Page 38 of Reaching Avery
“I don’t think so,” I answered. “You haven’t seen him in months and distance can cause that kind of emotional detachment too. It’s natural to lose feelings for someone over a period of time or to have those feelings become less. Doesn’t mean you don’t still care about him, but that closeness is gone.”
Watching me, Maverick didn’t say anything for a while. “What if part of my hurt is also coming from the fact that I wasn’t the best boyfriend to him either? I got upset by him cheating, but in a way, I’ve been doing it to him too. Just in a different way.”
Okay. I was lost.
“What do you mean?”
Just before Maverick explained, one of his buddies sat across from us.
“Dude, practice kicked my ass yesterday,” the guy said before taking a huge bite of pizza. “Be glad you’re not in football this season. Coach had us running drills up and down Hell Hill in full uniform. Ricky puked.”
Not sure whatHell Hillwas, but I didn’t really care to stick around now that the rest of the guys were coming over.
“Shut your face, Trav,” another guy said, who I assumed was Ricky. His tanned complexion and hazel eyes, mixed with his muscular frame, pretty much guaranteed that he was a guy used to getting his way with the girls—or guys, since I never liked assuming someone’s sexuality. “I didn’t puke. Just dry-heaved a bit.”
“Dry-heaved like a lil bitch,” Travis responded.
I grabbed my tray and was about to slip away unnoticed when Maverick touched my arm. “Guys, this is Avery. Avery, this is Travis and Ricky.”
Here it comes.
Now that their focus was on me, I knew the taunts would begin, and probably some remarks about my emo appearance. I’d get calledgoth bitchorvamp fagor something else along those lines. Popular guys always made it their mission to downgrade me in front of their friends, as if it made them feel powerful.
“Cool. Nice to meet you, man,” Travis said, nodding to me. “You’re new here, right?”
I nodded, too stunned to say anything.
“Out of all the asses you could hang out with, you pick Mav,” he continued with a lopsided grin. “If you ever want to talk to someone with an actual brain, you can hang with me.”
Maverick threw a fry at him, and he ducked.
“Avery, don’t listen to this clown,” Ricky chimed in, motioning to Travis. “Mav is a dude you wanna have on your side. There’s no one better.”
“You know who’s better?” Travis asked with a gleam of mischief in his green eyes. “Your momma.”
That caused them to start a string of insults to each other, but none of them were serious and were all in good fun.
I’d had it wrong, and I was still trying to wrap my head around it. Not for being wrong, I mean, I wasn’t a freaking narcissist or anything, but it was more so the fact that these jock guys—ones who constantly had large crowds of friends and girls flirting with them—were looking at me like I was one of them and not just the gum on their shoe.
Ben was finally through the lunch line, and he stopped beside our table, looking at the empty seat next to me as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to sit.
I understood his expression all too well. Like he wanted to sit, but he was also nervous and out of his element. My nerves were still jittery as well, and I didn’t want to push it too much.
“It was nice meeting you guys,” I said before grabbing my tray and standing beside Ben. “See ya after lunch, Maverick.”
***
Ben invited me over to his house after school, so I found Declan to tell him I wouldn’t be on the bus and that I’d be home later. After that, I walked with Ben to his car and got inside. He talked a lot when we were away from everyone, which was great because I didn’t really talk enough.
I’d never had much of an issue with anxiety, other than the occasional bouts of it that stirred when I was around a lot of people or when my dad used to beat me and my mom, but it’d never been part of my everyday life. Not really. I was introverted and untrusting, yeah, but I tried not to dwell on anxiety when it tried to consume me.
Going over to someone’s house made it course through me, though.
Ben was basically the first actual friend I’d ever had—other than Maverick now, I guess—and I didn’t want to do something to screw it up. What if his parents hated me? Took one look at me, said I was trouble, and kicked my ass out?
I looked down at my clothes, suddenly self-conscious.
Hardly any of my clothes ever fit right because we shopped at those stores that sold used clothes for cheap. Sometimes I got lucky and found a cool band T-shirt or skinny jeans I liked, but for the most part, the selection was as sparse as my pockets. My pair of Converse shoes had some tears in them and probably wouldn’t last through the winter, but they’d only cost a few bucks and I loved them.
