Getting Dirty

by Mia Storm

  The image of Blaire all laid out in this same position on the hood of her Mini flashes in my mind. A sick feeling rolls through my stomach and I lift Hannah off me. “I can’t do this with you anymore, Hannah.”

  He looks down at me, all incredulity. “You’re serious.”

  I nod.

  “You were fine with all this last week. What’s changed?”

  “I have.” I reach for her underwear and leggings and hand them to her, then tug on my T-shirt. “I’ve got something going that I’m hoping might turn into something real.”

  She surprises me by grinning. “Are you falling in love, Caiden? Has some lucky girl finally snagged your heart?”

  I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. “I’m not sure yet, but I guess I want to find out.”

  She starts pulling her clothes on. “So, who is the fair maiden? Anyone I know?”

  I gather my shit off the table and pack it into my bag. “No.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  My heart begins to pulse in my throat. It would feel so fucking good to have someone to talk to about this shit—get some of my frustration out in the open instead of leaving it to fester inside me, but I know it’s too dangerous. “At a poetry slam.”

  Her eyes widen. “She’s a poet?”

  “One of the best I’ve ever heard.”

  “Wow. So…” She hooks her bra. “Are you dating? Or just pining?”

  “Pining at the moment, but I think she’s feeling it too.”

  “So just go for it. If you like each other, what’s the hang up?”

  “There’s an…obstacle.”

  Her eyes widen. “She’s got a boyfriend, doesn’t she?”

  I nod, even though I honestly have no fucking clue if it’s true or not. I’ve never asked her. But I can’t tell Hannah what the real issue is.

  “You’ve got to tell her how you feel, Caiden,” she says, pulling her top on. “Even if it might feel wrong while she’s with someone else, you should just say it. It’s the only way to know. Sometimes we use obstacles as an excuse to play it safe and not risk putting ourselves out there. I just think you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try, you know?”

  I nod. She’s totally right. I’ve never been so drawn to a woman. If I don’t go for this and she vanishes out of my life at the end of the school year, I’ll regret it forever. “Thanks, Hannah.”

  She pulls me into a hug. “That’s what friends are for.” She draws away and smiles. “Well, that and getting each other off so they don’t go postal on their faculty advisors, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

  She hikes her bag onto her shoulder and vanishes through the door, and I know what I have to do.

  ∞

  I’m not sure if Blaire’s coming to the library tonight, and now that I know what I want to say, I can’t risk missing the chance, so I abandon the deserted resource center and go to Dr. Duncan’s lecture hall near the end of class. He’s in the smaller of the two auditoriums in the lit building, as he only has thirty students. I slip into the back of the room and he catches my eye and sends me a salute. I nod and drop into a seat in the empty back row.

  My eyes scan the room and find Blaire, seated near the front on the opposite aisle, next to a buff blond guy. She glances over her shoulder at me and smiles, then goes back to taking diligent notes.

  I can’t take my eyes off her, absorbing every detail so I can play it back over and over in my mind, how she crosses and uncrosses her miles of legs; the way she twists a finger into the ends of her long sable hair; how she worries her lower lip gently when she’s listening; the curve of her neck when she tips her head to the side and writes.

  How come I’ve never noticed she’s a leftie?

  Suddenly the room swarms, everyone rising from their seats and talking all at once, and I realize Dr. Duncan has dismissed them.

  I stand and move to the aisle and see Dr. Duncan waving me down. I start down the lecture hall stairs and slow as I pass Blaire, still packing up her things.

  “How’s your presentation coming?” I ask, my fingers brushing her elbow.

  When her nipples start to bead, I realize she’s wearing a bra. I’ve never seen her in one before. Wasn’t sure she owned any. A rush crackles under my skin when it hits me she must lose it between class and the library.

  For my benefit?

  “I was hoping you could look over what I have so far,” she says. “Will you be in the library after this?”

  “I’ll walk over with you if you can wait just a minute,” I say with a nod at Dr. Duncan.

  “Sure,” she says, and the tiniest hint of a smile sparks in her eyes.

  “Mr. Brenner,” Dr. Duncan says, climbing the first step to where Blaire and I are standing. “I showed Dr. Garret your dissertation drafts and he had some interesting thoughts on cross referencing the cross cultural regression with the lambda quotient from each region. I told him I’d send you in to speak with him.”

  I nod. “I’ll set up a time.”

  He waves a hand at Blaire. “Have you seen Miss Leon’s work so far on your friend Juan? She’s got some interesting perspectives for someone so young.”

  I glance at her and see her hand stall midway to her messenger bag with her notebook. “We’ve talked some about it. She’s got a gift for seeing the nuances most people miss.”

  “It’s a talent that most of my juniors never master.”

  “Thank you, Professor Duncan,” she says, hiking her bag. “I’m really enjoying this class.”

  “I’m jealous of Berkeley for stealing you away from me. I’d love to watch your insights bloom and mature over the next four years.”

  When I realize I’m lost in this conversation, I look at her. “You applied to grad school?”

  Her panicked eyes flick to Dr. Duncan when he laughs. He claps me on the back. “She’ll get here eventually, I’m certain, but our prodigy is still in high school.”

  The sensation is one of my veins being opened and ice water being poured directly into them. “You’re in high school?” I hear myself say.

  Her lips purse and there’s a slight quiver in her lower one. “Yes.”

  Chapter 9

  Blaire

  I turn and bolt out of the lecture hall, because the betrayal in Caiden’s eyes is killing me.

  I should have told him the truth.

  But then I wouldn’t have had Friday, the most amazing night of my life. A shudder ripples under my skin at the memory of everything Caiden made me feel.

  “Blaire!”

  My feet stall on the sidewalk at his voice behind me. I turn and he’s jogging through the dark in my direction. When he reaches me, he stops jogging but keeps moving, walking right past me. I catch up and keep pace with him.

  “You told me you were a senior.” His voice is low, calm, and I’m not sure what to read into it.

  “I am.” It’s the only thing I can think to say, and it comes out hard, like I’m trying to defend it. Maybe that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I hate that it makes him think I’m less than he thought I was yesterday.

  “In fucking high school!” he hisses, bunching a hand in his hair. “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be seventeen in three weeks.” I hate the blood that betrays me by rising to my cheeks. I don’t want to feel ashamed of wanting him.

  “Jesus Christ. My kid brother is older than you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and hangs his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  We reach my car and I turn to face him. “Because I like you, Caiden. I like you a lot. I didn’t want you to think I was too young.”

  “But that’s exactly the problem, Blaire! You are too young.” He paces to the front of my car and stands with his back to me, rubbing a hand down his face. “Christ. This was bad enough when I thought you were a senior in college.”

  “If we both want this, why should it matter how old we are?”

  He spins on me and tosses a hand at the sky. “Beca
use I’m twenty fucking five, Blaire! Guys my age go to jail for doing what we’ve been doing.”

  I step closer. “Even if it’s consensual?” One step closer and I’m right next to him. My hand brushes his thigh and I curl my fingers into the denim of his jeans. “Even if I want you so fucking much I can taste it?”

  He groans and braces his hands on the hood of my car, right where my ass was when he was going down on me just three nights ago. “Yes, even then.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  He shoves off the car. “Life’s not fucking fair. Get used to it.” He storms past me and back toward campus.

  I watch until he’s out of sight, then kick my tire and scream at the top of my lungs. Angry tears press behind my eyes and I swallow them back. But it’s not Caiden I’m angry at. It’s the world—fucking society that is trying to dictate who I can be with. I could fuck an ax murderer if he was my age and that’s just fine. But I find the most incredible person I’ve ever met and I can’t be with him because he’s a few years older than me? What the fuck is that?

  I kick my car again and march back toward the library. But as I get close, I see Caiden on the sidewalk near the doors, talking to Professor Duncan. All the wind leaves my sails. If he really could go to jail, is it right of me to push him there? Even if he only gets fired, I’d have ruined his life.

  I really like him. If I go after him when he said no, and any of those things happen, it will all be on me. He’ll resent me forever.

  So I turn for my car and drive home with Arctic Monkeys full blast, the lyrics bleeding from the gaping hole in my chest.

  Chapter 10

  Caiden

  It’s three weeks before I see her again.

  I shouldn’t have left her standing there alone in the parking lot. I shouldn’t have flipped my shit all over her. But up until this second, as I walk into Dr. Duncan’s Nineteenth Century poetry class and her gaze finds mine like a heat seeking missile, I’d convinced myself I was in the right.

  Neither of us are in the other’s best interest. Whether she’s scared of me after I blew up all over her, or just pissed, if it’s kept her away from me, it’s not a bad thing.

  But Dr. Duncan is sick today and asked me to cover his class. All the students are doing at this point is prepping for their presentations, which are scheduled to start next week and run through finals. Half of the class isn’t even here, opting to work on their own or maybe just blowing it off altogether.

  But Blaire is.

  A few students have questions on format and how to structure their presentations. Working with them serves as an adequate distraction and I’m able to avoid watching Blaire. But when the questions evaporate, I’m left sitting up here on the stool with nothing but my laptop. I pull up my dissertation PowerPoint and go over my own presentation, tweaking a few slides here and there. But with about five minutes left in class, I’m out of things to keep my mind occupied and my eyes finally slip in her direction. I get snagged in her gaze and there’s nothing I can do to untangle myself. We stare at each other, both trying to see through the bullshit to what’s really underneath.

  “I’ll be posting Dr. Duncan’s presentation schedule on his webpage tonight,” I say, pushing up from my stool. “For those of you who are scheduled for Monday, if you come up with any last minute questions, feel free to email me this weekend. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a great weekend and good luck next week.”

  I drag my heels packing up, hoping Blaire will be gone by the time I’m finished, but when I look up, she’s the only one left. I start up the stairs and she falls into step next to me.

  I shove my hands deep into my pockets and watch the sidewalk unfold in front of me. We’re halfway to the library before I finally open my mouth. “How are you about to graduate, but only sixteen?”

  She flicks me a sidelong glance. “Seventeen. Today is my birthday.”

  Some odd aching sensation swells inside me like a tsunami. It takes me a second to recognize it’s longing so intense it’s physical, threatening to double me over. I give a slow nod as I breathe away the pain. “Happy birthday. But you didn’t answer the question. You’re young to be a senior.”

  “I was only in kindergarten for a two days before they promoted me to first grade because I was devouring early readers and doing simple math. I was already on the young side for my class, so…” She trails off with a shrug.

  I can’t stop the smile. “So, you’re a child genius.”

  She holds my gaze. “I’ve always been mature for my age.”

  “I can believe that.”

  Her arm brushes mine as we walk and the contact nearly brings me to my knees. I stay focused on the five stories of concrete straight ahead. The library. Only one of my jobs here at the university.

  She’s only seventeen. I can’t want the things I want.

  We reach the library doors and I pull one open. “Are you coming in tonight?” There’s an undercurrent of raw need in my voice that I despise but can’t control.

  She shakes her head. “Poetry slam night. They moved it up because of Memorial Day weekend and graduations and shit next Friday.”

  I nod as disappointment sinks heavy in my gut. “Ah, well…break a leg.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.” She smiles and turns for the student lot.

  I watch her until she’s absorbed into the descending shadows, then head inside.

  ∞

  I can’t keep my eyes off the clock. I try to distract myself with my dissertation, but all I can think about is Blaire, onstage. All I can think about is sweat glistening along the curve of her neck, and her mouth forming words that are a window into her soul.

  A soul I desperately want to know intimately.

  I’ve just decided to blow off the last half hour of my shift when a guy with floppy green hair and a skateboard under his arm crests the stairs and heads toward me. I have to restrain myself from telling him to fuck off when he drops a list on the counter in front of me.

  “I need a bunch of this stuff.”

  “I’m on my way out,” I say, shoving my laptop in my messenger bag. “Come back Monday.”

  He shoves a hand into his hair. “Oh, man! Seriously? Because this fucking paper is due Monday. I’ve got to pound it out this weekend.”

  “And your professor just assigned it today,” I say, hoping my indifference clearly indicates I’m not feeling the need to bail him out.

  “Please,” he begs. “You’ve got to help me out here, man. I’m already on academic probation.”

  I take a deep breath and look at the clock. I’ve technically got twenty-two minutes left. I take his list off the counter and scan it. “You’re never going to be able to read all of these by Monday and write a paper. The topic’s something to do with Bleak House?”

  He nods a little manically. “I’m supposed to write about how shit in Dickens’s personal life influenced the story.”

  “Have you read the book?”

  His face twists into a chagrinned grimace.

  I take a deep breath and turn for my desk, pulling open the lowest drawer. I thumb through my personal collection of Spark Notes and find the one I’m looking for. “You’re welcome,” I say, handing it to him as I step around the counter. “Come on.”

  The kid follows me to the stacks. I pull the Dickens biography on his list that has the most information on that period of his life. I look for another that’s not on his list, but might help, but find it gone. I drop the book on the table and pull it open, looking for the right section. “You’re going to want to read these four chapters.” I say, slipping my Spark Notes out of his hand. “And I’ve got some notations already in here.”

  We spend the next forty-five minutes pulling together a rough outline for him to follow, then I head to the desk and check him out.

  “Thanks, dude!” he says with a grin as he shoves everything in his backpack.

  I hike my bag onto my shoulder and hoof it toward the stairs.
“Whatever. Just bring my notes back when you’re done.”

  ∞

  When I push through the door into Tino’s, the teenage poet who’s always here is onstage. As best as I can tell coming in halfway through, his poem is about what happens when we fall short of society’s expectations. But I’m only half listening, my eyes searching the room for Blaire. I find her sitting with a group of poets at a table up front.

  I step up to their table and none of them notice me at first, their eyes glued to the competition on stage. But then Blaire’s eyes migrate to me, as if she could feel me here.

  She slips out of her seat and comes to where I’m standing. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Did I miss you?”

  She nods. “First tonight.”

  For several beats of my hammering heart we stand here staring at each other, then she takes my hand and we walk to the door. She sees my car parked up the block and we keep walking. When we reach it, I click it open and we climb inside.

  She leans toward me slowly and stops less than an inch away. Her lips are parted and her warm breath feathers my face as she stares into my eyes.

  I loop my fingers behind her neck and crush her mouth in a desperate kiss. I can taste everything I need to quell this insatiable desire right there on her lips. Her fingers trickle over my chest and I can’t breathe. Her touch is electric, scrambling all my synapses.

  She draws away and trails a finger over the lines of my face. “Take me home with you, Caiden.”

  I start the engine without having to be told again, but then realize I need to check in with Chris. I text and find out he’s at Taryn’s tonight. He’s only been home a few times since their fight, but he texts me every day so I know he’s still alive.

  I drive faster than I should and make the half-hour drive in twenty minutes. It’s only as we’re pulling up that it occurs to me I wish she didn’t have to know where I live. The entire town of East Overton is a slum. I live in the ghetto of East Overton, in an apartment building full of crackheads and deadbeats.

  I roll into a spot in front of the second building back from the road. There are a few gang bangers across the parking lot, one of whom I know runs the meth house in the first floor apartment under mine. One of them catcalls Blaire and I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer as we head up the stairs to my front door. I let us in and shut and lock the door behind us.