Sweet Revenge (m|m)

Eight - Blake

The weekend takes forever to arrive.

In the meantime, my inventory gets delivered, and I'm kept busy unloading bikes and arranging my displays. 

Every day I go across the street and buy a different piece of candy, but for the next three days, it's just the cute shop-girl behind the counter. Of Aaron, I see no sign.

I'm not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed by that.

After Tara told me who he was and I'd put the pieces together, I understood at least some of his animosity towards me.

Well, I understood that he must have been that asthmatic kid I'd helped one time, and who'd left a box of candy in my locker, but as for the rest, I still didn't quite get it.

Thinking back, I realized that I'd never seen that kid again after the day he'd asked me what kind of candy I liked.

Then again, that Spring I'd been so busy with track and with preparing for college that I'd been aware of little else. Then I'd graduated, left for university, and thought I'd never look back. Was it possible I'd left some sort of train wreck in my wake without even realizing it?

Only one thing makes any sense, and it makes my stomach twist into knots just to think about it.

He'd seen. 

He must have been watching from somewhere nearby, waiting for me to open the gift he left me. He'd seen what I did, and then, because the guys knew who he was, and because he was easy prey, and they were cruel and stupid, they'd tracked him down and punished him for being sweet and kind.

Given what I'd said and done, they must have felt they had my blessing.

And if he'd seen, he would have thought the same thing.

~♡~

It's the day before Valentine's Day, my senior year. I've just led the guys on a five-kilometer run, and we're all hot, sweaty and exhausted.

In the locker room, the usual sophomoric humor and crude jokes fly, and because I'm afraid of what they'll think of me if I don't, I join in.

When we go to get our stuff, I find a red, heart-shaped box in my locker. It looks like something you'd find in a craft store, and it's tied with a white ribbon. On top is a handwritten card, penned with a fine, calligraphic hand. It's short and unadorned. It's not even addressed to me.

To my heroes.

That's all it says; but in those three, unassuming words, I read a whole story.

Chad Wilson reads one too.

"Oooh, Welling, what have we here? A secret admirer? And she snuck into the boy's locker room too. That's asking for it, for sure."

"Shut up, Wilson," I snap.

 I swear if it was a category, he'd be voted 'most likely to be charged with sexual assault' when we graduate.

I unwrap the box and lift the lid. Inside are twelve, perfectly square, perfectly smooth blocks of fudge. There's one for each of us, and they look so good I can almost taste them with my eyes.

"These aren't from a girl, anyway," I say distractedly. "They're from that kid who dropped his inhaler."

"Shit, really?" Brad Smith laughs. "You know that kid's a fag, right?"

The word hits me like a punch, and I flinch. I want to make Brad take it back, to make him sorry for saying something so ugly about someone so sweet. But again, I'm afraid of what they'll think if I don't agree.

"Gross, for real?" I say, and drop the box. "Urgh, I'm not eating fudge from an ass-fudger. Fucking disgusting!"

Then I stomp on the box.

The guys love it. They laugh, and then they join in.

As the box and its contents are reduced to a brown mess of chocolate and cardboard, I feel like my secret is safe, but I know that I've paid for it with a piece of my soul.

~♡~

Finally, it's Saturday. By four o'clock I've psyched myself out so much my hands are cold and sweaty, and I've spent way too long trying to choose between a blue shirt and the slightly different blue shirt.

I go with the bluer one.

Then, I walk across the street and into Sweet Revenge. The girl—by now I know her name is Kate—is behind the counter once more.

"Is..." I clear my throat. "Um, is Aaron here?" I ask.

She shoots me a stern look from beneath her thick, mascara laden lashes. "Who's asking?"

"I... uh." I feel like I'm sixteen and she's my date's father.

She laughs. It's a high-pitched, musical sound, and it startles me. She sees me jump and laughs harder.

"Yeah, he's here. He's just finishing up. I'll let him know you're here."

Then she turns her head and screams at the top of her lungs.

"AARON! BLAKE'S HERE!"

From the back room—which I've gathered is the kitchen—I hear muffled swearing and the clatter of a pan.

"Shit." Kate's eyes go wide, and she turns and dashes through the door as fast as she can in her ridiculously high shoes.

I hear yelling and swearing, and just as I'm starting to worry that something is really wrong, Kate comes back.

She looks a little flustered. "He'll be out in a minute," she says, not meeting my eyes.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

Before she can answer, Aaron himself bursts through the door, looking a little frayed around the edges. He's wearing an apron splattered with something the color of amber, and he's holding a spatula in one hand.

"Three-hundred-and-sixty fucking degrees, Kate!" he rants, seemingly apropos of nothing. "That's how fucking hot molten caramel can be. I swear to God if you..." He trails off as his eyes land on me. "Uh... hi."

I smile uncertainly. "Um... I know it's early, but, I thought maybe... I mean, we're both busy, and..."

He looks me up and down and swallows hard. "Yeah... Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready."

Then he turns and vanishes back through the door to the kitchens.

Kate casts me a sympathetic look.

"Don't worry," she says. "He's always like this around Valentine's Day."

I nod and say something noncommittal in reply, but it feels like she just put a stake through my heart.

Because I'm pretty sure that whatever hang-ups he has about that holiday, they're my fault.