Filed to story: You’re Mine Read Online Free
“I know. ‘
She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the lips.
“I’ll see you after class. ‘
She then hurries down the hall. Since I’m headed in the opposite direction, I watch her ass for a few seconds longer, the way that perfectshaped heart moves as she walks, and then I turn toward my class.
“Lovers spat? ‘
I hear. Of course Blake’s here. Of. Fucking. Course.
“Stop with the jealous remarks, Blake. They make you sound pathetic. ‘
I don’t even bother to turn toward him, he doesn’t deserve my eye contact.
“At least I would know how to keep her happy. ‘
All he saw was Harper’s tears and my anger. And he assumed. Well, he assumed fucking wrong. Now, I turn, my teeth grinding together when I say,
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business and stop chiming in when you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. ‘
He smiles, like the motherfucker is getting a blowjob.
“Because I do know what the fuck I’m talking about. ‘
When will this dude ever stop?
“Yeah? Then you’d know this one wasn’t on me. Now go hump the urinal, that’s about the only hole in this school that will put out for you. ‘
I walk into my class and take a seat next to Ryan. I can feel his eyes on me, and it takes everything I have to look at him.
“Listen ‘
He puts his hand up.
“I heardmy parents yelled all night about it. I don’t want to talk about it, Easton, my fucking ears are still bleeding. ‘
I glance straight ahead, my fingers winding together, my patience so thin, I want to flip this desk over and throw it toward the front of the class. But there’s something I need to know. Something that will make this situation even worse.
“We good? ‘
I ask him. He takes a few seconds to respond, and then he finally nods. At least one thing is going right today.
Harper
With Easton’s phone tucked under my arm to hide it from my teacher, I enter the classroom, and hurry to my desk.
Once I’m sitting, I take out my textbook and notebook and pretend to be ready for class. Really, it’s just a stage, so I can look prepared while, in all actuality, I’ll be hiding behind the guy in front of me, using Easton’s phone to catch up on all the things I’ve missed. Just as I’m typing in his passcodethe same code, I’ve learned, that opens his lockerI hear,
“Are you all right?”
The question comes from my left, the seat where Blake sits. I’m sure he’s asking because he saw Easton and I arguing.
Blake misses nothing. I don’t want to get into it. It’s none of his business.
Whatever I tell him, I’m sure will get right back to Aisha, and then I’ll have to listen to her teasing, too. I’m over it. I glance at him, observing the concern etched across his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You deserve better.”
He turns his body toward me.
“I told him that when I saw him gloating in the hallway a few seconds ago. What dude does that, by the way? Fight with their girlfriend, and then act like king of the world?”
He rolls his eyes.
“Anyway, I just want you to know that you don’t have to put up with someone treating you that way. You’re a hell of a catch, Harper. Any guy in this school would agree.”
My heart aches. I was the reason for today’s fight. I was the one who royally fucked things up. I was the one who waited her whole life to date someonesomeone as amazing as Eastonand then kept him a secret from her parents.
What’s wrong with me? How am I going to make this up to Easton? How am I going to show him how much I love him?
“Harper?”
I realize I’m staring at Blake, lost in my thoughts, not saying anything.
“Yes?”
“Stop doubting yourself. Every word I said is true.”
I nod and turn back toward the front of the room, the teacher beginning her lecture. I don’t know what she’s saying, nor do I care.
What I need is to get out of my head for a few minutes and focus on something other than my massive fuckup. I unlock Easton’s phone and pull up his Instagram. Do I snoop? Ugh, I can’t help myself.
I immediately pull up his DMs and start scrolling, looking for names that stand out.
There’s nothing, just a bunch of stuff with his guy friends. Phew. I logout of his account and login to mine, catching up with all the messages I’ve missed.
I check Aisha’s page, surprised there isn’t some type of reference about my fight with Easton this morningor anything about me in general or her everlasting love for him. She’s been quiet, and that’s not like her.
WHGOSSIP hasn’t had anything really juicy to share either. In fact, their posts have been a little lame lately, a few hookups that the school already knows about, a fight between two cheerleaders that resulted in lost weaves. Snore.
I logout and check my Facebook and TikTok, laughing at Sadie’s video with her hairless cat. She likes to dress him up in these wild costumes and the cat couldn’t be more uninterested. It’s hysterical. And it’s gained her over a hundred thousand followers.
She’s even having pet companies reach out to her for endorsements, it’ s nuts. Seeing that I haven’t really missed much, I logout of all my accounts and stare at the background on Easton’s phone.
The photo is of us, the first night at his lake house, sitting outside on the dock. Sadie had taken the picture and our legs are dangling in the water, his arm is around my shoulders, my head is resting by his neck.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry, Easton. I didn’t mean to fuck this up. Even though things didn’t end badly when we parted in the hallway, I feel hopeful that he’s somehow going to forgive me, and I’m going to find a way to make this right.
Still, my heart aches. I need more. I need to feel the love he didn’t give me this morning. I pull up his photo App and start scrolling through all his pictures. I’m surprised at how many there are of us, I didn’t realize Easton took as many photos as me.
Some are of us snuggled together at his house, others were taken in my bedroom, lots were snapped while we were at school, tons more of us at the lake house. I scroll through many more random shots, searching for more pics of us.
I’m going pretty fast, so there’s quick flashes of detail that catch my eyesliquor bottles, Ryan doing a keg stand, the boys moshing at a concert.
I keep scrolling, knowing there has to be more shots and suddenly, something out of nowhere catches my attention, and I reverse back a few photos.
There’s a fluttering in my chest as I rewind the pictures I’ve already seen, going slow to make sure I don’t pass it again.
I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, I just know something didn’t feel right when I saw a flash of it the first time.
My thumb swipes again and suddenly my chest tightens to the point where I can’t breathe. It’s not like I’ve been running and can’t catch my breath. This is the feeling that something has literally taken the air out of my lungs.
Because that thing has punched me in the fucking gut. And it doesn’t stop with one kick. It punches again. And again. My hands shake as I hold Easton’s phone. My stomach churns. Why does he have this photo? Why does it appear like he’s the one who took it? I don’t want toand I don’t know why I do but I spread my thumbs over the picture to blow it up. My heart begins to pound as the pixels spread, Mrs.
Scott’s boobs enlarged over the center of his screen. She’s topless. Braless. Smiling. At my man. In what seems like a houseprobably her house because I know it’s not Easton’s, I’ve never seen that painting hanging on any of his walls.
I can’t.
I fucking can’t.
A thought comes to me. Maybe it’s a super old photo that he forgot to delete. That he meant to trash, and it just slipped his mind.
I pull up the details of the picture where it shows the date it was taken. My stomach churns again, the bile threatening to rise to my throat. The date that’s timestamped is a date I’ll never forget. Because it changed our entire relationship since that very next morning, every student in this school thought he had slept with Mrs. Scott. But I believed he didn’t. I thought he was loyal to me.
I stupidly took his words for the truth when he told me nothing happened between them. But something most definitely happened. This photo is proof.
Proof that my boyfriend cheated on me with that bitch. I set the phone down on my desk, my chest heaving, my lips quivering, this overwhelming urge to scream takes over my body. How could he? Why would he? It doesn’t matter.
Because … We’re done.
Easton
It’s weird not having my phone.
And not being able to text my girl when I literally want to bang my head against my own locker, add in a few slams, then get high so my anxiety slows down all because I just need her.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still livid as fucking hell that she didn’t tell her parents about me.
And let’s be honest, I’m still embarrassed that I was eating her out under a mother fucking Christmas tree while both the Santa figurine and baby Jesus watched. Son of a bitch. I’m going to hell, aren’t I?
I start to sweat as I think about all the ways I’ll burn for shoving my head between her thighs while her mom walked in.
I pull my beanie down over my eyes and groan when the bell rings. Thank. God. I need my phone.
I need Harper.
It’s been stressful since the cabin, her sickness, grades, upcoming finals and just everything, everything seems to be causing both of us to pull more apart just when I felt like things were finally getting better.
Add in fucking Blake and yeah, maybe I do need to just store edibles in my locker and pretend they’re actual candy.
I barely make it to my locker when I see Ryan approach, and he looks just as tired as I feel.
“School blows,’ he groans and leans against it.
“I can’t wait to be done with all of this shit.”
I put in my History book and slam my locker closed.
“Something happen in PreCal that I don’t know about?
Or is this just you bitching like you always do that Mr. Clark is dumber than a box of rocks and needs to retire?”
“He called me Bryan,”
Ryan says.
“Three times.”
I bust up laughing.
“Damn, I needed that laugh. Did you at least respond?”
“Yeah, because he kept going, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, and I was fucking annoyed. He pointed his stapler at me.
It was an entire experience that made me want to toss my desk.”
He frowns.
“Honestly, things with Sadie are going good, too good, I just have a weird feeling, one that tells me it can’t always be like this and after…”
He hesitates.
“You know the… desecration.”
I glare.
“Must you bring it up?”
“Some things you can’t unhear, bro, some things scar you for life, you fucking ruined holiday decorations for my entire family.
I couldn’t sleep and had to turn baby Jesus toward the window along with the little lamb because I felt guilty on your behalf.”
He shudders.
“Anyways, it’s just a lot. Don’t people always say senior year is supposed to be the best?
Nobody ever talks about the stress.”
“All the stress,”
I groan. Ryan jerks his head toward the hallway behind me.
“Speaking of stress, there’s my sister and she looks…”
He frowns, and then slaps me on the back.
“The same way she did when our grandma died so… may the odds be ever in your favor. I’m out.”
He runs away like a little bitch and I wonder why the hell she looks so angry and sad when I’m the one who got caught by her mom of all peopleand not only that, I wasn’t even brought into the fold as far as being her boyfriend. I frown. I cross my arms. I prepare for impact.
“You.”
She says it in a terrifying way that has my teeth clenching and my sperm most likely dying out of sheer terror.
“You.”
Does she really need to repeat it?
I don’t ask. I simply clear my throat and wait. Tears start to fall. Damn, this isn’t good. I reach for her only to have her flinch and pull back as more tears flow. People are watching. I have no clue what to do and almost ask if it’s that time of the month when she points my phone at me, showing me my own screen.
I immediately feel like puking when I see the picture of Leigh and grab Harper by the wrist, pulling her down the hall and outside so that people can’t hear, can’t see, can’t know.
Panic has me almost hyperventilating because what the hell do I say?
What. The. Hell. Do. I. Say?
It starts to rain, because of course it starts to rain when you’re a senior in high school and dealing with drama and trying not to have a nervous breakdown. Hell, are we on Riverdale or starting our own Netflix drama these days?
I clench my fists as I stare at the photo of Leigh. Her tits could not be any more visible, obvious, huge, damning.
“I didn’t take that.”
I lie right away because I’m so used to it. I am so fucking used to being that guy, the one who’s never been in a real relationship and doesn’t want to get in trouble. But the minute I say those four words I regret it. Harper’s eyes squeeze shut and open again, glassy yet so clear and sad that I want to rip my own beating heart out of my chest just so I can exchange it and take on her pain. My fault. Fuck.