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Chapter Seven
It was the next day’s photography class when I had a revelation. Or, more specifically, when I realized just how I was going to get closer to Xander. Out of all three of them, so far he’d been the most aloof. What better way to break through his cold exterior than spend time with him doing what he enjoyed doing the most? Taking pictures.
While the rest of the class was out and about, filling up their portfolios and developing their most recent shots, I went to the teacher, who once again was on Facebook. He didn’t even bother to minimize the screen. Taxpayer dollars hard at work.
“I’m kind of clueless where to start…” I began, trailing off as the teacher met my stare. I rubbed the back of my neck, hoping I seemed nervous about asking for help. “Do you think Xander could help me get started?”
The teacher agreed that, since half of the school year was already over, I did need some help to get on track with the other students. Xander was my official tutor in photography. Go figure. Until today, I’d never heard of a photography tutor before, but it worked. Getting the aloof Xander to spend more time with me was step number one.
The next time Xander stepped foot in the classroom—he’d been out in the black room developing some of his shots—the teacher told him. And he did not look happy. His frown could not have been more intense, but he didn’t argue, mostly because he was a suck up to this teacher.
Xander glanced over his shoulder, watching as the teacher walked out, probably to gossip with the choir teacher, before returning his dark eyes to me. “Do you really need my help, or are you just trying to fuck with me?” No other student was in the room, so he must’ve felt free to speak his mind.
I creased my eyebrows, holding onto the digital camera I’d signed out. “I’m not trying to fuck with you,” I said quietly. I sat at a table while Xander stood tall. I watched him nibble on his lip ring. The action shouldn’t have caught my attention, but it did. It did, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
How would kissing him work with his lip ring? Could he not kiss rough? How would the lip ring feel when you…
Okay, more thoughts I shouldn’t be having. My mind was apparently in the gutter, and I couldn’t blame it because it was so consumed by three equally attractive teenagers who were more like men than boys.
“After everything…” Xander frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t believe you.”
I gave him my best smile as I got to my feet, moving around the desk. He watched every movement I made beneath his shaggy black hair, and I resisted my urge to run a hand through its length. Would it be soft? No, I had to fight my wandering mind.
“Look, I know this is weird,” I said, shrugging, “but this is the one class I was excited for. I didn’t know how coming back to this school would be—I thought I’d have to be on guard all the time. This was supposed to be the one class I could relax in, the one class I could have fun in. I’m not trying to fuck with you, Xander, because I need this class more than you do.”
Damn, I sounded smooth. Earnest, too. Gold medal for me.
Xander’s expression softened a little, and he averted his eyes. He had always been the one to watch, always the first to laugh at whatever Christian did. How did he change so much? Was the Xander of elementary and middle school still in there, or had he really turned over a new leaf? “Okay,” he eventually said. “What do you need help with?”
“Turns out, I like the idea of taking pictures, but when it comes to inspiration, I have no idea how to do it. What would look good.”
Xander’s mouth actually quirked into a smile—a tiny one, one that faded almost instantly, but I still noticed it. His teeny, tiny smile was kind of adorable. “That’s not the point.”
“I don’t…”
“The point is not to take the most beautiful shot. Pictures are just pictures without heart and soul put behind them. You can tell when a photographer put his everything into a shot. Those shots are the ones you see on the news, in the papers and the history books…” His long-winded explanation trailed off when he saw me watching him with a smile. “What?”
I actually had no idea what the hell I was smiling about, so I turned away, fiddling with the camera in my hands. “Nothing.”
“No, what is it?”
Seeing as how Xander didn’t look like he was about to let it go, I tried to find the right words to explain, “Really, it’s nothing. It’s just…you’re not at all like the Xander I remember.” That was putting it lightly.
“And you’re not the Elle I remember,” he shot back, though his tone wasn’t exactly unkind.
I met his stare, beneath his shaggy black hair. His hair was naturally this dark; he wasn’t the kind of guy to dye his hair. Until him, I never really knew how attracted I could be to his type. He wasn’t too tall, and he was on the thin side, but my body was drawn to his anyway. Those piercings, the slight kink in his shaggy hair, even his stupidly slumped posture—I was officially attracted to Xander Hill.
Not once did I ever think I’d fall down that rabbit hole. Not after everything he did to me.
I was leaning against the fence, trying to read a book I’d gotten from the school library. It was recess, and my class was outside. Everyone else was having fun, laughing and playing. Half of the class was on the small playground, while the other half was playing a kid’s version of football. I was the odd one out, as always, and I was trying to make the best of it. Trying to do my reading assignment. Trying to focus on anything that wasn’t Christian and his friends.
Why did they take up my whole life? How could three kids turn an entire class against me? Why didn’t Ms. Kinsey, our teacher, say something? Maybe they were just that good. Maybe they knew when to say and do things that she wouldn’t notice. Surely if Ms. Kinsey had heard the things they’d said to me, she would’ve stepped in. Told the principal. Something.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew that if I went and told on them, the entire class would stand together with Christian, Alec, and Xander. It would be twenty-nine kids against one. Who were the teachers and school staff going to believe?
Not me. I knew they wouldn’t believe me, because no one cared about me. No one but Mom. Dad was…Dad was a fuckup, in Mom’s words. Dad had ruined everything. He was the reason we were now living in an apartment. A cheater. My mom had called him a cheater, right to his face, and I hated him for it.
A football landed a few feet to my right, and I shrunk into myself when Christian ran over to get it. I didn’t want to watch him approach, and I definitely want to see him glaring at me, but I did anyways.
