Bad Boy Blues(9)

Or at least, I think they do.

I’m not looking at them or even paying them any attention. They are inconsequential. Invisible. They don’t exist for me.

Nothing does except him.

Because the moment I turned, the crowd in front of me parted like some useless, catastrophic miracle and I saw him.

Zach.

He’s here.

The boy I hate, the boy I’ve always hated, is back. And he’s standing just ten feet away from me.

God, ten feet is not enough distance between us. Nope. It’s close. It’s real close. We need an ocean between us. A continent. A whole planet. An entire galaxy, maybe.

As it is, I can see him clearly.

I can see every angle of his face.

The sharp peaks of his cheekbones, the slant of his jaw, his strong forehead. Even his eyelashes, how thick and dark they are. How all together, he has to be the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen. Such a delusion, his beauty.

His meanness comes forth in his size. In the veins of his neck and the way he comports himself. All silent and watching and intense and big.

And Jesus Christ, he’s gotten bigger. He’s taller than I remember. Broader too.

Was he this huge three years ago? This… beautiful, with slick, black hair and full lips?

His shoulders look massive. Even from ten feet away, I can see his chest straining against the dark t-shirt that he has on. His entire body seems to be bursting out of his clothes: black leather jacket and blue jeans.

The clothes that are completely wrong for this occasion. The clothes that only Zach is wearing. The rest of the people are in expensive, formal attire.

And just like that, he sticks out.

He screams rebel. Bad boy. He screams that he doesn’t give a fuck.

He didn’t three years ago and he doesn’t now.

My chest is buzzing, probably the butterflies, and also with something else. Something that feels like loss.

I’ve never thought about it too much but Zach and I, we could be… a bit alike.

We always ended up in detention together. Our uniforms were always disheveled by the end of the day, like we couldn’t wait to get out of there.

And from what I could gather, Zach hated going to school just as much as I did.

I mean, I did my homework, got okay grades, but I didn’t like it. Zach was the same. He was a grade above me, and rumor had it that he was held back a year and that he was flunking every subject.

In my weakest moments when I’d cry in my pillow, thinking about going back to St. Patrick’s the next day, I’d imagine a life where Zach and I were friends. A life where he wouldn’t pick on me and I wouldn’t hate him.

But it was all wishful thinking, obviously.

He did pick on me and I did hate him.

I hate him even now as he throws a smirk at someone to his right.

Bastard.

I hate that smirk. It’s so unfair that it’s beautiful and sexy.

He’d never change.

A hand flashes in front of my eyes and I yelp, almost losing my grip on the tray.

“Aren’t you supposed to go away once you’ve served?” says the man who called for me, his eyebrows arched up in an arrogant fashion.

“Yeah, we don’t need anything right now,” the other man in the group says as he sips his champagne.

The third man chimes in, “We’ll call if we do.”

The only woman in the group, decked out in a silver gown, mumbles, “Don’t hold your breath, though.”

I’m only half listening to them and their condescending comments. Actually, I’m glad they interrupted my ogling.

I need to get away from Zach. Now that I know where he is, I can keep an eye on him and stay out of his sight. I don’t want him to see me. I don’t want him to know that I work here now. Or at least, hold on to this secret for as long as possible.

Apologizing to the group, I take a step back.

I’m on the verge of getting away unscathed when something makes me look up and my gaze clashes with his.

Damn it.

I knew it. I fucking knew that he’d find me.

There’s a thing between us, see.

This thing makes us aware of each other. It doesn’t matter where we are. In the school hallway, in the empty detention room, or in a crowded ballroom.

Somehow, he’s always been able to find me and I’ve always been able to find him.

Maybe this is how hate works, mysteriously and annoyingly.

With his champagne glass poised at his mouth, Zach is watching me with his black demon eyes. Like he used to.

Like he never stopped. He never went away. Last three years never happened. It’s still prom night. I’m still sixteen and he’s eighteen. I’m still waiting for my boyfriend to show up while Zach’s laughing behind my back because he’s about to ruin all my dreams of love.

And on Monday when I go to school, I’ll find out that Zach’s gone. He’s left town abruptly and people are buzzing with shock and gossip.

Except right now, the ache in my belly is sharper and my heart has stopped along with the butterflies that have become frozen, trapped because of his focus on me.

“Oh Christ, what would it take for you to go away? Are you waiting for a tip or something?”

This time the man’s voice startles me so much that there’s no saving the tray. It slides right out of my hand and I watch it crash to the floor in horror.