Singles and Pairs (1) [discontinued]

Scarlett

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was in danger.

Some sophomore guys had pulled away from their lockers, revealing a line of sight across the corridor. Shane’s piercing blue eyes were already locked onto mine as he entered the school and stalked towards me.

I expected him to be mad, yet somehow it wasn’t anger in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. It was the complete and utter absence of it. That’s how I knew I was really in trouble. His eyes were emotionless, unblinking. A false smile was fixed on his face, ear-to-ear, hauntingly disconnected from the empty stare that rooted me to the spot.

Students parted to let him through, their morning exchanges coming to an abrupt halt. And then the whispers began.

“Look at Shane’s arm!”

“What happened to him?”

“Can he still play tonight?”

I had two seconds to register the cast on Shane’s right arm before he came to a stop in front of me.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted out. My mind flashed back to Friday. To the argument. To the door I slammed in a fit of rage. To the crunch that came after. And the yelp—that was the worst part. You don’t forget a noise like that.

“Oh, this?” he said cheerily, holding up his cast. “Don’t worry about it. A shattered bone won’t interfere with my football scholarship.”

There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his voice, and that terrified me. He either genuinely believed what he was saying or had skipped ten steps past anger to a place of absolute lunacy, where feeble emotions like rage and betrayal paled in comparison to whatever he now felt towards me. A churning in my stomach warned me it was the latter.

“Can we talk alone?” I pleaded, eyes flickering to the students shamelessly hanging on to our every word.

I regretted this request immediately—who cares if people overheard? I couldn’t be alone with him!

Too late. He gently took my elbow with his good hand and guided me away—so gently, he could have been helping an elderly woman across a busy road.

He nudged the nearest classroom door open with his foot and led me inside.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Cam, the football team’s QB, sat alone at the back of the room. If there was ever a day for him to start coming early to class, this was it.

“Hey, Captain!” Cam greeted, bounding to his feet like the overgrown bear he was. “Ready for the big game tonight? Ready to kick some serious—”

Cam’s eyes had finally found Shane’s cast, and he let out a pained squeak, not unlike the one Shane made when I accidentally slammed his arm in a door.

“No,” Cam whimpered. “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.”

“Hey, buddy, would you mind giving us the room?” Shane asked, voice light and smile so perfectly intact I was almost starting to believe it.

“But your arm?” Cam persisted. “The game—”

“The room, please,” Shane asked again with finality.

I knew Cam was flunking Math, but even he must know that Shane smiling plus a broken arm must equal very bad things. Sure enough, Cam glanced at the cast one more time, let out another welp and shuffled out of the classroom.

Shane returned his gaze to me. “I’m thinking we can grab a bite after school. Randy told me about this awesome new sushi place. How does that sound?”

I felt my mouth open and close several times. Is he seriously talking about sushi?

“Babe, I’m fine,” he said, placing his good hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Really. I'd been thinking anyway, it was stupid to base my entire life around football. Maybe this is the wakeup call I’ve always needed.”

He laughed so abruptly that it made me jump.

I felt I should choose my words carefully, until enough silence passed that I settled for the first words that came. “Shane, you remember what happened on Friday . . . right?”

“Friday . . .” he repeated to himself, brows knitting together. “Oh, duh. That’s when you broke up with me and crushed my arm in a door. And then you let me take myself to the hospital and didn’t check on me all weekend. I guess that brings us to now.”

He recanted the story fondly as if we had spent the day picnicking on the beach.

“Shane, I’m really sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I will never forgive myself. But . . . but you know that . . .”

“Know what?”

I let a moment of silence pass, until I had enough courage to extract the words I needed to say.

“That we’re still over, Shane.”

“The nurses at the hospital kept asking how this happened,” Shane said, raising his cast.

“And what did you tell them?” I asked, not exactly thrilled with the change of conversation.

“That it was an accident, of course. Can you imagine if I told them what really happened?”

I realised what he was implying, heard the threat hidden beneath the false, pleasant tone. He had me dead to rights. There was nothing I could do. Breaking up with him wasn’t an option anymore, and he fucking knew it, too.

“So, sushi later?” He called this over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the classroom and closed the door behind him.

The bell for homeroom rung throughout the school, and the door burst open again as dozens of boisterous students piled into the classroom.

A/N: Decided to revive an old story that I never intended to do much with. Just having fun and seeing what happens. Any comments are welcome.