Chapter 5 Chapter 5

Skylar

He leaned closer into me, his cologne an earthy mixture of masculinity and leather.

He grinned from ear to ear, and the gesture made me smile a bit; it reminded me of when we were both young and playful and tagged the F3, which everyone then called us, me being around Leo all the time, and since they were best friends, it all went to show how related the name was to us.

Troy stood, his magnetic form hovering. He still had that mischievous smile, but this time I wasn't scared. I had never been scared of him, not when we were kids and certainly not now. Deep down I knew he was better to stay around with than Leo.

He was like his anchor and the one person that made Leo want to be better—not that Leo was a complete failure, don't get me wrong, but he should have been better. If they were still best friends, surely he would have.

“Mmm,” he said, clearing his throat in that all-too-Troy manner. I had known him most of my life, and if there's one thing about him, it was the way he did things—very peculiar. You just couldn't help not noticing him, and that was why him being the MVP wasn't really a surprise to anyone. That was just the Troy effect; you just have to notice him.

“Firstly, I need your help for my literature grade.” He didn't really have to finish that statement before I rolled my eyes in a very disagreeable way at him.

“What do you want me to actually do?” My hands were folded around my middle, and I was scowling so deeply, my teeth could break from the tension.

“I know what you are thinking, but no, you aren't going to write my exam.” Once he said that, I heaved a sigh of relief so loud it was as though I hadn't been breathing for the longest time. “Hold up, but that doesn't mean you are going scout-free, though. ”,”

“Name your price, Troy; enough with the tension.” I said more irritated than annoyed.

I hated surprises and shocking events; anything unexpected just gave me lots of chills and mostly threw me off balance.

“Fine,” he let out. “I need you to write my final essay for me.”

“And why should I do that? ”,

“Duh, because I am saving your ass here.”

“But that's not the same thing as just writing your exams. ”,

“No, it isn’t, Sky,”

“Stop calling my name like that. ”,

“Like how ”,

“Like…,” I tried explaining as he strode closer to where I sat, his eyes impenetrable as the emerald poured down into mine; at that moment I couldn't breathe; everything was on chokehold; our gazes didn't just lock, but my whole body sizzled like I had been shocked.

And him calling me Sky had made it all too real, like I existed, and for once I was not invisible anymore; for once someone was actually seeing me.

It was my pet name not everyone knew—not Mom, not Leo, but someone dearer to me than all of them joined together…Dad.

He called me sky all the time during summer swims, camping, and our training sessions; that was what he referred to me as to his very cheerful cloud, so white and profound.

And with him gone, I had become the invisible dork because no one saw me the way he did… everyone except Troy, which made me wonder what this bad boy really wanted from me.

And who really gave him that name anyways.

I didn't know it, but my eyes had watered as a tear slipped from the side in a long line.

I sensed it, which made me laugh hysterically as I wiped it off. Troy cupped my face in both his hands, using his thumb to wipe away the tears.

“Care to tell me what is wrong? Did I say something bad?” he asked, all worried and pained, which made me laugh harder.

I pulled his hands off my face, drying my face with the back of my hands and sitting upright. “You didn't say anything wrong, psycho; I just took a ride through memory lane. ”,

“Ohh, that,” he mentioned, still trying to get a hang of things, “well,” he continued scratching the back of his head, “I thought we were past those horrid names you blasted me with.” He said it in a calm way as though he had no worries in the world, but I knew this guy, within the strong ice that was his wall, this hockey star wanted everything to be just the way it used to be years back. That softness, that playfulness and every giggle we shared when we were kids. Or maybe that was what he wanted me to believe.

With Troy, you just didn't know where to place things.

And somehow I too was tempted to want something like that.

A time when we were more friends than enemies.

“Never!!” I let out lifting my nose in the air, as I rolled my eyes at him. “As for your essay, you will get it soon.” I exclaimed, standing on my feet and packing my paperwork, my back turned to him.

Originally I didn't want to leave, but the air—that was the problem, the tension in it, the way my body flared, as though winter and summer were taking turns in hitting me. Just when I felt I was getting flustered, he would say something, and I would feel so relieved, as if I were a toddler taking his first step. It was thrilling and enticing but was also luring, like the way his lips smirked from time to time, and I had the faintest urge to walk up to him and kiss off all those smudges.

He walked around the bench to face me without me having to turn around.

“Skylar, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, the pulse on his jawline visible.

Was he angry? I thought to myself, surprised.

“I don't get it. Was I supposed to sleep in school because I am fake dating the hockey star?” My index and middle fingers were going up and down as I highlighted his name, “Troy Davis.”

“No, you shouldn't, but you were supposed to hear me out.”

“Huh,” I replied, raising my brows in confusion. “We weren't done yet.” It was more of a question than a statement.

“No, we aren’t; we have bigger problems, Sky.”

I sneered, folding my hands around my middle as I wondered if Troy’s problems had a finish line or if he was more screwed up than I imagined.

“So, are you also failing in math as well or chemistry or….. ”,

“Match-fixing, that is the problem.”

My jaw dropped. I looked at him, stunned, unable to breathe. If I thought he was screwed, then hearing this was like a bomb explosion attack.

Our eyes met, his pleading but not mine; it loathed as, right before me, I never thought I saw a better definition of the devil’s heir.