Beautiful Boy(10)

     



 

"You don't get it, Nolan. You'll never get it." I shook my head in  disgust. There was no use explaining things to a brick wall. He'd never  understand the turmoil he'd unleashed in my life.

"Trust me, I get it more than you think. Just because I didn't have to  deal with it for four years in high school doesn't mean I don't walk  around every fucking day with my own humiliation."

So many confusing questions rattled off in my head. I didn't even know  where to begin before opening my mouth and responding. "Why can't you  take the blame for spreading them?"

"Because I didn't do it!" His sudden outrage startled me. "I already  told you. I told everyone, but no one believed me. I. Didn't. Do. It."

"You took them, Nolan! You did! You had them in your possession. How  else could they have gotten into everyone's lockers?" I couldn't contain  my own anger. Words roared out of me with years of restrained  frustration.

"Yes, I took the pictures." He shuffled closer and clutched my  shoulders. His face loomed above mine. "Which is why I had to take the  blame. Legally, I was an adult, and you weren't. So in the end, how they  got out for the world to see never mattered, because I was the one who  took them in the first place."

"You still didn't answer my question, Nolan. How did they get out if it  wasn't you?" My words came out in a whisper, breathlessly falling from  my lips.

"Some of the guys from the team came over that weekend. I had the prints  on my desk. I didn't even think about it. Most of the prints were of  the flowers for our project, so I didn't think to hide them."

"Why did you develop them in the first place?"

His hands fell away from me, then he backed up and turned around. I  wanted to move, but I found myself frozen in place. My breathing ceased  as I anxiously awaited the answers I never thought I'd get. The real  truth from his mouth instead of the words he'd read to me so long ago.

As the seconds dragged on, the air in his office became stiff-thick and  heavy. My nerves were so fried I worried I'd start crying if I had to  wait much longer. And crying in front of him wasn't an option.

"I wanted them, okay? I know you don't believe me, but I really liked  you back then. I never intended to kiss you, let alone go down on you. I  hadn't even planned to take your picture. But once I had you in front  of me … I couldn't let you go. And I needed those pictures to remind me of  the experience, to remind me I'd finally gotten you, even if it was  only for a few minutes. You were mine in those photos."

The room began to rotate and shift due to the lack of oxygen to my brain.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

I couldn't move.

"You didn't even know who I was. You were Nolan Richards, son of US  Senator Douglas Richards. Star quarterback of the high school football  team. You caught the attention of every girl in school. I don't believe  for one second you wanted me-Novah Johnson, invisible freshman. The  loner with only two friends. The girl who ate lunch alone in the  courtyard. Why would you?"

His feet carried him farther away until he reached the wall of windows  overlooking the canal behind the building. He pressed his forehead to  the windowpane and took a deep breath. "You used to twirl your hair when  you concentrated on something. For some reason, every Friday you wore  the color purple, and you always wore flip-flops no matter what the  weather was like outside. If you sat next to a window, you always stared  outside, lost in a daydream. And whatever you dreamed about, I always  knew it was something good because you'd smile to yourself. Derek Matula  sat in front of you in photography, and even though everyone knew he  smelled like bad BO, you always sniffed your shirt every time he sat  down. I more than noticed you."

The only reason I knew I had started to cry was because when Nolan  turned around to face me, his figure became fuzzy around the edges. His  words all true. Every single thing he said was honest.

But I had no idea if they were genuine.

"I didn't lie all those years ago when I told you how beautiful I  thought you were. I meant it then. And I mean it now. No matter what you  think of me, you're still the most stunning woman I've ever seen.  You've grown up, and even though I didn't think it possible, you've  become even more impressive."

My inner voice yelled loudly in my head, reminding me of what had happened the last time I chose to believe him.

I couldn't go through it again. Nolan Richards was a sweet-talker. He  could convince a nun to disrobe and let him have his way with her.         

     



 

A real Casanova.

"If what you're saying is true, why didn't you ever tell me? You knew  you could've had any girl you wanted, so if you wanted me, how come you  never asked me out?" I knew my question would catch him in his lie.

"I didn't care about the attention. I played football because I loved  the game and I wanted to play in a big stadium one day. I wanted to get  to the pros. The attention just followed me, whether I wanted it or not.  I envied you. I was jealous of how you could so easily go to school  every day, do your work, keep to yourself, and then leave. It was  exactly what I wanted for myself. But I also knew if I went after you,  you wouldn't have the luxury of being invisible anymore. And I didn't  want you to change. The last thing I wanted was for you to conform to  the rest of the girls in school in order to fit in."

"That's bullshit," I uttered before he could get out another word. "You think you were so special I would've changed who I was?"

"You came to school Monday and your hair was styled. You even wore  makeup. Don't tell me you wouldn't have changed had I gone after you."

What he said wasn't a lie. I'd spent all weekend thinking about seeing  him and rehearsing what I would say when I ran into him in the hallway. I  had obsessed about how I would act in the classes we had together, and  if I would make the first move or wait for him to do it. And then on  Monday morning, I'd woken up extra early and dressed in the outfit I'd  carefully picked out. I had styled my hair in curls, burning my fingers a  few times on the curling iron, and had even applied a little makeup.

Only to wish I'd never gotten out of bed.

"It doesn't change what happened."

"No. It doesn't," he agreed. "And for that I sincerely apologize. Every  day for the last fifteen years, I've done nothing but wish it had turned  out differently." He stopped directly in front of me, leaning over  slightly to bring his face closer to mine. "Every damn day."

"I don't understand. Why has it taken you this long then? You clearly  had no problems finding me … getting my phone number and email address.  You could've reached out at any time. You could've told me this already  instead of making me live half my life angry over those horrible  memories."

"I couldn't. I've only been back here for six months. And I didn't know  how to reach out to you. It's not as simple as you make it sound. You're  not the same person you were in high school … and neither am I." His  sincerity grew more restrained, as if holding back his emotions, stoning  them.

I hated hearing him point out how I wasn't the same person. Because I  was. So what if I wore fancier clothes and makeup, and styled my hair  every day? And I may have grown colder over the years, starting that  fateful morning in high school and continuing through many men like  Nolan, but beneath it all, I was still the same person.

"So we got a deal?" His soft features turned rigid as he made his way  back to his desk. All the warmth had vanished from his voice. All the  softness had hardened in his eyes. The boy had once again transformed  into the cold man before me.

"I don't even understand what the deal is, Nolan." I spoke with the same  harshness he had given me. "You want me to find something special in  you, even though I don't think you have anything. And who's to judge?  You wouldn't admit it even if I did succeed. So is there a clear winner,  or would we walk away with a difference of opinions?"

He leaned back in his office chair and stretched his legs out beneath  the large desk. A smug smile grew on his pouty lips. "I'll be honest  with you. If I appreciate the photos you take, I'll tell you. I really  am interested to see if you can show me beauty, Novah."

When I didn't respond, his smile vanished. His eyes darted behind me, growing unfocused.

"Maybe this is as much for me as it is for you. And because of that,  I'll give you anything you want. An apology, a check, anything … you name  it."

I grew uncomfortable with his sudden shift in mood. As soon as I  believed I had grasped one temperament, he switched to another. First  angry, then sad, then cold, smug, and now … lost. Getting the hell out of  there and away from him became my main priority. "Fine. We have a deal."

His greenish-brown eyes flashed back at me and then narrowed. Maybe he  didn't appreciate the tone I used, but I didn't care. He had used so  many with me and I was over it. I would speak to him any way I wanted  to.