The Tenth Girl Read online

  She shrugs, the sounds of a coyote somewhere outside howling. “He likes the easy, hot girls. The ones who are good for a roll in the hay, and then a see you later with a pat on the ass. Cain doesn’t work for much, and he gets almost anything he wants.”

  “Almost anything?”

  “I keep forgetting you’re new. I guess it’s because I like you so much and we’re friends.” She squeezes my hand across the mattress. “But, Cain’s mom left their family when he was young. Maybe elementary school, but I can’t remember. Just up and left, and from what everyone in town knows, hasn’t been heard of since. Anyway, he’s always been broken up about it, as one would be. Hasn’t been the same since, and his relationship with women … it’s tricky. His dad is in the military, deploys so much that he’s never home. Rumor is, he can’t go back to the house that his wife left. So, Cain is pretty much alone. There is some heavy emotional stuff there, and even though he acts like a badass, I think that deep down there is just a hurt little boy in there. After all, no man uses his penis like that if he doesn’t have some issues going on in his head and heart.”

  Her insight leaves me speechless, and gives me a whole other side to Cain that blossoms, revealing itself so that my mind digests just how much he has been through.

  Here I was, thinking that the school’s notorious jock was just that, and that he got everything he wished for.

  Turns out, we are more alike than I’d ever even thought. A parent gone. A parent protecting the world in spite of how dangerous it is, and how you may never come back to your family.

  MK yawns and turns over, mumbling something about having a good talk, and then I hear her breathing even out and I know that she’s asleep.

  I don’t want this new information that I’ve learned about Cain to soften my stance on him, but it does.

  I feel my resolve beginning to crack like a huge iceberg splitting in two. And I know I have to triage to keep the damage from getting any worse.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cain

  “Dude, do you think the number of girls we fuck talk to each other?” Grady asks.

  I’ve thought about this before, and I know we’ve had drunken talks about it among the six of us competing to get to ten.

  “Nah, or else no one would still sleep with us,” Joshua, pipes up.

  It’s Sunday, our day of rest, or in this case, drinking on the river. The river is more of a creek, with shallow beds of rocks and muddy banks of grass along its path. But, it was what we had here in Haven, and on a Sunday, seniors and townies alike could be found throwing one back while listening to the latest country playlist on Spotify.

  “That’s true, although … I feel like girls would still fuck us even if they knew.” Emmitt shrugs, swigging beer from his bottle of Bud Light.

  “I added another one this weekend.” Paul smirks, cradling his lax stick like only a lax bro does.

  Paul and Joshua are football players with us, but also go out for lacrosse in the spring. They’re not superstars in either, which is why they play more than one sport. They’ll probably end up at division three schools, where they’ll be happy to half-dedicate themselves to sports and fully dedicate themselves to partying.

  “I call bullshit, you were only at five!” Grady, always the showboat, pops a can of PBR with his keys and shot guns it, even though no one is racing him.

  “Nope, I saw the beginnings of it. Cassidy Gollic, he got her good.” Joshua fist bumps his teammate, his chocolate skin not frying under the sunlight like the rest of ours is.

  “That hot sophomore with the belly button ring? Damn, she’s smokin’.” Emmitt high fives Paul too.

  “How about our resident front runner? Did you get number ten yet?” Grady eyes me.

  I’ve been lounging back on the blanket laid on a patch of damp grass, slowly making my way through my first beer, and now these assholes want to compare dick size. I know who will win, but they’re making me pull up the brim of my baseball hat and toss it in the ring. I’m annoyed.

  “When I fuck her, you’ll know. And you’ll also owe me the keys to The Atrium.” I grin.

  “’Ol buddy here picked the new girl as his last conquest. I figure you’re just giving us time to catch up, putting a handicap on yourself. She’s never going to take her panties off for you,” Grady taunts.

  Paul gapes at me. “That hot new girl who kind of looks like Daenerys from Game of Thrones? Dude, I know your abilities, but I’m telling you, one look at her and I know she won’t give it up. That girl is not the type of girl who is going to cave.”

  “You saying she’s a virgin?” Emmitt wonders. He’s trying not to scratch at the brand new tattoo he got done on his ribs, and instead is pulling at his close-cropped brown hair like a mental patient.

  I shrug, and the guys talk amongst themselves, discussing whether or not Harper has had her cherry popped. I know for a fact that she hasn’t, because she all but told me. But I don’t need to tell these hound dogs that. They’ll be salivating after her like a piece of steak in a lion’s den.

  “I think we should throw a party at The Atrium. It’s been too long, and we need to be reminded what we’re playing for.” Joshua suggests this.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” I smile a devilish expression. “Crazy shit happens at those parties.”

  Last time we threw a party at the notorious spot, I’d done my first tablet of ecstasy and felt up two girls for more than two hours. The feeling of their skin on my hands was enough to make me shoot my load. Shit is dangerous, it makes the entire world feel like a vibrator or something.

  But there won’t be any more drugs for me. That was nearly a year ago, when I hadn’t yet had college offers on the table and could still get away with stupid shit. Now, I was committed to the best college in the state, and pretty much the country, and had everything riding on it.

  Beer and pussy, that was what I could stick to now. Which was fine, drugs had never really been my thing.

  “Next Saturday night?” Grady suggests. “We’re going to wipe the floor with those pussies from East Jude.”

  Our Friday night game was a layup, and then we’d be undefeated heading into our last three games of the regular season. Then two weeks of playoffs, and hopefully state. Another state championship in my belt would be a hell of a bargaining chip when it came to college. It would show them that I knew how to run plays, control an offense, and hopefully not be treated like the fresh meat coming in.

  “Sounds perfect to me. Emmitt, you get it rolling. You’re always the best at that.” I give my friend a thumbs-up.

  “On it, boss.” He starts furiously typing on his phone.

  An hour later, I’m lying on my couch, detoxing from the weekend and finishing the last of my homework that’s due for the week. Despite what many think, I’m actually a pretty good student. English and math come naturally to me, which is why I’m in honors courses. And science and history aren’t far behind, although I chose to stay in the normal courses for those classes just to give myself less homework and more time for football. I technically wasn’t going to college for academics, but it felt good to know that I had them to fall back on.

  I just downplayed this fact around school, deciding to own my jock status because it was easier than having people fawn over the fact that I was smart and good at sports. That may sound cocky or dickish, but it was true.

  My phone buzzes on the coffee table next to the brown leather sectional that takes up most of our living room, and I turn it over to see who is calling.

  Coach McDaniels, the man who would mold and shape me for four years to come, was on the other end.

  “Hi, Coach.” I try to sound more manly than I actually am.

  “Kent, how you doing?” His voice is gruff, and to the point.

  He calls me every couple of weeks, just to check in. Since it is after September first of my senior year, he was allowed to do that according to NCAA rules. And both he and his alma matter in Austin want to make sure tha
t I am fully committed, that I wasn’t going to back out. They want me as much as I want them, which feels good … but is also another enormous weight added to the pile on my shoulders.

  “Good, Coach, feeling really good. Practicing hard, keeping my grades up.” What does he expect me to say? I’m terrified of this man, and I’d never want to do anything to disappoint him.

  He is the guy who was going to make or break me when it came to the paramount level of football that I wanted to achieve.

  “That’s good to hear. I watched your game film from last week, you played well. Just need to keep those feet planted, and I’d like to see some more short passing as opposed to long bombs.”

  I make a mental note to work on both of those things. “Absolutely, Coach, I can try to improve those things.”

  “Good, son. All right, well, good luck in the game on Friday, and I’ll check in soon.”

  He hung up without waiting for my goodbye, which he could do because he was the winningest coach in college football.

  And I was going to be his quarterback come next August. I’m not a religious man, but right then, I shot up a silent prayer that everything continued on the path that it was on. My brain, and its ability to read defense. My body, and my arm … that I didn’t get injured.

  And my focus and dedication, because Jesus knows that was the only thing that differentiated amateurs from pros.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cain

  Todd stands at the front of the class, with the words Great Expectations written on the white board behind his head.

  “Pip is tough on himself when he doesn’t pick the morally right way, and that guilt propels him to try harder in the future. Self-improvement is the central theme that Dickens’ conveys in this book. Whether it’s status, education, or even morals, the novel really plays to the theme of bettering one’s self. Why do you think he wanted to drive that point home?”

  Harper begins to talk, because Todd doesn’t believe in raising hands. “Because self-improvement is really the point of life. Everyone is trying to become the next best version of themselves. Whether it’s superficial like beauty or fitness. Whether they want to fall in love because they’re single, or be married because they’re in love. To learn more, or become more. A medical student wants to be a doctor, everyone always wants a promotion.”

  Todd nods, and peers around for someone to jump onto that thought.

  Lauren, a girl near the windows, speaks up. “I agree to a certain extent. But I think that one of the other themes of the novel, that Pip learns toward the end, is that self-improvement also comes at a cost. Maybe, if he’d just stayed in a certain spot in life, he would have been happier than if he’d tried to climb that ladder.”

  I can’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “That’s definitely true for Estella. She would have probably been better off if she’d just stayed poor, as the daughter of Magwich. Because she was upper crust, it stole her ability to love or sympathize. And although she didn’t want to hurt Pip, she warned him she always would, she did it anyway. She was incapable of happiness.”

  The entire class has turned around to look at me, but the only eyes I see are the color of the ocean and seeing into my forehead.

  Harper says quietly, “Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but, I hope, into a better shape.”

  She quotes the book just as I have, and no one seems to think this is weird, because the discussion continues to Todd’s delight. But for the entire rest of the class, neither of us says anything. We also don’t break the eye contact that started the moment she spoke her last quote. For fifteen full minutes, we stare at each other, searching the other’s face, making expressions, trying to talk without words.

  It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with another human being, and we’re not even touching. We’re not even speaking.

  It’s as if Harper knows I’ve suffered … maybe she’s been asking around?

  A part of me feels naked, vulnerable, and it’s freaking me out but I also know that she feels the exact same way. And if she feels the same way, that means she’s letting me in. That means that I could possibly get inside of her in other ways.

  My brain twists on me, moving over to the sick part that doesn’t trust women and only thinks with the brain inside of my dick. I convince myself that this is the right way to be, that fucking her and never calling her again will be a good solution since we won’t even be in the same town for much longer. College makes everything finite.

  If she thinks that my suffering has bent me into a better person, that she can see the good in my heart or some other bullshit like that, she’s got another thing coming.

  The bell rings and our trance is over; the other students around us getting up and filing out. Harper suddenly gets up and bolts, and I get up, gather my stuff in my arms, and go after her. No backpack for me, I’m one of those idiot jocks who thinks it’s cool to be seen with nothing attached. Which usually means that I’m carrying around piles of books since I actually do care about my classes. The no-backpack thing seems so fucking stupid right now.

  “Peep, wait up.” I trot after her, people in the hallway turning to look at us as I catch up to her.

  She slows, and I’m surprised. “Hey.”

  Harper’s voice sounds almost … kind.

  “So, you like Dickens?” I shove my hands in my short pockets.

  “I like most any author. What I’m surprised about is that you like Dickens.” She eyes me, those blue pools questioning my motives.

  She should be … questioning my motives, that is. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  Almost to herself, Harper says, “I’m beginning to think that’s true.”

  “So, that means you’ll come hang out with me?” I raise an eyebrow, inflecting a flirty charm into my voice.

  It doesn’t seem to work on this girl. “Tell me … is Great Expectations your favorite Dickens’ novel?”

  I shrug and lie through my teeth. “It was an okay read for class. I have to keep my grades up to play football, only reason I keep doing homework.”

  Harper stops next to a locker, number two hundred and thirty, and smirks. “No one who can quote passages of a book like that has only read said book once. You’ve analyzed the text, the meaning has sunk into your bones, as it does when you read a truly good piece of literature. You don’t fool me, Cain.”

  She’s got my ticket and punched it. Jesus, this girl is so unfazed, and this is even after I stuck my tongue in her mouth at homecoming.

  Leaning in as she twirls the combination on her locker, I rub a long lock of hair between two fingers. “Good, so I don’t have to bullshit you when I say that I find you hot.”

  I hear her intake of breath, see the blush creep up her creamy pale neck. Harper stays quiet.

  “Because I do. And I’ve been thinking about how you kissed me—”

  “You kissed me.” She turns her head, her hair still tangled in my fingers.

  It’s silky and I wonder what it will look like spread out while she’s beneath me. “It wasn’t exactly one-sided.”

  Harper tips her head as if to say touché.

  I press on. “So, I think that you should come to this party I’m throwing.”

  “I think that your parties are something a little over my excitement level.” Those cherry-colored lips look edible, and I can’t help staring while she talks.

  “I promise I’ll take it at your speed.” Letting her think we’re playing her game will help me get the victory I desire.

  She hikes an eyebrow up. “Yeah, I really believe that.”

  I let go of her hair and hold up three fingers. “Scouts honor.”

  Harper hoots out a laugh. “Oh God, you’re so far from a Boy Scout, it’s insane.”

  “Bad Boy Scout, at your service.” I salute, and I see the joke dance in her eyes as she diges
ts it.

  I’m weakening her resolve.

  “That sounds about right. Instead of building fires and hiking trails, you’re badges are in beer funneling and hook ups.” Harper shuts her locker and begins to move down the hallway, not waiting for me.

  “So that means you’ll come to my party? You can’t go wrong with a guy who is known for those skills.”

  She looks at me as we walk, and then stops. The bell rings, and I can see that she wants to hurry to her next class. “If I see the guy that just quoted Dickens to me, then … yeah, I’ll go.”

  I’ve caught my canary. “Good, I’ll pick you up, give me your phone.”

  Picking a girl up showed that you were a gentleman. It showed that you were committed to spending time with her during the night. Showing Harper how nice I could be would only serve to soften her more, thus making her more willing to get naked with me.

  “Why would I give you my phone? Plus, we’re in school, I don’t have it.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not a teacher, don’t lie about not having your phone. I want to put my number in and text myself so that I can give you the party details.”

  She scans the hallway, and then pulls a cell phone about three generations old from her back pocket. I quickly type my number in and text myself.

  “Now you can sext me whenever you like.” I grin at her.

  Harper scoffs and hits my bicep. “I have to go to class.”

  She’s flirting. That’s a good sign. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Harper

  Cain starts texting me on Saturday afternoon, and my stomach is in knots the entire conversation.

  Cain: Hey

  Harper: Hey

  Cain: Still coming to my party tonight?

  Harper: Depends … who is coming to pick me up? Cain the football player or Cain the Dickens’ fan?

  Cain: Actually, this week it’s Dan Brown. Am I still going to get a good night kiss?