Enemies to Prom Dates (Haddonfield High Book 1)

by S Doyle

  He came back to the circle around the bonfire and dropped my keys in my hand.

  “What did you need the car for?”

  “I thought I was going to need to go see…her. I pulled out and was on my way, but Mrs. Etheredge called and said not to. I didn’t realize I blocked anyone in.”

  “Ed,” I started.

  “Don’t say it,” he said, quietly resigned. “Okay. Just don’t say it.”

  “You okay getting home on your own?” I asked him.

  He frowned. “You’re going to go see Beth.”

  It was a statement as opposed to a question. Still, I nodded. “Just picking her up after her shift to take her home.”

  “Because you can’t wait a day to talk to her. Because not seeing her affects you. Like something is missing.”

  So maybe I wasn’t pathetic after all. Maybe someone else knew what it meant to feel this way.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just…yeah.”

  I sat in the parking lot of The Club and checked my phone for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes. How long did it take to clean up the kitchen and change out of her uniform?

  I told myself I wasn’t going to be one of those boyfriends who pouted when my girlfriend had to take extra shifts or passed on hanging out at my place during the week because she had to study for an AP History exam. Beth had responsibilities and I respected that.

  However, I was going to be the boyfriend who left a boring party in The Woods to pick her up at the end of her shift so we could spend time together.

  I watched the back door open, and a crew of people spilled out into the parking lot, which really wasn’t as well-lit as it should have been, I thought. Beth wasn’t the only girl among the staff working tonight, but she was my girl.

  Getting out of my car, I shut the door and leaned against it looking, I hoped, like romantic hero out of one of those bad eighty movies that were now retro-cool and popular again.

  Was I the only one who thought Danielson from The Karate Kid was a shit and Johnny seriously needed counseling after being exposed to a sociopath?

  “Bennet!” I shouted, when I could see her chatting with a waitress, letting her know I was here.

  She turned in my direction, smiled, then turned back to say goodbye to the other staff. She jogged, yes jogged, over to where I was standing, and I took profound pleasure in that. Bennet wasn’t much of a runner.

  Leaning into me, she kissed me first before asking questions next.

  “So what are you really doing here?”

  “Apparently kissing you,” I said.

  She smiled. “You’re supposed to be parting in The Woods so I don’t feel guilty about you missing out on your victory party.”

  I texted her we’d won right after the game. That wasn’t obnoxious, right? I was allowed to impress my girlfriend.

  “It was boring without you. I had nobody to tease, torment or make out with.”

  “Really? Ed couldn’t have filled in as a solid substitute?”

  “I’ve heard rumors he kisses like a fish. Just rumors, you understand.”

  She giggled and it lightened my mood. “Get in the car, Bennet. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  “Are we going back to the party?” she asked as she rounded the car and opened her door.

  “I had other ideas,” I said calmly. “I was thinking about a game of baseball.”

  “Baseball?” Her entire face scrunched up until she finally got it, then her expression got serious, and her mouth opened into an solid O. “Baseball. Yes, please.”

  “We’re parking?”

  “We are parking,” I said as I pulled into a gravel spot, pleased that, while everyone was across town drinking at the other park, we were alone here at Westmont Park.

  “Why can’t we just go to your house?”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and hit the button to move my seat back as far as it would go.

  “Dad and Gigi are home. My parents are, for the most part, pretty cool but I’m not sure even my dad would not let me take you to my room while Gi was home.”

  “You know, I was thinking about your parents…”

  “Beth, I didn’t bring you here to talk about my parents.”

  “I know but before we get to the good stuff, we should talk about this. I told you about my dad, about the money. Fitz, there is a good possibility my dad is a crook. Is that going to be a problem for your mom?”

  Snorting, I shook my head. “You forget, Beth. This is Haddonfield. Home to the most white-collar crime per square foot in the country. What were the odds of me dating someone whose parent wasn’t a criminal?”

  “Fitz, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Take off your pants.”

  She pouted and it made me wonder how far away she was from me teaching her how to give me a blow job.

  “Unless you’re wearing leggings. I can work with leggings on. If so, you can get in my lap.”

  She acquiesced and scrambled over the low console until her legging-clad butt was in my lap. She had a pert little ass that was soft as hell. It was at this stage that I started repeating the word patience in my head over and over again.

  “Fitz, your mother needs to know the whole story. I’m willing to tell her.”

  I cupped her chin. “You don’t know what happened to your dad, Beth.”

  “I don’t want there to be any surprises. Being your girlfriend comes with responsibilities. I’m aware of that. Not to mention wanting to make a good impression on your family.”

  “My family has known you since you were kid. You honestly think you need to earn their approval?”

  “They don’t know about my dad.”

  I gave her a hard look and decided I had to tell her truth.

  “I think you might be kidding yourself about what people are and are not saying about your dad.”

  I could feel her body stiffen against mine and it was the last thing I wanted to talk about while we were alone in my car. But then she let out a huge breath.

  “I know. A sabbatical. It’s so, so stupid.”

  Squeezing her around the waist, she pressed her face into my neck, and I was pretty sure I heard her sniff me. That, I thought, was a good start.

  “You smell like fire and woods.”

  Yes, a very good start.

  “And something else…I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Kiss me, and we’ll figure it out together.”

  “Fitz!”

  Yes. Say my name. Scream it!

  She was in my lap, her arms around my neck, her tongue in my mouth, even as she squeezed her thighs around my hand between her legs. Using just my middle finger to tease that magical spot inside her. It had taken three attempts with my last lover to find this spot consistently, and now, I was watching Beth become undone in my arms.

  This. This was what I’d wanted. Her complete and total surrender to me.

  Would she be angry if she knew? That everything I’d done sexually with that other girl was just so that I could have this with her? I wanted, I needed, to know how to touch a woman, how to kiss her, how touch her between her legs.

  I read erotica instead of watching porn. Porn didn’t teach a guy anything other than how to jack off. It certainly didn’t teach me how to pleasure a woman. Then I practiced what I learned with a girl who was so confident in her sexuality she was willing to show me more.

  All for this moment.

  So that Beth and I wouldn’t be two virgins fumbling around each other in a desperate attempt to lose our status. So that I wouldn’t come prematurely while she was still wincing in pain from me having been inside her. So that she would remember her first time, our first time together as one of the most amazing nights of her life and not as just the night she was able to check off something on her to-do list.

  My plan had been to wait until prom for us, but that probably wasn’t going to happen. No way we could wait that long. She was too ready. I was too needy. Even now, I considered the b
ackseat of my car, the pack of condoms I kept in the glove compartment that Heath had borrowed from earlier.

  But I wanted her in a bed. I was too damn big, in all ways, to attempt doing this comfortably in the backseat. Which meant I needed her to come now, before my need took over and I started thinking with my cock instead of my brain.

  She was so wet and slick and hot between her legs. So fucking amazing. I fucked her with my middle finger, again finding that shelf inside her vaginal wall. Tickling it even as I brushed my thumb over her clit.

  “Oh shit…Fitz!”

  There it was. I could feel her tightening around my finger and I watched her back bow as her orgasm rocked through her body.

  What did it feel like for her? Was it the same as it was for a guy? Could anything possibly feel that good?

  She collapsed on me, and I carefully removed my hand from between her legs, resisting the urge to sniff my fingers.

  “Good?” I asked.

  “Stoooooop,” she said, pushing her hand against my face so I would stop looking at her. I couldn’t wipe the superiority off my face. I knew that’s what she was protesting.

  “You have to at least give me some praise as a thank you. I’m sitting here with a hard-on and nothing to do about it.”

  That made her sit up. “I can do something about it.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing with a dick?”

  She rolled her eyes, which made me smile. “No, asshole. That’s what you’re going to teach me.”

  Yes. I was. Soon. “Someday. But I think we covered enough ground for tonight. I have to get you home.”

  Her eyes narrowed as if she was on to something. “You don’t want to show me, do you?”

  “My dick?” I asked. “I can show you if you want.”

  “No, I meant you don’t want to show me how to do it. How to make you get off. You like getting me off because it means you’re in control. You said it yourself.”

  I groaned and lifted her off my lap, moving her back to the passenger seat. “This isn’t a competition, Beth.”

  “Right, because you’re not letting me compete. You’ve been in control of everything since the beginning. You know how it makes me feel?”

  “I don’t know. Orgasmic?” I quipped.

  Another scowl from her. “Out of control. I don’t like being out of control.”

  “Deal with it.”

  “No, show me you your dick,” she snapped.

  I laughed. “Uh, no. You’re not giving me a revenge hand job. That can’t end well.”

  “You might possibly be the only guy in the history of guys everywhere to turn down a hand job.”

  “Maybe. But the next time you offer, I would prefer it was about making me feel good and not about winning some stupid competition!”

  That shut her up. I started the car and pulled out of our spot, heading for the main road out of the park. After a few minutes of silence, I could feel her eyes on me.

  “I do want to, you know,” she said quietly.

  “Words, Bennet.”

  “I want to make you feel good,” she said. “I mean, yes, part of it is knowing I can reciprocate. And you’re going to say that’s transactional, but it’s not. I want to give and not always get. Also, I want to see your face when it happens. Like I know you watch mine.”

  That made me wince. “It’s not good. My O face looks a lot like I’m about to puke. Trust me, I know. I watched myself in the mirror while jacking off just so I could see it.”

  She laughed and I laughed with her. I put my hand out and she grabbed it and squeezed. This, I thought, this was who we were. There was not another soul in the universe I would describe my O face to.

  “Okay, but I still want to do things to your body because I like the idea of making you feel good. Not just to have control over you.”

  “Next time,” I told her. “We’ll do me.”

  She beamed. “When’s next time?”

  “Are you working tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but an early shift. I should be done by nine.”

  “Fine, I’ll pick you up and—”

  The police siren behind us interrupted what I was going to say. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw the lights flashing in addition to hearing the sound. They weren’t trying to get around me. They wanted me to pull over.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. I knew I hadn’t been speeding, hadn’t rolled through any stop signs. If they were pulling me over, it was for some bullshit reason. My heart sped up and I tried to tamp down that initial burst of fear.

  The trick, my dad said, was to always maintain your cool. No matter what. That and talk it through.

  Having a plan, I pulled over and turned off the ignition. I brought my hands to the steering wheel in ten and two position, so the officer could clearly see them.

  “Beth, hit the top button on the left to roll down the window. Then I need you get your phone out and start filming this.”

  She did as asked.

  Calm. Cool. Control.

  I repeated the mantra silently as I waited for the cop to approach the window.

  Most cops in Haddonfield knew me by my car. They knew my dad and mom and so I typically didn’t get a lot of shit. But I also knew never to take chances.

  The cop stepped closer and I turned in his direction only to get hit with a beam of light in my face.

  Blinking, I asked. “Yes, officer? Did I do something wrong?”

  “Fitz Darcy?” the cop asked me. I could see now he was a large man, in his fifties probably, with a buzz cut. His expression was stern, but not menacing.

  I nodded, my hands still in plain sight.

  “You need my license and registration?” I asked. “It’s in my wallet so I’ll need to reach for it.”

  He shook his head. “We’ll get there, but I’m going to need you to step out of the car first.”

  “I have to unbuckle my seat belt. To do that I’m going to take my hands off the steering wheel. I’m going to do this very slowly, without any sudden motions. Is that okay, officer?”

  I could see him shake his head clearly frustrated, but this was a dance he had to understand.

  “Look, I’m not going to shoot you, kid. I know who you are. You can tell your girlfriend she can stop filming.”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” Beth told him.

  “You know we’re not all bad guys,” he grumbled.

  “Yes, officer, I understand,” I said politely. “This is just how it is.”

  “Fuck it. Just get out of car so I can ask you a question about the damage.”

  “Damage?” I asked. I still followed my own protocol and slowly unbuckled my seatbelt then did as asked and got out of the car. On the other side, Beth got out, too, phone still in her hand.

  I followed the officer to the front of the car, where I could see a pretty significant dent in the front of my bumper. Suddenly, my adrenaline rush from the fear of being pulled over, now shifted to pure annoyance.

  “What the fuck,” I muttered, running my hand over the indent. Who had hit my car?

  “Are you aware of how your car sustained this damage?” the officer asked.

  “No,” I said honestly.

  “You’ve been driving this car and you don’t know you have a dent in your front bumper or how it got there.”

  “I don’t. Obviously. Or I would tell you.”

  I went through the night’s events. The game, heading to The Woods, hanging there before going to pick up Beth. When was the last time I might have noticed a freaking huge dent in my bumper?

  “Okay. I’m going to need you to follow us down to the police station.”

  “What?” Beth gasped. “Why?”

  The officer moved his flashlight over to her face, then back to me. “Look, if you agree to come with us, with no hassle, we can follow you while you drop off your girlfriend first.”

  “Can you just be real with me? What is this about?”

  “You’ve been named as a
suspect in a vehicular assault. A car of this description with this license plate has been reported to us. And now we’ve confirmed your car has sustained damage to its front bumper. We’re going to need you to come down to the station to answer a few questions.”

  “This is crazy,” Beth said. “We’ve been here all night.”

  “All night?” The officer asked.

  “Beth, stop talking,” I said. I knew enough about the law from my mother the best course of action was to say nothing. I was a minor. They couldn’t question me without a parent being present. Which meant having a former Federal Prosecutor as a mother was going to come in handy.

  “I’ll come willingly,” I told him, and he nodded. “She’s on the way to the police station.”

  “I’m staying with you,” Beth told me, once we were back in the car.

  “No, you’re going to go home and let me figure this out.”

  “Fitz!”

  “Beth,” I said calmly. “You and I both know I didn’t hurt anyone with my car. Let’s just do this and get it over with.”

  I looked at the cop who seemed to be motioning to his partner as if it was okay for him to stay in the car. That I was cooperating.

  “Am I allowed to ask who I might have hurt in this vehicular assault?”

  The cop took out a small pad from his back pocket and shone his flashlight on it.

  “G. Wickham. He’s currently hospitalized.”

  I heard Beth gasp again.

  “Wick,” I said, feeling a sudden drop in my stomach. This wasn’t good.

  20

  Beth

  This couldn’t be happening. There was no way it could be happening. But there it was on the morning local news. A blonde woman wearing too much makeup and hairspray, spoke into the microphone while standing in front of car that had collided into a tree. I recognized Wick’s used blue Honda, a hand-me-down from his mother, or at least what was left of it.

  “In a shocking attack, a witness watched as the car in question was deliberately run off the road, sending the teenaged driver crashing into this tree you see behind me. Luckily, the air bags were deployed, but the driver was rushed to the hospital with, what we are told, are injuries including a concussion and some broken ribs. The perpetrator of this crime then sped off, but police tell me they currently have a person of interest in custody.”