by Cole Lepley
She struts beside him like she owns the place. Actually, she kind of does. It’s amazing how heads turn to watch her, people go out of their way to say hi to her. Elliot Monroe stands on a pedestal whether she wants to admit it or not. Every move she makes is thoroughly scrutinized and I’m starting to wonder if she doesn’t actually mind playing into it.
They stop at what I assume is his locker, and she leans seductively beside it. My eyes travel down her tight, pink sweater and skirt so short it should be illegal. Actually, I think it kind of is. I can’t torture her as the guy she can’t touch, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to get at her.
I take a step toward them, and she gives me a smug smile before pretending to pick at her nails.
“Miss Monroe, I don’t think that skirt adheres to the dress code.”
She looks up at me and then down to the small strip of denim covering her ass. “Oh, sorry.” I watch as she proceeds to pull it downward, further exposing her perfectly toned midriff. The gleam of the ring in her naval catches my eye and sends a chill straight to my cock. I’m in so much fucking trouble.
“Is that better, Mr. Graham?” she asks, interrupting my impure thoughts.
I clear my throat. “Try to be a little more conservative next time.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies with a smirk.
I don’t care if she was trying to be sarcastic or not, I like the way she said that. I walk back toward my classroom, just as the apparent new boyfriend takes off for class. He kisses her on the cheek before leaving, which I catch out of the corner of my eye. I also notice her eyes on me, not him.
I go back to pretending to prevent teen violence when the yappy little redhead appears at her side. Cameron Grey is the epitome of the obnoxious follower. She’s always at Elliot’s side complimenting her and telling her how amazing she is, all the while looking for a way to take over the throne. High school girls are bitches.
“So, I hear you and Dylan are like the new ‘it’ couple. I can only imagine how much Judah is going to flip his shit when he finds out,” Cameron remarks.
I hear Elliot let out a sigh, but I don’t turn to look at her. “Judah doesn’t get to decide who I can and cannot date. Especially not now.”
Date? She’s already dating this guy? I know she’s trying to prove a point, but really, how far is she going to take this?
“Don’t you think that little display of everlasting devotion he left in your locker should make you believe otherwise?”
Elliot’s looking at me again, and I pretend not to notice.
“I don’t care.” She slams the locker shut and continues speaking in a marginally louder tone. “The things Dylan can do with his tongue are worth the fight.”
I’ve heard enough. If she wants to play dirty, class starts in five minutes.
I enter my new classroom and take a deep breath as the students start to pile in. Where does Elliot sit? Will she sit right in front of me so I have to try not to stare at her the whole time? Or does she sit toward the back as not to be noticed?
Elliot sneaks in right as the final bell rings and takes her seat near the back. I should’ve called that one.
I wait for the anxious chatter to die down before I speak. “As you all know, Mr. Young had to leave us.” I pause as a scattering of snickers ensues. “So, I’ll be taking over for the year. My name is Mr. Graham, and my first passion is writing. After reviewing the curriculum, I wanted to pick up with one of the classics, Wuthering Heights.”
I turn to grab my copy from the desk behind me. “Has anyone read it?”
Several hands raise, including Elliot’s. Of course she has.
“Okay, for those of you who have read it, if you could choose one word to describe it, what would it be?”
Silence fills the room, as expected. Nobody ever wants to volunteer their opinion. Elliot ducks her head slightly, and I smile.
“Elliot, what are your thoughts?”
She peers up at me defiantly as everyone’s eyes shift to her. “Well, I would say that it’s tragic.”
“I would agree that is a fair statement. Care to elaborate on why you think so?”
She shifts slightly in her seat. I watch the way her chest rises and falls a little too quickly. I’ve caught her off guard.
“Although it’s not how your typical love story would end up, I also find it to be sort of beautiful. That kind of soul shattering love isn’t something everyone gets to experience.”
I can help but laugh once. I’m starting to see a pattern here. “Interesting. So, you find beauty in Catherine’s inability to express her true feelings to Heathcliff? The idea that this drives him to madness is beautiful to you?”
She shrugs. “It’s a little dramatic, but yes.”
I shake my head and take several steps forward through the rows of seats. “And you don’t find her to be incredibly selfish? The way she pursues him regardless of the consequences?”
Elliot’s eyes narrow slightly. “I guess that’s left up to interpretation, Mr. Graham.”
I can tell by her expression that I’ve rattled her. “Okay, then.” I turn to walk back to the front, but I catch the heat from her eyes on me. For the remainder of the class, every time I glance in her direction, she’s looking right back.
It’s beginning to get dark outside when I’m startled by an aggressive knock on my door. I know who it is before I even get up from my seat. Elliot’s angry face meets me through the glass opening as I’m approaching. She’s still in her track clothes, so I’m assuming she ran extra hard at practice just waiting to confront me.
I pull the door open, and she bursts in past me.
“I knew you were going to be an asshole,” she grits out. She doesn’t break stride until she reaches the kitchen.
I follow her, a slightly amused expression on my face. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
She turns back to glare at me. I lean against the counter while she rummages through my refrigerator. Her hands fly out in frustration. “Where’s all the fucking beer?”
I laugh. “I didn’t realize it was for a special occasion.”
She rolls her eyes and reaches into the freezer and pulls out a bottle of vodka. Didn’t think to look there. She twists off the cap, but I take the bottle from her before she can take a drink.
Her face scrunches up as she looks at me. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. First in the hallway, then that stunt you pulled in class—now this.”
I stand up straighter and hold her gaze. “I wouldn’t call it a stunt. I merely asked you a question. The fact that you’re taking it so personally is something you should probably ask yourself.”
She nods stiffly and then reaches out and steals the bottle back. “Okay, so you’re insinuating that I’m some selfish, spoiled brat who has no regard for anyone else’s feelings but my own.”
I shrug. “I didn’t say anything. You came up with that all by yourself.”
She lets out an exasperated cry. “God, you really are a dick, aren’t you?”
I laugh again and the memory of her hand wrapped around my cock flashes in my mind. It was only for a moment, but it’s a memory I revisit often. “As you may recall, I’m a great, big one.”
Elliot throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, you think you’re so cute. And you call me immature.” She pauses to take a large drink, sputtering a cough afterwards. “I’m not the one who started this.”
She attempts to step around me, and I take the bottle from her hand again. If she expects to have a real conversation with me about this, I prefer she does it sober. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
Her face falls a little and it almost breaks me. I don’t want to fight with her or make her sad. That’s what I’m trying to prevent.
“We’ve spent almost every night together for weeks and you’ve never once even tried to kiss me. You know that I’m having a hard time with the whole Judah thing and when I finally do go out with
another guy you make me feel like shit about it.”
I set the bottle down on the counter and step closer to her, invading her space. “Regardless of what you think, Elliot—I keep boundaries with you because I have to, not because I want to.” I lower my voice further. “And you and I both know you’re not dating that guy because you’re trying to move on.”
The hurt she feels is masked with hatred, and she narrows her eyes at me. “What makes you so sure?”
“You sure as hell didn’t have a problem shoving the new version of Judah in my face.” My tone gets louder. Her refusal to admit she’s into me is starting to make me crazy.
She crosses her arms. “How can I shove anything in your face? You and I are nothing.”
“We’re not nothing, Elliot.” I reach for her and she takes a step back. “Whatever we are or aren’t, I’m still your friend. I still care about you. And I’m not going to stand here and watch you make the same mistakes over and over again.”
“What I choose to do and who I choose to date is none of your concern. You have some serious issues to work out.”
I run my hand roughly over my jaw. She’s infuriating when she thinks she’s right. Which is pretty much all the time. “I think the fact you were so quick to retaliate is the bigger issue here. I would have never done that to you.”
She folds her arms across her chest tighter. “Really? And you think what you did doesn’t count as retaliation?”
She’s still standing so close to me I can almost taste her. It takes everything inside of me not to throw her down on the couch and fuck her until she forgets what we’re fighting about.
I lower my voice before I speak again. “I think we both had our reasons for making irrational choices in the heat of the moment. The only thing we can do now is decide who ends this fucked up stand-off.”
For a brief moment, I almost think I’ve gotten through to her, but then she shakes her head. “Well, it’s not going to be me.”
She takes off for the door again and I don’t move to stop her. “That’s your choice, Elliot.”
She pauses but doesn’t turn around. “You don’t always get to be the one in control, Hunter.”
I take a drink of my own just as she’s slamming the door shut. That’s where she’s wrong, but I guess I’ll just have to show her.
9
Losing Control
“No way, Elle. The last time you and your asshole friends had a party you trashed the place. I had to pay overtime for the clean-up,” Oliver protests. He’s pointing his spoon at me from across the table like he has some kind of authority. It almost makes me laugh.
I roll my eyes. “You don’t pay for shit.” I throw a grape at him and he dodges it with a smirk. “Dad has them on his payroll any way.”
He pauses for a minute, holding a spoonful of oatmeal mid-air. “You know, you really do sound like a brat. I thought I raised you better than that.”
This time, I do laugh as I stand up from the table. “Ollie, if the roles were reversed we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. You never gave a shit what destruction you caused in high school.” I place my bowl in the dishwasher and turn back to face him. “I’m having a party this weekend and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
“A party, huh?” Hunter says with a smile as he strolls into the kitchen. This living arrangement is starting to get on my nerves.
I cross my arms as he shoves in front of me to grab a glass from the cabinet. “Yes, and since you’re both such mature grown-ups, you’ll have to find something else to do Saturday night.” I give Oliver a pointed look. “That means stay away.”
Oliver and Hunter exchange a mocking glance, but I continue. “Listen, our parents never go away for a whole weekend. And last time they did I was at the beach with Cameron, so I didn’t even get to enjoy it.” I’m borderline whining at this point, but I don’t care. Oliver always gets to do whatever he wants.
Hunter pops a bagel in the toaster, and I glare at him out the corner of my eye. “Don’t you have a kitchen of your own that you can eat in?” I whisper harshly at him.
He leans into me slightly. “I would, but apparently all I have is vodka.”
I shift my gaze to Oliver who appears to be distracted by his phone. It doesn’t take much. I’m about to reply when Hunter’s hand grazes mine as he reaches for the butter. Even that small amount of physical contact is almost enough to make me want to slam him against the wall and kiss him until I can’t breathe.
His eyes meet mine, and I turn to walk out of the room, apparently causing Oliver to snap out of his trance. “Hey, this conversation isn’t over, Elle,” he calls to me.
“We’ll see,” I call over my shoulder.
By noon, the news of my party has already spread across school. I catch Oliver glaring at me from down the hall, but it only makes me smile. Not only did I invite the essential people of the senior class, but also a large amount that graduated in the last couple of years. This would include most of his friends, making it extremely amusing to me that he and Hunter cannot attend.
I’m currently wearing Dylan’s letterman’s jacket over my dress. It’s not a fashion statement I’d typically make, but the looks I’ve already gotten from Hunter are worth it.
He discretely grabs my arm to stop me when I try to walk past his classroom. His features remain even as he speaks, but his words are like ice. “I think you’ve made your point, Elle.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply.
He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again, but then thinks better of it. Before I can react, he pulls me into his classroom and shuts the door behind us. It’s supposed to be lunch period so nobody should be looking for either of us at the moment.
His hand grips my waist firmly and he backs me up against the door. He presses his forehead against mine for the longest time without saying a word. The only sound echoing through the room is his ragged breathing.
“Did you sleep with him?” he asks.
“No.” Our lips almost brush together as I whisper back to him.
The tension of his hands subsides, and he pulls back to study my face. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“Are you?”
He laughs once, but his face is like stone. “Yes.”
His admission confuses me even more. Last night he was hell bent on proving how easy it was for him to forget about me. How he didn’t think twice to do something that prevented us from being together entirely.
I bring my hands forward and place them flat on his chest. His muscles tense beneath my fingers. “If I’m only your friend, what do you have to be jealous about?”
His pale, blue eyes darken—turn lustful even. I know he wants me. It’s obvious in the way he looks at me, the way he makes any excuse to touch to me even when we’re not alone. What I don’t understand is why he refuses to do anything about it.
Hunter’s gaze sears me as it travels slowly down my body and back up to my face. He balls his hands at his sides, refusing to touch me anymore. “You know I want you.” He cocks his head to me. “You fucking know that.”
My heart skips a beat, but I don’t. “Then why did you make a decision that means that you can’t.”
He sighs and then leans forward again, placing his hands on the door behind me. “Maybe I did it because I needed another reason to stay away from you.”
There’s more than one? How many reservations can a guy have?
I take another shaky breath and struggle to keep my composure with his mouth this close to mine. “What if I don’t want you to?”
His eyes squeeze shut as if he’s in pain. I move my hand from his chest and glide it along until it meets his waist. I want him to tell me what he’s really thinking. Trying to figure him out is impossible.
He leans back a little and cups the sides of my face forcing me to look at him. “Does it turn you on to make me jealous?” He tilts his head, studying me closely. “Huh? Is that all t
his is to you—a game?”
I shake my head. “No.”
His hands travel down my body as well, one of them slipping through my jacket and landing on my ass. He gives it a firm squeeze and pulls me against him.
“Are you upset that you got to touch me, and I never returned the favor?”
My pulse is in my throat while I flashback at my attempt to seduce him in my bathroom. I’m not sure what came over me, but I wanted him. I’ve never let myself give in to temptation like that before. But I don’t regret it.
Hunter is still waiting for me to respond, and I don’t know what to say. The air is too thick is this room. It’s too quiet with only the sounds of our sporadic breathing.
“I don’t want you to be jealous,” I say finally. I look up into his eyes and he’s watching me. Waiting for me to say what he wants to hear. Every guy is like that. They want to know that they have some kind of power over you, and I don’t want to give it to him.
He moves one of his hands to my face again and holds my stare. “Then what do you want?”
The words get caught in my throat. I want to tell him what I’m really feeling so badly it hurts. On the other hand, the thought of his imminent rejection stops me from doing that.
“I don’t know,” I say instead.
He appears thoughtful for a moment, staring down at my lips. I hold my breath until he does something I don’t expect—he kisses me. Hard. His lips crush against mine with a desperation that I thought only I felt. My hands grasp at his shirt, and I try to pull him even closer, but then he stops.
He pulls back from me and the expression on his face hardens, his eyes turn darker. “Go to class, Elliot.”
Unexpected tears burn my eyes as I blindly fumble for the doorknob, but his features don’t change. I manage to keep my composure while taking unsteady steps down the hallway to cafeteria.