Chapter 15: Surly Romance: Chapter 15

Micheal isn’t speaking to me.

Which could be because he’s angry I made a scene in front of his entire middle school. Or because his lip’s busted and it hurts to talk. Either way, I feel like a screw up.

I coil my fingers into fists and stomp to the farmhouse ahead of Darrel and the boys. Unfortunately, I don’t have a key, so my angry march is cut short right at the screen door.

Footsteps pound on the porch steps. I stare at the sky and the trees waving around the acreage. Blues and greens and fluffy white clouds. It all blurs in front of me.

My jaw clenches so hard, I’m afraid I won’t have any molars left in old age.

Darrel slants me a quick glance while opening the door. He hasn’t said much either. I’m not sure what he’s thinking right now. That I’m crazy for throwing myself in front of a moving vehicle? That I shouldn’t have addressed Ebenezer’s mom the way I did? That I’m a bully for wanting to beat up a kid?

You’re a bully, Sunny.

A frightening shudder runs down my spine. Guilt crawls deep under my skin, spreading sticky webs everywhere. Spawning darkness and regret. Making me want to jump under the shower and scrub until my skin is raw.

You’re a bully.

I know what it’s like to walk a school hallway and feel like I have power. I know what it’s like to use that power to spit on other people. To hurt them simply because they opposed me. It’s hard to accept that, in the past, I was an Ebenezer to someone and now that karma is coming back to bite the people I love.

I stumble to the kitchen, grip the edge of the sink and suck in a deep breath. My shoulders are hiked to my ears, and I’m trying not to slump over.

I push the memories of the old Sunny from my mind. Dragging it out now will send me into a downward spiral of anxiety. And I can’t be caught up in myself when Micheal needs me to be the adult in the room.

Bailey’s watching, his worried blue eyes trained on me. His little mind is turning. I can feel him teetering on the edge of confusion and fear.

Chair legs scrape the ground as Micheal takes a seat around the table. It surprises me. I didn’t think he’d be mature enough to sit down for a discussion. Darrel must have given a quiet instruction.

Another chair leg scrapes the ground. I don’t have to turn and look to know it’s Darrel. His presence is… it’s like a blanket of calm. It’s as soothing as the balm I spread on his back after mom smacked him.

Just knowing that Darrel is here, behind me, waiting for me… it makes my heart slow down from the crazed pace. It makes my thoughts fall into order until I can pick them up with my hands and piece them together again.

I turn slowly and my heart jumps to my throat.

The boys are sitting around the table.

They’re silent.

They’re waiting.

For me.

I let out another breath. My emotions are riding high and I can feel the tears pressing the backs of my eyes. Why am I crying? It’s not like Micheal won’t recover. It’s not like I lost him.

You’re a bully, Sunny.

This is my fault. I let my own guilt about my past, about the way I used to treat people, cloud my advice to him. Because of me, Micheal just stood there, small and helpless, while someone mistreated him. While someone hurt him. Because of that, I’m just as guilty in today’s incident as Ebenezer.

Darrel turns to me. I used to think he was expressionless, but I’m learning more and more than I was wrong. Darrel shows his emotions, but they’re not exaggerated. They’re subtle. Like the way one of his eyes is slightly narrowed. The way his jawline is much more pronounced, indicating that he’s clenching his teeth ever so slightly. And the eyebrows that are hovering a little lower over his somber green eyes.

His gaze softens when he looks at me and some of the tension in my body leaves. He pulls out the chair next to him as if he can’t start without me. A blanket falls on my shoulders, warm and snuggly. The feeling that I belong. That I belong here. With them.

I take a step toward the chair. And then another. And another. Until I’m sitting next to Darrel and facing Bailey and Micheal.

Both of the boys are sober. Their lips disappear into their mouth. Neither of them look up and it feels like Micheal isn’t even blinking.

“I asked to have a family meeting,” Darrel says softly and slowly, “because I’d like to discuss what happened today.”

I swallow hard.

Darrel plants his hands on the table, palm up. “First, I’d like to make one thing clear. We’re bringing up Ebenezer’s behavior with the school.”

Micheal’s head flops up. “Why?”

“Because what he did was wrong.” Darrel folds his hands together.

“But Sunny already dealt with it,” Micheal grumbles. “Ebenezer would be stupid to bother me again.”

I blink rapidly. Did he… just acknowledge that I helped?

Relief pools through my veins, but I don’t let it get to my head. “Micheal, what I did today was out of emotions and impulse. Yelling at someone doesn’t mean there will be lasting change.” I glance at Darrel who gives me a little nod of encouragement. “Different situations call for different approaches.”

“Everyone will find out.”

“Do you have any other suggestions?” Darrel asks calmly. “If you do, I’m open to hearing it.” He waits and lets the silence thicken.

The strategy is effective. Micheal slumps deeper into his chair and shakes his head.

Darrel’s voice remains gentle, as if he wants Micheal to know that this isn’t a punishment nor is he trying to make the situation worse. “I believe it’s the right thing to do.”

“How can it be? You’ll turn me into the school laughingstock.”

“Bringing this up with the principal can not only help all the kids who’ve been afraid of Ebenezer, but it might also help him too. Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong. Or maybe he’s acting like that as a cry for attention because he needs more professional help.”

My own past rises from the grave where I buried it. Regret piles up until it’s a physical throb in the pit of my stomach.

“Darrel’s right,” I croak.

Micheal’s eyes dart to me.

“If it’s a known fact that Ebenezer bullies other kids, we can’t let it continue. We’ll have to take it up calmly and intentionally with the principal so no one else gets hurt.”

“That means we’ll need to discuss exactly when and where today’s incident took place.”

Micheal folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not a snitch.”

“Okay.” Darrel lifts his hands. “That’s fine.”

I whip my head around. How is it fine? We need Micheal to cooperate if we’re going to resolve this.

“No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Micheal.”

The eleven year old squirms.

I glance at Bailey. “What do you think?”

“Me?” His eyes widen.

“Yeah.”

Micheal tilts his head, listening.

“I think… it’s not snitching.” Bailey fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “It’s like being a superhero.”

Micheal frowns.

“You’re doing the right thing even if it’s hard.” Bailey nods. “That’s cool.”

The brothers stare at each other for a moment. Then Micheal’s gaze softens. He lets out a deep breath. “Fine.”

Darrel gets a pen and paper. “You want to tell me what happened?”

I hold my hands tightly under the table and force myself not to react with anger or frustration or any other emotion as Micheal recites what Ebenezer did. Darrel remains much calmer than I could ever be under these circumstances. He jots down everything Micheal says about the incident. After, he snaps a picture of his notes because he’s aggravatingly meticulous and then he sends the picture as an email to himself.

“I’m proud of you, Micheal,” Darrel says, folding the note into a square and slipping it into his pocket.

The eleven year old looks up with shiny brown eyes. His hair flops over his forehead and he blinks rapidly.

“Today, with Ebenezer, you made a hard choice and you stood by that choice even if it meant getting hurt. It takes a very strong man to do that.” Darrel leans forward. “However, there’s one thing I want you to remember. Violence is never the answer but, sometimes, being silent and taking hits isn’t the right answer either. I hope that, going forward, you won’t get hurt anymore.”

Micheal’s bottom lip trembles. “I won’t.”

Darrel gives him a small, encouraging smile.

I glance down and tug at the hem of my shirt. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore either, Micheal. When I gave you that advice, I never meant for you to… to be in pain.”

Micheal nods. I want to crush him in my arms when I see him quietly swallowing our words and not throwing tantrums. Whether his maturity comes from losing everyone in his life at such a young age or whether he really is just an old soul, I feel the urge to protect him so he can be a little kid for longer.

Darrel leans back. “You guys can head to your rooms now. And make sure you do your homework early. We’re having guests over.”

“Yes, sir,” Bailey says.

Micheal walks with his brother up the stairs.

Darrel glances at me, but I don’t want to meet his eyes. He’s going to analyze me. See right through the ‘nothing can hurt me’ front I put up. And then he’s going to know that I’m fragile and guilt-ridden and uncertain about almost everything even though I act like I’m the total opposite.

Moving to the cupboard, I open the door and try to keep my voice casual. “Do you think we should still go to the dance class tonight?”

I hear the chair legs scraping the ground as Darrel rises.

Pretending that I’m too engrossed in finding the bag of flour, I shuffle through the cupboard. “Micheal and Bailey may not be in the mood to socialize. It’s been a tough day. I think I’ll make some brownies for them before I go home. You guys can enjoy something sweet and have a quiet night.”

There’s still no audible response from Darrel, but I feel him getting closer. He’s oozing confidence. Some kind of magical aura that makes me want to be closer to him and maybe cry a little on his shoulder.

It’s no wonder he’s always so busy at the clinic. His patients probably sense that reliability in him. He’s this big, serious man with a poker face and the strength to listen to their problems and help them solve it. Of course they’d chase him down.

I set the flour on the counter. “If we’re going to cancel, I need to let Kenya know now. She’s really excited about this dance class and about meeting the boys. And Belle… Kenya said Belle’s bringing all her puzzles and board games. I almost feel bad for—”

A pair of strong, brawny arms close around my waist. I stumble, and I’d probably smack my belly into the counter if not for the grip Darrel has on me. He presses his body into mine and tucks his head in the crook of my neck.

Warmth envelops me and my heartbeat speeds up. I drop my fingers against his knuckles, lightly scraping the rugged skin.

Still holding me from the back, Darrel whispers, “Why does today bother you so much?”

“What do you mean?” I breathe out. It’s hard to think right now. Mostly because Darrel is touching me and thinking about him is ten times easier than letting the reminders of my past run rampant.

“Do you regret confronting Ebenezer and his mom?”

“Of course not,” I croak.

“Then?” His breath fans against the side of my neck and my knees lose their strength. We’re having a serious discussion. The boys are upstairs as we speak. Micheal’s upset. Bailey’s overwhelmed. Heat shouldn’t be pooling between my thighs and swirling in my stomach right now.

Get yourself together, Sunny.

“Is it because,” Darrel nuzzles his nose into my neck, “you feel responsible for what happened?”

Ice replaces the heat in my veins. “Aren’t I? A little?”

“Explain that.”

“It’s obvious.”

“Not to me.” He shakes his head.

“I shouldn’t have acted like I know how to parent someone. I shouldn’t have told him not to fight. If he had, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Do you know why I disagree with you?”

“Because our brains are different and arguing is inevitable?” I murmur, recalling his words from earlier.

“No.” His grip on my waist tightens and he turns me around. Our eyes connect and I feel a thrill go down my spine. Darrel leans his forehead against mine. “We can’t control what the world does to him. We can’t protect him from all the harsh realities he’ll have to face. But we can let him know that he has somewhere to come home to. He has people who will keep him safe.”

The tears I’ve been trying so hard to hold back break free. One slips down my cheek.

Darrel gently scrapes it away with a crooked finger. “He talked to us. He trusted us. That counts for something.”

“It still feels like my fault.”

His voice is as gentle as his touch. “We don’t know if fighting back would have resulted in Micheal getting hurt even worse. We don’t know the impact fighting back would have made on the way he thinks and solves his problems. You told him he could make a different choice. And he did. You didn’t fail him, Sunny. You inspired him.”

Two more tears hit my cheeks. Dammit. I’m not a crybaby. I don’t remember the last time I’ve blubbered like this.

“I just… I want him to be okay.”

“I know.” Darrel hugs me. His warm embrace fills me with peace.

My arms tighten around him and I hide my face in his chest until I’ve gotten those stupid tears under control. There’s absolutely no reason I should be crying right now. It’s ridiculous.

He leans back and chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the great Sunny Quetzal lose confidence.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

“Don’t let it happen too often. If it does, tell me. I’ll be the first one to remind you of how amazing you are.” He kisses me gently. “Also, I won’t say no to canceling dance class.”

“I changed my mind. We’re going.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“You want to be the one to tell Belle she can’t meet her cousins tonight?”

He tilts his head and seems to think it over. “How about you tell her and I provide moral support?”

“Very funny.” I push him off me. He’s making it hard to concentrate and I can’t throw him into bed right now, so he might as well give me some space. “Go see if Bailey needs help with his homework while I get these brownies whipped up.”

Darrel kisses my nose. “Call me if you need help.”

“I will.”

His lips curve up in a half smile. He steps back, but he continues to hold my hand and doesn’t let go until our fingers drift apart. I watch him as he mounts the stairs to take care of the boys.

Family. My heart swells and pulses like it’s been hooked up to extra batteries. I know why mom doesn’t want to take my relationship with Darrel seriously, but this is… it doesn’t feel like anything I’ve ever experienced.

That man and those two little boys—they’re changing my life. The more time I spend with them, the less I want to leave.

Alistair, Belle and Kenya descend on the farmhouse with cookies, gifts, and more excitement than a college freshmen at her first music festival.

“This room is awesome!” Belle squeals, staring wide-eyed at Bailey’s wallpaper. She’s glittering in a pink shirt, pink tutu and angel wings. It’s a creative fashion choice that’s so stinking cute. “Whoa! Look at that, daddy!” She points at the bed and the pillows in the window nook. Little feet scurrying, she hurries to the bookshelf next. “It’s so cool!”

“It’s incredible,” Alistair agrees.

“My best friend is amazing at what she does.” Kenya loops her hand around my elbow and slants me a proud look. “I can’t believe you got this done in twenty-four hours.”

“Insane.” Alistair nods, impressed.

I soak in their praise and I don’t bother hiding how much it pleases me. Yes, I love compliments. Who doesn’t? I know what I went through to get these rooms together, and I’m still shocked we managed to pull through.

Darrel stands in the doorway, his eyes trailing me. He doesn’t say anything, but the curve of his lips screams his delight. It’s almost as if he’s getting high on this ‘Heap Sunny With Love’ moment. As if he has a personal stake in seeing me thrive.

The gang oohs and ahs over the bathroom and then turn back and head straight to the living room since Micheal’s door is locked.

Bailey and Belle spread out the board games. A few minutes later, Micheal comes down. I assume the noise and laughter drew him, until Darrel quietly informs me that he threatened Micheal with brownies, warning him the treats would be all gone if he didn’t move downstairs.

As the kids play, I get to observe—firsthand—what happens when two shy little boys meet an adorable princess in a pink tutu and angel wings.

“That’s cheating!” Bailey bellows, his eyeglasses tipping so far down his nose that it’s going to hit the stack of UNO cards in the next three seconds. “You can’t pick up from the deck more than once.”

“Yes, I can,” Belle says, her pretty brown eyes dancing with mischief.

“You’re wrong.”

“Prove it.” She tips her chin up. That’s definitely Kenya’s attitude rubbing off on her.

Micheal clears his throat. “Guys, let’s play fair.”

“Okay.” She chirps. “In the next game.”

Micheal’s jaw drops.

Bailey throws his hands up.

Kenya glances at me and we both smother our laughter behind our hands. Belle has her two older cousins in a headlock and she’s doing it so casually too.

The kids go another round.

Belle ends up taking the game.

“I’m not playing anymore.” Bailey throws his cards down.

Belle pushes out her bottom lip. “But we only played two games. You promised you’d play at least five with me.”

“I know but…”

Belle does the puppy-dog face and fluttering eyelashes combo.

Bailey glances desperately at his older brother.

Micheal shrugs as if to say ‘don’t look at me’ and then grabs for another brownie. When he first arrived in the living room, he exchanged awkward hellos with the beaming family of three who kept staring at the bruises on his face like they had questions. I’m glad that he’s looking more comfortable now.

Ms. Hansley, a plump older woman with greying hair and orthopedic pumps, flutters around the kids. “Micheal, would you like some milk with your brownies?”

“Yes, please.”

She hands him a cup with a smile.

He accepts it and gulps the drink down.

Ms. Hansley waits right there until he’s finished and then takes the cup back to the kitchen where she washes it immediately. That woman has not stopped flitting about since she arrived. I’ve left my perch in the couch several times to ask if she needs help and she’s shoved me out as if offended.

No, no. You go enjoy your time with your friends, dear. I’ve got the kitchen.

“Belle,” Alistair calls from the other end of the sofa where he’s stroking the leg Kenya has slung over his lap, “you can’t play dirty when you’re around your cousins. Save that for when it’s just us.”

“Okay, dad,” Belle grumbles.

Kenya smiles at Bailey. “She’s going to follow the rules now, Bailey. She doesn’t want you boys to stop playing with her.” My best friend arches an eyebrow. “Right, Belle?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she grumbles, huffing as she reaches for the cards. “I’ll shuffle, okay?” Belle slants hopeful eyes at Bailey. “Can we go again?”

“Alright,” he huffs.

Micheal stuffs his face with brownies and lifts a sticky hand. “Deal me in too.”

“You guys want to play?” Belle asks. “Aunt Sunny?”

“Sorry, babe.” I check my watch. “We need to head out now.”

“Is it that time already?” Kenya checks her phone and her eyes bug. “I was having so much fun watching them play that I lost track of time.”

Alistair stretches and then extends his hands to her. “Ready, Miss Jones?”

“Oh yeah.” She takes his hand, allows him to drag her to her feet and then giggles when he spins and dips her.

“Boo!” I call.

Kenya sticks her tongue out at me. “Don’t be jealous just because we have moves and you don’t.”

“Girl, Darrel and I can dance circles around you.”

“Sunny,” Darrel tugs on my shirt, “maybe don’t raise your expectations that high.”

“Relax. How bad can you be?”

Alistair barks out a laugh. “I’d suggest you wear steel-toed shoes if you don’t want your toes crushed, Sunny. He’s as rigid in dancing as he is with everything else.”

Darrel grunts his displeasure as his ears turn pink.

I jump to defend him. “Hey, no smack talk. I’m the only one who’s allowed to make fun of his bad dancing.” I stick a finger in my shirt. “Know your place, Mr. CEO.”

“And where’s my place exactly?”

“Not beside him.” I cozy up to Darrel. “That’s my spot.”

Kenya pretends to hurl.

Belle giggles.

Micheal rolls his eyes.

Bailey’s too focused on the game to care.

“Remember the days when they used to hate each other?” Alistair tells Kenya. “I liked that better.”

Kenya laughs.

Darrel remains close-lipped, but there’s a hint of amusement in his green eyes.

“We really do need to go.” I tug him out of the sofa and he stumbles reluctantly behind me.

We wave goodbye to the kids and then pile into our cars—Kenya rides with Alistair while I jump into Darrel’s front seat and subject his ear drums to soca music until we arrive at the dance studio.

My heels tap loudly on the wooden floor. I turn in a slow circle, observing the room filled with mirrors. The only wall in the entire space is painted purple and has hideous stick-on letters spelling out ‘nobody puts Baby in a corner’.

Darrel sticks close, his hand on my waist and his jaw set in a pensive frown. He’s not looking forward to this.

“Loosen up,” I whisper, elbowing him in the side.

He grunts in a slightly lower frequency as if to say thanks, that’s very helpful.

I know I’ve got it bad if I’m beginning to differentiate between Darrel’s annoyed grunt and his sarcastic grunt.

“Hello, beautiful humans.” A voice booms from the doorway. A man wearing a sparkly black shirt and loose slacks sashays into the dance studio. He’s gripping the arm of a svelte and trim older woman with greying hair coiffed into a bun.

My eyebrows jump when I see him.

“Oh, you finally got your maid of honor and best man to join us.” The dance instructor glances at me. Then his eyes double back. “Sunny? Sunny Quetzal?”

“Rex?”

“Sunny!” Rex demolishes the distance between us and sweeps me up in his muscular arms. “Sunny, girl. You have not changed a day.”

“You know each other?” Kenya asks.

“More like he hung around my ex-boyfriend, and I had to tolerate his presence,” I tease.

“Speaking of your ex, have you heard? Eric is getting married.”

“Really? I didn’t know.” He wasn’t that great of a guy or a boyfriend. I broke up with him to reinvent myself and he moved on quickly. Obviously, it was no big loss.

“He doesn’t really talk to me that much either, so I was surprised when I got the wedding invitation…” Rex’s eyes stray to Darrel and linger. “Who is this?”

“Rex, this is Darrel. Darrel, this is an old friend from high school.”

Rex peers at Darrel, perusing his face with such intensity that I wonder if something’s wrong. Darrel gets stiff and broody. He stares straight ahead as if the sight of Rex makes him want to punch something.

Rex tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be weird, but you seem familiar. Have we met?”

“No.”

“Oh. Maybe I’m mistaken. It’s just… you look exactly like this kid from high school—”

Darrel sucks in a sharp breath.

I step forward. “Rex, Darrel didn’t go to high school with us. If he did, I definitely would have remembered.” A guy as handsome as Darrel would have gotten all the girls at John Hearst twittering and I would have been at the front of the pack. “He’s an accomplished neuropsychologist. Maybe you read about him in a magazine or something.”

Rex chuckles. “My bad. Which high school did you attend?”

“None of your business. Are we going to start this lesson or what?” Darrel snarls.

I narrow my eyes at his rude tone and then smile at Rex to smooth the awkwardness. “Please excuse him. He barks but doesn’t bite.”

“I see.”

I lean close to Rex and whisper loudly, “Darrel isn’t a fan of dancing.” Or fun in general. But I’m not going to mention that in front of strangers. Darrel already seems to be in a weird mood.

“No problem. This dance is easy to learn. We should get you both up and running in no time.”

“Great.” My smile fractures as I tighten my hold on Darrel and slant him a scolding look. What is your problem?

He drags his hands away. Nothing.

I wrinkle my nose. You’re being a jerk.

He glares a hole in the wall.

Rex chuckles nervously. “It’s my fault for prying. I’ve been that way since high school. Not sure if Sunny remembers, but we got into all kinds of trouble back then.”

I do remember and it makes me a little sick. I’m not proud of all the decisions I made in high school, but lamenting it won’t change the past. All I can do is focus on the future and make better choices. Choices that don’t hurt people. Choices that are good for the soul.

Rex gestures to me. “Why don’t we get into formation? The bride and groom can rehearse what they’ve learned with my assistant, while I teach the maid of honor and best man the basics.”

We start the lesson, but I’m too heavy on my feet to flow as lightly as the romantic dance calls for. Darrel is even worse than me. Rex is ready to tear his hair out by the time we’re done.

“No, no, Darrel. You put your foot forward first and then back. It’s a simple one-two-three step!”

Darrel’s hold on me tightens. He gives Rex a murderous glare which makes the other man shirk back.

“I mean… you’re doing fine. Dancing off-beat is a style too.”

I frown up at Darrel. “Are you okay?”

He just grunts.

Great. We’re back to Neanderthal communication now.

Rex coaches us through the routine again, but Darrel and I just aren’t in sync.

“That was great!” Rex declares after forty-five minutes of re-thinking his choice to teach amateurs the art of classical dancing. “The bride and groom are ready but, if you don’t mind, I’d like to work with these two a little more.”

“I’m in,” I agree.

Darrel folds his arms over his chest. “Not interested.”

I touch his wrist. “Please?”

He glances away. “No.”

“For me?” I bat my eyelashes.

He sighs so hard his chest caves in.

I brighten. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Alistair approaches us. “Stay here and practice for a bit longer if you want. We rented this place for another half hour.”

“I’ll take Belle home and ask Ms. Hastings to watch the boys until you get back. Don’t worry about how long it takes to get the routine.” Kenya squeezes my hand. “I really want you two to dance with us.”

“We’ll keep trying,” I assure her. She’s my best friend. How can I not try my best for her?

Kenya and Alistair leave, holding each other’s hands and whispering until the door closes behind them. I glance up at Darrel. Something in his expression makes me pause. He looks… tortured. As if this moment is taking everything out of him.

He must really hate dancing.

I open my mouth to comfort him, but Rex beats me to it. “Dancing can feel hard at first, right?” He folds his hands behind his back. “Here’s the secret. Dancing is about honesty. There’s only so much you can fake before it all starts to fall apart.”

A thought line appears in the center of Darrel’s forehead. His lips tighten and he seems to struggle even more with whatever’s on his mind.

Rex motions to us. “Darrel, please take Sunny’s hand.”

Darrel lifts his arms woodenly and grips me.

We start from the first eight count, his hand on my waist and my hand on his shoulder.

We step forward. Back. Forward again.

I sigh into his neck. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not.” He doesn’t crack a smile. Or a scowl. He’s barely looking at me.

We stumble over each other, right ourselves and start the song from the top. As I dig my fingers into his shoulder and move to the rhythm, I prod him. “What’s wrong? You got super weird the moment Rex walked in.” I spin out and then spin toward him, stopping against his chest. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

He scoffs as if such an emotion is beneath him.

“That’s right.” Rex bobs his head. “Look at that. You’re getting better.”

Darrel moves back. Pauses. Moves forward. Pauses.

I follow his lead, wishing he’d just tell me what’s wrong.

After a while, Rex allows us to take a break. “You’ve improved tremendously. If you need a drink of water, go ahead and do that now. I’d like to go over the steps one more time before we call it a night.”

“Thanks, Rex.” I follow Darrel as he marches over to the bench and grabs a bottle of water. His hand trembles slightly. The way his eyes dart to the door suggests that he’d like to leave. Immediately. “What’s gotten into you?” I insist. “You’ve been tense all night.”

He sighs and turns to me. “It’s—”

“Hey, Sunny. You have a minute?” Rex asks, wiping his hand on the side of his pants.

I tear my gaze away from Darrel’s troubled expression.

“Over here.” Rex points to a spot a few paces away from the bench.

I follow him there. “What’s up?”

“You remember hoodie guy?” Rex asks.

My eyes dart up, and an annoyance I thought had died a long time ago jumps to the front of my mind. I was a menace to many people during my time at John Hearst, but the hoodie guy was one of the few who deserved it.

“That guy…your dance partner.” He juts a chin at Darrel. “He looks a lot like him.”

“What?” I shake my head at the mere suggestion. “Don’t be ridiculous. Darrel isn’t the hoodie guy. Like I told you, he never attended John Hearst. And second, he’s not a creep.”

Darrel’s head whips around as if he heard me.

I frown at Rex, keeping my tone at a low hiss. “Do you remember what that guy did to me?”

Rex chomps down on his bottom lip and glances away.

I forge on despite his lack of encouragement. “That crazy pervert photoshopped pictures of my head on top of a bunch of naked bodies. He slipped it into my locker and then acted all innocent.” I shake my head, my temper spiking. “Darrel would never—”

“Here’s the thing, hoodie guy didn’t actually put those pictures in your locker,” Rex blurts.

My eyelashes flap. I stop breathing for a second. “What did you just say?”

Rex’s gaze jumps to Darrel. I turn too and realize Darrel is standing close to us, his eyes so intense I’m afraid both Rex and I are about to be singed.

Rex cringes. He looks genuinely afraid of what Darrel will do to him. My mind is whirring, and I couldn’t care less that Darrel is closing in on us because I’m too busy trying not to hyperventilate.

Rex swallows hard. Voice trembling, he backs up. “Forget I said anything.”

I advance on him. “Continue, Rex. I want to know what you meant by that statement. You know it was hoodie guy who put those pictures in my locker.”

“I don’t think I should—”

“Start. Talking,” I snap. “Now.”

Rex licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair. An expletive slips out of his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in physical pain.

On pins and needles, I lean forward to hear what he has to say. Back in high school, I made it my mission to destroy hoodie guy. I became a nastier, meaner version of myself in the name of revenge and fighting the good fight.

If it turns out that hoodie guy is innocent…

That would make me the bad guy.

And that would mean I ruined someone’s life… for nothing.