conceited

by Taney

xXx

“Who are you talking to?”

He rolls his eyes, covers the bottom of the phone with his hand. “Ma’am?”

“I said, who are you talking to?” She knows he heard her the first time.

“Mally.” No expression, no fluctuation in his voice.

“Why didn’t you ask Mallory to help you? If you had, you might not have an exam to study for tomorrow. You might be exempt; you might not be failing English at all.”

Silence.

“She’s smart.” She pauses. “She is smart, isn’t she?”

“No—I don’t know.” He knows she’s smart. He knows she’s made straight A’s every semester of high school, with the exception of one B in the first semester of tenth grade.

He only knows that by chance, of course. Of course.

She’s still standing in the doorway. And Mallory is still waiting for him, in more ways than one.

He suddenly snaps the cell phone shut, sends his mother a piercing look and turns away. “Leave me the hell alone.”

The door closes softly behind her, and he smiles, tossing his phone up in the air and catching it.

Since his father died, he’s always had to be the one in control.

xXx

Mally’s not ugly or unpopular—she’s his friend, and a good friend at that. She’s loved him ever since eighth grade, although she pretends she doesn’t now. But it’s in her eyes, in her smile. He can see it, and he knows. He knows.

“Are you going to the haunted hayride this Friday?” she asks him—hoping, hoping.

It’s enough to make him laugh out loud, but he doesn’t. He shrugs instead. “Depends.”

“On what?” Impatience. Frustration.

“On whether I have anything better to do.” His time is valuable, after all.

“Well, you should go. Everyone’s going. It’s gonna be really fun—really scary, too! At least, I think it will be…”

He runs a hand through his hair. “We’ll see.”

Usually, she’d keep pleading with him until he’d finally say “yes” in a tired, defeated tone. He’d always been careful to make everything he did with her sound like he was fulfilling an obligation.

But this time she stops, literally stops. He walks on down the hallway a couple of steps before he realizes she is no longer at his side. Shocked, he slowly turns to face her.

“Why can’t you ever give me a straight answer? Why do I always feel like I’m pulling teeth when I talk to you?” Her face has been red since he looked back at her, but now her eyes narrow in a way he’s never seen before, never expected to see before. “Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t give a damn.”

And then she raises her chin—at him!—and stalks past him. Him. Him!

Anger—hurt—flares up inside, and he grabs her arm, jerks her back, looks down at her and puts her in her place.

Because he needs her to need him, though he’d rather die than admit it to anyone but himself.

xXx

“So, you and Mally—”

“What about me and Mally?” He thinks his sharp tone will be enough to end that train of thought right then and there.

“Oh, nothing.” But he can tell it isn’t nothing—it is most definitely something.

So he stops tying his shoe and glares up at his best friend. “What are you after, Ryan? Spit it out.”

“I was just trying to make sure there wasn’t anything between you two before I made my move.”

He blinks, rising to his feet. A second later finds Ryan’s body being smashed repeatedly against the gym lockers.

He knows she would have rejected Ryan, would have hurt him pretty badly. She’s too good for his best friend, but he’s too good for her.

He’s the only one who’s too good for her. So he punches Ryan until he cries—just to prove he can hurt him worse.

xXx

He loves her more than anything—except his pride.

And that’s why he can never tell her.

If he were to let her know, he’d be letting her get close enough to tear down his high and mighty disguise. And he can’t have that.

Because then he’d only be left with himself—whoever that is.

He’s never condescended to find out.

---

Thanks for reading! And please excuse all grammatical errors, if there are any. I tried to proof it as best I could, but it's past my bedtime...