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Back Losers: Part I Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Content Note
  3. A Note From The Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. Acknowledgements
  57. Also By Harley Laroux
  58. About The Author

I wanted to tell him we couldn’t play forever, but that was far too scary a declaration to make. Part of me wanted to dive in head-first and forget all the shoulds and should-nots that I’d spent so long hung up on. Part of me wanted to cling to this, hold this dirty little secret close.

Another part of me wanted to run away again, because running was easier than introspection. It was easier than acknowledging that maybe I’d spent years forming and adhering to my own lies about myself and who I was.

“Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll pay my debt. I’ll play the game. Until the car is fixed, I’m yours.”

20

20

Jason

High School - Senior Year

Jessica Martin was a dirty rotten cheater.

Wickeston High School’s resident princess didn’t sit next to me in every class because she liked me, although I’d been foolish enough at first to think she did. There I was, fifteen years old and awkward as hell, sitting next to the prettiest girl in school. She couldn’t keep her eyes off me either. Every time I glanced up, she was looking back, those big green eyes with her long lashes mesmerizing me.

It turned out she wasn’t looking at me at all; she was looking at my tests. Every single one of them.

I got the hint when Kyle cornered me in the hallway one day and “convinced” me to start writing his essays. Jessica was tucked under his arm the entire time, smirking at me like she thought it was funny that her caveman boyfriend could shove me around. I was fresh out of a tiny private Christian school, accustomed to uniforms, tight schedules, and a stringently merciless disciplinary policy. Wickeston wasn’t like that. To a shy, quiet kid like me, that place was the wild west.

Kyle had about six inches of height on me and fists the size of bricks, so I went from being the quiet AP kid to the popular crowd’s personal homework dispenser. I tried to make a game out of it, convincing myself that I was getting more studying done by doing their work for them.

I cringed when I thought back on it. God, I’d been naïve.

Then I met Vincent, Manson, and Lucas. We were all a bunch of outcasts, but together, we were stronger, accepted by one another. It made me bolder to fight back, to branch out, to explore.

It made me fall in love, too, with this goofy clown of a guy who talked about concepts like free love and sexual acceptance. He gave me words to describe how I felt; he didn’t lose his shit when I told him I was so damn confused because I liked girls, but shit, guys could get it too. Vincent Volkov turned my world on its head.

By the time senior year came around, everything changed.