Black hair. Big dark eyes. Tan skin. He was so good looking, so…something. I didn't know. And he was right, I supposed. I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted Ashley. I didn't really want this complication, this whole screwing up of my sexual identity. It was girls. I mean, I'd never thought of boys that way until he kissed me.
He stood up, kind of jumped up fast and I jumped back. He came at me, pinned me against the wall, and I noticed how much taller I was than he was. But he was strong.
"You don't know what you want," he said, but less mad, his voice low, his eyes half shut.
"I know," I said, and leaned down to him, kissed him, a long, slow, soft kiss.
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I couldn't stand school lately. Marco giving me these secret little smiles. Ashley looking slightly stunned, slightly hurt. Ellie looking self-righteous. All of them pulling and pulling at me, and I was letting them all down. Disappointing all of them.
Outside at lunch time, the sun so bright, and I squinted against it. Spinner was sitting at the picnic table, a bottle of soda in his hand.
"Dude, seat's open," he said, and I looked at him, shrugged, sat next to him.
"Uh, man, can I ask you something?" he said, looking at me in that dimwit Spinner way.
"What?" I said, shaking up my chocolate milk.
"What the hell are you doing?" Spinner's hair looked kind of ridiculous like that, all straight and three colors. He must have to do shit to it to get it to look like that all the time. I mean, my hair just kind of curls up if I don't do anything to it, which isn't that good, but whatever.
"What?"
"Cheating on Ash again? I mean, everyone knows," I looked at him with wide eyes. What? I was gonna hyperventilate. I already couldn't breathe. There was no air.
"Everyone knows what?" I said sharply, really sharply.
"Everyone knows you're cheating on her with someone," he said, and drank his soda.
"Who? Did they say who? Not that it's true, but did they say who it is?" I said, aware that I sounded sort of paranoid.
"No, dude. No one seems to know that. So who is it?"
"No one. It's no one. It's a lie, a rumor. It's just, like, vicious gossip," I said, feeling relieved that people didn't know it was Marco. But maybe it was only a matter of time.
"Sure. Craig, this is you we're talking about. You're a big stud, we all know this. So come on, who is it?"
"No one Spin. No one. I swear to God,"
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Maybe God would strike me down, since it was someone. And maybe I was so mad at Ellie because she was right, cheating was cheating, whether it was a male or female or whatever. I was hurting Ashley again. It was like I couldn't stop myself from hurting her. But in my defense Marco wasn't leaving me alone, he kept showing up, he kept pushing me and taking and taking despite what I wanted. I didn't quite know what to do.
Practicing late one night in my garage, the Christmas lights twinkling behind me. And who shows up? Like always, always. Marco. I saw him standing there in his Marco way, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. I kept playing. It was all I could do. The notes just kept coming.
"Craig?"
I sighed, kept playing the song I was working on. It was hard to ignore him, but I was trying. I could see his black hair and how it hung over his forehead, how long his eyelashes were. Shit.
"Craig?"
"What!"
So now I put down the guitar. Glared at him, my feet spread apart. His head was down and he was looking up at me. My breathing quickened. I wanted him and I didn't want him and I liked all this attention and it bothered me. I was all conflicted. So the easiest thing to fall back on was anger.
"What's going on?" he said, and I just lost it.
"Nothing! Nothing! Just, Marco, leave me alone! You've ruined things with Ashley, it's all over school-"
"I ruined things! What about you? Do you ever take responsibility for anything? You did things, too!" he yelled, and now his head was up, and I saw the anger in his eyes, and I wouldn't flinch away.
"You told Ellie! You're the one responsible for spreading it all over the fucking school! So don't try to turn things back on me!"
I shoved him and he stumbled back, regained his footing and shoved me. I fell back, knocked over my guitar, kind of fell on top of it. He came at me, punching me on my arms. The feeling of being hit so brought me back to when I lived with my dad. I closed my eyes for a second, trying not to cry, but then anger blocked it out and I stood up, came at him, and just punched him over and over.