Restless, p.5
Restless, page 5
Who gives a fuck what he wants? I love him like crazy, but when someone fucks up, they should apologize. The circumstances of when the apology happens shouldn't matter. If it does, they're not really sorry.
"I'm not playing into his little games. If he feels bad and wants to talk things out, he should go out of his way to do so.”
Not giving him any more attention, we meander from our lockers and head to our classes. My next one is Trig, which means sitting in front of Finn.
This will be awkward if he continues his whole avoiding speaking to me thing.
I say goodbye to Nyla and Willow, then walk through the doors to find Finn already in his seat. He must have passed me in the hallway without me noticing. His eyes barely lift; he's too busy doing something on his phone under his desk. Is that shame I see on his face? What the hell is he hiding?
I don't know if I even have the right to pry since we’re technically not dating. We're just exclusively fucking each other, which I'm fine with, but it still makes things complicated.
I can't pry.
I can't push.
I can't act like a jealous, clingy girlfriend.
I'm not his girlfriend, but I do get jealous and a bit clingy without having a solid place by his side.
I don't have a role. I'm just the girl warming his bed, and I've accepted that this is the only part I can play with him. He can't offer more, and I want him so badly that I will take whatever he offers me, but it does leave me open to feeling self-conscious about us.
I take my seat and set down my bag as my phone goes off with a text. I yank it from my backpack’s side pocket and read.
Finn: Can we talk?
So that's why he was messing with his phone.
I take a deep breath of relief.
He was texting me. Not someone else.
Francine: About what?
I put my phone away as the teacher greets us and starts giving the speech about personal safety, traveling in numbers, and telling us to take precautions, even in a safe space like school.
Principal Jordan warned me that for the remainder of the week, most classes would be like this because of the incident with those jerks. Did they have this in place before? I’m not sure, but pulling this out of their asses in a matter of hours is insane.
The points he makes are valid, but this whole thing still sucks.
Turns out, we won't be having any real classes at all today because we are going to hear the same safety measures over and over again.
"Mr. Caldwell, what is the point of this lecture? This is a math class, not a personal safety class," Mandy, a blonde in the front row, asks.
"Oh, didn't you hear?" Callie, a brunette right in front of me, laughs. "It’s because Francine decided to dress like a slut for Halloween—"
I wish I had my bat right now. "Oh my god. You did not just—"
"—Three guys tried to jump her and feel her up. Skank had it coming," Callie finishes her vile statement.
A chair squeaking sounds behind me, making me picture Finn shifting around, trying to settle his fury. I try the same thing, but it doesn’t prevent the rage from bubbling inside me. I really wish I had my bat and two seconds alone with that bitch. "You only say that because one of those assholes was your brother. Didn't you fuck the entire junior varsity football team? You’re more of a skank than I am," I growl at her under my breath.
Apparently, she still heard me. "Bitch! At least I have some standards and don’t screw criminals. Don't you just fuck all the Bastards, or is Finn the only one who tickles your fancy?"
Oh, this whore is asking for me to beat the shit out of her. I really, really wish I had my bat. And some brass knuckles. Maybe even a machete.
"I think it would tickle everyone’s fancy if you would shut your fucking mouth, Callie!" Finn snarls from behind.
"Language, everyone!" Mr. Caldwell yells before scowling at the irritant in front of me. "That type of behavior is unacceptable, Ms. Nutall. This discussion is to give every student—not just girls—methods to avoid events like these because, apparently, some students don't grasp the reality of how their actions have consequences outside this building. Kyle Nutall included. Your brother will spend some time in jail; he will have to deal with the repercussions of his decisions. He will not be able to wrestle for a university of his choice because of his actions.
"You don’t blame a victim for the actions a predator takes. I shouldn't have to explain to anyone how absolutely inappropriate and disrespectful that is. Luckily, Ms. Gray was able to defend herself, or we'd have a much worse, more gruesome story to tell than three seniors being arrested on school property. Not many eighteen-year-old women can say they took on three meathead teenage athletes and made it out without a scratch. You shouldn't be shaming Ms. Gray. If anything, you should be apologizing for the actions of your brother and his friends," Mr. Caldwell says in my defense, which warms my heart more than I expect.
I guess Callie sprinkled some Stupid Cunt on her Bitch Flakes this morning because she doesn’t shut the fuck up. "She was asking for it,” Callie growls under her breath.
"Go visit Principal Jordan about your misguided views and have an apology prepared before you step foot back in my class, Ms. Nutall."
Callie stands, then turns toward me and bends for her backpack. Our eyes meet. A smile on her face. A promise on mine. Then, I palm her head like a basketball and slam it onto my table. I lift her up by her hair so I can see the damage. Blood streams down her lips from her extremely broken nose.
I blink myself awake from my little revenge fantasy to see Callie’s snooty ass as she stomps out the door like a toddler.
I really, really, REALLY wish I had my bat.
***
When the bell shrills, I lunge from my seat and step out of Mr. Caldwell's class. Darting left, I begin swiftly traveling toward my next class.
It’s easy to dodge all my fellow students. It seems like they’re purposefully giving me a large berth. I make it out of the math division of the school when a tight fist wraps around my arm. I whip around, ready to clock the dumbass who dared to touch me. But it’s Finn standing there, looking at me with a completely stoic expression.
What the fuck is going on in his head?
"Hey," he says with a lift of his chin.
It takes everything not to laugh in his face. Is that seriously how he wants to start this? Hey? He can't be serious.
"Hi," I respond before turning to walk off. If hey is his opener, I doubt what follows will be any better. I don't want to talk to him. Sure, it sucks not talking to him, especially after the incident in the hall, but I'm not going to roll over. I'm not used to us being around each other for this long and not talking, hugging, kissing, or laughing, but I refuse to be that weak little girl I once was. I'm stronger now and won’t ever lose what I gained.
"Wait!" Finn jumps in my path, making me stop. I glare up at him, waiting for him to talk. "Are you okay?" he asks, searching my face for something. "Did they hurt you?" he demands softly, his voice heavy with worry.
If something was wrong with me, would I be walking to class right now? "I'm fine. I can take care of myself. I’m used to it." Yeah, I threw that in his face.
This is not the conversation we should be having. No. We should be talking about his behavior this morning—not those assholes.
"I know you can, babe," he grumbles.
I immediately scowl at him for the endearment. "Don't call me that."
"Why?" he presses, his expression vacant of emotion again.
"Why?!" I repeat. I'm completely floored by his lack of comprehension. How can he not see what's wrong here? "How about you figure it out and let me know when you have, okay?" I try to pass him, but I should know by now that's impossible. Finn is an unstoppable force, a force that can move mountains. If he wants something, nothing and no one will stop him.
"Stop, okay? Can we just talk?" he pleads.
And I break. My determination to keep silent about it until he apologizes caves.
"How could you say that type of shit in front of my mom?" I curse with frustration.
"Fran—"
"How could you talk about that in front of her! The way you brought that up—I can't believe you did that! She's my mom, Finn. Do you really think she wants to have that image in her head? That was so fucking wrong, and you’re treating me like I’m the unstable one." The words break past my lips in a growl, each syllable grating on my frustration and anger.
He rubs his thumbs along my cheekbones, not heeding my obvious desire for him to remove his hands from my face.
"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to upset you or your mom at all. I didn't want you to get in trouble. It sounds so stupid now with what happened, but I was trying to look out for you, Francine." With sincerity potent in his icy blue eyes, the green-dyed hair falls in his face.
"I get you wanted to look out for me, and I appreciate it. I really do. No one has ever looked out for me or taken care of me the way you do. But Finn, it's not what I need. I do need you, but I also need you to realize that I know what I'm doing. I'm not weak. I can take care of myself," I press more gently this time.
I know he means well, and this is all new for him, too. He's trying, and that's what matters.
"I know. You're a real badass, Francine Gray," he teases before pressing his forehead against mine.
I close my eyes and enjoy this moment of intimacy. He wraps his strong arms around me, and I bury my nose into his neck. The smell of leather and musk fills my soul, and I smile against his shirt. I think he can feel it because he responds by tightening his hold, warmth spreading through my body.
"Not nearly as badass as you are, Finnick O'Reilly," I tease playfully as I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the feel of the soft strands between my fingers. "Did you actually dye your hair green?" I ask.
"It's some temporary hair color gel Sorcha used. It will wash out. How about yours?" He plays with the strands of my pigtails.
"No, mine's actually permanent. I like the red and blue," I admit.
His perfect lips turn up into a smile. "I like it. It fits you, and that shirt is very on the nose," he jokes, teasing the outline of the blue and red letters.
"I made it. I also made my skirt. My mom thinks I should look into making costumes for the Halloween shop in town," I shrug.
I'm curious about his reaction. Will he laugh, thinking I’m joking? Or will he be interested and ask me a few questions? Or will he pretend I didn't say anything to avoid anything serious?
"Is that something you’re interested in, babe?" he says while tightening his fingers at the base of my neck. "But, babe, just saying. Although I think your outfit is hot as fuck, I think you’re the sexiest when you’re wearing nothing but my cum on your tits.” His voice is a velvet wave, engulfing me in all that is him. It penetrates deep into my soul, digging itself in like a barb. He flirts in a deep, soul-penetrating voice.
Holy hell.
I should have brought an extra pair of panties because these are now way too damp. I can't wait for him to give me that. I bought special lingerie for tonight; turns out lingerie may be a waste of money when it comes to Finn. "Are you sure you're okay from earlier?" he asks, concern once again dominating his tone.
I kiss his neck. "I'm fine. I promise. It's weird. I thought I would completely lose my shit, but I kept my cool for the most part. I’m no longer that girl who whimpers in the corner. If those assholes were trying to frighten me, they failed horribly," I say with pride for myself.
I suffer from PTSD and crippling anxiety. What happened today proves to me that I may actually overcome my debilitating past. I came out on top, and that's something worth celebrating.
"Good," he growls before slamming his lips on mine. It was a quick peck but no less bruising. "Because, once school is over, I'm taking you straight home.” He loosens his hold on me, runs his hands down my back, and stops at my ass. “Then, I’m going to tie you down and fuck you ten ways from Sunday."
Oh, be still my beating heart.
Harley and the Joker ain’t got nothing on us.
Chapter Three
Her
"Hey, Francine. Can we talk for a minute?" The masculine voice pulls my attention from the vending machines. I don’t have to look. I know the owner of those words before I see his brown eyes and dirty blonde hair.
Duncan.
I swallow my groan. What the fuck does he want?
It’s lunchtime, and I don’t have much time. However, he piques my curiosity when I see him wearing a tuxedo. "What are you supposed to be?" I ask, a bit thrown off.
"Oh, this?" He laughs awkwardly. "An Oscar winner. Kind of weird, I know."
Yeah, it's weird but unique. Most people are superheroes or people they idolize, like Jackie Kennedy or Nelson Mandela, or they throw something together and hope people think it's okay.
"Harley Quinn, huh? It suits you. I like the hair," he says awkwardly.
Yup. This is beyond bizarre. Here is my ex-boyfriend, who cheated on me with my arch-nemesis, and is currently complimenting me on my costume.
Making small talk, he forges on, "I'm guessing Finn is the Joker?"
"Yeah. It's a bit of an inside joke.” I don’t need to explain further. I especially don’t need to bring up my newly acquired batting skills. I stifle my giggle at picturing Duncan’s face if I told him the truth about how I received my new nickname. Considering the Bastards gave it to me, Duncan would run for the hills. What is it that they say about crazy ex-girlfriends?
"Look, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks at the ground. “I wanted to tell you that day in the office, but I didn’t know if you would believe me. I figured you’d think I was trying to get you back. I’m doing it because we were friends before we ever dated, and I care about you. You should have the information so you can make an informed decision. I think you have the right to know what kind of person you're involved with," he says, worry riding his face.
The sincerity is clear in his words. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who he's talking about.
Finn.
"I already know what kind of person he is, Duncan," I retort as I tightly grip the can of soda in both my hands.
“Just listen, okay? Do you remember when my sister was sick last Christmas?" His expression is full of genuine concern. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but curiosity has me needing to know this big secret.
"What about it?"
"We went to a party during Thanksgiving break. I stayed sober because I was driving. I only saw her when she was ready to go home. Then she got sick, and we all thought it was the flu, but it wouldn't go away, so I took Clara to the doctor.” He takes a deep breath and stares into my eyes. “She made me promise not to tell a soul... I couldn’t even tell you.”
Duncan needs to talk faster if he wants me to stand here and listen. “You couldn’t tell me what?” I can’t hide my annoyance.
"She was pregnant. She said it happened at that party. She wouldn’t give me a specific name, but she did let it slip that it was a Bastard,” he says all this without breaking our eye contact. So he could tell how this news affects me. I feel like choking on my own saliva, and my head spins.
After a few moments, I compose myself. "And she didn't say who it was?" I press. I need more to go on. This is something big and quite terrifying.
"No, but it wouldn't take a genius to guess who," he adds.
Yeah, it wouldn't, but this was something that happened almost a year ago. I knew Finn fucked a ton of girls before we got together. It shouldn't shock me so much that he knocked one of them up.
"So, you hate Finn because you think he knocked up your sister? That's understandable," I concede.
"No. I mean, yeah, I was upset, but it goes deeper than that. You see, when she told the father about the baby, he didn’t care. He told her that he wouldn't lift a single finger for her or her baby until a paternity test was done. He refused to even morally support her. She wasn’t asking for anything. Not money or commitment or anything. She was just doing the right thing by letting him know he was going to be a father. It tore her up, and she wouldn’t stop crying for about a week afterward."
My stomach sours, and the soda in my hand suddenly feels like a brick.
"Thanks,” I break our staring contest and mumble, “I'll get to the bottom of this."
I don’t believe Duncan is making this up, but I don't doubt Finn. I wish I had my bat so I could knock on wood when I thought, What else could possibly go wrong today?
***
When school ends, I find Clara by her locker with a group of friends from the dance team, laughing and smiling.
I force a soft grin on my lips. "Hey, Clara," I say as I reach her.
Her brown eyes lock with mine, and a kind smile spreads across her pretty face.
"Oh, hey, Franny. What's up?" she asks.
I glance around at her entourage when I say, "Sorry to interrupt, but can we talk privately?"
I'm not sure who she's told about her pregnancy, what happened to the baby, or if she was ever pregnant, but I don't want to make this harder for Clara than it already is.
She slowly nods her head. "Uh, sure." With another bright smile, she waves goodbye to her friends and then follows me to the gym. I find a secluded spot on the bleachers so no one will hear our conversation. She looks pretty in her nurse costume, her dirty blonde hair up in a ponytail and natural tones of makeup on her face.
"I talked to your brother. He told me something I want to talk to you about.” Her expression is tentative, but I soldier on. “You know Duncan and I broke up, and now I’m with Finn, right?”
She nods. "Yeah, I heard about what happened. My brother is an idiot. I've told him that pretty much every day since I found out about Gloria," she says, not trying to hide her distaste for Gloria in her voice.
"Thanks. I appreciate that." I take a deep breath, nervous to be asking her about this. "He told me you were pregnant last year," I admit.
