by Nora Cobb
Amazed, I stare into her face. “I didn’t want to be the third wheel on your dates.”
Arielle’s head snaps around fast, and I have to put my hand up to shield it from her long hair. She gawks at my comment, while her hand goes to her neck, covering the mark I didn’t leave there. He still must be around.
“I told you: that guy on my feed is a friend I met in Greece.” She looks at the field and smiles. I look, and Troy is waving at us, or rather at her. Sighing, I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
We’ve known each other from the crib. At the age of two, my first playmate was Arielle when our parents decided that we were the perfect couple. Old money marrying ancient money. It was cute then, but it’s idiotic now. I adore her, but getting married to her would be a mistake. And it wasn’t my idea.
I rest my head against hers and whisper in her ear, “I thought you wanted to take a break and see what’s out there.”
Her brow wrinkles a little, and the genuine Arielle reappears. The sweet little girl I used to play with on the tree swing in my parents’ backyard before we came to Montlake and discovered that we were rich. She presses her head against my chest and sighs, “I don’t know what I want to do anymore, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stay together.”
Her eyes match the blue skies over the fields, and it makes me smile. Arielle watches me, and the sweetness shifts into something calculating. She presses her lips against my jaw, but I turn my head away.
“I don’t mind a discreet fling, Lucas.” Her voice is firm. “I want you to get it out of your system before we settle down.” Arielle faces me and presses her breasts against my chest as a reminder of what I will lose. “But don’t embarrass me, which means leaving the new trash alone.”
CHAPTER 5
In the morning, Beth’s waiting in the driveway in her Prius, tapping the horn. Uncle Phil peeks out the living room window and frowns slightly. Maybe next time, Beth should text when she pulls up.
“I forgot, Phil. Beth said she’d pick me up.”
“That’s okay.” He waves it off. “I’m glad you’re making friends.” But his painfully tight expression is insincere.
“What is it?” If he has a remark to make, I wish he’d just say it.
“Do you know who her parents are?” he asks, peeking out the window again.
“Oh no, Uncle Phil. Not you, too?”
“Natalie, I’m concerned for your safety. That girl looks like she smokes and drives.”
I don’t just roll my eyes; I roll my entire head around my shoulders. “Okay. Her parents have new money, like you. Maybe we should make dinner plans with them.”
“That’s a good idea.” He faces me, smiling. Why doesn’t he get sarcasm?
Sighing, I give him a hug, grab my bag, and run out the door.
“My uncle is becoming my enemy.”
“It’s not a bad thing,” replies Beth after I tell her what happened. “Your uncle could show you the ropes. You’ll get a masterclass in being a rich snob.”
“I don’t see you as the master of snobbery, girl.”
“There are different types of snobs,” she says, pulling into the school parking lot. “I’m a culture snob. If I catch you listening to crap music, you’re walking home.”
Beth pulls into the deck and heads for a numbered space. I see the blue Camaro parked not too far away. The windows are tinted, and I wonder if anyone is inside.
“BTW, you’re rocking cute today,” she continues.
“Thanks,” I reply quietly.
Clothes were never that important before Montlake. I’d buy a couple new outfits every fall, but I could live in a pair of worn jeans, flats, and a clean shirt. But today, I dressed like I could buy the school. Thanks to Beth. My skirt stops at my thighs, not past my knees. My red polo is tight, but I slipped a black tee underneath it to give me some extra coverage. Beth wanted me to wear the highest heels, but I vetoed that. I have to walk around campus all day. I decide on keeping my ballets, but these new ones have a little heel. I run my fingers through my waves and check my gloss in the visor mirror.
“Oh girl, you look rich,” Beth purrs.
My hopes are lifted again, and I’m convinced that yesterday’s shitty start won’t be an omen of the whole year. I’m so wrong.
Each building represents a grade, so the seniors remain in North Hall all day. The east building is for the freshmen and administration. South Hall houses the sophomores, and the West Hall has the juniors. A few juniors take advanced classes in North Hall, but the only time the grades mingle is at lunch, and even then the upperclassmen rarely mingle with the freshmen, unless they play sports.
The math and science classes are on the top floor of North Hall. Maybe they’re placed there just in case the labs catch on fire. My morning class on Tuesdays is physics. We sit in a lab set up with two students per table, facing the front. The teacher’s dressed in khakis, like the students except he has that weird pleated front that never lies flat no matter what’s going on in there. Gross. I catch myself before I let that thought go too far. I’m not liking being picked on and yet here I am judging.
I’m not quite sure where to sit, but I don’t want to stand around while everyone else knows what they’re doing.
“Excuse me,” I say quietly to the teacher. “Where should I sit?”
He spins around from the board and looks at me like he’s never seen a female before. That can’t be true, but his eyes are bugging so hard that I place my hand over the open buttons on my shirt.
“And you are?”
“Natalie.”
“Ms. Natalie Page?”
I nod my head, realizing that we’re attracting attention and that maybe I should’ve waited until everyone else sat down. He pulls out a tablet and squints hard at it. Finally, he gives up and puts on his glasses. I glance over at the desks that are almost filled, and my gaze locks onto Lucas. I notice that there’s an empty seat beside him. Lucas smiles at me and my nerves are beginning to show as my hands start to tremble.
“It looks like there’s an empty seat by …”
“Mr. Bellman. Yes, Ms. Page, you can sit there. I’m Mr. Yeats.”
Lucas is offering me the chair next to him, and slowly, I look back at the teacher. I’m not sure if I want to sit by Lucas, but the choice is out of my hands. There’s an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, but I definitely don’t want that seat. The redhead from the cafeteria is sitting at that desk, and she’s crinkling up her nose as if I’m the shitty one.
Hurrying to the seat by Lucas, I sit down as the last student enters the class. The kid looks annoyed, and it’s apparent that I’m in his chair. Mr. Yeats seems confused, too, but I’m guessing that’s his usual expression. He’s about to say something when Lucas speaks.
“Peterson. Sit over there. You’re switching seats.”
No one says anything, but they all look at me. I avert my eyes and try not to look too smug. It looks like my luck is about to change. Lucas doesn’t say anything to me but looks straight ahead as if he’s interested in Mr. Yeats’ scribblings on the board. I check my tablet to see if it’s transferring, but it isn’t. Lucas’ knee pokes the side of my thigh.
“Don’t bother,” he whispers. “It’ll be in Share.”
I smile and look straight ahead. From the corner of my eye, I can see Lucas studying me. I look down at my tablet and pretend not to notice. My breath starts to pick up, and the room feels warm. I try hard not to react, but I’m tempted to look. I glance up and see a girl staring at us. Well, not us, but at Lucas.
It’s the blonde I saw on my first day; not the one that made fun of me in the cafeteria, but the prettier one that walked the campus like it was a catwalk. I know her name is Arielle. But ‘girl’ isn’t an accurate description of her. Girl implies innocence. There’s nothing innocent about Arielle as she winks at Lucas and licks her glossy pink lips.
My head whips forward again, but I sneak a peek at Lucas. If he was watching the girl,
he isn’t now.
Mr. Yeats drones on about the beauty of a supernova as Arielle slowly pulls the hem of her short skirt up, then uncrosses and crosses her long legs. Even I have to look, and I can’t understand how Lucas can be such a cool customer. I start to wonder if he’s interested in girls at all when a folded-up piece of paper lands on the desk in front of me, causing me to jump in my seat. Lucas’ name is drawn on it in purple pen and decorated with a heart. I stare at the note as if scripted letters are a rarity. I thought I was the only one who carried a notebook and pen. But when phones are outlawed, I guess you have to go old-school.
“Hey.” Arielle hisses to get my attention and attracts everyone else’s.
No one is interested in Mr. Yeats and his appreciation of the technological advances in archeology. I glance at Lucas, and in a classroom of twenty, he seems to be the only one paying attention to the board. I look at Arielle, and she motions to me to give the note to Lucas. Lucas could have easily reached over for it. I try to ignore her, but she’s causing a scene.
Arielle looks like she’s getting pissed as her eyes narrow on me, and she mouths, “Give it to him.”
I can’t take it anymore. I grab the note and push it in front of Lucas.
“Ms. Page.”
I freeze as Mr. Yeats turns from the board and frowns at me. I’m fucking stunned. I mean that girl has been flashing her legs and licking her lips for the last ten minutes. But I’m the one who’s called out? Un-fuckin-believable. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t fair. My stomach knots up anyway.
“Ms. Page, bring that note up to the front.”
Holy fucking shit. My jaw drops, and when I don’t move fast enough, Mr. Yeats’ good-humored face turns into a mean and ugly scowl. I jump up from the seat and take the note to the front, placing it on his desk. I don’t care. It’ll have her name inside.
Giving me a rude glare that would crumble bone, Yeats snatches the note. “Let’s see what is so interesting that you can’t wait until after class to say it,” he says.
I gawk at his assumption that I’m the one to blame. He’s old enough to know that people pass notes from one desk to the next. Yeats opens the note, and out falls a condom in a black foil wrapper. The word “XXL” is printed on it. It’s like some sick contest to see which one of us can turn the brightest shade of red. My eyes are big and staring at Yeats. But Yeats is ignoring me as he reads the note. I’m sure once he’s read it, he’ll know it wasn’t from me. Arielle must have signed it.
With a sigh, Mr. Yeats holds the note up so it faces the class and recites the two words written on it.
“For later?” He screws his face up in disgust. “Ms. Page, perhaps you should save your recreational activities for later as your note suggests.”
What a fucking asshole. I start to argue, but Yeats cuts me off and points me back to my seat. What the fuck. No, not WTF, but a full-on WHAT THE FUCK. I turn and walk my first walk of shame back to my chair, past a smirking Arielle.
She knows I won’t tell. I could try to explain after class, but that’s not how it’s done. It’s the jungle, baby, and keeping your mouth shut is a survival skill that everybody learns fast. Tears balance on the rims of my eyes, and I sit down, refusing to look at anyone. That doesn’t matter because everyone is sneaking looks at me as Mr. Yeats drones on about the new advances in gravity waves. What is he going on about anyway?
I feel something poke the side of my thigh and look. It’s a piece of folded paper that Lucas is trying to pass me under the desk. I scoff because Arielle’s not getting it from me, but then I notice that my name is written on it. I take it from Lucas and carefully open it. In the middle of the sheet, he’s written “Okay.”
I start coughing as I try to swallow my spit. Lucas smirks as Mr. Yeats gives me another angry glare. I hurry out of the room to get some water and collect my thoughts. Leaning against the wall in the hallway, I have to fan myself like some old-fashioned lady who faints when she sees a virile man.
When I walk back into class, Arielle is giving me a poisonous look while Lucas is grinning at me. A warm feeling starts in my cheeks. I hate that I’m interested in him. Lucas blows me off around his friends. Plus I don’t really know him, and I’m not some hard-up girl high on hormones.
I’m fooling myself. If that boy kisses me, I know I’ll explode into a puddle of giggling mass.
Mr. Yeats explains today’s assignment as we start to do our homework. I have no idea what this man wants from us. I flip open my notebook instead because I know I’m going to make mistakes trying to get the hang of the tablet.
“We do our homework in class?” I ask Lucas.
He smiles. “It’s the only way to pass this class. Are you good at physics?”
“I took it sophomore year, but I don’t think this is the same thing.”
“Not too different,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Nice note, by the way.”
Oh crap. I have no experience with good-looking boys. The boys in my old school were boys. They were cute, but this rich crew is center-of-the-sun hot. I’ll burn my little finger if I touch him. Ouch.
I want to say something cute. I have to say something clever. Turning red all day is not cool. But I start to giggle like the virgin that I am, and I can feel sweat start as Lucas stares at me. His lids are heavy, and his lips are kissable. The boy knows he’s having an effect on me. I want to taste those lips, and without realizing what I’m doing, I lick my own.
Lucas watches my tongue sweep across my lower lip. And I know that I don’t have to say anything at all. Lucas shifts in his chair until his muscular thigh is pressing against mine, and I’m gone. My breathing is getting short, and my nipples are hardening under that damn tight top. I look over at him again, and I’m caught in his hazel gaze. Lucas bites his lower lip, and I actually sigh.
We both snap out of it as something hits the desk. It’s Arielle leaning across our desk, and she looks at me like I’m the slut.
“Lu, sweetie, I forgot my pen.” She shakes her bottom as she speaks. “Can I borrow yours?”
“Ha.” It slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. That does it. If Arielle’s looks could kill, I’d never have been born.
“Here.” Lucas places his ballpoint pen on the desk.
Arielle grabs it, letting her fingers graze his. Lucas grins as she pushes her breasts that are crammed into a push-up bra against the hard surface, and they almost spill out.
“Thanks, babe.” Arielle turns and walks back to her desk, giving her ass a shake. Even I have to look, but not for long. Lucas’ attention returns to me as we work on the in-class assignment.
He sits so close that I might as well be sitting in his lap. And Lucas sneaks light touches against my bare knee under the desk with the tips of his fingers. Fluttering my eyes as I take a breath, I feel my body heat up. His finger sweeps the curve of my breast. My body tingles, and then his fingers brush my hard nipple that’s poking through my shirt. I pull away, and Lucas grins, playing it off as if it was accidental. It wasn’t. By the end of the class, I’m so into him that I don’t notice the bell chime.
“Come on.” Lucas looks at Arielle, but he’s talking to me. “I’ll walk you to your locker.”
I nod my head eagerly, like a puppy desperate for a snack and a cuddle. Floating on a cloud, I bounce out of the classroom behind Lucas’ long strides as Yeats shakes his disapproving head. I don’t look back at Arielle. Let her ruin someone else’s fun, but not mine.
“Not too bad. Is it?” Lucas slows down, allowing us to walk side by side.
“What?” My head is still in a fog.
“Montlake?” Lucas smirks at my awkwardness.
“It’s not so bad.” I lie.
“It sucks,” he whispers.
He smiles at me again, and I wonder what it would be like to be his girlfriend. I have to guess that he and Arielle aren’t serious if he left her behind. Slowly, we walk to my locker as kids hurry past in a blur. I wish my last name started with a Z. In
a few more steps, we’re standing in front of my locker, but I don’t need anything out of it. I lower my chin and look at him while fluttering my lashes. I decide to play the shy girl as Lucas asks me if I’m trying out for any teams.
“No, I’m not really athletic.”
His gaze sweeps my body, and I fidget, wondering if he’ll ask me out.
“Try out for the cheer squad. You’d look hot in the uniform.”
That makes my decade. All of a sudden, Montlake is okay, and I’ve forgotten my old school. But of course, the magic doesn’t last. Arielle is walking towards us like a hunter on the prowl. All she needs is a pointy spear, and I’d be nailed to the ground. I watch her approach and soon, Lucas is also looking her way. It’s hard not to look. She’s tall, lean, and pretty. Her legs reach to the treetops while I’m walking around on matchsticks. Now, I feel dumpy in my shrunken top and my flat shoes.