Chapter 03: Accidentally Iconic.
1522 Words
EVA.
Jody was staring at me like I'd just told him the earth was flat and I had receipts.
I snapped my fingers in his face. "Jody, are you there?"
"How do you want me to be here," he said slowly, "when you just said something so completely out of this world? What do you mean Graham took your virginity?"
I glanced across the room at Graham, then back at Jody. "Fine. I was a cheer girls captain at my old school in Oakland. Graham went there too. He was captain of the hockey team, and since we were both at the top of our respective food chains, we gravitated toward each other. He said he wanted to date me, said he wanted me all to himself." I paused. "And you know how it is. Hot boy. Power couple fantasy. Every naive girl's dream, so I gave in."
Jody blinked but said nothing, and I continued.
"A month after we slept together, summer holiday hit, but when we resumed, he got expelled for drugs. Gone. No warning, no goodbye, nothing. And here we are."
Jody stared at me for what felt like a full decade.
"Eva," he finally said. "I need you to hear me very clearly. Do not tell anyone this story. Nobody is going to believe it, and even if they do, it will be used against you in ways you are not prepared for."
"You're right," I said. "Graham knows it. I know it. Now you know it. That's it."
"Mm-mm." He shook his head firmly. "I don't know anything. I wasn't even here for this conversation."
I laughed.
"Oh my God." Jody grabbed my arm suddenly, his voice dropping. "Eva. He's walking this way."
My entire body went rigid. "Are you serious?" I kept my eyes on Jody, but did not turn around. "My hair... is it okay? The glasses, do they look too much? My boots, are they giving full nerd? Be honest."
Jody looked me up and down. "You literally told me you were cheer girls captain. How are you even dressed like this?"
"Jody, I will end you. Where is he right now?" I asked.
He peered past my shoulder, trying to be subtle and failing completely. "Okay, weird. He's talking to some random girl. She's got glasses, actually, which is....huh. Strange. He doesn't usually..."
I turned.
There he was. Standing slightly apart from his group, drink in hand, head tilted toward a girl who was clearly trying very hard to seem like she wasn't trying.
And my brain, unhelpfully, immediately pulled up every memory I'd spent the last year burying.
His laugh, the way he took up space like the room had been designed around him.
The stupid oath we made the night before summer, whispering things that felt enormous at seventeen and probably meant nothing to him by morning.
Stop it, Eva. I muttered to myself.
"I'm going now," I said. "He's away from the team."
Jody grabbed my wrist. "You cannot just walk up to Graham Hartway."
"He's literally talking to a girl in glasses," I said. "My glasses are better than hers. My butt is better than hers. If he's speaking to her, he can speak to me and Graham loves them thick-assed."
"That's the thing..." Jody's eyes went wide. "He doesn't talk to just anyone, not even Maddie in public. The fact that he's over there with her means something's wrong. Unless..."
He looked at the hockey table. "Eva. Do you think he's the one doing their dare tonight?"
I followed his gaze. "What?"
"Maddie used you," Jody said, and the pieces clicked into place as he spoke. "The captain is supposed to do the dare themselves. It's how they keep their position, it's a whole political structure. Maddie let you volunteer because she knew the hockey captain would never go near someone like..." he gestured at me vaguely.
I raised a brow, and rolled my eyes. "Someone like who, Jody?"
His eyes drifted to my boots. "I'm just saying....go now, before he gets back to his team." He pushed my shoulder lightly. "Go, go, go."
I grinned. "Now you're talking like my partner."
I turned and walked as I gave Jody a thumbs up over my shoulder without looking back.
He returned it, and I heard him whisper 'oh God' immediately after, which I chose to ignore.
You've done scarier things than this, I told myself, weaving through the crowd.
You've stood in front of three hundred people and commanded thirty girls into a flawless routine, you've handled worse than a boy you used to know.
Before I could snap out of my thoughts, I walked directly into someone.
The collision was immediate and spectacular. I stumbled forward, completely lost my footing, and braced for the floor but someone caught me.
And I looked up.
Of course.
Of all the people in this room, in this building, in this city, of course it was him.
Graham Hartway, holding me upright by my arms, looking down at me with an expression I couldn't immediately decode.
And for one suspended second, the noise of the party fell away and there was nothing except his face and mine and the very specific, very inconvenient memory of the last time we were this close.
Do not think about it. Do not. I thought.
Then he let go and I dropped.
Actually dropped, landed in an ungraceful heap, and the people nearby erupted into laughter immediately.
I sat on the floor of Brentford College's welcome party and felt every single set of eyes in the vicinity find me at once.
Graham looked down at me, laughed once, short, unbothered, and walked back toward his team like nothing had happened.
Quickly, I stood up, dusted myself off, and arranged my face.
That was a move.
I know that was a move because I have seen him make that exact move.
He'd dropped me deliberately, let me fall the second he confirmed who I was.
Classic Graham Hartway, never let anyone see your reaction, never give anything away for free.
Fine.
I knew his games, I'd studied them up close and he's a guy I almost dated...so I know those moves.
I walked straight to the hockey table, every head turned as I approached.
They looked at me the way people look at something unexpected...not with hostility, exactly, but with the flat, assessing stare of people who were very used to deciding what belonged near them and what didn't.
My heart was doing something completely unhinged inside my chest, but my face was calm and my steps were steady.
I stopped in front of Graham. "Firstly," I said, "that wasn't nice. Secondly, I'm going to let it pass, because I know you."
Graham looked at me.
Something shifted in his expression...just slightly, just enough. "You know me." His voice was even. "Then tell me. Who am I?"
"You're Graham Hartway," I said. "And I'm Eva Wallsman. Cheer girls captain. Oakland." I watched his face. "Ring any bells?"
He held my gaze for a long moment.
Long enough that I saw the exact second recognition moved through him...a slight tension in his jaw.
He knew.
He absolutely knew.
I smiled. "Yeah. That's me. We don't have to make it weird. We didn't end badly. Life just...happened."
The team around him was completely silent, looking between us like they were watching something they didn't have the subtitles for.
Graham cleared his throat. "Yeah." A pause. "I know you."
I extended my hand. "Formal vibe, for now. Nice to meet you again, Graham Hartway."
He looked at my hand, then at me. "Why the glasses?"
"Car accident," I said simply. "My parents didn't make it and I got an eye damage on my end. Contacts don't last long, so..."
Something moved across his face, too fast to name. "Well," he said. "Thanks for the story time. You've actually improved my mood for whatever's coming tonight."
I frowned. "Are you going to shake my hand or leave me hanging?"
He almost smiled, just almost.
Then he reached into his pocket, and instead of taking my hand...instead of a normal, simple handshake like a normal, simple human being, he pulled something out, folded it, and pressed it into my open palm.
I looked down. at it and bit my lips, it was a condom.
I looked back up.
"Figured you might need a good time with a fellow nerd," Graham said smoothly, lifting his drink. "Consider it a favour. You're welcome."
The team exploded into actual laughter, loud and cruel, bouncing off every wall.
Logan, whom I recognised from Jody's earlier description, pointed at me. "Bye, girl. Run along."
Something hot and electric shot straight up my spine, I don't know what part of my brain made the executive decision.
I don't know who authorised it, but before I could stop myself, before reason or strategy or self-preservation could intervene...I looked Graham Hartway dead in the eyes, and I said it loud enough for every single one of them to hear:
"Graham Hartway, I want to have s*x with you tonight!"
- Writer
