37 | Call It Off

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Warning: chapter will probably make you rip your hair out. Vote & comment!
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There was plenty for me to think about on Sunday. The glaring question as to why Luke was scheming to visit our father bit at me from our conversation the night before, and I knew that I had to talk to him about it again. And yet, all I could think about was Nathan. 

My mind had zeroed in on his answer when I asked why he kissed me. Because I wanted to. It was too simple, yet too chaotic. The fact that we were locked into our "fake dating" agreement only made the chaos thunder with promise of worsening. 

After a day full of lying in bed and contemplating the continuation of our arrangement, I decided that I had to call it quits. The smiles and the kisses and the hand holding- all of it was messing with my emotions. I had completely underestimated how bad of an idea it would be simply because I wanted to piss Thomas off. 

So by the time lunchtime on Monday rolled around, I had a game plan ready. I was intent on being calm and casual about the whole thing so he never realized why it was all too much for me. I would tell him that we accomplished what he wanted, and if we didn't want our friends to know about it, then we should end things immediately. 

Nathan caught up to me while I walked to my locker with my chin held high and an indifferent expression on my face to guard the fact that all of the whispers following me actually irritated me. He fell into step beside me and nudged my shoulder. "Hey Collins."

When I glance at him, I smile widely. A little too widely. "Hey Nathan."

I cringe at the overly eccentric voice that escapes my mouth as I realize that I was already failing at the whole 'calm and casual' thing.

Because Nathan was completely more observant than people give him credit for, he looks at me with his brow slightly furrowed and asks thoughtfully, "What's on your mind?"

We reach my locker and I'm thankful for the opportunity to busy myself with something. There were knots in my stomach already and I hadn't even gotten out what I needed to say. So I begin to put in the combination and watch the dial with false interest instead of meeting his gaze. 

"I was thinking about the whole fake boyfriend thing all weekend," I force causality into my voice and I'm mildly impressed by myself when I actually achieve it. 

To my surprise, Nathan perks up a little and admits, "So have I."

I was interested in what he'd been thinking about but guessed that he was going to have drawn a similar conclusion as I had. That, and I was a total wimp and knew I would get too nervous to finally spit it out, so I open my locker and tell him from behind the metal door, "I think it'd be best if we stopped now before your friends find out and things get complicated. We already accomplished our goal in Williamsport," I shut the door and finally meet his eye. "So we can go back to just being friends."

The words unfurled in a rushed mess that I practically spat out because of the tiny little pain I felt in my chest, right beside the vat of disappointment. Something flashes in Nathan's eyes before he covers it up and I see his wall go back up almost immediately. 

"Okay," He says, almost boredly, with remotely no emotion remaining on his face other than an uninterested expression. 

Unable to read him, I can't help but ask, "What were you thinking?" 

Nathan looks at me thoughtfully for a long minute before he looks away, down the hall instead, and says in the same bored voice: "I think that we should call it off, too. Before everyone finds out."

His stoic expression gave nothing away and I felt myself getting frustrated at the fact that I had no idea what he was really thinking. But my frustration was drowned in the hurt that was adamant about being felt because I liked him too much and was all too aware he didn't feel the same about me. 

I nod slowly and don't say anything for a moment to give myself a beat to lick my wounds and get over it. And when the moment passes, I murmur, "Let's go to lunch."

Nathan, however, shakes his head. "I'm going to have a smoke before lunch. I'll see you in there."

Without another word, he turns and stalks down the hallway in the opposite direction of where we were headed. I let out a discouraged breath, thanks to my considerably dampened mood, and make the quick decision to ditch lunch all together. 

Instead, I head to the art room. Luckily, it was empty- even void of the art teacher- and I gratefully head inside to start taking my emotions out on a sketchbook instead of the next innocent person who looked at me the wrong way. 

I gathered the materials I needed and began sketching aimlessly in my book, filling a few pages with different half finished scenes. First, a ship capsizing in the wild ocean as a storm rages on. Second, a girl watching a burning house with the ends of her clothes singed. 

After twenty minutes, I stared at the images and frowned as I realize the dark turn my art had taken. Before I can contemplate it further, the door creaks open and I glance up to see Casey, the freshman girl who witnessed me and Nina's blowout, standing there with a sketchbook gripped tightly against her chest. 

"Hey Casey," I greet her when her nervous gaze meets mine. 

She shuffles from the door over to the easels and says quietly, "Hi, Lauren." When she drags one over, closer to me, she mentions, "I didn't know you took art."

"I don't, actually," I tell her, happy for a conversation that would take my mind off of the depressing sketches I was producing. "There wasn't any room for my schedule for a class. But I come in here a lot, anyway."

Casey hesitates before revealing, "My parents made me take all AP courses this year so I don't have room for an art class either."

Based on her flittering gaze and saddened tone, I can gather that Casey held contempt regarding her parents decision. Our high school was one of the better ones in the state and parents often sent their children here to get a good quality education. Sometimes, they pushed their kids too far. 

Seeing as she wasn't exactly thrilled about the subject, I decide to shift the focus back to art. I glance down at her heavily filled sketchbook and ask, "Have you ever had anything displayed?"

"I wish," Casey sighs. "Have you?"

I think of my mother and smile in adoration. "Not really, but my mom has bought many of my paintings and given them to friends. Stephanie Meyer has my water colors of lilies hanging in her living room."

Her eyes widen immediately. "Like, Stephanie Meyer the author?"

I smile at her surprise. "My mom is an author and she's friends with a few other well known authors too. Every Christmas they all do a big book exchange. It's pretty cool, actually."

"Wow," Casey murmurs, easily impressed. "That's amazing."

Weirdly enough, I was used to it, so I just smile and nod. My gaze travels down to her sketchbook again and I see bright stickers overlapping faded ones on the cover and pages stuffed inside.

 I was intrigued by the bent spine and promise of creativity of her book and look back up at her to ask, "What are you working on?" 

Her hands go to her sketchbook before her gaze does as she answers timidly, "Just a little bit of everything. I've been experimenting with pastels and charcoal the past few days."

"That's cool," I glance down at her book once more and ask cautiously, "Do you mind if I look?"

Casey seemed apprehensive as her gaze flickers between the sketchbook and then me, but she slowly holds it out for me to take. I smile in excitement and carefully take the book in my hands to examine the artwork. 

I flip the notebook open carefully and appraise the sketches in awe. The first was a vibrant bouquet of red roses shaded with paints; the second a realistic ocean scene as the sun was setting; the third an incredible self portrait. 

Every time I flipped the page, I'm struck by the beauty of the image, and I quickly realize just how talented Casey was. I eventually look up from the sketchbook and smile at her inherently nervous expression to show my approval. 

"These are amazing," I tell her honestly. 

She blushes a little at my words and says quietly, "Thank you."

I hand her book back and feel newfound inspiration whirring within me. As Casey sets up her easel and  stool, I put away the charcoal I had been using and instead pick up water colors and a new set of brushes. 

And, with Nathan in mind, I sit down and begin painting. 

. . .

The rest of the day went by painfully slowly. I was moping around wondering if things were weird between Nathan and I now, considering I hadn't seen him since I ditched lunch. By the time the final bell rang, I was more than ready to be in the comfort of my own home, where I could mope without being scrutinized by the population of the school.

I glared at the girls in the halls who watched me with disgust as I shuffled down the halls with my shoulders slumped. Apparently there was something fierce in my scowl, because they all looked away immediately and pretended like they weren't looking at me in the first place. I had gotten used to the constant stares, and yet they still irritated me. 

"Hey Speedy Gonzalez," Vincent calls gruffly from behind me. "Wait up."

Reluctantly, I slow down and wait for him to catch up. "I don't walk too fast. You just walk too slow."

Unfortunately, Vincent hadn't caught up with me to listen to my mumbled complaints, tainted with a bitter delivery because I just wanted to be home. He had something more serious to discuss. "Where are you and Nathan at lunch today?"

"I was in the art room," I answer hesitantly. Nathan hadn't showed up to lunch? "Nathan said he was going to smoke a cigarette before he went to lunch."

Vincent's brow furrows as he catches something important in my answer. "He smoked a cigarette?"

This time, I frowned at him. "Yeah?" 

Smoking cigarettes was normal Nathan behavior and it came with the whole "bad boy" package. Why did that matter?

"Huh," Vincent grunts thoughtfully. "He hasn't smoked in awhile." Then he takes a closer look at me while I navigate through the crowded halls. "What were you guys talking about?"

My shoulders tense when he asks me that specific question and I try to relax them as to not give myself away. Not only did I want to avoid telling Vincent about the whole fake boyfriend arrangement, but I didn't want to realize that I might be the reason why Nathan broke his smoking celibacy. 

I ignore Vincent's look and shrug despite the fact I feel like he can see right through me. "Nothing important."

"You know," Vincent says conversationally, but the look in his eyes tell me this is anything but casual. "He stopped spoking around the time you two became friends."

I recognize the look he's giving me because it's the same one that Nathan gives me when he's trying to read my mind. I sigh when I realize he was trying to make me realize that I had been the one that made him quit in the first place. But I knew better. "Interesting. Sounds like a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence," Vincent's assertion confirms my suspicions. "I think he stopped because of you."

Whoop, there it is. 

Luckily for me, when I break his gaze and look ahead, I notice that we're approaching the schools front doors. Instead of continuing the uncomfortable conversation, I just drop it. 

I glance back at Vincent and force a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

He just groans. "Why are you both so difficult?"

As I walk out the doors, I think about what he must've said to Nathan when he questioned him. Surely Nathan never mentioned our previous arrangement or else Vincent would've mentioned it, right? 

I take a deep breath and risk a glance at Nathan's parking spot. I expected to see his black Mustang there, but instead, the spot was vacant. My steps stutter as I look at his empty spot and wonder if he left early. 

And as my mind begins wondering about him, I suddenly want to scream at myself to stop thinking about Nathan. It's all I ever do anymore, think about a guy who doesn't ever think about me. And yet I couldn't stop. 

By the time I get to my house, I decide that I'm done wasting my time thinking about Nathan so much. Unfortunately, all of the progress I'd made during the car ride was squandered the second I put my foot though the door.

"I'm telling you mom," The sureness in Luke's voice is palpable. "I'm going to win."

"Boys aren't good at this kind of thing," My mom assures him. "You don't have mothers wisdom. Trust me, just give it a few more weeks, and you'll be paying up."

I enter the kitchen and drop my bag on the table loudly to show I was here. Both of their heads whipped to me in surprise and I raised my eyebrows. "What are you guys betting on?"

Luke smirks at me. "When you and Nathan are going to get together."

My eyes narrow at him in annoyance as my gaze darts between him and my mother in accusation. "This again?" 

"I changed my bet to two weeks," Luke tells me smugly. 

"Shut up Luke," I snap before moving my glare onto my mom. "I can understand Luke being stupid enough to do this. But mom? I'm disappointed that you're involved."

"I'm sorry sweetie," She coos. "I just couldn't help myself."

I shake my head in clear disproval. "Yeah, yeah, sure." And then I mumble, "I'm going upstairs, where my teddy bears don't bet on my love life."

When I finally make it to the confines of my room, I shut the door and fall back on my bed as a breath of relief escapes my lips. Here, I could finally have some alone time. However, my beloved silence is cut by the abrupt beep of my phone, followed by another. I dig my phone out of my pocket and glare at the screen. 

Stephanie: Need to have another interview for the social experiment write up 

Stephanie: Are you free now? 

I let out a dramatic breath and seriously contemplated telling her that I was busy. Every time my eyes scan her messages, a little more contempt builds up, until I'm typing that I couldn't make it today and maybe we could do it tomorrow. But before I could press send, another message pops up. 

Stephanie: It will take twenty minutes tops. I'll bring ice cream

Begrudgingly, I deleted my message deferring to tomorrow and text back. 

Lauren: Yeah, I'm free. Come over 

About thirty seconds after I text her back, I hear the front door open and close, and Stephanie's voice talking to my mom. I laughed to myself when I realized that she must've been waiting outside for me to invite her in. A few moments later, I hear footsteps up the stairs and then Steph strolls in.

"That was a long drive from school, huh?" I tease with a knowing smirk and she just grins back at me.

"I knew you'd say yes," She tosses a plastic bag on the bed. "I went to the store thirty minutes ago to get ice cream in case you needed to be persuaded."

Greedily, I unwrap the bag to reveal a pint sized chocolate ice cream and a silver spoon she must've gotten from downstairs. Steph makes herself comfortable on the bed and rummages through her bag to produce her usual notebook and a tape recorder. 

As she places the tape recorder between us, she says, "I have to ask some context questions today for the beginning of the video." When I nod, she flips the recorder on and smiles. "Why did you decide to go through with the social experiment?"

I look at her warily and hesitate before asking, "Is this really going to be in the video?"

She shrugs noncommittally. "Probably not. But we might be able to pull some quotes out so we can explain the context."

Again, I hesitated, but I answered nonetheless. "Well, I found out that my ex boyfriend was using me for sex after I caught him cheating on me. He assumed that he could take advantage of me and play with my emotions because I wasn't popular. I did this to prove to him that I wasn't the invisible nobody that he thought I was."

"Good," She murmurs before she gives a quick nod. "And how would you describe your ex boyfriend?" 

"He's popular," I answer automatically. "He's on the football team. Everyone in the school knows him. He's well off financially and he comes from a family that's known in our town."

Stephanie nods as she scans the notebook and then glances back up at me. "Before you mentioned that you weren't popular before. How would you describe the male attention you got before the social experiment?" 

"Nonexistent," I told her honestly. "I didn't even have guy friends, aside from my brothers best friend. No guy bothered to look my way."

"What about now?" She presses.

I think of how to say it without sounding like I was bragging, but it came out that way anyway. "Everywhere I go, I get a guys attention." My cheeks flush when I realize how it sounds and I clarify, "I'm not saying that to sound conceited."

Stephanie rolls her eyes and tells me, "You're the least self centered person I know, Laur. Just answer it the easiest way."

I nod and start again. "What I mean is that guys pay attention to me now. Before, I would walk down the halls and nobody would notice me. Now, I walk down the halls and the guys are cat calling me. At parties, I get hit on by people who I've been in school with my whole life and have never even glanced in my direction." 

"And what about the girls?" She asks next. 

I think of Tess and Casey and tell her, "I made some friends, but most of the girls in school don't like me. A lot of them will say hi to me in the hallway but that's the extent of their kindness. Otherwise, it's like a constant trail of whispers and stares following me wherever I go. There are new rumors about me every day. It's ridiculous."

"I think that's it for now," Stephanie shuts her notebook and gives me a small smile. "Are you okay, though? With all the rumors and stuff, I mean. High school girls are vicious." 

I give her a small smile back. "I'm doing good, Steph. You don't have to worry about me."

And that was the honest truth. I knew that my answer would be a hell of a lot different if I didn't have Nathan, Vincent, Asher, and Tess to help me get through the days. But having them in my corner made things easier. 

"Good," Steph packs her notebook and stands up from the bed. "Look at that. Only ten minutes. I told you it wouldn't take a long time."

I grin at her and continue eating the ice cream she brought me. "And I got ice cream."

She laughs and, after ten more minutes of talking, she leaves. I let out a breath of relief the second I was alone, and this time, I wouldn't be interrupted. After a moment, I laid back on my bed and put my laptop on my stomach so I could watch a movie. 

And the best part about it was that watching movies gave me less time to think about Nathan. 

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