Crushed (7 page)

Ellie raises an eyebrow and turns her gaze toward the balcony where the extra chair Brady “liberated” from another room sits. “You don’t have any other chairs?”

I spin in my desk chair. “Nope. Only this one or the wet one on the balcony.”

Ellie considers her options, her eyes moving between the two beds and the fog-dampened chair, before dropping her bag on the floor next to the bare one. She sits on the edge and leans forward to unzip her backpack. Her hair falls across her face until she tucks it behind her ear. Her tank top gapes open exposing the top of her tits.

Awww, damn. It’s like she’s tempting me with a Christmas present while telling me it’s not for me. How am I supposed to be friends with a girl who looks like this? 

When she rights herself, her lean legs swing back and forth over the edge of the bed. I follow their length with my eyes until I see her watching me with an amused smile on her lips.

“Do you want to review the whole week, or is there something in particular you want to work on?” She has a slow cadence to her speech. Like there’s no hurry. That, combined with huskiness of her voice makes her sound like she just rolled around in my bed for a few hours.

You. You. You.

“Fletch?” 

I tousle the back of my hair and grin at her. The sheepish one girls love. “Sorry. You’re distracting me.”

Ellie furrows her forehead in confusion. “How am I distracting you?”

Does she have to make it so easy? I’m torn between trying to prove Brady and Reid wrong, and doing what I want, which is seeing how many pieces of her clothing I can remove. I’d start with the jacket. The boots are hot. They can stay on for a while.

I force my eyes to focus on her face. Not on her partially exposed tits or the way her chocolate-colored eyes taunt me. I stare at her lips. They seem safe. Until she licks the corner of the top one. 

I imagine Ellie’s tongue darting along my lips, her hands tugging at my hair, her legs wrapped around me pulling me closer to her. I want to press my lips against hers harder and harder until I have to surface for air. 

I’m so not making it ’til Spring Break. Brady and Reid were right. 

A familiar hum rises in my gut, and my dick gets hard. What the hell? She’s here, might as well see what I can get.

 “Well, first, you’re really hot. Second, you’re sitting on my bed. Third, well…I’m a guy.” I shrug as if this is a suitable explanation.

She throws her pen at me. “You’re something else, Fletch. You know that?”

“Um, okay.” Is that a good thing or not? I let my eyes wander back to her partially exposed breasts. God, they’re awesome.

“No, really.” She stands up, and I quickly avert my eyes. “You practically beg me to tutor you.” She points to my book on my desk. “And then, when I’m here, you have no interest in studying, but instead tell me about how the fight you got in was over Calista. And you can’t keep your eyes off my boobs.” She gives a dry laugh. “Pretty frickin’ unbelievable if you ask me.”

So…she doesn’t hate me. But she doesn’t exactly like me either? 

My mind races, trying to figure out a way, which doesn’t involve opening textbooks, to keep her here. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Mean to what, objectify me?”

I bristle. Was she always so bitchy and I just never noticed? “Admiring the female body is hardly objectifying.”

She folds her arms and scowls. When I gape at her, she lets out a long, breathless laugh. Tears form in the corner of her eyes, and she waves her hand around in front of her. “Oh. My. God. Stop.” 

She doubles over, clearly enjoying herself, while I stare at her, confused. 

“Grab a mirror. Your face is priceless.” 

What the hell? Her shifts in personality are dizzying. 

When she recovers, Ellie drums her fingers against the side of the dresser. “You don’t need help in American Government, do you?”

 There’s no point in lying. “Not really.”

A small smile dances across her lips. “Didn’t think so. I know you’re in the running for valedictorian.”

So she
is
here to hook-up. Maybe Brady and Reid were wrong. Maybe girls don’t want to be friends with me. I throw up my hands. “I know, but look, I just want to—”

“Hook-up?” she offers.

“Get to know you. I want to be friends.”

Her smile fades. “Well, that’s good, because I’m not interested in what you have to offer.”

“So why’d you come over? If you knew I don’t need help,” I ask. 

A slight hint of pink colors her cheeks. Her fingers play with the bottom of her tank top. “I was curious.”

“About?”

She keeps her eyes trained down, her voice soft. “You.”

I fight every urge flooding my body. It’s not easy. She arches her back, in a way I’m sure she knows is tempting, and shakes her hair so that it brushes the bed beneath her. Blood races to every part of my body, betraying the detached cool I’ve been trying so hard to maintain. Before she notices her effect on me, I lean slightly forward. 

She sighs and pulls her book into her lap. “Ready?”

With that one small movement, I understand I know nothing about girls. 

9

“You look like shit. Alex really got you good,” Brady says, leaning over his desk toward me.

“Tell me he looks worse.”

“His nose is fucked up, and he has a cut by his eyebrow, but other than that he’s fine.”

I touch the tender purple area around
my
eye and cringe. How’d he get me so good, if I had him pinned?

“So?” Brady asks. “How’d it go with Ellie? Did she freak out when she saw your face?”

Normally, I’d lie. I’d tell him about how I made her scream my name and have the scratches to prove it. I’d make up something about her sucking my cock and spitting in my garbage can. We’d both laugh and bump fists.

“We studied.”

“That’s understandable. Who’d want to kiss someone with a busted lip?” Brady laughs and narrows his eyes. “No, really. What happened?”

Mrs. Campos, our thousand-year old blind-as-a-bat teacher, tilts her head and gives us her famous “shut it now” look. She may not be able to see a thing, but she can hear whispering from two hundred yards easily. “Is that Fletcher Colson and Brady Pearson mumbling back there?”

“I was just asking Fletch for his thoughts on the protagonist’s motives.” Brady is such a kiss-up. No wonder he has almost the entire student body, as well as the staff, under his spell. Helps that he’s wicked smart too.

“Save it for discussion time, gentlemen. Right now, you’re supposed to be reading and analyzing.”

“Yes, Mrs. Campos,” I say. Brady rolls his eyes and stifles a laugh. 

He thumps my desk.
So
, he mouths.

Nothing. 

Brady throws his arms up like a ref making a call.
I don’t believe you.

Of course he doesn’t. Because when is the last time I’ve been alone with a girl for more than ten minutes where I haven’t at least tried to get some action? Maybe when I was eleven, but even that’s debatable.

I flip the page of my book and focus on the text. Unlike Physics, I actually like Lit class. For the next thirty-five minutes, I ignore Brady’s increasingly annoying attempts to get my attention and lose myself in Kate Chopin’s
The Awakening
. It’s not something I’d select for myself, but it’s interesting. and I like the descriptions.

Mrs. Campos rings the bell on her desk, and our heads snap to attention like well-trained dogs. “Since Brady and Fletcher were so interested in Edna, I’d like the two of you to lead the discussion on chapters one to three.”

Brady gapes at me. The book lies closed on his desk and a paper with hand-drawn comics sits on top of it. 

I sigh. “How many questions should we prepare, Mrs. Campos?”

“Ten. And I expect every one of them to be well-thought out.” She hobbles around her desk and leans against it. “For Monday.”

The bell rings and she dismisses us. When we reach the hallway Brady says, “Fuck. Now I have to read that boring piece of crap.”

“It’s not that bad. I mean, there’s sex in it and stuff.”

“Like erotica?” Brady asks grinning.

I adjust my backpack on my shoulder. “Nineteenth century erotica, I guess.”

“Wonderful. I get to read about longing glances and exposed ankles. So freakin’ hot.”

With my shoulder, I push him into the wall. “Don’t underestimate sexual tension, dude.”

He rubs his shoulder in mock pain. “Like you know anything about that.”

We laugh. Because, honestly, what
do
I know about that?

10

I’m sitting at my desk with a pile of homework looming before me, wondering what I’m going to do this weekend other than serve a three-hour detention Saturday morning, when a paper plane skids to a perfect landing on my desk. I jerk my head toward the door, but no one’s there. 

‘
Hi
’ is written in a back slanting script across a wing.

“What do you want?” I yell toward the door, assuming it’s either Brady or Reid messing with me.

Ellie peeks around the corner and holds out two bottles of soda. “Is that any way to speak to a lady? Especially one bearing gifts?”

My mouth falls open, and I don’t bother to shut it. I hadn’t expected her to ever come over again. Not after last night’s rocky start and subsequent boring-as-hell review of Government. “Sorry. What’s up?”

She fidgets with her short school skirt. I notice she’s wearing knee socks, something few girls can pull off without looking like a total Catholic school whore. But Ellie, she looks innocent
and
hot. 

“Did you happen to find my pen? I lost it when I threw it at you.”

She came over here to find a pen? That’s hard to believe, but I play along. “Didn’t see it, but we can look.” 

I peer under my desk. Nothing. When I move past her to search under the bed, I’m careful not to touch her. I pull the bed away from the wall, only to reveal a lonely sock. 

As I push the bed back into place, I say, “Did you really come over for a pen?”

She offers me a bottle. 

“Thanks.”

“Yes, I really lost my pen. And it was my favorite one.”

 “If I see it, I’ll call you. Or give it to Sarah.”

I sit in my desk chair and stare blankly at the notes I’ve made for chapter one of
The Awakening
. Brady promised to do chapter two, and we’re splitting the questions for chapter three.

“What are you working on?” She snuck up on me and stands next to my shoulder. 

“Lit questions. Brady and I have to lead the discussion Monday.”

“Oh. Maybe I should go?” She hesitates, like she’s unsure what to do.

“You can stay. If you want. It’s visiting hours.”

Ellie walks across the room as I turn around. When she drops onto the vinyl mattress, her short skirt flips up giving a glimpse of her pale blue panties. I wonder if her bra matches. I bet it does, she seems like the matching undergarment type.

“It is indeed. And look.” 

“What?” I say with a hint of panic.

“It’s visiting hours. What did you think I said?”

“Uhhh…”
She can’t read your thoughts, dumbass.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 

 Ellie adjusts her skirt and places both her feet firmly on the floor, points at mine and gives me this slightly insane half-smile. “Four feet on the floor, with the door open. We are in complete compliance of Harker’s visiting hours rules. At least for the next three minutes.” 

I force my eyes to focus on her face. Not on her exposed thighs, which she crosses slowly, clearly enjoying my appreciative gaze, or the way her eyes taunt me. “Good to know.”

Homework can wait.

“So, friend.” She rolls the word around on her tongue like she’s testing it. “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” 

“Orange sherbet.”

Her warm brown eyes feign horror. “
That
is not ice cream. Not even close. We must get you a favorite ice cream.” 

“That’s what Cal says. She—” I stop myself. I shouldn’t be talking about Calista to Ellie. 

“What about me?”

Calista stands in the hallway. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard, trying to untangle my tongue. 

She’s changed into jeans and has her hands shoved into her pockets. With the way her curls hang across her eyes, she looks like a naughty little kid and I’m pretty sure she was eavesdropping.

“Hey, Cal.” I stutter. “Ellie and I were just talking about ice cream, and how you make fun of me for liking orange sherbet.”

She peeks around the corner, sees Ellie sitting on the bed in a short ass skirt that barely covers her thighs, and shakes her head. “I wanted to talk to you, but I can come back when you don’t have company.”

This is the Cal I know at school: indifferent to my girls. Calm. Distant. My pulse slows a little.

Ellie stands up. “I was just leaving. I promised Libby and Sarah I’d meet them for dinner. They’re probably wondering where I am.”

She moves toward the door. “If you find my pen, just give it to Sarah, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

As soon as Ellie’s gone, Calista steps in and shuts the door. She doesn’t say anything as she walks toward me with her hips swaying rhythmically. She brushes my hair back from my face and lightly touches my injuries. They cease hurting.

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“For what? Alex was being an ass, he deserved it.”

She sinks onto my lap, and I cradle her to my chest. It feels good, like before. Familiar. Like putting on my favorite Converse. I breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. Enjoying the weight of her. 

“He did.” She whispers the words in my ear. I tilt my head up and lock onto her blue eyes. There’s something raw and fragile below the surface, something I’ve never seen before. “But that’s not why I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what’s happening between us.”

I know I should tell her to leave. But I can’t. Because the truth is, Calista is the one who doesn’t want a relationship. She’s the one who pushed me away when I told her how I felt a few days before we left for school.