by Nora Cobb
“May I?” the wolf whispers to the lamb.
She bites her bottom lip then nods once. I dive in quick. I press my lips to hers and taste the cherry lip gloss as I sweep my tongue into her mouth.
Pulling back, she gives a little sigh with her eyes still closed. Her chest is rising up and down. Natalie opens her big brown eyes gently and gives me a wistful smile.
“Natalie, Arielle is a bit crazy,” I warn her.
“No shit. I know.” I like it when Natalie pushes back.
“So maybe we should keep this to ourselves?”
Natalie nods, and if I’m not mistaken, she even looks relieved. “I don’t want trouble.”
“I’m trouble.” I’m the asshole about to steal candy from this sweet baby.
She giggles. “But maybe I want just a little?”
Grinning, I kiss her again. I want Natalie, but I’m going to have to fight to keep her.
CHAPTER 9
Yesterday afternoon made up for a lot of crap. First, there was that amazing kiss. Lucas kisses like a superstar, and I could have stayed with him in his car forever. Eventually, we had to go inside to eat, but I hardly noticed anything in the club except the way Lucas looked at me.
Two hours after the late bell, we returned and stopped by the admin’s office. Lucas told Ms. Schneider to give us late passes, and she did it without questioning him. Our passes were printed on the fancy school letterhead with the raised seal on top. I guess a student could forge a text, so old-fashioned paper is best.
Lucas showed no shame asking her to do it. In fact, I noticed the students here don’t ask for anything. They demand without uttering a please or a thank you. I gawked when Lucas told the office that they would be replacing all my stolen textbooks because the lock was at fault.
Politely, I asked for a credit instead. Ms. Schneider confirmed with Lucas that maintenance would replace the lock. With Lucas by my side, I received real service as Principal Cromwell hid in his office, no doubt on the phone schmoozing for another building. As we walked to class, Lucas promised that he’d talk to whoever needed to be told.
Later, at practice, the girls stared at me in my designer gym wear that I purchased from the student center. It was a brand that I didn’t recognize, but they did, and I noticed a few admiring looks. It’s a shame that years of dance class are taken for granted, but designer clothes helped me to fit in. I’m not mad about it though. I like how a two-hundred-dollar T-shirt hugs my body and makes me look slim.
So yesterday ended on a high, but today is spiraling down to hell. What’s that saying about something before the fall? Of course, it’s pride, and my delicate self-esteem is about to take a beating.
Today is the day I tutor crazed and ungrateful Jacob.
Judging from the note, it had to be Jacob who was responsible for my locker. His family motto must read, “You’re going to pay, asshole.” No wonder he’s failing. If Jacob spent more time studying and less time tormenting the student body, he’d graduate as valedictorian.
Ms. Petrenko decided that the library was the best place for us to study and booked us in a private study room. The room is decorated like an expensive lawyer’s office with bookcases lining three of the walls and a small circular table with four chairs in the center. I shut the door and turn on the lights. Why is there a dimmer switch in here? I shake my head and sit down to wait. Of course, Jacob’s on rich-boy time, so I go ahead and start my homework. About 3:20, Jacob saunters in as if nobody else has anything better to do.
“Stop scowling, Trashalicious.” He tosses his logo backpack on the table, and it almost lands on my tablet. “I’m here for you.”
“You’re late,” I mutter. I hate the fact that he’s too good-looking, especially with that shit attitude.
“Doesn’t matter.” He is so fucking arrogant. “You have to wait.”
“Why is that?”
Jacob flings himself into a desk chair by the circular table and leans backward on two legs. “Because you’re part of the team now.” He smirks. “You’re a jock or rather, a jock accessory.”
I’m starting to regret my decision to join the cheer squad, but what else was I going to do? If I’m going to college, I have to beef up the application, and I’m sure Columbia doesn’t want to read an essay about how I can blow the most massive milk bubble ever out of my nose. BTW, I don’t do that anymore, and that was junior high. Tutoring looks better in many ways.
“You know what? I don’t want to fight.” My words almost sound sincere.
“Neither do I.” Jacob smiles and his dimples pop in his cheeks. “I want to learn.”
I pretend to be unimpressed with his killer smile. “You’re full of shit,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?”
“What do you want to learn?” I slam my hand on the table and scowl. “Cage fighting? The first day I met you, you were fighting in the halls.”
That shuts Jacob up. He has a pensive look on his face, and his deep brown eyes are thoughtful as he watches me. Jacob’s even more attractive when he’s not in a hissy rage.
“I don’t understand,” I explain hastily. “You play football, and you’re good at it. Isn’t that enough to put your anger hormones in check?”
Jacob actually laughs at that, and I keep gawking at him like the nerd I truly am. It’s bizarre how good-looking Jacob is when he lets his guard down. Jacob is the complete opposite of the other captains. Lucas is the golden boy, Troy is the all-American boy, but Jacob is a man.
Some teenagers still look like tall kids, but not Jacob. Jacob’s eighteen going on twenty-four. Not in a torn-up way, but in a hot way. His tousled brown bangs fall into his dark eyes. There’s a deep cleft in his square chin, and his smile is incredible when he uses it. On the football field, I’ve seen him lift bigger guys off the ground with those muscles. I know it freaks the players out when he growls, but the girls quietly watch, absorbed in lustful admiration. Yikes. I shake the thought out of my head. And he lifts a perfectly arched brow in response.
I blush a little, and dammit, Jacob notices, but he doesn’t say anything. No teasing or name-calling. He opens his notebook and starts writing down formulas.
“I thought it would make sense to use paper and not a tablet,” he says softly.
I’m surprised he can lower his voice, and my expression doesn’t conceal what I’m thinking.
“What is it?” he demands as his frustration and attitude returns.
“Nothing.” My tone is perky. “I’m just glad you want to get started.”
He gives me a strange look then pulls a navy Montblanc pen out of his backpack.
I stare at it. “Is that my pen?”
“Why do you think that?” He’s grinning as I reach for my new pen, the same one that was stolen from my locker.
Jacob lifts his arm and holds the pen a foot above my grasping hands. I snarl at him, and his eyebrows rise in unison. He’s actually surprised that I’m showing him some attitude. Playing dirty, I poke my finger in his stomach, aiming for his navel somewhere behind his button-down oxford shirt. Jacob yelps, and as a reflex, his hand comes down. I have my chance and grab for my pen.
But that cheap trick doesn’t work. At least, not with a guy who could turn pro. Grunting, his large hands clasp over mine, then we start to laugh as we continue to fight for my pen. I’m gritting my teeth as Jacob yanks and pulls me over the table like a rag doll. He tugs so hard on my hands that I slide across the table and land in his chair on top of him.
We’re giggling like hyper children instead of grown-up teenagers. Jacob’s pulling me against his solid body, and a shiver goes through me. With ease, he draws me closer, and my breasts rub against his hard chest. Jacob could have taken that pen out of my hands from the start, but he wrestles me for it. I can feel his hot breath on the side of my cheek as we struggle against each other. And I feel a warmth building between my legs as my nipples harden.
Desperately, I wiggle against him to get away. I’d die of embarrassme
nt if he knew I was turned on. Opening his legs wide, Jacob tugs me in, and I slide against his khakis until I’m pressed flush against his lean body. I can’t help how it feels. My giggles turn breathy. Jacob stops, but he looks doubtful as he holds me tight. His heavy breaths are fast, and his dark eyes look confused, as if he’s conflicted by our closeness. Jacob’s not letting me go, and I lift my chin toward his face. His right hand lets go of mine, and he reaches around my back, holding me steady as his lids lower. I swear Jacob would have drawn me into a kiss if the door didn’t open.
We leap apart as if he’s oil and I’m water. The pissed librarian is scowling and ready to yell. The room is stuffy and humid, and she knows how it got that way. She looks disgusted but jaded, as if this happens every hour. But honestly, this was not planned.
“I can hear you all the way across the library,” she hisses. “That means you’re too loud. If you can’t behave yourselves, you need to leave.”
Obviously, Montlake librarians can give two flying fucks if you’re a rich jock. As she closes the door, she shoots us a cutting look that would have shut Arielle up. Stifling a laugh, I put my hands over my mouth and sit in my own chair.
“Here,” Jacob tosses the pen across the table. “You take it. I have another.”
“Of course you do.” I frown at his sarcasm.
My hands smooth down the creases on my skirt. Nervously, I look over at Jacob, and for a second, he’s eyeing my legs before flipping open his textbook to the lesson. We don’t talk about what happened, but the tension is still there. It’s different now.
Foolishly, I wonder what it would’ve been like to kiss Jacob. But it would be wrong, especially after Lucas. Lucas wants us to remain our secret. Our dirty little secret. I agreed, and he assured me that Arielle is not the reason why. He swears they’re not a couple … anymore. Lucas looks bothered when he protects me. It’s more about him being in charge of the school than helping me. He plays it off like he doesn’t want me to be picked on, but I’m not stupid.
Neither is Jacob. Once I explain the problem step by step, he’s able to do the next one with a little help. He’s definitely not the stupid stereotype of a dumb jock. Jacob gets it, but he really needs to concentrate on the problem first. He needs to practice patience.
“Not too shabby for a dumb jock, am I right?” he says as we solve another one.
“I don’t think you’re dumb.” My reply is sincere.
Watching my eyes, his caginess disappears a little more. Jacob frowns slightly then deliberately, he checks his phone to break our gaze.
“Just help me pass,” he mutters while his finger swipes across the screen. “So I can stay off the bench, Trashalicious.”
“Okay, Jock-boy.”
He rocks back with a smile. “Is that what you call me?”
Looking at the door, I shush him. “Only behind your back.”
“Seriously, thanks.” He tosses the other pen on my lap. “And if you need anything …”
My voice shakes. “You can do something for me.”
Looking to heaven, he smirks. That expression says that he’s always being asked for favors. To Jacob, I’m one of many users he’s met before, but I’m not asking for gifts or status. I want knowledge. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, and looks me in the eye.
“What can I do for you?” he asks softly.
“How do I fit in?”
Jacob inhales as he stretches his arms over his head, then brings them down in defeat. But he’s not the loser. His cocky expression doesn’t give me confidence.
“You can’t fit in. Maybe college, but not here.”
“That’s not fair.” I protest. “I was somewhat cool at my old school.”
“Not Montlake. This place is worlds away. It’s not only what you have or who you know. It’s your attitude toward life. On your first day, you saw me beating up on a kid that you thought deserved a break. I don’t think he deserved a break. I think he got what he deserved.”
“That’s awful,” I reply. “Anthony is a nice guy.”
For a moment, Jacob studies me, then shakes his head. “Nat, you’ll always see the world in a way that I can’t, and vice versa. Your uncle should have sent you back to the public school where you would have been a top bitch. Nobody rises to the top here just because they’re a nice person.”
Jacob emphasizes the word ‘nice’ in a sarcastic way, and that makes his point. I look down at my tablet, knowing that he’s right, and I hate it. Leaning forward, Jacob puts his finger under my chin, lifting my face to his. He has the darkest eyelashes. And maybe he’ll try to kiss me again. But I’m wrong.
“Be happy with what we give you,” he whispers. “Okay?”
Pulling away from him, I don’t respond. I flip to the next screen and start the next problem, trying to pretend that I don’t want to be the exception.
***
Jacob drives me home in his Range Rover. It makes sense for him to drive one because he’s a big guy, but he apologizes for the car, joking that his Lambo is in the shop. I’m dumbfounded by his explanation because I’m the one who needs a ride home.
“I’m getting a car for my eighteenth,” I announce proudly.
“When’s that happening?” he asks.
“In a few weeks.” I’m impressed that Jacob doesn’t ask the make and model.
We pull into Phil’s driveway. The curtain twitches, and I sigh. Puzzled, Jacob frowns at me.
Quickly, I explain, “My uncle likes spying.”
Jacob’s smile is genuine, as if he’s starting to like me as a friend, but then he ruins it. “See you tomorrow, Trashalicious.”
He’s such a dick. Jacob reaches over with both hands and messes my hair so it sticks out. I swipe his hands away then curse a hot streak of profanities that widens Jacob’s eyes until he laughs at me.
“Wow,” he laughs. “You got a dumpster mouth.”
“Just freakin’ leave, you jerk.”
He laughs harder, and a smile passes over my lips. At least Jacob waits for me to slide out of the Rover before taking off. What a tool. Why do guys act like that? I have to wonder if he’s ever dated a girl or given any consideration to her feelings. The door opens before I can use my key.
Phil is smiling at me, and I know what he’s going to ask.
“His name is Jacob Fleming,” I recite. “And no, we are not dating. I tutor him.”
“Next time, Natalie, invite him in.” Phil closes the door, and the air smells delicious. “We’re having chicken parmigiana. I have a surprising Verdicchio from Marche.”
“Is it surprised to find itself in New Jersey?” I quip.
“Natalie. Maybe a nap before you eat?”
He’s barely smiling, and I turn to give him a big hug. I love the way his pressed shirts smell like herbal soap. School needs to stay at school, and not ruin my uncle’s evening. But if Mom were here, I would complain. Damn, why did I think of her now? I pull away.
“I’m sorry, Phil. I’m tired.” I toss my bag on the chair in the hall. “I’ll wash up, and then I’ll feel better.”
“Good idea.” He smiles and saunters off to the kitchen while I drag my tired ass up to my bedroom. I fling myself onto my bed, and I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. Jacob hates me. On the first day, he made my life hell because a tragic accident landed me in that school. Big tears prick my eyes as I think about Mom and Dad again.
My bed is made with my favorite pink comforter. The silk duvet swallows me whole with its softness as I flop onto my bed. Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep and dream of graduation. I can wait a year for my life to begin.
CHAPTER 10
The lunch bell chimes, but I remain seated in Ms. Estes’ English class like I have nowhere to go. What do I do now? It’s been made clear that I’m expected to sit with the jocks, and not with my friends who are on the fringe. It doesn’t matter that Beth’s family has income that shoots into the upper stratosphere. Cora and Lexi have made it clear that I
can’t sit wherever I like because I now represent the team. Not the potheads.
On Saturday, I will finally be eighteen. Fuck the upcoming English exam. I have to pass my driver’s test. In the evenings, I practice driving Phil’s Audi up and down the circular driveway in front of the mansion. It’s long enough to make the tight turns, and I stay on our property. I wish I were eighteen already, with a car, so I could eat lunch at home. In the meantime, in my bag are stashed three breakfast bars and an iced tea for emergencies. Sneaking down the back stairwell, I run out the exit door, heading toward the art building where Anthony and Beth smoke.