by Molly E. Lee
She smiled. “I truly hope so, Amber.” Her green eyes were inviting, open, and actually looked like she cared. It was a wonderful contrast to Tanner’s normal suspicious looks. “Anyway,” she continued. “While our principal is away, working so hard to keep ties with the district board…” She ran over the last words a little sarcastically, but I totally could’ve imagined it. “I wanted to take the chance to speak to as many of the seniors as possible.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay.”
She sighed. “I know things at Wilmont are difficult at times. That the relationships between students and teachers or the principal aren’t as nurturing as they could be.”
My lips parted in shock then closed into a smile. She really meant it; I could read it in her eyes, in the hope etched in the features on her face.
“That’s true,” I said. “We’re usually discouraged from challenging certain people’s way of thinking.” I wouldn’t come out and say Tanner’s name. Not to his VP, no matter how cool she appeared to be.
She nodded. “I’d like to try to be a buffer to that. I want you to know that you’re free to come talk to me about whatever you want.” She waved her hands across her desk. “Strictly confidential.”
I chuckled. “Shouldn’t that be the counselor’s job?”
“Mrs. Kellermen is wonderful at her job,” she said. “But I would understand if students wanted someone…” She cringed like she couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“Younger?” I filled in for her. Kellermen had been here since before the dawn of time, and her methods of “counseling” were about that old, too.
“Yes,” she agreed. And she was much younger, maybe only ten or fifteen years older than me. “So, here I am.”
“That’s…” I sighed. “Nice.” It was refreshing, but I highly doubted Tanner would let it fly if he found out. I hated that she was in this position at all. That she felt like she had to wait to call these meetings until he was off campus.
“Great.” She raised her perfectly trimmed eyebrows, waiting patiently. “Anything you want to talk about? School? Work? Boys?”
I created a sex-advice blog.
I’m crushing on a hacker friend even though I’ve sworn off boys.
I’m haunted by the past.
“No,” I said. “I’m good.” Her shoulders dropped a little. “But,” I said, hurrying, “I really do appreciate the sentiment. And I know several people who will take advantage of it. I’m one of the lucky ones. My parents and I get along and can talk about everything. Not everyone has that. We’ve needed someone like you around here for a long time now.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m glad you think so. And you know I’ll be here if you ever want to talk to a non-parent, non-peer person.”
“Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. I stood, realizing she was giving me the go-ahead to get out of here. “See you around,” I said, and she smiled before I closed the door behind me.
Once I made it out of the secretary’s office and into the hallway, I breathed. The relief was so sudden I felt dizzy. It had been paranoid fear causing me to think that either of them knew about the website, but it hadn’t stopped me from feeling it.
The comments had tripled since I started posting almost every other day.
It wasn’t a stretch for me to fear that sometime soon, it would get so big I wouldn’t be able to hide behind it anymore.
But this response had to be because it was new. Exciting. A touch dangerous with some of the topics I’d already featured.
It would settle. Or I’d simply find the balance to ensure it was a steady, manageable stream. Something I could handle once I found my footing.
I repeated this to myself until I sank into my seat in Spanish class, drawing up my online workbook that the rest of the class had been working on for ten minutes now.
NightLocker: Tanner interrogate you, Pixie?
PixieBurn: No
PixieBurn: He’s at a board retreat or something
PixieBurn: It was VP Howard
I discreetly glanced over my shoulder, my eyes catching on the relief that sagged Dean’s shoulders. Quickly, I faced my computer again, not wanting him to see my grin.
NightLocker: Good
NightLocker: She’s cool
PixieBurn: Totally
PixieBurn: She should run this place
NightLocker: Agreed
I clicked off the screen, shifting focus to the Spanish workbook. I’d nearly reached the end when another chat box filled my screen.
NightLocker: What are you doing later?
PixieBurn: ...
PixieBurn: Like every Friday
NightLocker: We’ve been grinding it pretty hard
NightLocker: I think we should take a break
Something heavy sank in my stomach. Regardless of how mortifying the idea of Code Club was, it had become something I looked forward to each week since it started. Guess it wasn’t the same for Dean. The notion shouldn’t bother me—we were just friends—but the idea of not spending those extra hours with him had me wilting.
I reached toward the keys, prepared to type out my agreement. I wasn’t about to show my borderline desperation to be around him, but he beat me to it.
NightLocker: Can I take you out?
A soft gasp popped from my lips as I read the message three times. My heart skipped and I had to swallow the thrill storming me.
Damn.
I was actually excited at the idea of him asking me out on a date. Even though I was certain I never wanted to be in another relationship until at least well into college.
When did that happen?
Somewhere between him listening, smiling, teasing his way into my heart.
NightLocker: Don’t shut me down
NightLocker: I’m talking as friends, Pixie.
NightLocker: I haven’t forgotten you’ve sworn off guys...
NightLocker: Even hot geniuses like me
He sent the flurry of messages before I could respond. Somehow, I was both completely melting and disappointed at the same time. He was respecting my choices without pushing for the reasoning behind them. I should be over the moon at that kind of respect, but for just a moment I’d felt…wanted again.
Like I was worthy of asking out.
Like I wasn’t damaged goods.
Not that he knew anything about my past, but still. The blog had eaten so much of my time recently—I hadn’t even seen Hannah as much as usual because of it. The idea of taking a night off from the site, the comments, my gear, was beyond tempting.
PixieBurn: Sure
PixieBurn: I could use a break
PixieBurn: Where we going?
I resisted the urge to turn my head and look at him, worried he’d see the blush on my cheeks or the hope in my eyes.
NightLocker: It’s a secret
NightLocker: I’ll pick you up at 6
He closed the chat like he was afraid I’d argue or take back my answer. I hurried to catch up on my workbook, having a wicked difficult time conjugating verbs while thinking about what Dean had up his sleeve for tonight.
Honestly, he could take me to the coding room, my work, the taco shop, any of the places we’d already hung out before and it would be a good time. Something I’d slowly realized about Dean—we had fun no matter what we did. He made me laugh, made me smile, and challenged me.
Another gasp shook my chest as I closed out my workbook.
Dean was one of the best friends I’d ever had, and I didn’t know it until now. Until Tanner had forced him to run a club that allowed us to have one-on-one time.
Time that had actively helped me create a site that was rapidly growing—and helping students.
Helped me see Dean as not just competition on the hacker circuit, but as an ally.
&nb
sp; “Can’t wait for tonight,” he said, stopping at my desk after the bell rang.
I smiled, gathering my stuff and standing next to him. “You really won’t tell me where we’re going?”
A smirk shaped those impossibly perfect lips. “Nope,” he said. “Too much fun to watch you try to figure it out.”
I huffed. “How am I supposed to know what to wear?”
He laughed, turning toward the door. “You always look amazing, Pixie. Come as you want.” He winked, disappearing into the steady flow of students in the hallway, heading toward their next class.
Come as you want.
Damn him. Damn this boy for being so perfect.
He didn’t care if I was in the school’s atrocious uniform or in my ripped-up jeans. It didn’t matter, as long as I was there. As long as I was me.
He should be running his own blog—teach people around here how to properly treat their partners or romantic interests. How to really earn someone’s trust.
The walls around my heart shifted, wobbling with each time Dean’s kindness shook me to my core. I forced them to steady, re-laying the bricks I’d carefully constructed months ago.
He was a great friend.
And that was all I needed.
Question of the Day
FashionIsLife229 says: “I recently went down on my boyfriend for the first time. Now he’s asking for it all the time. Do I have to do it again? I liked it, but it’s not like I want to do it every single time I see him. Am I a bad boyfriend if I don’t want to? Am I worse if I want him to return the favor sometimes? Is there anything I can do to make it more…fun for me, too?”
You might be surprised how many similar questions I have like this in my inbox. So many people worry if they say no or that they aren’t in the mood, they won’t be upholding their partner duties. I’m not sure when or where this rumor got started, but being a good partner doesn’t equate to doing whatever the other person wants regardless of if you want to.
For instance, if you wanted to watch your favorite show (one he doesn’t particularly enjoy) every single time your boyfriend was over, I doubt he’d be up for it. Would you be angry with him for saying no? Unlikely.
Example too G-rated? Okay. Fair enough.
How about this. Say you enjoyed doing a keg stand at a party last week. Does that mean you have to do one every time you go to a party? Would your friends or boyfriend be upset with you if you didn’t? Probably not.
Need to turn the tables? All right. What if your boyfriend bought your dinner on your first date but not the second? Would you break up with him over that? Be upset with him? I doubt it.
You never have to do anything. Especially when you’re not in the mood or don’t feel comfortable doing it.
As for making it more of a fun act for you, I’d suggest slowing it down—and no, I’m not suggesting going abstinent like our school would like you to. What I mean is, take the pressure off the act. Know that what you’re doing is a super-intimate thing between the two of you and that is huge for a relationship. Maybe going to completion is what throws you off—if that’s the case, only take it as far as you’re enjoying it and then switch it up to something else. And make sure he’s giving you the attention you deserve, too.
Either way, talking to your boyfriend about it is the best course of action. If he’s a good guy, he’ll understand, and the two of you can figure out other ways to enjoy each other’s company.
On the off chance he gives you hell over it? You might want to consider cutting him loose. A selfish partner is not worth your time or energy, and they’ll likely only hurt you in the end anyway.
I’ll be crossing my fingers in the hope he’s awesome about the situation and that you two find a great common ground to walk together on.
In the meantime,
Stay Sexy. Stay Healthy.
Chapter Thirteen
Amber
“I can’t believe you’re going on a date!” Hannah practically burst my eardrum she squealed so loud. I jerked the cell away from my ear, shaking my rattled brain as I stood in front of my bed.
I’d hit publish on my latest post an hour ago, and I was behind on the non-date prep.
“It’s not a date,” I said once I felt safe enough to draw the cell back. “We’re friends. He’s totally on board with my whole no guys for at least a few years mission statement.”
“Dude,” she said. “That only makes him that much more adorable.”
I laughed. “Dean isn’t adorable. He’s—”
“Sexy af,” she cut me off.
“Hey!” I heard Jake chide in the background. “You’re sitting in my lap.”
Hannah shushed him before there was a good long smacking of lips from her end of the line. I rolled my eyes as I stared down the two outfits I had laid out.
“You’re sexier,” she said once the wet smacking sounds were finished. “Anyway,” she said, returning her focus to me. “Amber. This is huge.”
“It’s really not,” I said, trying to convince us both.
“It is. You haven’t even wanted to speak to another male since Douchenozzle…outside of Jake anyway. Friends or more or whatever in between. This. Is. Awesome.”
The butterflies swarmed my stomach, swirling and spinning until my heart raced.
“Thanks for the added pressure.” I groaned.
Is this as big of a deal as Hannah says?
She wasn’t wrong about me shying away from every single boy at Wilmont after Brandon…but then again, I’d never stopped talking to Dean. It was simply different between us now.
“Sorry not sorry,” she said over the line. “Look. Forget everything. Please. I know it’s hard, but let go of all the bad ish from the past and have fun tonight. For me?”
“Yes, Mother,” I teased despite the hollow feeling in my chest. I loved Hannah like a sister, but Jake was one of the good guys. She had no clue how hard it was to let go of things.
“Someone say mother?” Mom asked, rapping her knuckles on my opened door.
“Got to go,” I said to Hannah.
“Text me all the details! Before, after, and during!” she yelled.
I chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.” I ended the call, spinning on my bare feet toward my mom.
“Help,” I said, and she strode into the room, her eyes already on the outfits on my bed.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Kept from me.”
She grinned. “A surprise? Who’s the guy pulling out the stops?”
“Dean.”
“Oh, the second best hacker at Wilmont?”
“My love for you knows no bounds,” I said. “Now, which one?”
She eyed me then the clothes. “Is it a date?”
I groaned. “No. Friends.”
“Does he know that?”
“Yes, and he’s the one who reiterated this is a friend thing.”
“I like him.”
“Me, too.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and that familiar icy fear did everything to rob me of the warmth thoughts of Dean created.
Mom rubbed my spine, her eyes on mine, catching every emotion as they soared across my face.
“They’re not all assholes,” she said. “But you can not date as long as you want.” She sighed. “Just don’t let one jerk ruin something special for you.” She pulled me into a side hug. “He doesn’t deserve the energy you use to keep those walls up, Amber.”
I know.
But that didn’t stop me from reinforcing them for fear of it ever happening again.
Her words sank deep into my mind. Am I letting Brandon rob me of something with Dean? Does Dean even think of me like that?
He’d said before that he didn’t have time for a relationship, either, but the way he teased me, almost flirted with me…
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br /> “This one.” Mom pointed to the lavender V-neck T-shirt and skinny jeans. “It’ll go great with the light purple Converse in your closet.”
“Nice point,” I said. “Thanks, Mom.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She smiled, heading toward my door. “Amber,” she added.
“Yeah?”
“Think about what I said, okay? Have fun tonight, and do what you want to do. Don’t let anything else hold you back.”
I forced out a laugh. “It’s just a friend thing. So, I’m sure I’ll have fun.”
Without the pressure of it being a date, how could I not?
“He picking you up?”
I nodded.
“Didn’t you meet Dean online?”
I tilted my head.
“You skipped across his game or something?”
I chuckled. “I stumbled across his server the first week freshman year, yes.”
“Quite the meet-cute,” she said, waggling her brows. “Oh my God, what if he shows up with a bouquet of flash drives or external hard drives or something other than flowers?”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, this isn’t one of those rom-coms you love.”
She held her side from laughing, finally taking a breath.
“Okay, okay,” she said, tapping my door. “You know the code word. Text me if you need me to call you with an excuse to leave.”
Banana Brunch. Mom had drilled that into me since I’d been old enough to sleep over at Hannah’s house. If I texted that, or said it over a call, she’d come get me, no questions asked. Or, if I had driven, she’d call me with an excuse to come home immediately. Mom and Dad both taught me that they’d love me no matter what and would have my back just the same.
Luckily, I’d never had to use it before.
Hannah and Jake had been with me the night of…
I clamped down on the memory.
“Got it,” I said. “But Dean is different.” I couldn’t help the smile shaping my lips. “I…trust him. As a friend,” I hurried to add when Mom’s grin got a little too wide.
“I’m glad, honey.”
A knock at our front door jolted me. “Gah! I’m not even dressed.”