PRIORITIES AND ROUTINE SHIFT, JUST like the organs inside Suki's body—according to a disturbing GIF she sent me last night, CGI-modelling the innards of women over the trimesters.

Pregnancy changes everything. But nothing has changed for me. If it turns out that the best thing for all parties involved is breaking up, then I'll leave it up to Suki to make that call. I don't know how long that'll take. I don't know if, by some generous twist of fate, I can end up spending a lifetime with her.

I'll pour myself into Suki until she stops me, returning my heart in liquid teardrop form. It doesn't matter what challenges come our way between now and then.

Two weeks later, I find Suki's locker wide open, Suki herself leaning deep into it on her tiptoes.

I lean against the locker two doors away, one foot propped against the blue metal.

She slams the door shut and jolts seeing me. "Oh, Christ."

"How was your morning?" I wonder, pretending to be checking my phone.

"So-so," she replies, turning to lean her back against the locker, one arm holding papers to her chest. I peer at her side profile, admiring the elegant slope of her nose and the tempting curve of her lips. "How was yours?"

"Better now that I've seen you."

Suki smirks at me, rolling her eyes at my cheesy lines. "People could be watching us right now..."

Her eyes slide around the hallway, only to find one other lingering student between periods. They round the corner and we are alone.

As Suki's most precious, dirty little secret, I wasn't planning to shine a spotlight on our relationship. In fact, if she had told me from the beginning about the situation with her parents, I would have helped keep the relationship under wraps. Fuck knows I'm great at being sneaky.

I didn't mind being kept secret. I minded having secrets kept from me.

"They won't jump to the conclusion that we're dating. Look here." I walk to Suki's front, leaning both my hands on the side of her head, caging her in my arms. "If anyone sees, I'm bullying you right now."

When I tilt my head down, a stray lock of hair skimming my forehead, Suki tips her chin up in defiance. "You're bullying me?"

"Mm-hmm." A flinty edge slides into my voice. "Give me your lunch money."

Suki snorts and catches on. "Might need some more intimidating on your part."

Thing is, Suki looks too beautiful for me to truly be mean to her.

"Give me your lunch money or else?"

The corner of my lip twitches, and then Suki cackles, dropping the schoolgirl facade and sliding a hand onto my chest. "Or else?"

From her drooping eyelids and swirling brown irises, I know she wants me to kiss her. But that would definitely be PDA, and boyfriend-type behaviour, no matter how alone we are right now.

Bypassing her parted lips, I whisper into her ear, "You'll have to find out later."

Her fist lands on my shoulder, a punch full of frustration but no wrath. Suki pouts. "You really are a bully."

When my hands fall back to my sides and I step away, I notice the papers clutched to her chest. "What's this?"

"A History essay. Hey! Terrence! Give it back. It's full of errors—"

After plucking it from her hands, I note that it is indeed a History essay, but definitely not full of errors. It's cleanly-typed, written in simple language—uncharacteristically simple considering Suki's expansive vocabulary.

My eyes zero in on the name on the cover sheet. "Who's Harry Inthavong?"

"No-one." Suki makes a grab for the essay, laughing lightly, but I swivel and face my back to her. "Just give—"

"Inthavong? As in the running back for the Royals?" Harry Inthavong is a senior, and he plays for the football team. What my sophomore girlfriend is doing with his essay, I hate to think about...

When I face her, the light-expression on her face falls under a carefully blank mask. "What are you doing with an essay with his name on it?"

"I don't know who he is," Suki says immediately. "I've picked up a side job. Cash for essays."

My jaw slackens. I heard of shady deals going around the Academy where geeks with too much time on their hands get roped into making a quick dollar by writing essays. Usually the clients are jocks who need a certain GPA to keep playing, but no time or skill to achieve that themselves.

But Suki is not simply a geek. And she definitely doesn't have too much time on her hands. Quite the opposite. Completely the opposite. "Suki..."

"Don't worry about me, Terrence. Essays are formulaic. Most of the people who pay me don't even want A's, they just want to pass. It's not a burden at all."

"What if someone gets caught? And the teachers trace it back to you?"

"They can't. Everyone goes through a middleman," she explains simply, taking back the essay and tucking it securely between two textbooks to keep it flat. "And there's more than just one writer involved in this scheme. None of us know each other. Just the middleman."

This middleman sounds entirely suspicious. Untrustworthy. "What if they rat you out?"

"Why would they bring their own enterprise crumbling down?" she questions analytically. "As it stands, there are only two people in the whole town who know I'm doing this. Me, and them. Three now, if we're counting you."

Something cold and barbed slides up my spine, squeezing. The nonchalant way Suki reveals this scheme to me, when I would have liked to know from the beginning, stings. I'm an afterthought, and she's all my thoughts.

"Why wouldn't you count me?"

Suki sighs, biting her lip at her choice of words. Or maybe the fact that I unearthed another secret of hers. Or maybe the way I'm keeping her from class. Who knows with her? Certainly not me.

"Because you aren't a risk," she murmurs tenderly. Her fingers brush the lock of hair away from my eyes before she steps away, about to leave. "I can look after myself. I promise I won't push myself too far. That is what you're worried about, right?"

In a way she's right. I worry about her overstepping her limits while pregnant. I worry about the rockiness of her future pathway. I worry about how she'll take it when her plans fall apart. And they will, because strict plans never work, not just those made by Mr. and Mrs. Yamato.

In this moment, however, the thing I'm most worried about—

You're keeping secrets again.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Aside from Suki, there is one person I respect at Carsonville High School, though I've never spoken to him before.

His name is Derek Hale. He's a monster.

Not because he's feral or evil. He's not bound by the things most normal human beings are. He recognises that everything is a game, whether for power, money or recognition, and he's playing to win. He doesn't care about harm—bodily or otherwise—befalling him or anyone else. He uses his reputation and his peers to his advantage.

He's currently the talk of the school, because he screwed a senior in the girls' locker room and got busted by the girls' basketball team's coach. Then when she dragged him to the office for a disciplinary meeting, he threw the senior girl under the bus. He was only fifteen; she was eighteen, and he was the victim of a statutory crime.

Carsonville is exactly the type of small town that complains about scandal while generating it. The right side of the tracks casts judgment on the wrong side, with just as much drug use, cheating and shitty parenting.

The rumour goes that Derek threatened to go to the media unless he escaped punishment. And the Carsonville Academy, squarely on the right side of the tracks, which reeks of old religion and old money and reputation, shat themselves. So they let him off, and she lost her place on the basketball team.

Derek Hale is cutthroat. A morally-barren monster.

That's why I respect him. That's the sort of gall it takes to win Dare Week. If he had any cares in the world, particularly fixed towards Dare Week, I might be more wary of him, but he doesn't care. About anything.

The only reason I haven't tried to befriend him is because his judgment of character is shocking. Derek is friends with Madison Murdoch—notorious gossip—and Brittany Stanson— demon from Hell. All three of them are in my English class.

Friends. With those acid-spitting harpies.

I kind of get it, at least. None of them care about anyone other than themselves. It would be convenient to position himself next to attractive, popular and wealthy friends. Can't blame the dude.

"Terrence," Madison calls from the table across from mine. I found some students with mutual acquaintances to avoid having to interact with her and Brittany, but her nosiness knows no bounds. "Are you doing Dare Week again this year?"

"Wait and see," I reply calmly. You nosy bitch.

Keeping my head down on the book on the table in front of me, I make sure the carefully carefree smile on my face doesn't budge. We're all reading The Catcher in the Rye, and this is the one silent reading period we get a week to catch up on the chapters.

Silent. Does Madison know the meaning of that word?

"I bet you will," she titters, quietly enough that Mr. Williams doesn't notice. Or doesn't care. "That's the only time you're any good at something."

"As opposed to never being good at anything." I raise my eyes to hers. "You're right, Madison. Thanks."

Her icy blue eyes narrow. "I take that back. You won't be any good this year. Certainly not going to win."

"Oh?" I mutter, unperturbed.

"Derek's going to compete," Madison says smugly.

Derek looks up from his book. I've never heard him speak, having had no classes with him prior to English. His voice is monotone. "Am I?"

Madison glances at him, widening her eyes almost pleadingly. Then she fixes the same look to Brittany, who gives Derek a single nod.

Brittany says, "He will."

Madison repeats, "He will."

Derek rolls his eyes, resuming his reading. He speaks without glancing my way, "You heard 'em."

"Fine. Bring it on."

Madison is such a petty, meddling asshole. Derek couldn't care less about Dare Week. When I compete against him, I'm going to imagine Madison's smug face on his body and act accordingly.

He's going down.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Suki and I sit in our usual seat on the bus, six rows back on the right.

She told me when sophomore year started that someone would take her favourite seat, but no-one did. Her stop is too early on the bus route for anyone to interfere, which is great news. Apparently that seat has the cleanest seats, best access to natural lighting and is furthest from the rumble zones above each wheel. Suki loves to read there.

Whether she actually reads on the ride to school, Suki always has a book cracked open on her lap. It works as an excellent cover to dispel the watching eyes of other people.

In a frustrated whisper, Suki asks me, "You beat him up?"

Ah. Dare Week.

More specifically, how I won it.

Derek was apathetic until he found out about the cash prize. Three hundred dollars this year. From then, he was out to win as desperately as I was. I thought he was rich like Madison and Brittany, but there might be something, after all, that he cares about. Come to the last person to make a dare—him—it was only us two left in the competition, balaclavas and all.

"How did you hear that?"

"Who hasn't?" Suki hisses, her gaze fixed unmoving on her book. After the bus turns a corner, she adds, "Delaney showed me a video."

"We beat each other up," I clarify. "And he was the one who made the dare."

It's not like I raised my fists to Derek without reason.

He made the last dare a fight to the death—okay, a fight to surrender—and I would never back down. In fact, I was really hoping to avoid fighting him. He's taller, and he's got far more fighting experience. Everyone in our year has heard of his renowned dirty tactics. Teeth, jabs to the eyes, elbows to the groin.

The only way I won was playing dirtier. I visited Dad's construction site one day and picked up some scrap metal. Then I used the soldering iron in the garage to fashion some rings while he was away at work. Those metal fangs cut like a knife. Derek realised after a few punches exchanged that his usual tactics would not win it.

To use them, he had to get close to me. And getting close meant getting cut.

"Here's the deal," I had levelled with Derek, imagining his usual blank expression underneath the black mask. "You tap out and we split the prize. Fifty-fifty."

"No. There's no guarantee you'll stick to your word."

I remembered Suki's deal with me last year, and emulated her calculating, omniscient tone of voice. "Fifty percent is more than you'll get if we keep fighting. I won't stop till I win, Hale."

He went completely still behind the mask, and I could tell he was thinking things over.

Derek relented with the condition that he kept the rings, as collateral, until I delivered his winnings. Since I am a man of my word, I parted with those shrapnel-like rings easily. I could always make more.

After school, Derek and I met in the parking lot to split the cash. I was the official champion. He got the money he wanted. We exchanged a clasping handshake and nodded at each other—which proves no hard feelings.

"I even let him keep the rings," I tell Suki quietly. The pride in my voice is unmistakable.

"Doesn't mean it's okay! You could have gotten really hurt."

I smile. "But I didn't."

"But you could have."

"But I didn't."

She exhales exasperatedly. "If this is an elaborate plan to get injured and skip out on Saturday, you don't need to go to such lengths. I told you. I was planning to go alone."

Saturday is Suki's second ultrasound.

Since I am not intending to take on any fathering duties outside of financial responsibilities, there's no reason for me to attend. I'll support Suki before and after, but I don't want to be there during. Last time was too difficult for me. I was not okay for several days after, like a cloud of impending doom was following me around town.

"I do a fine job of skipping out on my own," I whisper. "You know that. I— I just can't. I nearly had a panic attack the last time, looking at that monitor—"

Suki's knee inches closer, brushing against my own. I quite like being her secret lover. We have to find secret expressions and gestures to communicate, which makes me feel that much more special to her.

"You don't need to explain, baby," she says gently. "I already know."

"I know you know." My knee presses more solidly into hers. "I still feel like saying it aloud, though."

We fall silent for several more minutes. I lean my head back against the rail and close my eyes, sinking into the music playing through my earphones. Another policy Suki and I have is not to talk for too long. We have intense, periodic bursts of conversation rather than continuous small talk. It's more impactful, and less suspicious.

If anyone looked at us right now, I would look like I'm dozing off. Suki looks like she's trying to read, leaning her shoulders away from me. Negative body language in public, relentless sex in private. Am I weird for liking this dynamic?

"This one is when the coin flips," Suki begins when enough contactless time has passed. "Heads or tails."

That's code. She means, this ultrasound will be the one when she finds out what gender the foetus is. Heads for a girl. Tails for a boy. We never even constructed these codewords beforehand. I just know her train of thought. She'd say that heads are for intelligence and tails are phallic. The rest logically follows.

"Right," I mutter, eyes still closed. "Big deal. Do you want to know?"

"You know me." I do, which means she wants to know the gender with a burning intensity. Her curiosity demands it.

"Yeah. Fuck," I cough. "Big deal."

Suki's voice threads into my ear, around my low music. "Do you want me to tell you?"

"No." Because that makes the foetus a fraction more human. I don't know.

"But yes." Because I want to be there with Suki through it all—if not for it all. My knee inches out to press against hers once more.

"Definitely."

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A / N :

I was debating splitting this chapter into two because it's long, and so much happens - relationship tension, another Dare Week flying by and a new(ish) character. Remember that Terrence is not a reliable narrator. His view of Derek may not be accurate.

Please vote, comment and follow x

Aimee <3