Time-Lapse by J.B. Heller

Chapter Four

The lookon Hux’s face is skeptical at best, so I just let the words tumble out before I lose my nerve. “I’ve had a thing for you for a while …” I bite down on my lip, waiting for him to run away.

He rears back a little and eyes me. “You. You have a thing”—he points to himself—“for me?”

I nod slowly and wait for the mortification to set in. But he hasn’t started running yet, so maybe he won’t?

A humorless laugh rips from him, then he grabs my face between his palms and slams his mouth down over mine, stealing my breath in one swift movement. My hands automatically slide up over his muscular shoulders and into his hair.

When he pulls back, he’s smiling like I’ve never seen him smile before. It makes me feel like I’ve just given him the best gift in the world, and I can’t help but smile in return.

He takes a step back and holds a hand out for me. “Come on, princess. We better go before I lose my self-control,” he says with a smirk.

Butterflies swarm in my stomach when he doesn’t try to pull his hand from mine this time.

He tells me to drop him off around the side of the school instead of driving him in, and I don’t argue. I know he doesn’t want to be seen with me. And I’m okay with it. He certainly wouldn’t be invisible anymore if we hooked up. And even though I don’t know why he wants to go unnoticed, I can respect it.

By the time I park my car, I have to run to drop Jason’s and his brother’s lunches off to make it to my first period in time. I literally do a drop and run, but as I’m hotfooting it back toward the building for my first class, I almost run right into Hux.

His arms shoot out and catch me before I stumble. “Flustered, princess?” he murmurs as he releases me.

I grin up at him and take off again after shooting him a conspiratorial wink.

I don’t knowwhat the hell this thing with Eliza is, but I’ve been smiling like a fool all morning. I feel like an idiot. All it takes is one tiny glimpse of her between classes, or just the damn thought of her, and my usual air of disinterest in the world flies out the fucking window.

That’s how the entire day passes: little glimpses, slight feather-light touches as she dashes past me in the hall, and blindingly bright smiles across the common area during break.

I’m relieved when the school day is over and I can get my head on straight while heaping dirt and horse shit into the new garden beds going in at old Mrs. Pearson’s. After working for a solid hour, I dig my shovel into the manure, making it stands on its own, and walk over to the water cooler on the back of Johnno’s truck. I lift it over my head then turn the spout, pouring some in my mouth.

The sun is blazing overhead, and I’m sweating like a two-dollar hooker at rush hour. My shirt is soaked, and my jeans are sticking to my legs. Oh, and I smell worse than the horse shit I’ve been moving.

Johnno strolls over while I’m having a drink and leans against the bed. “Why are you still being a stubborn prick about taking the truck?”

Putting the water cooler back in the tray, I hunch over the edge on my elbows and look at Johnno. “I’m not sticking around, you know that. Getting out of here has always been my plan. I can’t take the truck. I don’t feel right about it. And I don’t want to buy a car unless I have to.”

“I don’t get why you wouldn’t feel right about it. You work your ass off. You deserve it. Anyone else would graciously accept it, but not you. You’re too stubborn for your own good, Hux. One day, something’s going to happen to mess with that plan of yours, and you’re gonna be fucked.” His voice is gruff as he tells me what I’ve recently become very aware of.

Eliza is already fucking with my head. I can’t let her fuck with my plan. I can’t.

I don’t respond. Instead, I walk back over to the pile of mulch and shovel my frustrations out. Why did she have to burst into my life now, after all the years we’ve been living in the same damn town? Why now, when I’m this close to getting out of here?

My head is still a jumbled mess when I’m walking home an hour later, and her familiar Rover pulls up beside me. “Hey, good lookin’,” El calls through the open passenger window.

I clench my fists. Is it too much to ask for a little time to think, to be left to my own thoughts? I ignore her and keep walking, hoping she will pick up on my mood and leave me alone.

She doesn’t. And I should have known she wouldn’t. I’m fairly certain nobody has ever ignored this girl.

Taking a deep breath, I catch my own scent and cringe. “Keep driving, princess. I smell like shit—literally. You don’t want me stinkin’ up that pretty car of yours,” I tell her as I continue along the sidewalk.

Instead of listening to me, she pulls the car farther off the road just ahead of me and gets out. Slamming her door, she stomps over to me. “What’s your problem?”

Hands in my pockets, I shrug. “Nothin’, what’s yours?” Great comeback, Hux.

She grinds her teeth together. “This morning we were good. Today we were good, and now, suddenly, we’re not? What the hell?”

Scratching my temple and sighing, I give it to her straight. “It’s hot, I’m tired, I smell, and I just want to go home. Can we do this later?”

Her perfect face scrunches. “Ugh, you do smell like shit. What have you been doing? Rolling around in cow crap?”

“Something like that,” I say as I go to walk around her.

Her small hand shoots out and grabs my forearm. “Not so fast, Sir Smellsalot. What’s going on? You’re being a dick.”

Her fingers wrapped around my arm feels better than it should. I’ve always liked physical contact. It’s probably what I like most about sex—that skin-to-skin connection. It just makes me feel good. But El is not simply a feel-good girl.

I unfurl her fingers and hold her hand between mine. “Yes, I’m being a dick. I just want to go take a shower, but instead of getting closer to my house, I’m arguing with you over nothing in the middle of the street.”

She glares at me. “So, get in the car already. I’ll have you home in five minutes. You don’t have to be an ass.”

Shaking my head, I remind her, “Smell like shit, remember? A towel isn’t going to stop that from soaking into your car. You won’t be able to get rid of it for ages. Trust me.”

This time, she rolls her eyes, and I know she’s as exasperated by this pointless conversation as I am. “That’s what air freshener is for, you big idiot. Now get in.” She turns her back on me and marches to her car while muttering to herself under her breath.

I throw my hands in the air, but I follow the little pain in the ass back to the Rover and get in the front passenger seat that she’s already covered with an old beach towel. “Thank you,” I mutter as I fasten my belt.

“You’re welcome,” she snips back as she pulls away from the curb.

A whole minute of complete silence passes before I crack. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you. It’s just … I was trying to clear my head, figure my shit out. And I can’t. It’s pissing me off, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Eliza’s silent for a moment longer, then she reaches over and rests her hand on my thigh. “Okay.”

I slide my hand under hers and squeeze it gently. We don’t speak again until she pulls up at the end of my street.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I say then lean over and press a soft kiss to her cheek. I can’t help it. After having her in my arms this morning, I want her again, but not like this.

I watch as she drives away, and I’m more confused than ever.

When I finally make it through my front door, Dad is already home, and he’s drunk. He sneers at me as I walk across the living room on my way to the bathroom. “You smell like shit,” he spits as I move past him.

I ignore him and throw my dirty clothes in the washing machine then slip into the bathroom for a shower.

Scrubbing the stench from my skin takes more time than my showers usually do, and I begin to question whether I really do still smell or if it’s in my head. My skin is red, raw, and sore. I think I’ve even stripped a layer away in some spots.

Turning off the shower, I climb out and dry myself before the old man starts yelling about me wasting hot water.

I throw on a fresh set of clothes then head to the kitchen to start making dinner. Swinging open the fridge, all I see is beer. Great, he didn’t go shopping—again. “Dad, we need groceries,” I call out while rummaging through the crisper to see if there are enough vegetables to make a stir-fry with the chicken I know is in the freezer.

“I’ll do it when I’m good and ready,” he calls back.

Rolling my eyes, I pull out some celery, the last two carrots, and a couple of mushrooms that were floating around in the bottom. They’ll have to do.

Forty minutes later, I hand Dad a bowl of stir-fry and tell him, “That’s the last of what was in the fridge. The freezer’s empty now too.” Then, I leave him in his recliner, surrounded by empty beer cans, watching reruns of Becker.

If he doesn’t go tomorrow, I’ll have to. I try not to use my own cash too often. Otherwise, he won’t ever bother getting the groceries himself. As it is, I pay half the electricity and water bills when they come.

Closing my bedroom door behind me, I flick the lock out of habit. When I was a kid and the old man would go on a drinking binge, he’d start throwing stuff into the walls. It used to scare me shitless, so I’d lock my door and push my dresser against it.

I don’t bother with the dresser anymore. I figure I’d hear him trying to get through the lock, and I’m old enough to defend myself now.

All I want to do is go to sleep, but instead, I stay up and complete my final English assignment. I only have two other subjects to pass until I can graduate early. Just three more months and I could be out of here.

Two weeks ago, I was happy about the prospect of getting out of here that much sooner.

Now … I don’t know how I feel.