the eye as she yelled my name in anger.

"I'm joking!" I yelled, dodging the next fry heading straight towards my head. I sat back, laughing so hard my eyes were watering as she watched me furiously, her arms crossed tightly over her chest but a smile playing on her lips.

"Just kidding, Becs." I paused. "Unless you're into that kind of thing..." I trailed off, smiling teasingly at her and wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

She finally laughed along, shaking her head disappointingly as her eyes danced with mine.

She's definitely into it, I thought to myself, smiling at the thought of her in a little -

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, her voice cutting through my thoughts and bringing my attention back to her.

"Ugh, nothing," I lied, raking my fingers through my hair and desperately trying to change the subject and erase the dirty thoughts from my mind.

I glanced down at my watch and noticed the time, the bell for third period would ring any minute now.

She must have noticed as well, she began to pack up her items, safely tucking her book into her school bag.

I picked up my tray, following her as we walked side-by-side back into school. When we reached the end of the hallway, we both were going separate ways. I turned to her and smiled.

"I'll see you tonight?" She asked, her voice low and shy.

"It's a date," I winked, turning around and walking away before she could protest.

A date, I thought, smiling to myself.

The image of the plaid skirt and glasses roamed back into my mind, occupying me for a brief second before I shook my head, clearing it from the very distracting thoughts.

Rolling my eyes, I walked into class.

I had to keep Becca out of my head before I began to fail all my classes.

Yup, she's definitely making me crazy, was my last thought before class began.

---

Please, please, please vote by clicking the star if you enjoyed this chapter, which I hope you did!!

Let me know what you guys thought! Brett was being extra flirty, did you like this side of him? xo

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net