Never Mine (A Trixie Zelig Novel)

Chapter Three: So... 'love', huh?

"C'mon, you don't want to do this. We're in this together. You jump, I jump." I said, holding my hands out towards her.

"Okay, Jack," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

I laughed nervously. "Alright; be my Rose. If you get off that ledge and don't jump, I'll take you out."

"You don't even mean it! You're just trying to distract me! How do I know that the minute we go out, you'll just get rid of me?"

"Just trust me. Would I lie to you?"

"I don't even know you!"

"But you do..."

•••••••••••••••••• *Weird Spongebob Voice* 3 hours earlier

"Some people are born good, others bad. Brutus for example, he was loyal and true to Caesar from the beginning. But everyone has their weaknesses," Mr. Stagnot explained. We were studying Julius Caesar for our English class.

"Wait, but how can someone so good in the start, stab their friend in the back, literally. I mean, maybe plot against them, yeah. But kill him? That's cold man." Chase Evans, the class doofus said.

Mr. Stagnot rolled his eyes. "What I'm trying to say is that anyone has the power to play on those weaknesses and influence other peoples' decisions. Brutus thought he was doing all of this for the good of Rome and Cassius cleverly played on his vanity. With his newfound power in the conspiracy, Brutus couldn't go back to being that trustworthy guy. All of this led to him murdering his best friend. Marinate on that. Class dismissed."

I loved English so much. And History as a matter of fact. And Art. I actually wanted to major in Egyptology and Archaeology!

Someone wrapped their hands around my waist while I was thinking, making me squeal.

"Nolan! What're you doing?" I asked, laughing when he appeared in front of me.

"Well Amber, I was just in the neighborhood and I need you to replace one of my girls; she works on the corner of Bane and President Street." he said. I almost slapped him. Almost.

"Nolan, just because you were a pimp on Halloween doesn't mean that you can be one 24/7," I said laughing,

"Anyways what do you really want; I need to go home and study. You know how my mom is."

"Have you seen-" he started, before being cut off by someone.

"Guys," yelled Elliot, "It's Serena, she's at the park!"

Uh oh, I thought. Whenever Serena was at the park, it meant that she was thinking. And everyone knows that when Serena thinks alone, it never ends well.

•••••••••••••••••

As I climbed off the bridge, he pulled me into his arms and rubbed my back in circles. I held onto him tight hoping he would never let go. He didn't.

The first thing that woke me up was music. That was weird. And then the smell of pizza.

As I opened my eyes, I was in my room. The only difference was him. My mom had a strict no boys allowed policy, even though there's no chance a guy would actually want to come into my room.

It was the faint sound of a guitar strumming accompanied by the soft hum of a deep, masculine voice. I felt so safe. But tired too. Very tired. It was weird how in this moment I was thinking of the one person who I swore to never think about ever again a few months ago. My ex-best friend. The one who was always there for me when thoughts like this swirled in my head. Until tragedy struck and she suddenly wasn't. She never apologized. And I never forgave her.

I trailed my eyes all over my blue room, covered all over in all sorts of photos - Polaroids, etc. drawings Nolan gave me and some I painted - of our gang, and her, family and other things I thought were beautiful but society condemned as ugly.

He was in my desk chair, to the right of my bed, staring at a particularly cute photo Trixie took of me. I was at the library staring through a Polaroid camera when I looked up and smiled, my frizzy kinky hair all around me, and my clothes in that sexy-snug style. It was one of the few moments where I was truly happy, especially after what happened during that dreadful Spring Break.

He caught me staring at him staring at the photo on the wall, and he smiled - that cute dimple making an appearance.

"What did you mean by that.... I already know you? I barely remember what you said - everything after that point is slipping through my fingers." I said, turning my body on the bed to face him.

"I'll tell you later, love. I just want to know if you're okay. But I know you're not because you just started crying, so I'm coming over alright?" Connor said as he gently put his guitar down and sat on the bed next to me. Not quite touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat coming from him.

"I-I'm not crying," I said, as I discreetly wipe a tear from my cheek. "I don't cry unless it's bad."

He raised an eyebrow and lifted the sheets, awkwardly shuffling underneath them, as his tall frame was too big for my bed. As he got himself settled, I realized there was almost no space between us. Then, he decided to use the full force of his electric blue eyes on me.

"Love," he said, taking my cheek in his hand, "you're hurting." His accent and soft words covered me like a blanket. I couldn't stop the slow tears that followed.

"I'm fine, Blake." I said, and then I gasped as the realization of the name I spoke hit me and it all came flooding back to me. He was the British Boy on the Bus. He left me. I loved him. I didn't tell him. So many secrets... That's what the 'B' in Connor B. Roy stands for. We always called him by his middle name. Stupid 8th grade love. I don't know how I ever forgot the way Blake swept me off my feet, and how he made me love him the way only a 13 year old with no real perception of life ever could.

As memories enveloped me, so did his sea-salt smell, when he pulled me into his arms into the best hug I've had in a long time. I buried my face in his flannel-covered chest, the tears turning into sobs, as I remembered what happened during Spring Break and events long forgotten. The rubbing of his nose in my neck, occasionally inhaling my smell, and pattern of strong arms softly massaging my back soothed me until eventually I was just a sniffling 16 year old girl in the arms of a hot British guy on my very small bed.

I looked up from my teary nest on his flannel shirt, and took a while to study his face. I do that alot. He had the tiniest bit of stubble around his strong jaw, with full light-pink lips and cheekbones that were probably better than mine. Eyelashes I would kill for, and the most handsome pair of eyes I have ever seen in my life. As an 'artist' (I shouldn't be calling myself one, because Nolan's work is Way better than mine) I have studied eyes too much. I also love them, but still. His were a deep blue, but if you looked closer you would see small streaks and specks of lighter shades of blue and grey. It was beautiful storm - encompassed on this beautiful, beautiful face staring into mine. His perfect back hair lay in stray locks and pieces across his forehead. I just can't stop thinking about his eyes... Eyes that were studying my tear-stained face as much as I was his.

He suddenly bit his lip, and I let out the smallest of sighs as he pulled me closer and nuzzled his head into my neck once again.

"So... 'love', huh?" said Amber from the doorway, nibbling on some of the pizza I had sniffed out earlier. Blake looked up from his newfound residence in my neck and shot her a polite smile.

"Damn British boys and their charm... We need to step up our game," said Hunter, suddenly appearing behind her.

I glared at everyone:

"I don't remember giving y'all an invitation to my room, so... As nicely as possible - fuck off!"