We Are Tidal

Chapter Twenty-Two - The Slap

Chapter Twenty-Two

 The Slap

It is a heavy heart that I slide out of Art's jeep and face Damien. He stands with his hands in his pockets, his face stony. 

Before I reach him, I watch him through a hoard of dancing groups marching towards the auditorium in varying degrees of tan, glitter and high ponytails. The excitement and nervous energy in the air is nearly palpable.

"Good luck," Art whispers behind me, pulling away to find parking with the others. I mirror Damien and tuck my hands into my coat pockets after adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. 

"You rode with him?" He asks, his left eyebrow raised. 

Something about his tone caused me to bristle, though I technically had no right to an ounce of indignation.

"It just worked out that way. Gab's car was full," I shrug, fooling no one. 

Damien finally breaks his icy appearance and takes his hands out of his pocket, walking closer to me. He pulls my hands from my pockets, holding me tightly. A flare of shame fills my chest when I remember that several days ago I stood this close to Art, kissing him. 

"Can't we talk? I miss you - I feel like I haven't seen you lately," Damien's voice is low, oddly vulnerable. I haven't ever seen him like this. The knot in my stomach twists further still and I can feel a flush creeping up my neck. Slowly, but purposely, I withdraw my hands from his. 

"Later? I need to go in and get our numbers," I say, smiling weakly. 

With less than perfect timing, Gab calls from behind Damien's shoulder, followed by the twins, Willow and Art. 

"Are you ready, Dyl? Let's go kill it!" 

Damien rolls his eyes and thankfully, only I see. I stand on my tippy-toes and give his cheek a swift kiss. It's the best I can do and it still won't be enough for the dysfunctional boy who can be both cruel and kind. 

"Later, I promise but thank you for coming," I say. He smiles at me, his eyes bright - reminding me why I was attracted to him in the first place.

"I'll go and get a good seat," He says, nodding stiffly at Gab with a kind of respect, which I presume is his version of wishing a Heaver any kind of good luck.

I skip over and link arms with Willow. I don't look back to see his face.

* 

Inside the auditorium, my nerves become even more palpable. The sight of girls everywhere, all appearing more flexible, beautiful and confident than I am almost sends me over the judged. Suddenly, I remember why I didn't dance well last year when my grief was an even heavier weight than it is now. Gab notices my shaking hands and wraps a shoulder around me, holding me close. 

"We don't have to win, Dyl. Or even place," He whispers into my ear. I feel a great swell of love for Gab at his words. There is nothing a Heaver boy loves more than winning, no matter the game or sport. It was bred into each of them from their father, a notoriously strict, far from affectionate man.

"Thank you," I whisper back, wrapping my arms around his waist and giving him a quick hug. 

Willow grabs me and gives me a tight hug that nearly knocks the wind out of me. When she pulls back, she rests her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eye with her firm and steely gaze. I grin and she grips my shoulders tighter. 

"You've got this. And I am so proud that you are even here today," Her voice drops lower on the second sentence. My eyes begin to water because I know that this girl, my best friend who has helped me crawl out of hell itself, will follow me anywhere. Willow kisses my cheek.