Page 93 of Beautifully Broken
When I’m not hiding out, I usually hang with Cali or sometimes go out with Jax. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and the cheer squad absolutely hates it, which honestly makes it a little more fun. Jax is wild, confident, and way too charming for his own good.
Sometimes his best friend Van tags along. Van’s the quiet type—smart, observant, always hanging back a little like he’s watching everything unfold. He’s got that sexy-nerd vibe, the kind most girls overlook, but once you notice him, youreallynotice him. His dirty blond hair is long on top, shaved on the sides, and there’s a silver ring through his eyebrow that somehow works perfectly. His glasses don’t hide those amber eyes, either—they kind of make them stand out more.
Jax and Van together? Total opposites, but in the best way. Like, two sides of the hottest coin you’ve ever seen.
***
I get home from school on Friday and, of course, he’s here—William, my stepfather. Just the sight of him in the kitchen is enough to make my stomach turn. I don’t say a word. I just head straight upstairs. If there’s one good thing that came out of my mom marrying him, it’s my room. It’s huge—queen bed, cozy reading nook, my desk tucked into the corner, a closet big enough to live in, and the bathroom? Spa-worthy. A walk-in shower and a soaking tub that’s basically therapy. If I didn’t have plans tonight, I’d be soaking in there with candles and bath salts, trying to forget the world.
Instead, I take a quick shower, hoping to dodge any awkwardness. But no such luck. As I’m stepping out, wrapped in a towel, I see him—standing in my doorway.
Seriously?
“Um, sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. If you give me five minutes, I can get dressed and come find you,” I say, clutching the towel tighter, my skin crawling.
He just stands there,watching me. Not even subtle about it. Leaning against the doorframe like this is casual, or okay.
“No, I can be quick,” he says, voice way too calm. “Just wanted to check how things are going at school. See if you need help connecting with the headmaster or anything.” Right. Because a fifteen-year-old in a towel really wants to talk about school with her stepfather in the doorway.
“Everything’s fine. Thank you.” I move to close the door, trying to send a very clear message—but he doesn’t budge. He leans his weight into it, stopping it from shutting.
My jaw tightens. He keeps talking, acting like he’s just being helpful, while his eyes follow me as I grab clothes from my bed. It makes my skin itch.
“I hear you’re friends with Calliope. Her mom’s close to the headmaster. They’re always part of his events. Maybe you could help him with her.”
Okay,what? That’s enough. “Yeah, we are. She mentioned that” I say, voice like ice. “But I’ve got to get dressed and finish my homework before the game.”
I slip into my closet and lock the door behind me, finally breathing again. Getting ready slowly, giving him enough time to disappear. I know it doesn’tchange anything. He’ll still be around. He’s alwaysaround. Always watching. And it never feels right. I trust my gut, and my gut saysstay away from him. I throw on a denim miniskirt and knot Jax’s burgundy football jersey at my waist, letting it show just a bit of stomach. Something about wearing his number makes me feel grounded. I finish my makeup, but as I do, I hear my mom calling from the kitchen.
“Are you going to join us for dinner?”
I head downstairs, but the second I see William at the table, his eyes on me like he’s still picturing me in that towel, I feel sick.
“No, I’m meeting my friends at the diner before the game. We’ll get our work done there,” I say, grabbing my bag and walking straight out the door without looking back.
I don’t get what my mom sees in him. I don’t knowwhyshe married him. But I know I don’t trust him—or his friends. They’re always watching, like everything I do is some kind of performance. Creepy, powerful men that all seem connected by something I can’t quite name. Cali works with the headmaster, who’s tight with William, but she won’t talk about it. Says she doesn’t like him either, but she shuts down whenever I ask questions.
Something’s off. I feel it. I just need to stay out of it... or figure out what they’re hiding.
***
The bleachers are packed, the Friday night lights blinding, and the air smells like popcorn, sweat, and late-fall chill. The entire school shows up for football games, and tonight is no different. Music blasts from the speakers, cheerleaders bounce on the sidelines, and I’m squinting past the crowd, trying to find him.
Then I see #13. He’s in full quarterback mode—helmet off, eyes scanning the field, his dark hair sticking to his forehead from the heat under the lights. His jersey hugs just right, showing off those stupidly broad shoulders and the way his forearms flex every time he throws the ball. God, he looks like he belongs out there, commanding the field like it’s his personal stage.
Cali nudges me with her elbow. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?” I ask, even though I know.
“That ‘my boyfriend is hot and I know it’ look.” I roll my eyes, but yeah—I probably do.
He jogs into the huddle, focused, intense, and it hits me again how weird this all is. A few weeks ago, Jax was just the guy every girl wanted and I was the new girl. Now he’s the guy who calls me after practice and sends me half-stupid, half-sweet texts. Who steals fries off my tray like he has a right to them. The one that makes me feel like I’m not invisible.
The whistle blows. He takes his position behind the center, barking out signals, and my heart does this annoying little skip. The ball snaps, and in a blink, he’s dodging, reading, and launching the ball like it’s nothing. It sails across the field in a perfect spiral and lands right in the receiver’s hands.
Touchdown.
The crowd explodes.
