Ask Me Anything

by Molly E. Lee

  She glanced down at her hands like she suddenly forgot what to do with them. “Football game.”

  I blinked a few times, totally thrown by the response.

  I tilted my head. “You want to play?”

  The smile on her lips cleared the confusion and cut right through the tension. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “That’s where I came from.”

  “Oh,” I said, nodding. “Why?”

  “That’s a damn good question.” The sigh was heavy and long as she grabbed her third taco. “Went to watch Jake.”

  Hannah’s boyfriend, right. That made sense.

  The look on her face when she’d first walked in? No sense at all.

  “Did we lose?” I asked, wondering if it was a game loss plus sleep deprivation combo making her look like she was drained. The normal, glittering pixie…she was wilted.

  Maybe she really didn’t want to eat with me.

  Maybe she saw me standing at the counter and I ruined her idea of fun solo-tacos.

  I told myself to shut the hell up and waited patiently for her to finish chewing so she could answer me.

  “No,” she said. “They won.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “What?”

  I shrugged, shaking my head. I knew we weren’t the kind of friends who directly asked what’s wrong, tell me your problems and let me help…please.

  “What?” she asked again, wiping her hands and mouth with her napkin.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  She arched a brow at me.

  “You seem…” Hurt. Scared. Confused.

  “Tired?” She groaned. “You already told me I looked like crap earlier today. No need to rub it in hours later.”

  “I did not,” I said. “And I also told you that you were beautiful seconds ago.” I didn’t lose her gaze and was happy that fire was back in her eyes. “I was going to say, you look distracted. Like something is eating at you.” I took the last bite of my fourth taco, occupying myself like I didn’t have a care in the world if she told me what it was or not. If I’d learned anything from Tessa, it was that more often than not, a lot of girls wanted the space and patience and choice to talk. The more you tried to force it out of them, the harder they dug in.

  “Oh,” she said, slurping down the green tea like it was oxygen. I understood the need—we all had our go-to fuels that would help push us across a late-night goal. Her eyes went distant again, and I wanted to slide around the table and sit right next to her. Get in her space so much I could crack whatever plagued her mind. “Ran into someone at the game. Didn’t want to.”

  A burst of hope exploded inside my chest at her confession. At something real. Something she could’ve easily been vague about or blown me off altogether.

  Maybe she was starting to trust me.

  Who wouldn’t she want to see?

  Oh.

  Fuck.

  “Brandon?” The name blurted from my mouth, half growl, half question.

  She flinched like it physically hurt her.

  Damn it, what did he do to you?

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s none of my business.”

  “No.” The word blasted all that hope right out of me. “It’s okay,” she said, and those two words amended it in an instant. “I’m just tired,” she said and laughed a little. “I wasn’t at 100 percent to handle his douchery tonight.”

  “Fuck him,” I said, loving the shock in her eyes at my declaration.

  “Do you even know him?” She swirled a tortilla chip in guac. “It’s not like you run in the same circles.”

  I snorted. “That’s for damn sure.” I leaned a little closer over the table. “You and I both know people like us have our own circles.”

  “Yeah,” she said, almost a whisper.

  “And they normally only include a few people. Sometimes less.”

  “Only the ones you can trust,” she added.

  “Exactly.”

  “But,” she said, blinking a few times as I leaned back in my seat. “Everyone likes you.”

  I shrugged. “I’m friendly with a lot of people. That doesn’t mean they’re in my circle. Doesn’t mean I’d call them if I was in deep shit.”

  “I get that.” She pushed a stray piece of pink-streaked hair away from her eyes. “It can bite you anyway. Letting people in.”

  “Not always,” I assured her.

  She nodded, fiddling with a strap bracelet on her left wrist. It was black with thin green lines in a random rectangular-like pattern. I rarely saw her without it.

  “Are we friends?” she asked, never looking up from her bracelet.

  My chest puffed at the question. At the hope in her tone.

  “Think that depends on you, Pixie.”

  She snapped her eyes to mine. “Why?”

  I gazed at her, my eyes drawing from hers to her hair to the line of her jaw, the racing pulse at her neck, and back to her eyes. “Because,” I said. “I already trust you.”

  “How?” she asked. “This is the first time we’ve hung out beyond school…ever.”

  “Easy,” I said. “DC.”

  “Our alert code?” She chuckled. “That’s all it takes to earn your trust? Me giving you a heads up when someone is about to catch you hacking instead of doing actual schoolwork?”

  “It’s not the only factor, but it’s a big one.”

  “What are the others?”

  I wetted my lips, grinning when the motion caught her gaze. “Too many to list.”

  She raised her brows. “Well,” she said, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t figure out what to say.

  “It’s okay, Pixie,” I said, stopping her before she could speak. “I know it’ll take a hell of a lot more for me to earn your trust. To earn a spot in your circle. And I’m fine with that. I’m just asking for a chance.”

  She swallowed hard. “As friends.”

  The knife in my heart was sharp, but a good reminder that was all I needed, too.

  “Friends.”

  A soft smile shaped her pink lips, and she gathered both our empty trays, standing to take them to the trash before I could argue.

  My cell buzzed with notifications, enough that I gave the screen a quick swipe.

  Sabrina, resident Queen of Wilmont, had blasted a new blog across the social media feeds. I hadn’t realized she was linked with mine.

  “Ask Me Anything,” I read aloud, my brow furrowing as I scanned the main page. A sex advice blog? From a Wilmont student. Person had balls, I’d give them that, and I idly wondered if whoever had pulled the prank at the assembly was the same one behind this.

  “So I—” Amber’s words died in her throat, her eyes flashing wide when she caught sight of my screen.

  “You see this, too?” I asked, pocketing my phone. She hadn’t moved to sit back down. I shifted in the booth, looking up at her, my arm easily stretched to one side on the booth railing, practically begging her to slide in next to me. The way she trailed her gaze over me, the way that sweet blush crept in her cheeks, it almost seemed like she could read my mind.

  “Thanks for the tacos,” she said, ignoring my question and grabbing her bag from the other side of the booth. She threw it over her shoulder. “Friend.” She spun around, a flurry of black and pink and light as she left in a hurry.

  I sat motionless and smiling at her back.

  “Guess we know who the other member of Code Club is now,” Tessa said, sinking into the seat where Amber had just been.

  I straightened, switching my goofy grin to something much sharper. “Your point being?” I asked. I’d already told Sean; there wasn’t really any mystery anymore.

  “You’re in so much trouble.”

  I furrowed my brow. “What are you talking about?”

  She motio
ned to me with an opened palm. “If you could see yourself right now, you’d understand. It’s the same way you were the other day after the club.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  But I did. I could feel it. Sense it in the way my heart raced. The way I wanted to keep smiling but choked down the action.

  “The brother who swears up and down that relationships are nothing but an unnecessary distraction. The brother who gives me shit constantly for having a boyfriend. Just had a date.”

  “I did not,” I said. “We’re friends.”

  Tessa just looked at me, unbelieving.

  “We are.” I shrugged. “She’s cool. I can be happy about that without wanting to marry her.”

  Tessa laughed. “I never said anything about marrying the girl.” She laughed. “But it’s great to know where your head is at.”

  I smacked my palms on the table, shoving out of the booth. “Good talk, sis.”

  She followed me all the way to the exit, still wearing that grin.

  I paused with my hand on the door. “Colt picking you up or do you want a ride?” It didn’t matter how much she was currently annoying me, I would always ask if she needed me.

  “Colt,” she said. “He texted a few minutes ago. Already on his way.”

  I debated waiting until he showed up, but Tessa was already shoving me out the door.

  “I’ve got to do closing duties in a few anyway,” she said. “Go home. Sleep. Dream about taking a hacker girl to prom.”

  I flipped her off as I walked out the door, not sure if I was angrier at her being totally off-point or voicing thoughts I didn’t dare acknowledge.

  Chapter Nine

  Amber

  After a quick check-in with Mom and Dad, I raced up the stairs and cracked open my laptop.

  Newly fueled with tacos and green tea, I was ready to see if I’d gotten any questions on the site that Sabrina had plastered all over social media.

  I tried not to let myself hope, but even if I had one question, it would be a success.

  One deep breath and a few clicks later, and I nearly fell out of my computer chair.

  “A thousand views?” I spoke aloud, cracking the silence in my room.

  And…

  Two hundred and twelve comments?

  I leaned back in my chair, gaping at the screen.

  Excitement rushed through my veins so fast my fingertips shook. I quickly read the first comment, and then the next and the next.

  Most of them were people cheering me on or giving me a big hell yes to the site. Some were more vulgar—like RedSoxFanForLife3897 who’d left fourteen comments about how he’d like to find out just how much I really knew about sex, emphasizing that he could teach me more than I’d ever dreamed. I rolled my eyes at most, but some were downright stomach turning.

  And really…I hadn’t come up with a solid plan on how to answer the questions. Honestly, I hadn’t expected this response. Hadn’t expected this many people to write in.

  I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep reading, assuring myself that when the question came, I’d know what to do.

  A good portion of comments were people asking my real name, promising me they’d never tell anyone.

  I was on my third green tea by the time I reached comment one hundred and eighty-three, still searching for the question I thought would need immediate attention.

  There were a few I’d starred to come back to and contemplate, but there hadn’t been one that gave me that aha! feeling. And with the traffic growing by the second—up to three thousand views in the span of the three hours I’d been reading—I needed my first actual blog to be noteworthy.

  Sharp. Funny and smart and helpful.

  If I blew the first one, no one would ever come back to ask more questions, and then not only would I not help anyone, but I would also lose the challenge between Dean and me.

  Another hour and I swore my eyeballs were going to fall out. I only had six hours before I needed to be up for school, and finally knew I had it when I read commenter number two-hundred-and-one’s question.

  Question of the Day

  Whereiswill98 asks: “Things are getting super heated between me and my boyfriend. In a good way. But I’m wanting to get on the pill before we take the next step. I don’t want my parents to know. They would flip the eff out. I saw your list on the site, but where is the most discreet place to get some?”

  I’m sorry to hear that your parents would flip. That sucks in a big bad way. But it’s one of the reasons I created this blog. So you could get answers without dealing with parental backlash. I hate the idea of lying/keeping secrets from your parents, but it’s your body and you have the right to protect yourself.

  It can get pricey if you’re not going to use your parents’ insurance, but you can be prescribed birth control by a physician at a number of the Planned Parenthoods around here (I’ll include a link to a list below). Some walk-in clinics who don’t require insurance can also hook you up.

  You’ll have to go through an exam (I know, bummer) but after that, you should be set to get the protection you need. While you’re waiting, if you find you can’t wait, definitely use a condom. Staying safe is wicked important, and it’s awesome that you’re already thinking that far ahead. To be double on top of things, even when you start taking the pill, I’d suggest you keep using that condom, too, because the pill doesn’t protect you from other problems…like all those horrid STDs we saw in the Wilmont Way presentation.

  In the meantime,

  Stay Sexy. Stay Healthy.

  Click here for a complete list of places to score BC near us!

  …

  I hit publish and closed my laptop.

  I’d thought my “useful links” tab would’ve been enough to cover this topic, but there was a real fear surrounding a lot of the people writing in about being caught trying to get on birth control.

  Hard for me to relate but easy for me to picture.

  Not everyone had a mom like mine. One who took me to the doctor after I told her things were starting to get serious between Brandon and me. She’d talked me through all the pros and cons and let me make the choice for myself. Ultimately, I’d been so blindingly happy and excited to be with Brandon that I’d gotten on the pill with butterflies storming my stomach.

  I’d planned to tell Brandon.

  I’d dreamed of the perfect moment.

  And then…he’d crushed those dreams before I’d gotten the chance to share them with him.

  I dodged a major bullet, and yet I still felt like I was bleeding.

  The wound he’d left was slowly closing, though, and as I traced my fingers over my still-warm laptop, I knew starting this blog had a ton to do with it.

  And Mom.

  Dad and Hannah and Jake, too.

  My small yet irreplaceable tribe.

  Sometimes I forgot how lucky I was.

  At least I was using the info Mom had given me back then for some good now.

  Or what I hoped would be good. Hoped I was helping.

  One person at a time. That’s all I needed.

  And the rest of me would eventually fall into place.

  Chapter Ten

  Amber

  “See ya, Gary!” I called to my boss as he waved to me while he walked out the exit. The bell above the door chimed, and I waited a full fifteen minutes before reaching for my laptop that I kept in my designated cubby behind the coffee bar.

  Comic Brew—the coffee shop/comic bookstore I worked at part time—was pretty dead for a Friday night. A group of sophomores had taken up residence at one of our largest booths, completely immersed in an intense game of Clue as they sipped their cappuccinos.

  One of the sweet perks—besides the comics and stellar coffee—was the insane amount of board games we had for people
to play. Gary was an awesome boss and let me have flexible hours, but the chill vibe of the place was the perfect counter to my normally high-speed, high-tech life. Board games, people actually interacting with each other in the real world, it was all balancing for me—even if I rarely played where I worked. But, being in the presence of it helped me keep one foot in the real world while the rest of me was often lost in cyberspace.

  Doing another scan to make sure no one would see what I worked on, I pulled up my website. It had been a week since my first blog went live.

  It had over five thousand hits, and the girl who’d asked the question had already emailed me to thank me. I’d felt unworthy of that thanks as I read it, but when I gave the email a second pass, some small piece of my jagged heart had…healed. The gratification, the notion that in this one moment I was doing the right thing—despite the fact that I’d be expelled and could kiss my hopeful acceptance letter to MIT goodbye if I was ever caught—filled me with this awesome sense of purpose I couldn’t properly explain. It was enough that I was devising a plan to post every day. To try to help as much and as often as I could—and if the blog got so big it counteracted every Dark-Aged piece of propaganda Tanner’s site posted, then win-win.

  As I scrolled through the never-ending inbox of comments, I wondered what Dean was working on. Wondered what his challenge entailed and if it was as scandalous as mine. Knowing him, it would be more discreet. He’d already seen mine—that night at the taco shop—though he didn’t have a clue I was behind the blog, and I hadn’t given him a chance to offer his thoughts on it.

  My stomach fluttered, even though I told it to calm down. We’d had Code Club two nights ago, and one tonight that I’d had to cut short because of my shift.

  We’d worked at the same table but facing each other so neither one of us could see what the other was working on, the backs of our laptop screens almost touching. It was a comfortable yet charged silence, one I found myself looking forward to all week.

  It wasn’t like we chatted the whole time. Or at all in some cases, when we got fully into the zone. It was just him. He was this soothing, positive energy that acted like a balm to all the sticky darkness trying to smother me from my past.