| ARIA |
Roscoe was peering down at me with an upturned lip. "Aye, time for you to run along to your real friends." He eyed me as if I were a bug he wanted to flick off his sleeve. "Come find me when you want to go."
A spurt of anxiety jolted my senses and I had to suppress a whimper. Roscoe wasn't what I'd call good company, but he was at least some company.
Clenching my teeth, I swerved around Roscoe and didn't look back. He'd served his purpose, I could do the rest without him.
I wove through the kitchen and out onto the porch for some air. My eyes widened, my fingers reflexively started tapping out a nervous rhythm. There was a swarming hoard of people buzzing throughout the backyard, spilling into the overgrown baseball field beyond. The cacophony of their voices and the booming rap music made their presence feel larger, suffocating even.
... Or was that just me?
My heart rate sped up as I traveled down the wooded steps, my palm running along the weathered banister. The sky was an odd shade of grey for this time of year, sunsets were usually a brilliant pink or orange. Perhaps, it wanted to match the convoluted feelings I had inside.
I'd asked for this, but this whole scene wasn't for me. There were environments where my introverted ass had a chance and this was not it.
I spun on my heel and nearly collided with the boy behind me. He loomed over me, his enormous frame blocking the entire staircase.
Without meeting his eye, I mumbled a broken apology, thinking he'd step aside, and I'd scoot on by, but he didn't budge. Eventually, I was forced to investigate why.
I flinched when I realized his deep brown eyes were scouring over me, rifling over my person with an intensity that made me want to crumple in on myself. I knew he was noting every blemish, every wrinkle, every imperfection, and filing them away for later. A shiny, white, smile spread across his face.
This fool was tall, and I didn't throw that term around lightly. (I had my own card to the six foot club, remember?) There was a muscular lankiness to his form that mirrored the NBA phenotype — the way he held himself, the proud carriage of his shoulders — he looked like a hooper.
"You're not leaving yet, are you?" He asked, his voice so low it blended with the bass pulsing over my skin.
My lips parted noiselessly, letting me flounder. A surge of anxiety rammed a gate shut as soon as I tried to get a word out.
The boy did not balk at my silence. Instead, he seemed almost intrigued by it, like I were a puzzle he wanted to solve. His chestnut skin glistened with the faintest sheen of sweat, like he'd spent the evening carving through the crowd under a waning summer sun.
"At least tell me your name." He pressed, after wetting his lower lip.
Come on, you freaking hermit. Surely, you can do this at least.
I cleared my throat, "Ar—Aria." I stammered.
The stranger grinned and I felt a little shiver pass through my bones. Goodness gracious, he was attractive. His high cheeks bones, broad nose, and chiseled jawline were pulled together by a neat Dark Cesar haircut. He had a goatee that subtly emphasized the line of his lips. Lips that were curved into a smile, aimed at me.
... Yeah, he was too attractive to display this level of interest in me.
"Did I see you walk in here with Roscoe Tate?" He asked, giving me the side-eye. "You don't look like one of them Pepperwood girls..."
"I... um..." I said, my voice pitched and fell without my consent and I strained to pull it back in line.
He waited patiently for me to reign in my response. This only made it worse, because my peers never displayed any interest in what I had to say.
I forced whatever words I could out of my mouth, "Yeah..." I said, and I was about to say more, but the change in his demeanor gave me pause. His eyebrows dipped and his smile suddenly looked like bared teeth, but I blinked, and it was gone.
"You come bearing gifts, girl." He said and jostled my shoulder. "It's been a mad minute since my boy visited us gutter kids down here."
His tone was friendly enough, but there was a tautness to him that didn't quite fit. It didn't help that I had no idea what he was talking about... Roscoe hadn't acted like he was familiar with this spot.
My confusion must've been evident, because he took his hand off my shoulder and held it to his heart, "My bad. I'm Zaire. You and me need to be friends." He said.
My heart fluttered in my chest.
Was this real? Was a boy flirting with me? Willingly?
My palms were so sweaty it felt like I'd dunked them in water. Nevertheless, a lopsided smile slipped onto my face. Maybe this party hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
"I'm going to go say hi real quick and then I want to see what Miss Aria's all about. Will you wait for me?" He asked, motioning over his shoulder at the kitchen. There was a hungry glint in his eye as he bid me farewell, one that I was unaccustomed to seeing directed at me. It honestly made me squirm. I nodded, hopefully not too eagerly.
Once he had disappeared inside the house, I squeezed past the people waiting behind me and decided to hover awkwardly at the foot of the stairs. Within seconds, I was pacing.
I scratched my head as I rehearsed the talking points I'd prepared earlier. I was concentrating so hard on the hypothetical conversation that I missed the first few crashes, assuming they were merely part of the song that was playing. But then the shouting started, and then the running.
I flattened myself against the support beam beneath the deck as a gang of teenage boys charged inside, followed by a wave of (mostly) panicked girls streaming out.
"Fight!" They called, loud enough that it could be heard over the speakers. "Fight!"
I didn't know what to do, it was probably best that I stay put. Then the commotion seemed to stop. Curious, I rounded the banister and started pushing up the stairs. The kitchen was deserted.
I bit my lip, wondering if now was a good time to go find Roscoe.
Pop! Pop!
Ice shot through my veins.
... Were those gun shots?
People were screaming. They were scattering, tripping over each other in an effort to get away from the house.
I lunged down the steps, my mind reeling. Surely the speakers had just misfired, right? I paused at midway across the yard — where was Roscoe?
I sprinted out across the baseball field with all the rest. Then I looped around at the end of the block. My ears were pounding so hard, I couldn't hear anything but my own heart.
The eerie echo of police sirens rolled out over the neighborhood like an incoming ground fog. People were hurriedly jumping into their cars and racing off, eager to get as far away from here as possible.
When I made it to Roscoe's car, I crouched down behind it, panting from fear more than the exertion. Clinging to the drivers side door handle so I that wouldn't topple over, I pressed my forehead to the cool fiberglass and tried to catch my breath.
Red and blue lights cast long shadows as they passed and screeched to a halt a few houses down.
I clawed myself up so that I could peek over the hood of the car. The police were surrounding a few figures lying prostrate on the front lawn, but the house itself looked deserted.
Someone thunked into the side of Roscoe's car, just over my shoulder and I nearly screamed. Taylor Arroyo frantically held up his hands, pressing a finger to his lips. He was sweating, his clothes were grass stained and disheveled.
"Where's Roscoe?" I hissed, my eyes pouring over him in the dim light. A sick feeling was gurgling in my stomach. "Is he okay?"
Gulping down air, Taylor nodded, but tilted his head at the house. I glanced back over my shoulder. He wasn't involved in this, was he?
"We gotta get out of here." Taylor said, tugging on my arm as I peered back over the side mirror.
"What's going on?" I asked urgently.
One of those forms being handcuffed looked lean and very tall, too tall.
Taylor ignored me and fished around in his pockets until he pulled out Roscoe's car keys. He stuck the key in the lock and twisted, discreetly pulling the door open. He motioned for me to climb in. How did he have Roscoe's keys?
I gaped at him, my eyes wide with terror. Taylor gripped my shoulder, his eyes locking on mine. "Roscoe's fine, but he won't be if we don't get his car out of here right now. Get in."
I squinted at Taylor in disbelief.
What was it Coach Brown had said about Roscoe picking petty fights?
"Aria." Taylor said firmly, pushing me towards the car. "We have to go."
I clambered inside, instinctively knowing to stay low. Taylor slid in right behind me and shut the door. He twisted the headlight gear off, surveyed the road ahead, then twisted the key.
Other cars were fleeing the scene as well and luckily for Roscoe, he'd parked a number of houses away, on the main road, almost like he'd planned for something like this.
Taylor stomped on the gas, throwing me back against the seat. We rocketed down the Main Street, then whipped into a bend that led down a narrow side street. After a few seconds, Taylor slowed, the car gliding almost noiselessly through the dark.
A giant stumbled out from the bushes ahead, his neck craned over his shoulder, his shirt nearly ripped clean off.
My jaw dropped as Roscoe dove into the backseat and Taylor hit the gas pedal again. Roscoe rolled onto his back, draping an arm over his face. The temperature inside the car instantly jumped up by ten degrees, fogging the rear windows.
As I stared, stunned beyond belief, Taylor started whooping and pounding on the dashboard with his fist. I saw a crack of a smile appear on the bottom half of Roscoe's face.
My nose wrinkled.
"Dude, you're insane." Taylor said in admiration, shaking his head. "You got balls, man."
Roscoe pushed up onto his elbows and froze when his eyes landed on me, the satisfied grin evaporating instantaneously. I knew I was staring at him like a drowning fish, but I couldn't stop.
This was insane. What the hell was Roscoe thinking?
My temper surged.
Roscoe always knew how to tick me off, but this was different. All my unspent adrenaline funneled into rage, and I aimed it at him.
Clenching my teeth, I scoured the center console, the floor, whatever was in reach, and pelted him with a barrage of random items — a discarded hoodie, some loose change, a Lakers lanyard, some random girl's scrunchie — anything.
Roscoe cowered under the airborne assault, shielding his head with his hands. Taylor looked alarmed, like I had snapped.
"What is wrong with you?" I shrieked when I ran out of assault weapons. For once Roscoe looked sheepish, like a dog caught stealing food off the table. His gloating morphed into a grimace.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's not what it looks like." He said, dropping his hand.
"Oh really? Because right now it looks like you dumped me at a party, started a gun fight, and then left me to just figure it out on my own. I get that we aren't friends, but I'd never do you dirty like that." I said, my whole body trembling.
Roscoe bit his lower lip and dropped his gaze to the floor. He looked at me with pleading eyes, "Nah, it's not like that. But it still ain't cool. I'm sorry."
I didn't expect him to admit any wrong doing, let alone without a fight, so I let out an angry huff and turned my back on him, folding my arms across my breasts.
"Take me home please." I said softly, staring out the window ahead.
Taylor exchanged an awkward look between the two of us, then cleared his throat.
"Aria, my main dame," Taylor cooed, his tone too airy given the gravity of the situation. He reached over and slapped a hand down on my thigh. "You know we love you right? You're one of us now."
I couldn't take my eyes off of Taylor's hand and the fingers that subtly gripped my thigh muscle.
"It was just Zaire's fat uncle shooting at the moon to scare us off, no one was going to get hurt... and if it makes you feel any better, Roscoe didn't start it."
"I finished it though." Roscoe chimed in.
He said it quietly, but with just enough pride that it felt like a proclamation — and an ill timed one at that. My lip curled.
Before I could snap back, Taylor rattled my knee and I finally looked up at him. He was making an exaggerated puppy dog face at me.
"Let's just keep this on the low." He chuckled at himself, then straightened his face, "Do it for me."
I blinked at him. On the one hand, this whole thing was so ridiculously messed up, they deserved whatever heat came their way. But on the other... Taylor Arroyo, the literal man of my dreams, was finally paying attention to me.
I'd lied for Roscoe before, choosing not to snitch on him about that rape kiss. This had the potential to be even more profitable.
Could I stomach it?
I chewed the inside of my cheek, feeling guilty for even considering it.
"Pleeeeease." He begged, shaking my leg again, and this time his hand rode even higher. Taylor's dimples chipped away at my resolve.
"Fine," I said, raising a finger at him, "... but I'm not doing it for that jackass back there."
Taylor laughed and squeezed my thigh in triumph, "That's what I'm talking about, DeLang! I knew I could count on you."
His gaze snagged on the shy smile that forced its way onto my face and then he smiled back. Our eyes tangled around each other, suspended, until Roscoe cleared his throat. Taylor quickly broke off his stare, but his grin lingered as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
My insides were roaring as I settled back into my seat and my cheeks were on fire. I'd just had my first ever romantic moment — and whatever that was, I knew that Taylor Arroyo felt it too.