Page 22 of People Like Us

“The old man wouldn’t send me down here with an empty folder unless he wanted me to check on you. So what is it?”

I set the folder on the counter and turned back to the laminator. “It’s nothing. I just got in a dumb fight with my tutor.”

His brows pulled together. “Aaron?”

“August.” I corrected.

He snapped his fingers in recognition. I watched the poster slide out the other end of the machine, sealed stiff.

“About what?” he asked.

I pouted. “One of his friends called me a Barbie.”

He made a low, solemn sound, like a pastor acknowledging a confession. “I’m sorry, babe. Kids are assholes.” He pulled me into him easily, my face pressed against one of the metal buttons of his jacket. He smelled like cold air and the same pine body wash he’d used since sophomore year. “But if it makes you feel any better,” he said into the top of my head, “I love your plastic boobs and permanently painted smile.”

I laughed into his chest. I tipped my chin up to meet his blue eyes. “And I love that you have a smooth, very non-genitalia-suggestive bulge in your pants.”

He laughed, his whole chest moving with it. He kissed my forehead. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.” He let go and stepped back toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight for youth group, yeah?” He winked.

I smiled and nodded. He slapped the top of the door frame on his way out, the sound echoed in the small room, and then he was gone.

As I made my way through the student-filled parking lot, the sound of other students talking loudly was barely audible over the music playing in my earbuds.

I was almost to my car when I spotted August standing at its trunk. The only thing that made me more nervous was Andy hovering over him, a look plastered on his face that made him resemble his father.

I took my earbuds out and pushed through the last of the students in time to hear Andy say, “Have I made myself clear?”

August was nearly the same height as Andy, though a lot thinner. His mouth was set in a hard, unimpressed line before he said, “Yes, I’m smart enough to comprehend your neanderthal thinking, Andy. Has anyone told you that speaking louder doesn’t actually make you sound smarter? Or is it a side effect of getting hit in the head too many times?”

Andy was about to step closer, but I slid between them, pressing my hands to Andy’s chest and forcing him back. “What’s going on?” I hissed.

Andy didn’t take his eyes off August as he sneered, “I was just reminding this little punk to watch what he calls my girlfriend.”

“August isn’t the one who said it, Andy. I told you it was one of his friends.”

His teeth clenched in an unpleasant sneer as he growled, “Then he can pass the message to all his misfit friends too.”

I dropped my hands from his chest, and he looked down at me instantly. “Don’t say things like that. Calling them names makes you just as bad as them, Andy.”

His brows folded in frustration. I heard a familiar laugh and peeked around him at his teammates, and could already hear their taunts in my head.

Are you going to let your girl talk to you like that, Andy? Why is your girlfriend defending a misfit anyway, Spires?

I didn’t care that the rest of the team were assholes, but I did care if I was dating one. When I looked back at Andy, I knew he was bracing for the same jokes. His hard features turned on me as he said, “We’ll talk about this later.”

I was stunned when he turned away and climbed into his truck, his friends whooping and hollering as they piled in on the passenger side.

I turned back to August, who looked just as irritated as Andy had—though with fewer muscles in his face. It didn’t look nearly as aggressive.

“What did you say to him?” I asked, keeping my tone low.

“I didn’t say anything to your guard dog,” he said dryly. “I was standing here waiting to apologize to you, and he approached me. Started beating his chest in front of all his friends about how I’d disrespected his girl—” He sneered the last two words. “—like you’re his yard and I just pissed on it.”

“Oh, and I suppose you didn’t antagonize him at all, huh? No witty comebacks to make him feel dumb? No big words to make yourself superior?”