The older she became, the longer her hair grew. Those strawberry blonde curls darkened to the most vibrant shade of red and by the end of freshman year, she’d been nicknamed Lettie Red Riding Hood. She could very well be the woman writing under L.R. Riding Hood.
He could imagine her as a teacher, probably driving the present middle school boys as crazy as she drove him. If what the article said was true, she was incredibly lonely. He knew what that was like. If not for the guys and their joint ventures, he’d have nothing.
“You should call her,” Jet said.
Ash’s lusty recollections slammed to a halt. “Are you out of your mind? She never had a clue who I was until homecoming, and the times I tried to talk to her were painful enough. No need to relive the disaster that was my pubescent years.”
“You’re different now, Ash. We all are. You own one of the most successful companies in the world, you’re worth millions, and you aren’t some pint-sized pipsqueak rocking a retainer and acne anymore. She might be interested.”
Funny, all that was true, but deep down he was still the nerd he’d always been. Relationships with women only interested in his money and success held no appeal. It was a little too familiar to his teenage years when the popular kids were nice to him simply because he could do their homework and help them pass. He’d always wanted a woman to appreciate him. “I don’t think so.” Not to mention he hated her.
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
Jet wasn’t an original to the gang. He’d discovered them in Ash’s garage sometime during high school when Elliot promised to do his science homework for a hefty sum. They’d used Jet’s money to help purchase a life-size Storm Trooper—not the smartest investment, but a necessary mascot for every dweeb lair. Jet had paid for at least two legs of that collector’s item.
“Look, we love you, Jet. You’re like a brother, but you don’t know what it was like for us. We were the nerd herd. We never got invited to sit with the cool kids, and we had food thrown at us when we accidentally looked their way.”
“And now you’re paying those dickheads’ salaries. Look at Devon. He couldn’t survive if it wasn’t for you, Hunter, and Elliot.”
Jet wasn’t gifted like the rest of them. His SATs scores had been an accumulation of getting his name right and leaving a good deal of the questions blank. But he had something the rest of them didn’t. He had the face and charisma people were drawn to.
Over time, they’d stopped charging him for midterm papers and continued to do his homework in exchange for details about his dates with the girls who didn’t know that Asher, Hunter, and Elliot existed. Twelve years later and he was still that charismatic guy women couldn’t resist.
Ash sighed and flipped around some papers on his desk, knocking a few Lego men to the ground in the process. “You’re going to have to make a press release next week about the changes being made to GeekPeek.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t change the subject, Ash. You liked this girl. She’s lonely as hell and begging for a nice, smart guy to rescue her from all the losers out there. That guy could be you. We aren’t seventeen anymore.”
“I’m aware we aren’t kids, Jet. But look at me. I’m sitting behind a desk covered in Legos. Anakin’s light saber is mounted on my wall and my ring tone screams By the power of Greyskull! I haven’t changed. Girls like Scarlet Farrow are taught to laugh at guys like me. She laughed then. She’d laugh now. I can do without the kick to my pride.” He didn’t want to have to hide who he was with anyone.
His friend’s expression turned sympathetic. “Man, she really messed you up.”
His mind went back to the last time he looked kindly on her. She’d been wearing her Cougars cheer uniform, the short red skirt only reaching to her mid-thigh. It was Homecoming week and they’d been at the pep rally, which turned into the annual bonfire on the field.
Everyone had been scrutinizing the lineups and screaming for the athletes, but Asher’s eyes had been glued to Scarlet. When the cheer squad launched her into some crazy flip and she landed wrong, he’d jumped to his feet.
Ash didn’t hit his growth spurt until he was nineteen, so back then he was rocking a pathetic five foot one and a quarter. Frantically, he tried to stare over the taller spectators, waiting anxiously for any sign of Scarlet’s red hair. The nurse and team medics were on the field immediately and she disappeared before the bystanders returned to their seats.
Slipping through the crowd, Asher had gone to find Scarlet. When he spotted her, she was sitting at a picnic table in the dark, icing her ankle.
“How’s your leg?” He winced as his voice cracked at the most inopportune moment.
She glanced up, her green eyes shimmering through unshed tears. “Do I know you?”
“I’m… Asher. Asher Roan. I’m in your chem class and we’ve gone to school together for years.”
Her brow tightened. “Oh, yeah. I remember. You used to sit behind me in Mrs. Delanie’s class.”
Yeah and they’d shared numerous teachers since then. It never got old; the pain of realizing the people that made up his world didn’t even know he existed. “Right. Are you okay?”
“I sprained it. It hurts pretty bad, but my coach said it’s not as bad as it could have been. They’re trying to find crutches for me.”
“Guess you won’t be able to cheer for a while.”
She shrugged. “Probably not.”
Her hair was in a high ponytail, the waves reaching to her lower back. It was tied to with a thin red ribbon, and he wanted that ribbon more than everything on his next Christmas list.
“Hey, Red, that was a pretty nasty fall!”
Asher turned and shrunk a bit when Bobby Westerman loped from the field gate. Great. This was the guy that taped Elliot to a locker last week. Asher sidestepped into the shadows, praying the guy wouldn’t start any trouble in front of Scarlet.
She grinned at the oversized linebacker. “Hey, Bobby.”
The two started talking and Asher’s presence was forgotten. Skulking away, he didn’t return to the bonfire, seeing no reason to be there now that Scarlet wasn’t cheering.
After finding his mom’s station wagon parked amongst the muscle cars belonging to the jocks, the paneled vehicle as unambiguous as a milkmaid on a battlefield of knights and dragons, he drove home.
Several days later, Asher had been minding his own business at school, searching in his locker for something, when he was shoved face first into the metal door. His stomach pinched at the inevitable shaming that would follow.
Bobby Westerman gripped him by the scruff of his neck and painfully twisted his arm behind his back. Certain he was going to wind up crammed inside his locker until he peed his pants or puked from discomfort, Asher was shocked when Scarlet’s voice snapped, “Bobby!”
Averting his eyes, unable to face her in such a mortifying situation, Asher’s body crumpled like an abused sack of bones as Westerman snuck in a final shot. Forcing back the urge to puke from the direct blow to his kidney, he shut his eyes.
Her silence spoke volumes and when he got the nerve to peek at her, such scorn burned in her eyes it halted Bobby from beating him to a pulp. Perfect. She was coming to his rescue. His shame was complete.
Without saying another word, she stalked away with her chin high and posture severe, despite her crutches.
Bobby cursed and kicked him. “Got off easy that time, dick.” The bully loped off after Scarlet, and Hunter and Elliot came out of hiding to help him up.
The following week the inconceivable happened. He’d been returning to chemistry class from the lavatory when he spotted a folded up note on his textbook. Glancing around suspiciously, he opened it.
Dear Asher,
I can’t lie. I’ve been watching you and I think you’re really cute. Do you have a date for the homecoming dance? I’ve been hoping you’d ask, but… you haven’t.
Hugs,
Scarlet
His face burned as he shoved the paper in the
pocket of his constricting corduroys. Scarlet wasn’t looking at him. When the bell rang, he held his books over his crotch and bolted out of class. That afternoon he’d told Elliot and Hunter about the note, but they were equally skeptical.
Asher spent the night staring at the Wonder Woman poster above his bunk bed and fantasizing about Scarlet, her pretty eyes and long fiery hair. The following morning he picked some flowers from his mom’s garden and left them at her locker only a short distance from his.
He skulked around, fumbling with books until she arrived. Watching through the slits of the opened metal door of his locker, he sucked in a deep breath and held it as she picked up the blooms and looked around. A stunning smile took over her face. In the days that followed he’d made her a mix tape, wrote her several poems, and slowly built up the guts to ask her to the dance.
She was so pretty it sometimes hurt to look at her. A few days before the dance, a game was scheduled. Scarlet was cheering again, but not going at it as hard as she usually did on account of her ankle. Asher waited for her by the bleachers until the crowd thinned.
He made his move. “Hi, Scarlet—”
“Yo, Lettie! Come on, we’re all heading over to Nina’s. Her brother got a keg.”
Scarlet’s attention was stolen along with her presence as the rest of the cheer team followed the jocks to the parking lot. Asher’s shoulders hunched as his opportunity vanished.
The following morning there was a note wedged in his locker. His fingers trembled as he unfolded it.
Hey cutie,
I’m still looking forward to dancing with you this Friday. What do you say you meet me at my house a half hour before the dance?
Hugs and Kisses,
Lettie
Still not fully trusting the note in his hand, he waited until chemistry class to confront her, but his nerves got the best of him. He decided to write her a note back.
Dear Scarlet,
I would like nothing more than to take you to the dance. Let me know your address and what your favorite flower is and I’ll be there. Really looking forward to that dance.
Love,
Asher
Once he had the note folded, he volunteered to solve the problem on the board. As he walked down the aisle, Scarlet was digging in her bag on the floor. He dropped the note on her desk, heart racing, and met the teacher in the front of the class. When the bell rang, she was gone, but at the end of the day her reply was in his locker.
Sweet Asher,
My favorite flowers are lilies.
Kisses,
Lettie
Her address was scribbled at the bottom.
That evening he’d shocked his parents by announcing he would be going to a dance. His dad dusted off his old suit and his mom ordered the nicest lily corsage she could find on short notice. It took a lot to convince them not to embarrass him by taking pictures, but eventually they conceded.
On Friday he took a cold shower and applied extra deodorant. Holding the plastic case with Scarlet’s lily, he drove his mom’s station wagon to her house. Parking just before her property, hiding the wood paneled eyesore behind some tall hedges, he took a deep breath and stepped around the corner—coming up short at the sight of half the football team taking pictures with the cheer squad on her lawn.
These were his adversaries, but her friends. He’d do anything for her, so he drew back his shoulders and stepped forward.
Bobby Westerman’s arm possessively wrapped around Scarlet’s freckled shoulders as he pressed his face into her neck. She was exquisite. Her dress was purple and puffy and—why wasn’t she pushing Bobby off?
Asher took another step forward and a roar of laughter came from the guys. The girls turned and Scarlet’s head tipped curiously. Her ruby curls were pinned high on her head like a princess. His shaky hand extended as he held out the box with her lily, trying not to let the others detect how intimidating he found their presence.
“You got company, Red,” Bobby said, giving her a nudge forward.
Scarlet glared at Bobby then stared at Asher as though it took her a minute to place him. “Asher Roan? What are you doing here?”
His blood went cold, every fear hurdling through his nervous system. “I…I’m here to take you to homecoming.”
The girls’ chortles joined the uproarious laughter pouring from the jocks.
Scarlet’s face turned deep crimson. “What?”
He lowered the hand holding the corsage. His voice, barely a whisper, explained, “The… flowers, the poems, the letters…” His words fell away as he painfully accepted the guys were right and it was all one big prank.
His pride stung as the laughter continued. A nervous giggle came from Scarlet and Bobby roared, “Why don’t you come give Lettie a kiss, Roan? Or do you only kiss little boys?”
After years of being persecuted when he’d never been anything but nice, he’d had enough. He’d had his face shoved uncountable times into his lunch, been forced into trashcans, lockers, the girls’ bathroom. But this—this—was an all time low.
Mortification swelled, morphing into a dark seething hate, and he snapped. Screeching like a locomotive, he dropped the lily and charged. When he plowed into Bobby’s broad chest it was like barreling head first into a brick wall. Asher’s ass landed on the lawn with a thud and Bobby was cocking back to hit him. Asher winced and turned his face—
“Hey!” Scarlet yelled.
He squinted his eyes as an enormous shadow fell over him. Bobby scowled down at him, his thick neck flushing red. Scarlet reached for Asher and he took her hand, a thousand volts of energy sparking through his arm. Her skin was so soft.
Clambering to his knees, it suddenly occurred to him that this was his chance. Shifting, he pulled her hand forward, placing a kiss on the back of her fingers like a true knight.
The girls laughed and she snatched her hand away, her face flushing a deeper shade of ruby and transforming her soft features into a scowl. “What are you doing?”
He rose to his feet and retrieved the corsage from the grass. Opening the plastic package he held it out to her. “I may not be good at sports or know how to dance very well, but I promise I’ll be a better date than any one of these jerks.”
“Watch it, dickweed, or I’ll make that suit even uglier when it’s covered in your blood.”
“Shut up, Bobby,” she snapped and turned to Asher. “Um, that’s really cute, but I already have a date.”
Cute? He winced. “But…they’re all jerks.”
Her brow pinched defensively. “They’re my friends.”
He shook his head. Didn’t she see? Those guys walked around like a bunch of Neanderthals. They didn’t respect her.
Asher didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, but he wasn’t stupid. Looking up at her, he whispered, “He’s using you.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. She blinked, her eyes flashing with resentment. Her flushed breasts rose in time with her labored breathing, pressing tight against the plum fabric of her dress. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I want you to leave.”
He hadn’t meant to insult her, only to protect her from these animals. “You deserve someone that respects you, Scarlet. He doesn’t respect you—”
“Get out of here! You think you have the right to come to my house and embarrass me? You? Some little nerd wearing wingtips that reek of mothballs, who barely reaches my shoulders!”
“And in that suit!” one of the girls chimed in.
Asher’s throat burned as he stood there wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole. “I didn’t mean to insult you.I’m trying to protect you.”
“Well, then I guess all geeks aren’t as smart as I thought.I don’t need your protection. Leave me alone and go away, you little stalker!”
His heart cracked. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wished he were like Jet, fearless when it came to girls. Scarlet was just like everyone else, incapable of seeing past his appearance
or giving him a chance to prove himself. Bobby Westerman was an asshole and she could do way better than that, but maybe that was exactly what she deserved.
Breathing hard, he stared at the group of well-dressed seniors laughing at his expense, mocking him, calling him freak show and loser. He was so tired of being the butt of every popular kid’s joke. They were no better than he was.
Rage boiled inside of him as he tried to find some shred of dignity. They’d made a fool of him in front of her.
He met her cold gaze and, in his sternest voice, promised, “One day you’ll know exactly who I am and see that I’m better than everyone here. Even you.”
Chin trembling, she shrieked. “Get away from me, you loser!”
The blood rushed from his face as his heart pounded erratically in his chest. The look of repugnance in her eyes would haunt him forever.
“You better run, asswipe,” Bobby said, stripping off his jacket.
Stepping back, Asher did a quick search of the scowling faces glaring at him and decided that was wise advice. He ran. Fingers trembling, he ripped open the dented door of the station wagon and dove onto the well-worn bench seat, slamming down the lock.
Jamming the key in the ignition, he cranked the gearshift and backed away from the curb. Throwing it into drive, the old wagon backfired and jerked forward, drowning out the others’ laughter.
When he reached his house he didn’t pull in the driveway. His parents thought he was at the dance and he couldn’t face more humiliation that would come with confessing it was all a joke at his expense. No parent deserved to witness his or her misfit kid’s shame. It would only crush him more to see them scramble to his aide, their attempts to soothe his pride intensifying his sense of inadequacy.
Jet was at the dance waiting for him and Scarlet to show. He’d promised to save them a seat. They’d all eventually know what happened. Driving aimlessly through the neighborhood, he found himself parking outside of Elliot’s.