Our Broken Pasts [Editing] | #Wattys2017

Chapter Three (Edited)

Hailey

The next day at school, I kept my eyes up. I had decided not to let Will scare me, but that also didn't mean I wanted to be on his radar. I was only a little worried about what he had said last night.

A half hour after he left, my mom got home. I was still a little shaken, and I think she could tell, but I managed to convince her that I was okay. That nothing had happened. I felt sick to my stomach lying to her, but I also didn't want to tell her that there was another asshole following me around. I didn't want to scare her unnecessarily. I didn't want to have to leave.

A SLAM! snapped me out of the thoughts running around my head.

I jumped about a foot in the air. I whirled around, trying to figure out who (or what) that was.

It was just a freshman slamming their locker door closed.

SLAM!

Again. But I didn't jump that time. A small personal victory.

I shook my head at my silliness and kept walking. There was no reason to be afraid of Will Williams. Like I said, last night I had resolved not to let him scare me. I was tough, I knew how to handle myself and I didn't need to be worried.

"Hey, you."

Okay, so I twitched a bit.

But it was just Bess. I sighed, relieved and a little annoyed that I had flinched before I realized that it was a girl's voice, not Will's deep base.

"Hey," I said.

She was frowning. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said, a little too quickly.

She raised an eyebrow. "'Nothing' doesn't make you flinch."

"I'm just a little jumpy. But I'm fine, really."

She didn't look like she wanted to believe me, but she finally said, "Okay."

"So, what's up?"

"I was wondering..." she trailed off.

"Yeah?" I said, wary of the next words out of her mouth.

"D'you wanna go to the game tonight?"

"The hockey game?"

"Yeah."

I groaned. "Bess..."

"I know, I know. But Jordan Macy is playing. Please? I can't go alone; that just looks stupid. Please, please, please?" she rushed out the words in one breath.

She had her hands clasped tight together and her brown eyes pleaded with me. I bit my lip before answering, "Oh, fine."

"Yes! Tha--"

I cut her off, "But you have to actually talk to him tonight."

Panic flooded her features. "I don't know if I can."

"Well, I know you can.

"But--"

"Bess, you're beautiful and he's stupid if he doesn't want to talk to you. And if you don't try to talk to him, you'll regret it someday." I paused. "And I won't go to another game."

Since seventh grade, Bess had been secretly crushing on Jordan Macy. He fit the bill for tall, dark, and handsome, and if I hadn't sworn off boys a long time ago, I definitely would have been pining from afar.

The problem was that Bess had never talked to him beyond him asking for a sharpener in eighth grade and a pencil right before our tenth grade English exam.

Based on limited observation, I liked him. He wasn't a huge asshole like a lot of his friends on the hockey team were, and he had a lot of talent that he put to good use.

Ever since freshman year, Bess had begged me to go to every hockey game (home and away) that the team had. (I agreed, within reason.) But she'd never talked to him, no matter how much I urged and encouraged her to.

But it was our senior year and if she didn't talk to him now, she'd miss her chance. I knew enough about missing chances to know that it sucked when you regretted something.

She blew out a breath. "Fine."

"Good." I grinned.

We kept walking down the hall, chatting about a novel we were reading for the school's book club, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Hey."

I whirled around to see the eyes of the devil staring at me. Will Williams was smirking like a demon as I glared back at him.

"Hi," I said flatly.

His smirk turned into a grin and he gave me a mind of half-salute before pushing past Bess and I and continuing down the hall. I stared after him, wondering why he was being so normal.

I mean, really, the guy comes to my house, threatens me, and now he's acting like nothing happened? Whaaat?

I shook my head and decided not to worry about it. Or think about him. Bess and I took our seats in History and watched the front of the class. The bell rang and Mr. Milford came in. "Okay, guys and girls, today we..."

Are not thinking about Will Williams. No matter how good his biceps looked in that shirt.