Still Jaded

[tijan13.livejournal.com]

Sheldon, Bryce, and Corrigan ruled their school until a killer wanted to rule them. Now, three years later, Bryce is returning from Europe the local celebrity jock. Corrigan is busy ruling his fraternity and Sheldon's about to be pulled back into their social world of drama. With the killer killed, who's trying to hurt Sheldon this time? Or maybe it's someone closer than she wants to admit?

Here's chapter one~
 

 

STILL JADED

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CHAPTER ONE

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“Have you heard?” Grace plopped her books on the table beside me, scooted into her chair, and drawled, sarcastically, “Bryce Scout is moving back to town. The local celebrity jock is about to ‘reclaim his crown.’”

GI rolled my eyes. “You’re just jealous because Corrigan won’t be around to flirt with you as much.”

Grace paled, if that was possible considering she was already the palest person I knew with wheat sun-bleached hair. “I am not…,” she sputtered, her mouth agape, and then wised up. “You’re the one who’s jealous because Corrigan won’t be spending as much time with you.”

I laughed at that one, genuinely. If only it were that true. “Right, because now that my boyfriend is back in town. I am jealous that I’ll have to share him with Corrigan…who is both Bryce’s and my best friend. It makes complete sense that I’ll be missing my time with Corrigan.”

Grace pouted and leaned back in her chair, “You don’t have to be the bitch you like to be. I’m just saying…whatever. I was just teasing you because, you know, Bryce is your boyfriend and everyone’s all talking about him, and you’re my friend—just shut up, Grace.”

“I know,” I murmured softly as our professor entered the room. I nudged Grace’s thin shoulder, “But I wasn’t joking. You’ve got the hots for Corrigan.”

Grace gasped and wheeled to protest to her dying day, but the class quieted in that instant and class was soon underway. As Miss Connors wrote the class objective on the white board, I tuned the class out. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy our psychology class, it was just that Grace was right. Everyone was talking about Bryce’s imminent return and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I’d gone to Europe with him after high school. He had been going to play professional soccer and I didn’t have anything better to do. Corrigan went too, but he was the first to leave. However, Corrigan had a legitimate reason since his mother had fallen sick with cancer. He was needed at home and he just stayed after his mom was deemed ‘in the clear’ by her doctors.

Me—I stuck around Barcelona for a year, but it was difficult. It turned out that I’m not very good at making friends. And Bryce was the only person I knew out there, but he was kept busy with training, practice, and his games. And then there were the interviews, the team outings for the public, and a whole host of fanatical fans—mostly females.

Now, I’m not one of those self-conscious girlfriends, far be it. But the obsessive stalkery types wore on me after all. I usually love ridiculing someone in public, tearing them to pieces until they shrivel up and sob in a fetal position, but…my run-ins with Bryce’s adoring fans were too much. It just grew to be too tiresome and I realized that I needed my own life. I needed Bryce, but I needed my own stuff at the same time. So...I went home. And that had been a year ago…

“Sheldon!” Miss Connors boomed my name sharply.

I blinked back to her reality and saw my previous high school counselor frowning, disapprovingly, at me. She indicated the white board and asked, “What are your thoughts on the fight or flight instinct?”

I relaxed. Homework be damned, I could handle this quite fine. I drawled, “I think it’s total crap.”

Miss Connors suppressed a smile, but asked politely, “And what do you mean by that?”

She knew me so well. I grinned, hard-pressed, and let go, “The book says that people either fight or flight, right? They run or they attack? Well, it also says in a lot of literature that people ‘freeze’ when they’re in those life or death moments.”

“Do you freeze?”

“Hell no. I’m a fighter,” I snorted in disgust.

The class broke out in laughter, but I glimpsed a grimace from Grace. I turned to look and wasn’t surprised to see the concern in her baby blues. I knew I didn’t have to worry about Miss Connors’ reaction. I had her in therapy for six months after all, but not Grace. Her and I never really talked about the time when I had ‘fought’ back and not frozen.

“Do you think it’s wrong to freeze?”

“God no. It’s just what it is, you know? People freeze. They’re especially going to freeze if they’re never put in that situation and it suddenly happens. The body does weird stuff. It takes care of its own, that’s for sure.”

Miss Connors snapped her intelligent eyes to me, narrowed them, and mused, almost to herself, “And maybe there’s a reason why it shuts down…”

What?

I narrowed my eyes and studied my previous therapist/current professor in return. She looked tired, but no more than usual. And her thin straw-colored hair had been pulled into a haphazard bun with strands teasing the tops of her slender shoulders. Her pressed top had been pulled out from underneath her equally pressed khaki pants. None of that was unusual, but she’d never started talking to herself in the middle of a lecture.

I glanced around the room and saw more than a few other students confused. That’s when I looked at Grace, only to find her still concerned eyes on me.

“I’m fine!” I snapped out.

Miss Connors jumped out of her trance.

Grace bared her teeth, “I can think my own thoughts.”

“Not when they’re about me,” I barked back.

“Sheldon…,” Miss Connors stepped forward, instinctually, frowning. “Are you okay? Is there something I should know about?”

“No!” Seriously. I was tired of all that emotional support and crap. It had been two years, more than two years, since I was stalked by some pervert that I killed. It hadn’t changed my life. I’d gone to counseling, more because it was mandated by the court, but I’d gone. I was fine. People needed to let it go.

Miss Connors looked at Grace. “Is there something I need to know?”

I interjected, annoyed, “This is class, not Sheldon’s personal crisis trauma team. And I’m fine. I’m pissed off because you made me talk in class, but I’m fine other than that. And don’t talk to Grace. She doesn’t have her head screwed on correctly right now. She’s got the hots for Corrigan and he’s unavailable so she likes to turn her attention on me instead.”

Grace gasped, angered, and pushed up from the table. She gathered her books against her chest, glared once more at me, and swept out of the classroom. Once the door slammed shut behind her, I sat back and waited for the shocked lull in class to end. And one second later, it did as everyone eagerly turned to their table partner.

In a lot of ways, college wasn’t anything like high school. But in other ways, especially considering the type of person Corrigan was—everyone knew Corrigan, just like high school.

And I had just outed Grace…because that’s the type of friend I am.

Shitty.

Miss Connors sighed, looked at the clock, and then called out, wary, “Okay, guys. You can go.”

I stood up.

“Sheldon, you can not.”

I sat down.

When the last student left, Miss Connors crossed the room to shut the door. As she turned, those condemning eyes in place, I snorted, “That’s who I am. I’m not very nice at times.”

“No, you’re not,” Miss Connors agreed with me. “But you’re normally pleasant, especially with Grace. What’s the deal?”

I grinned at her words. “What’s the deal? Are you still trying to talk to me in my language?”

“Sheldon,” she exclaimed, irritated. “You have never outright hurt Grace before. I have known you for six years and personally known you for three of those years. The last time you were a cold bitch to someone like Grace was the same time you were being stalked and two of your friends were killed. So I’m asking…is there something going on that I should know?”

Well, when you put it like that…

I sighed, surrendering, “No. I’m just a bitch. I’ll apologize to her later.”

Miss Connors gave me one those too-knowing looks, but turned to her desk and remarked, “I think you should leave her alone, but that’s my personal opinion.”

I should, but the truth was that Grace had become one of my only friends…besides Corrigan. I sort of needed her, though I’d never tell her that.

“I heard that Bryce is coming back to town,” Miss Connors spoke up, watching me again with those hawklike eyes.

I stilled and replied, cautiously, “Yeah?...”

“I know that the two of you weren’t doing so well when you moved back. How are things now?”

Ah hell no. I reared back and proclaimed, “I had my stint in therapy. I ain’t going back so no questions about Bryce, especially Bryce.”

As I moved past, Miss Connors asked, barely containing her amusement, “What about Corrigan? Can I ask about him?”

“Him either.” I pushed through the door.

Miss Connors yelled, just before it shut behind me, “Can I ask if they’re even alive? Is that okay? Or maybe you—are you alive?”

I suppressed a shudder when the door resounded with a wonderfully loud click. Miss Connors and all her nosey questions were nicely kept on one side and I quickly veered for the door in joy.

Maybe not joy, but I was extremely excited for my escape. And then I was through. I breathed in the fresh air and then heard, “Sheldon! Yo. Stop.”

And the fresh air was ruined.

Michael Reveritt jogged towards me with his fitted white shirt that seemed to glide over his muscles, those Labrador chocolate eyes, and the plush lips that always seemed to be smiling or kissing…

I scowled, “What do you want, Ritt?”

He stopped beside me and shook his head, good naturedly, as he laughed, “Always about the sunshine, ain’t ya, Sheldon?”

“It’s Jeneve and what do you want?” I was tempted to stomp my foot in rhythm, tap out the seconds until I lost patience, but that was rude…and I’d already filled my rude quota for the day.

“Whatever, Sheldon. You know you love it how I say your name. Just admit it.” He caught the frosting in my eyes and hurriedly threw out, “Corrigan said you banned the frat house from your party on Friday night? That can’t be real, right? Corrigan’s got it wrong.”

Parties. Frats. And Corrigan. Why was I not surprised this was why Michael Reveritt found me? I grew tired of the game and clipped out, as I turned on my heel, “No, you’re not invited.”

And I left.

But Mike followed. “Come on, Sheldon. You’re all alone in that huge house of yours. Corrigan told me about it. He told us about the ragers you used to throw. Why won’t you let us come?”

“Because you’re morons.” Although I had a better reason, but the moron part was true too.

Mike reached out and drew me to a stop. He pleaded with those Labrador chocolate eyes and baby dimples, “You’re best friends with Corrigan and he’s one of my brothers now. How can you cut off a brother from his brothers? It’s inhumane. And besides, we’re a frat. We have to be at the best party on campus.”

“Good thing my place isn’t on campus,” I gritted out and peeled off his fingers from my arm.

“You know what I mean. Come on, Sheldon. You’re a part of us and we have to be there. It wouldn’t look right if we weren’t.”

“Contrary to your thoughts, Ritt, the party isn’t for you. It’s for me, Corrigan, and Bryce. I’m inviting people that Bryce knows. He doesn’t know you—”

“Yes, he does,” Mike cut me off.

And I stopped, startled, and then regrouped, “What are you talking about?”

“He calls Corrigan all the time. Corrigan spends a bunch of his time with us. I’ve had a few conversations with your boyfriend, at least to know that he’s a right chill guy. He’d be surprised if we weren’t at the party.”

“He’s not my boyf—” I stopped myself. It had been two years and I still automatically denied the relationship. It was different with Grace and Miss Connors. They understood the part of my relationship with Bryce. They didn’t comprehend how we weren’t just the boyfriend/girlfriend part, but the guys—Corrigan and the rest—they knew. They got the camaraderie, but I still couldn’t not say that Bryce was my boyfriend.

I waited a beat and then clarified, “I’ll talk to Corrigan about it, but if you guys come—you can’t trash my place. If you do, heads will roll, literally.”

Mike flashed a smile, triumphant. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. And you’re family. We won’t do anything to your place. Corrigan would take a battering ram to us in our sleep if we did.”

I grinned. Corrigan would…that made me proud.

“So you’re cool with us coming?”

I sighed, “Were you ever not coming?”

“Hell no,” he laughed. “I just thought I’d make one last ditch effort before we crashed and officially pissed you off. Good thing, huh?”

I bared my teeth, much like a wolf would do before it snapped its prey’s head off, “Do you know what I do to people that piss me off?”

Mike stopped, stared at me, and opened his mouth to make no sound.

I finished, smoothly, “The worst I’ve done is kill ‘em…” I turned and sauntered away, but not before I heard Michael mutter behind me, “Holy god, that woman…” The mumbling quieted, underneath his breath, but I just rolled my eyes.

Why didn’t I want the frat at Bryce’s party? The real reason is that I didn’t want any distraction from his homecoming. I didn’t want any drama and I wanted Bryce to feel relaxed, around people he used to know. The frat guys…not relaxing and definitely not drama-free. But…I’d already known they’d crash the party. It made sense and they’d want to be at the best party around, especially one that was thrown for the local jock celebrity, as Grace had termed it.

Ah…Grace.

I’d have to fix that. I knew that I’d hurt her feelings, but a part of me didn’t understand why she was so upset. Yes. I had publicly exclaimed that she had feelings for Corrigan, but that wasn’t really not-known. I knew it. Grace knew it. I was pretty sure a whole bunch of other people knew it, Corrigan included. And my personal life was always known by everyone else. If the campus gossip mill hadn’t covered it, the tabloids from Europe got the rest. They really loved Bryce over there and they really hated he was leaving for a U.S. team.

My phone rang.

And speaking of Bryce…I grinned as his name flashed over the screen and flipped it open, “What’s up?”

“Hey, I’m here,” he said, cheerfully.

“You sound refreshed. That’s disgusting. Shouldn’t you have jetlag or something?” And what did he mean that he was here? He wasn’t supposed to show up until Friday, two days from now.

Bryce laughed, “I slept on the private jet, Sheldon. And yes, I know it’s disgusting that I get to fly in private things now, but deal with it. I don’t suffer jetlag and I don’t care.”

“Whatever,” I growled, but grimaced. Could I not be anymore annoying?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I clipped out.

“Sheldon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Tell me what’s wrong or I’m going to have my mom come over for dinner tonight,” he threatened.

And I buckled—damn it. “I was a bitch to Grace.”

“When are you not?” Bryce laughed.

He knew me too well. I continued, nonplussed, “And I told our psych class that she has feelings for Corrigan.”

Bryce quieted on the other end, paused, and then asked, “I thought they’d already talked about that. Didn’t Corrigan tell me something about that?”

I shrugged, “News to me. Grace hasn’t really said anything to me about it, but she’s been stupid over him since our senior year. Good gracious, how long is she going to pine for the moron?”

Bryce mused, “Well, it’s out now. They’ll figure it out.”

“And I’m the quintessential bitch…like always.”

“Nah. You’re just you, Sheldon. Get over it and get home. I’ve missed you.”

I grinned and picked up my pace for the car. “My dad did have the pool installed…”

“Done. I’ll meet you there.” And Bryce hung up.

As I approached the car, I paused for a moment, and shook my head. Bryce was back. He was back and he was at my home—it felt good.

It felt…like normal.

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