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He took the lid off the muffins and stood up. My heart started racing because he was standing so close to me. I shifted awkwardly, unsure what he was going to do. I tried to remember the other stuff I wanted to say, the stuff about how I was there if he wanted to talk.
But as I was trying to remember how I wanted to offer him comfort and support, he was grabbing one of the muffins I made him and moving to stand in front of me.
I didn’t even try to move. I never dreamed he would be mean to me just for trying to be nice, so when he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it out, I just stood there not knowing what to do. He smashed the muffin against my chest, then crumbled what was left in his hand and dropped it down my shirt, coating my training bra and my tummy with sugar, nuts, and muffin crumbs. My shirt was tucked into my skirt, so the muffin was trapped inside.
Everyone saw what he did. People started laughing—just a stunned guffaw at first, but then laughter erupted from every kid in the room.
I stood there with the crushed muffin trapped in my shirt and tears welling up in my eyes.
Landon smirked, malice in his eyes. “You know what? You were right,” he said. “That did help.”
I went back to my desk with tears sliding down my cheeks, my face and ears burning with humiliation. I gathered my stuff as quickly as I could and fled the school. I had a phone for emergencies, and I had to call and ask Mom to come get me.
Even though Landon was a massive jerk that day, I told myself I wouldn’t hold it against him if, when I went back to school, he had reflected on how unnecessarily mean he had been and apologized. I knew he was hurting, and Mom explained in the car on the way home that when some people are in pain, they lash out. It doesn’t make it right or fair and I certainly hadn’t deserved that treatment, but maybe it was just the way his grief was coming out and I shouldn’t take it personally.
Unfortunately, that apology never came.
I wasn’t even on Landon’s radar before, but he certainly knew I existed after that. He terrorized me every chance he got—just with pranks and making fun of me back then, stuff that made him look cool and made his dumb friends laugh, but when we got to high school, his harassment took a weird turn.
I went to a school football game with a couple of friends sophomore year. Landon isn’t on the team anymore; he got in trouble too many times for fighting, but he was back then. I didn’t look as awkward anymore. No more braces, just straight white teeth. No more training bra; mercifully, my B-cups had finally come in. I was by no means the kind of girl who attracted male attention as soon as she walked into a room, but I didn’t look so much like the before version of Mia fromThe Princess Diariesanymore.
It was a different setting than the one he was used to seeing me in. I guess I thought that was why, when he caught my eye and walked over after the game, he invited me to come to the afterparty at his cousin’s house. He told me they had a sweet pool so I should go home and get a bathing suit.
I was excited.
Looking back, I feel a little stupid because it was obviously a trick, but despite all the crap he had pulled over the years, I didn’t look at Landon through a suspicious lens. Maybe I even had those stupid high school love stories in my head where the popular asshat notices the nerdy girl and stops being an asshat because, clearly, he now sees her for the beautiful person she has always been and he’s madly in love with her.
I’d never admitted to being attracted to Landon because how could I possibly be attracted to someone who treated me like absolute garbage? But I wasn’t blind, and his atrocious behavior was somehow not enough to make him unattractive to me.
Typically, it would be. His cousin Malek is widely regarded as a whole sex symbol at our school, and I could not be less attracted to that vile asshole if I tried.
Maybe the difference was the sympathy I had felt for Landon. It cushioned him from bearing the full brunt of his awfulness because, to me, even when he was being a bully, he was still the sad boy sitting alone at his desk and blaming himself for his mother being gone.
I couldn’t hate Landon no matter how much he deserved it.
So, I went home and changed clothes. I put on a bathing suit underneath a party dress, even put on a bit of makeup.
In my mind, I imagined walking in and seeing his eyes glint with fondness when he caught sight of me. I imagined us talking all night long, sorting out every hurt caused by him being a jerk. I even went down imaginary roads that might lead to my first kiss before I left—something soft and romantic that would leave me floating on clouds as I made my way home.
It is heartbreaking how foolish I was.
I don’t like to replay that night, but what actually happened was much closer to blatant assault. He ignored me for a good two hours and got drunk with his friends. He had only invited me, not Hannah or the other two girls we were at the game with, so there was no one else at the party for me to talk to, and I had a terrible time. But then, finally, he came over and got me. He grabbed my wrist and hauled me wordlessly through the crowd. My heart pounded and I thought, “This is it. It’s finally happening.”
But there was nothing sweet or romantic about it. He dragged me into a room and locked the door. I felt a first wave of fear wash over me, but that was silly. I’d gone to school with Landon forever; he wouldn’thurtme.
It didn’tfeellike he wouldn’t hurt me, though.
The bedroom was dark because he hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. As he stalked toward me, I found myself backing away.
It was the first moment I realized maybe I shouldn’t have come into that room with him.
He didn’t say a single word to me, just backed me up against a wall. I looked up at him, confused. He slid his hands up under my dress to grab my hips and cage me in against the wall.
Fear wrapped its fingers around my throat. He smelled like liquor as he leaned in and roughly kissed my jaw, and I felt a sudden claustrophobic need to get away from him before he reached my mouth.
I had wanted him to be my first kiss, but not like that.
I pushed him away when I realized I needed to. I was still stunned, and he didn’t take the hint. He grabbed my wrist again and pulled me back as I tried to move away from him. He pushed me over to the bed, then threw me down on the mattress and yanked down my bikini bottoms.
