Keeping Score by Cathryn Fox
Reagan
Miranda puts her arms around me, holding my shaking body as fists fly, four against one. Rocco is pulling himself up off the ground, only to receive a boot to the ribs as he rises. Guys and girls come running from Wolf House when they hear the commotion. Rocco tries to turn to see me, but a punch to the face, delivered by Cochrane, stops him.
He curses and somehow manages to shake off the guys holding him, but can’t break free from the circle of people. Cochrane is bouncing around him, laughing, his fists in the air. Rocco spits blood, and when Cochrane attacks, Rocco lands one solid punch on Cochrane’s jaw, sending him flying backward.
“Stop!” I scream again and grab my phone ready to call campus police, although I can’t. Rocco can’t get caught fighting. He could lose his scholarship and I don’t want to be the one responsible for that. “Cochrane, stop!” I scream. “I’ll talk to you. Whatever you want.”
Cochrane grins at me as his buddies help him to his feet. He rubs his jaw and twists his mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I agree, anything to stop this barbaric fight, where there can be no winner. I knew this was a long time brewing, and Miranda scared the hell out of me when she found me on campus and told me we needed to get to Wolf House asap. She was too breathless from running to tell me why. Not that I needed her to. I’m smart enough to figure things had come to a head with the two guys in my life. We both ran here as fast as we could, and now, I’ll do anything to put a stop to this unfair fight. “Leave him alone.”
“I can fight my own battles, Reagan,” Rocco says, his blue eyes dark and cold. “Go home.”
His words are harsh and cut me a little, but I’m sure he’s not trying to hurt me. In fact, he’s probably trying to protect me. I hold my hand out to him.
“Let’s go.”
He stares at me for a second, and I instantly know…I instantly know this is going to be really bad. His eyes hold love as they look at me, but there’s a stark emptiness lurking there too. A hurt that goes deeper than I’ve ever seen before. A hurt that no one can heal. A choking sob gurgles up from the depths of my throat, and Miranda hugs me tighter. She knows this is bad too. The air is thick with volatile emotions. I can taste them on my tongue.
“Leave, Reagan,” Rocco says through clenched teeth.
Tears flood my eyes as everyone stares at me, some with phones in their hands to document the moment. No doubt this incident will be all over social media before the next punch is thrown. “Rocco…”
“Come here, Reagan,” Cochrane orders and his friends part, giving me a direct path to him. Rocco spits blood again and averts his gaze. Does he want me to go to Cochrane? What the hell is going on here?
“No.” I back up, and Miranda backs up with me.
Cochrane’s laugh is a twisted bark of cruelty. “Don’t cry for him, Buttercup.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He smirks, and I’m suddenly frightened of him, of what he can do…of what he might have already done. “No, you’d prefer it if I called you Sunshine, like this loser?”
My gaze flies to Rocco, waiting for him to react, to fight Cochrane, to protect me. He does nothing and my heart sinks to my stomach. My throat closes so tightly it’s hard to breathe and the scene before me blurs even more through my tears.
“I don’t want you to call me anything.”
He snorts, and the hairs on my neck stand. “You have no idea, do you?”
I need to run as much as I need to stay, to hear what he’s talking about, even though every instinct I possess tells me I’m not going to like it. “What are you talking about?”
“You think Rocco really liked you?”
My gaze slides to Rocco. I find him watching me, murder in his eyes, but then it fades, like he has no hope, like the fight has gone out of him. My legs go weak, and I rely on Miranda to keep me standing.
Cochrane shakes his head and looks at me with pity. “Why do you think I warned you not to fall for him?”
“I don’t…know.”
He laughs and it scrapes down my spine, and a cold shiver wracks my body. I hug myself to ward it off. It’s been a long time since I felt such a bone deep cold. Rocco always had a way of warming me. I can’t actually remember the last time I was cold inside.
Cochrane turns to Rocco. “What was that you said about spreading your Rocco charm?”
“Shut the fuck up, Cochrane.”
“No. She should hear what you said. You know, when I said she was too smart to fall for a guy like you and, oh, shit what was your response?” He scrubs his chin like he’s thinking. “Oh, right, I remember. He asked if I was sure about that.” Cochrane whistles. “I don’t know about you, Reagan, but that sure sounds like he was calling you stupid. Unless of course you didn’t fall for him. Then you’re smart, like I said you were.”
“I…” What the hell is going on? His words bounce around inside my brain, and I glance at my feet, trying to sort things through.
“Come on, let’s go.” Miranda tugs at me. “You don’t need to hear any of this.”
I lift my head. Rocco still won’t look at me. Why won’t he look at me?
Oh, because what Cochrane is saying is true.
“You’re going to want to hear the rest of it, Buttercup.”
I sniff and go still, waiting for him to continue as the world goes dark around me. Phones record everything playing out and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole, because Cochrane was wrong, and Rocco was right. I am stupid.
“It was all a game, Reagan. He wanted you to fall for him to get back at me. I told him not to touch you. He agreed, but said he couldn’t be held responsible if you touched him first, or if it was his dick you wanted when the month was over.”
I gasp at the crudeness, and anger propels me forward. I push Cochrane’s friends out of my way and stand before Rocco. His head is down, and blood is dripping from his nose.
“Look at me.”
His head lifts, and I don’t know what to make of it. The way he looks at me with warmth, compassion and love robs me of my last breath, but there’s a hardness there too. “Did you say that, Rocco? Did you say all those horrible things?”
His shoulders tighten, ever so slightly. If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I wouldn’t have noticed. Wait, what the hell am I saying? If he said those things, then I don’t know him at all, do I?
“Answer me!”
“Yes.” His blue eyes go harder than I’ve ever seen them.
“Told you,” Cochrane says.
A growl crawls out of Rocco’s throat. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Yeah, shut the fuck up, Cochrane.”
A smile touches the corners of Rocco’s mouth as I tell Cochrane to fuck off.
“It’s okay, come here, Buttercup. I’ll make everything better for you. You know you belong with me.”
“Then why the hell did you hand me over to Rocco! I don’t ever want to see you again, Cochrane. We’re done. For good.”
“That’s my girl,” Rocco whispers under his breath and I’m not even sure I heard him correctly. Tears flood my face, and that softness is back on Rocco’s as I sob almost uncontrollably. I’ve never felt such pain in my chest before. It hurts to breathe, to talk…to simply stand here.
A bloody hand captures my arm and he pulls me to him until my ear is near his mouth. “Do one thing for yourself, Sunshine.” I’m about to pull away. He has no right to tell me to do anything. Not after playing with my heart. How could I have fallen for him? How could I have loved him? “Keep painting.”
And right there is my answer. He wants me to keep painting. But none of this makes sense. How could he be playing a game with me, yet tell me to keep painting, like he actually cares? He doesn’t care. He couldn’t. I was a game to him.
“Shut up,” I shout, my entire body shaking, not knowing what to make of any of this. “All of you just shut up.” A girl comes closer with her phone and I snatch it from her hand, smash it to the ground and stomp on it. She’s about to protest, but takes one look at my face and backs off. Yeah, I get it. I look like a deranged lunatic, and yes, they should all be afraid.
I step up to Rocco again, and put my face right in his. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I’m glad Cochrane wrecked your bike…and your face.”
Anger is making me lash out. Pure unchecked rage. I’ve always kept my cool, my temper. I have always been the do-gooder, the rule follower, letting my parents guide me down a path I never wanted to go, because oh, you know me, I hate confrontation. Hate it! Yet here I am, my face not even an inch from Rocco’s and I’m shouting loud enough that those on the other side of campus can hear me, while everyone has their phones out to capture my manic display. This is what heartbreak has done to me. This is what Rocco has done to me. Honestly, I’m not even sure who ‘me’ is anymore—especially without him.
“Cochrane was right about you all along. You’re a rat. Trash and I never should have crawled into your gutter.”
He glances at Miranda. “Take her home. Please.”
I want to yell some more. I want to pound on his heart and make him hurt as much as I do, but I’m exhausted, my limbs weak.
“Reagan,” Miranda says gently, giving me a little tug. I stumble away from Rocco and Miranda puts her arm around me.
“I don’t ever want to see either of you again,” I spit out, before I sniff, and go quiet, my heart shattered into a million pieces that will never be the same again. I loved Rocco. Correction, I love Rocco. Why the hell did I go and fall for him? I consider all the things we’ve done together. Is any girl immune to that kind of charm? But that’s all it was. Rocco was charming me, and knew exactly what he was doing to get back at his enemy. Here I thought I was a pawn for Cochrane, only to find out I was a pawn for Rocco too. That’s all I was to them. Neither valued me as a person. I was simply a tool for them to hurt one another with.
“Let’s get you home,” Miranda says.
“Fuck that. I’m going to the Growler. I’m getting drunk and picking up the first guy I see.”
She opens her mouth to tell me how stupid of an idea that is, but I glare at her, in no mood for a lecture.
“I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. I don’t even know what’s going on, Reagan. None of this makes sense.”
“Maybe alcohol will help.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she agrees, to humor me. Alcohol isn’t going to make any of this better, but maybe for a little while it will help numb the pain inside me. We go straight to the pub, and I sit at the bar and order four shots of tequila. I push two over to Miranda.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I tell her.
“Yeah, I do.” We click glasses and we both swallow the shot in one gulp. We slam our glasses down on the counter, like we used to do freshman year, glance at each other and laugh. Well, will you look at that? I can still laugh.
It’s Tuesday, so the place isn’t busy. There’s no band, but there is music and there are a bunch of guys at a table. They’re young, maybe freshmen. Perfect.
I take another shot, and so does Miranda. I order more and get us a couple of beer chasers. Sitting on my stool, I swivel and throw my head back, letting the alcohol burn through my body. A song comes on that I love and I grab Miranda’s hand and drag her onto the floor. We start dancing, and instantly draw the attention of the frat boys.
Never in my life have I done anything so reckless or foolish, but you know what? It feels good to forget about life for a while…forget about obligations, responsibilities…broken hearts.
Miranda and I dance, and I can tell she’s trying to stay sober to watch over me, and maybe that’s a good thing. I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and can already feel the effects of the shots.
“I love you, Miranda, and that is not the tequila talking.”
She grins. “I know you do.”
“I need another shot.”
“Pretty sure you don’t,” she murmurs, but follows me to the bar anyway. I take a couple more shots, and back to the dance floor we go. I’m being stupid, but whatever. We already established that I am. This back and forth from the bar to the dance floor routine carries on for quite a while. Over an hour later, I sway to the music, only to realize it’s not Miranda grinding up against me. Nope, it’s one of the frat boys. I turn to him, and put my arms around his neck.
“Hey,” I say in my best seductive voice. I laugh, almost hysterically, because I don’t even have a seductive voice, although Rocco sure seemed to love the way I talked and opened up to him in bed. Lies. All freaking lies. I probably wasn’t even very good. I laugh hysterically again.
Frat boy arches a brow, but goes back to grinding against me, because getting in my pants is far more important than me being bat-shit crazy.
I blink, my eyes are so damn heavy, all I want to do is close them for a moment. With my arms around the boy, I put my head on his chest, and I’m not even sure my feet are on the floor.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
That voice. It’s Rocco’s. But it can’t be. Why would he be here? Strong arms slide around my waist and pull me from frat boy. I whack at the hands holding me. “That’s enough, Reagan.” Warmth spills over my body as Rocco puts his mouth to my ear, and equal amounts of anger and love surge through me.
“Leave me alone.” I glance at the frat boy. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
He shakes his head and goes back to his friends, and even though I’m drunk, I realize he’s making the right choice. For himself. Not for me.
“I’m taking you home.” I spot Miranda watching us while she nibbles on her bottom lip, a nervous gesture that’s a dead giveaway.
“Did you call him?” She doesn’t answer, but instead she follows us outside. “We are no longer friends,” I tell her as Rocco scoops me up into his arms. He carries me to my house at breakneck speed, and the whole time I struggle, pound on his chest but it doesn’t slow him down or faze him. I hate that he’s so muscular, that nothing I can do, that not even my fist can penetrate his heart.
He carries me inside, and I’m not sure what he just said to Miranda, but she follows us up the stairs and stays in the hall when he sets me on my bed. He drops down with me and for a brief second, compliments of all the alcohol, I forget what he did. I snuggle into him as he pulls the blankets over our head, and makes a safe fort.
“Nice,” I mumble.
He places a soft kiss onto my forehead. “Get some sleep, Sunshine.”
Sunshine.
My memories fill back in. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
He crawls out of our secure fort. “I know.”
“I hate you, Rocco.”
“I know that too,” he whispers as he walks across the room and quietly closes my bedroom door behind himself.
I push the blankets off and stare at my door, my tears falling hard. “I love you.”
I close my eyes, and the next thing I know, it’s morning. I peel one eye open and try not to move. Did someone get the name of the linebacker who took me to the ground? No, I remind myself. It wasn’t a Falcons linebacker. It was the team’s tight end who tore my feet out from underneath me and ripped my heart in two.
I groan loudly, and a knock sounds on my door. I try to sit up, but the room spins, so I flop back down, and put my arm over my eyes. “Come in.”
The door inches open and Miranda peeks her head in. “Hey. I was waiting to hear you wake up.”
“Ugh.” Wait, she was the one responsible for calling Rocco.
“You okay?”
“No. I’m mad at you.”
“I know. Can we talk, though?”
“Only if it’s not about Rocco, or Cochrane, or anything else that involves my heart.” I glance at my easel. “We can talk about painting.” I frown. “No, we can’t.” Air leaves my lungs in a whoosh as I shrink into myself, wanting nothing more than to throw the blankets over my head and hide from the real world. “Rocco bought me that easel.”
“Yeah, that’s what I want to talk about.” She takes a seat on my bed, everything about her serious.
“Miranda, please—”
“Something isn’t right, Reagan.”
I give a very unladylike snort. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“No, I mean it.” She frowns, and shakes her head. “None of this makes sense and I stayed up all night thinking about it.” She picks at my bedding, and I can almost hear her brain spinning. “I ran into Rocco when he was looking for Cochrane. He wanted to kill him.”
“They wanted to kill each other.”
“I know, but he was so angry, he said some things to me he probably never meant to say.”
Now she really has my attention. “What did he say?”
“Something about football. He said his football career was over.”
My heart lurches. Oh God, no! It’s all he ever wanted, all he ever fought for. This can’t be happening. I might hate him right now, but I love him too and want only the best for him. Don’t even ask me to understand that.
“Why?”
She shakes her head. “I really don’t know, but my guess is it has something to do with Cochrane, and…you.”
“Why would I have anything to do with him losing a career in football?”
“Cochrane wanted you back. You didn’t want him. His father has a lot of pull, Reagan.” I go quiet, barely able to fill my lungs as I consider all the things Cochrane could have done to destroy Rocco. “I think he’s behind all this.”
I roll away from Miranda and stare at the white wall as I remind myself of yesterday’s conversation. “He said mean things. He didn’t even deny it.”
“Yeah, but we all say mean things when we’re mad, don’t we?”
I swallow, and my insides squeeze as I consider all the cruel things I shouted at Rocco as he just stood there beaten and bloodied and took every single barb.
“Yeah…”
“Maybe he’s pushing you away because he’s afraid…or maybe he’s protecting you. I really don’t know.”
Rocco had a horrible upbringing, and to this day he has a lot of demons. “People have always left him. I wasn’t going to leave him.”
“Then maybe he was protecting you.”
In all the time I’ve spent with Rocco, he was there for me. Helping. Protecting. Encouraging. That does not sound like a guy who was playing a game with my heart. “From what?”
“Does it matter?”
“I…guess not.”
“All I know is what I’ve seen with my own eyes these past few weeks. You’ve blossomed, Reagan, and I’ve never seen you happier. I think you two should have a conversation.”
“But it was all a lie.” I groan and pound the bed, clinging to the hurt from yesterday, the cruel things he didn’t deny. “Our relationship, it was a lie, Miranda.”
“What if it wasn’t? You know better than I do that Cochrane gets what Cochrane wants. That he plays dirty.”
“Yeah,” I say, my breath coming a little faster now as worry for Rocco pushes back the anger I’ve been holding close.
“I called Rocco from the pub because you needed him, and you know what he did, Reagan?”
I go quiet for a second, then say, “He came running.”
“Would a guy who was fucking with you do that?”
I turn to my window and wince at the light filtering in. “No.”
“Right. So like I said, none of this makes sense. He’s pushing you away for a reason. Even if he did say those things in the beginning, and maybe he did mean them, things changed, and you two fell in love.”
I blink through the tears blurring my vision, my heart jumping in my chest. “You think he’s in love with me.”
“Of course, he is.” She takes my hand. “He’s protecting you…from something.”
Panic fires every nerve ending in my body. “Oh God, Miranda. Oh God.” My throat gurgles as I roll to my back. “All the mean things I’ve said to him. Why would he ever talk to me again?”
“Because he loves you.”