Page 45 of A Brilliant Spring

“It means you fucked up with Brandt.” I’m shocked. How did I fuck up? He’s the one who walked away. “He’s been fucking pining after you for years. Since fucking high school.” My mind goes completely blank.

Chapter

Forty

Elissa

“What do you mean he’s been pining for me since high school? We only just met last year, because of my father.”

Rhys scoffs.

“Yeah, so you think.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Someone fucking tell me.” My hand laces around my aching throat, as it’s too much talking for me. I saved my words for Riley, but this has taken a turn. Riley’s eyes soften and her hand grabs mine, filling me with warmth.

“Apparently, they both grew up in the same town as us,” Riley explains. I don’t comprehend what she’s telling me. I close my eyes and try to focus on what she’s saying. “They went to the same high school and everything. Apparently, they were our orientation leaders on our first day. When Rhys told me, it all snapped back in my mind. I remember Rhys being there. Remember that dick that called us out on the first day for talking? That was Rhys…and the broody, quiet guy with him was Brandt.”

My mind keeps drawing blanks. How is this possible? Oh my God! That must mean that the truck I saw down the road from Riley’s parents…that must be Brandt’s parents, their company. Things click slowly into place, and I wonder how I never noticed him before. He’s four years older. He would have only been there the first year of high school for me. This is just way too freaky and too big of a coincidence. And how would he still have been hung up on me? He never knew me, he never even talked to me. Wait…was this his plan from the beginning when he invested in my father’s company? I’m at a loss for words and I don’t know what to say.

My mind floats back to our first meeting — or, at least, what I thought was our first meeting — when the guys came to pack up my apartment before we moved to Toronto. Brandt was sitting on my bed, going through my grade nine yearbook. I thought that was odd at the time, but now I know. Holy shit. And just like that, I’m transported back to my first day of high school and the brief spark I felt with one of the guys leading our group.

•••

Pandemonium ensued on the first day of high school. I’ve never seen so many students crammed into one space before. Students blocking hallways, doorways, and stairwells. They even seemed to clog up the open areas like the quad. There was also a certain hum of excitement throughout the halls, and the teachers seemed animated, having cheerful conversations with each other and students.

I was among the nervous freshmen coming into their first year of high school. Riley and and I were gathering in the quad, where we were to get our class schedules and be assigned to a group designated by colours. There were about thirty-odd freshmen assigned to a group, making for a total of two hundred and thirty-one students. Two senior students were leading each group.

When the warning bell screeches across the lot at 8:10 AM on this warm September morning, a flurry of students scatter across the quad, looking for their assigned groups. The seniors, however, are in no rush to find their student charges — they all stand in a clump, talking and laughing. When the last bell rings, the seniors break apart and find their corresponding groups. The two seniors who stroll over to our group, the green group, have their arms crossed, and their uninterested stares silence the students’ nervous chatter. A hush falls over the green group as the taller of the two guys takes control, speaking loudly and arrogantly.

“Listen up,” his voice booms. “I’ll only say this once. I’m Rhys, one of your guides for this week at school. Welcome to grade nine, losers.” He chuckles, and a few freshmen shiver from the darkness in his laughter. My eyes shift to the senior standing behind him, only slightly shorter. His arms bulge out of his uniform shirt, with broad shoulders, golden-brown waves, and light eyes — maybe green. When his eyes connect with mine, the hairs on my arms and neck shoot to attention, prickling my skin as they rise. A simmering heat warms my body and something inside me flickers. Breaking the eye contact, I turn my attention to Riley and try to focus on what she’s whispering about.

Out of the corner of my eye, I keep my gaze on the two men before us. They are definitely men, not boys. Their presence commands silence and attention. Their tall frames are imposing, and their stares are penetrating. Rhys is certainly cocky, and his looks probably don’t help. He’s tall, with muscular arms and a flat stomach, made all the more apparent by the uniform polo that clings to his torso like a second skin. His pitch-black hair is shorn on the sides with just enough to spike on the top. His eyes are piercing, but I can’t tell what colour they are, maybe some shade of blue. But the other guy, who still hasn’t been introduced, is different — no less intimidating. But there is something about him that speaks to my body.

He looks strong and silent, like someone who could go a round or two with you. His muscles bulge out of his sleeves, his shoulders almost bursting the seams of his navy polo shirt. The school’s emblem on the uniform is stretched across one hardened pec, and the shirt tapers down his waist, leaving me to wonder what ridges lay beneath.

“Look who’s got a stick up his ass,” Riley hisses into my ear. Giggles burst from us, and the silent, strong one nudges Rhys in the ribs and juts his head toward us. I try to shush Riley, but she keeps mocking him, and I can’t stop laughing.

“Ladies,” Rhys’ voice drips with reprimand. “You’d better pay attention and stop giggling.” He calls us out and our faces colour with embarrassment. “You know what? Just come up to the front. I don’t feel like babysitting some niners today.” He gestures for us to move forward, and Riley links her arm through mine and drags me behind her, swerving through the group. When we reach the front of the group, my skin engulfs in flames as Rhys’ silent friend stares me down, his gaze never wavering. My breath catches in my throat and my eyes slide away, trying to look anywhere but at him.

The tension doesn’t die down between us even as Rhys continues to talk. “If you have questions about your timetable, don’t discuss it with Collins or myself. Just go see the guidance counsellors.” His bored tone carries across the quad as he points in the direction of the doors opposite to us, one of a set of four in the quad. A large oak tree stretches to the sky in the centre, a spot that is probably coveted during breaks. The guidance department is closest to the morning bus drop-off area and driveway. But, even as I shift my gaze to see where Rhys is pointing, I feel the heated gaze of Collins on me, never leaving. Not the entire time of the tour, either.

•••

I remember that year, I always felt like someone was watching me — I often felt the same warm hum that would light my body on fire. During assemblies, in the cafeteria at lunch, or during school performances, when I was on the dance or cheerleading team, there was always this shadow that followed me throughout the ninth grade year. I just thought it had more to do with being “Harold Black’s daughter,” and was sure it would die down soon enough. But looking back, comparing that feeling that I remember to what I feel now between Brandt and I…it feels familiar. But now it’s charged, powerful, and not so innocent.

Coils of regret and hunger collide together inside of me.

A painful pang of need jolts through my body, and my heart screams out for Brandt.

I chuckle to myself in exasperation, wincing as the breath jerks my ribs. Riley looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. Fresh anger and sadness surge inside me when I realize he gave up on us too easily. After all those years of waiting for me? Wanting me? And he just gave up at the first sign of trouble?

My mother saunters into the room, only increasing the room’s tension. She halts, looking around the room curiously.

“What did I miss?” she asks innocently.

“Just a minor revelation about Brandt,” Riley offers. I shoot her a withering look, but she skillfully avoids my stare. My mother hums and her heels click across the floor as she rounds the end of my bed and takes a seat beside me.

“Oh, and what’s that? Could it possibly be that he’s desperately in love with Elissa? Any fool can see that.” My mother, with her impeccable timing, looks impeccable again, as if the last few hours hadn’t happened. She’s back to her normal self, fully pulled together, make up painted on her face, and a mask of indifference. “I, for one, think Elissa needs to get her head out of her ass.”

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