SLOW BURN

by Christie, Nicole

  “I’m so sorry!” I gasp, appalled.

  I reach for his arm to rub at the stain with my fingers—but he pulls his arm away as if I’m fire.

  “I have more shirts,” he mutters, turning away. He and Sloane leave together without a backwards glance.

  “Okay, well…sorry,” I call after him.

  Ben is laughing at me. “What?” I say, embarrassed.

  He smirks at me. “You know,” he says conversationally. “Sometimes when I look at Dean for too long, I start to feel a little gay.”

  “Really?” I say. “Did that hurt to admit?”

  “No, it felt good.” He stretches lazily. “Don’t tell Arianna I said that.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. “I’ll try to refrain from blurting it out during our nightly bff talks. See you tomorrow, Ben.”

  “Power to the people, Juliet.”

  Weirdo. Is he really that passionate about our civil rights, or is he running a meth lab out of the science department at night?

  Can’t say I’d be surprised.

  ******

  Chapter 10

  So, it’s my first pep rally at Leclare.

  I file into the crowded and extremely noisy gym with Sara, and a couple of her friends. I can’t help but notice it’s much bigger and nicer than Jefferson’s gym—and doesn’t smell like dirty socks and old mop water. The maple wood floor gleams, and the bleachers are polished wood. Everything is clean and brand new looking, and there is a pleasant orange-y smell in the air. Man, rich people even smell better.

  I start to follow Sara up the steps to the seniors section when I hear my name being called. Ben is waving at me over from the bottom bleachers. I tap Sara on the shoulder, and gesture for her and her friends to follow me. I see them exchange wide-eyed looks before eagerly trailing after me.

  I don’t know if everyone knows each other, so I introduce them, anyway. Ben nods at the others, and we all squish together to fit on the same bench. I’m smashed against his side, and I can’t help but notice how he smells faintly of cigarettes, and some kind of cologne or aftershave—something sexy and expensive.

  “Pep rallies are awesome,” Ben says, leaning forward and snapping his gum. “You’re about to see something truly inspirational.”

  “What, all the school spirit?” I say, glancing around at the animated faces of my fellow classmates.

  Ben snorts. “The cheerleaders have a tradition: every pep rally, one of them has to go commando. That’s all I come for—to see who it’s gonna be this time. School spirit makes me vomit in my mouth.”

  “Speaking of vomiting in the mouth,” I say sourly, turning away. I wasn’t going to watch the cheerleaders’ routine, anyway, since both Laundry Room Girl and Arianna are on the squad—but what Ben just said gives me special incentive to keep my eyes down.

  I let my thoughts drift away as the rally starts. I don’t know any of the songs or cheers, anyway—not that I would do them if I did. Sara and her two friends clap and stomp along, but Ben and I sit motionless and grouchy, our shoulders hunched. Only when the cheerleaders run out on the floor does he sits up and pays attention, while I keep my hand over my eyes. There are lots of hoots and whistles while the girls perform to stripper music, and I try my hardest not to picture the acrobatic feats of a chonies-less cheerleader.

  The squad runs off after their performance, and Aunt Jo gets behind the microphone to make a few announcements. Not that I’m paying attention, anyway, but Ben’s jittering leg next to mine makes it incredibly hard to concentrate. Finally, he gestures for me to come closer, and when I move my head toward him, he shout/whispers in my ear that he’s gonna sneak out for a smoke break.

  While our heads are still close together like that, I happen to glance up, and my eyes meet Arianna’s hazel ones. She’s sitting with the other cheerleaders, and is now glaring daggers at me.

  So, what, I’m not allowed to even talk to her boyfriend now? I wish I didn’t care that her and her friends hate me so much, but I do. I don’t want anyone to hate me.

  I start paying attention when the members of the football team are announced to deafening cheers. When Johnny runs out, the gym goes wild. That reckless grin of his is in place, and he looks sexy and confident Dean, standing out in his formal school uniform, takes the microphone to talk about the game at Larrabee tonight, but I only catch every other sentence over his screaming fan girls. Still, everyone seems glued to his powerful presence behind the mic. Dean doesn’t have Johnny’s wild charisma, but there’s something about him—aside from his height and looks—that demands attention. Maybe it’s his graceful economy of movement, or how, even when he’s standing still, he seems to radiate a potent energy.

  Or maybe I’m just focusing on Dean because the girls screaming their devotion for Johnny is annoying as hell.

  “I think I’m going to go,” I tell Sara after tapping her arm to get her attention. “I need to finish up my Biology homework.”

  “Wait, you don’t want to miss the football team’s skit,” Sara protests. Her brown eyes sparkle excitedly. “They’re always so hilarious! Look—they’re getting ready to do something now.”

  I’m already half-standing, but she gently pushes me back down to a sitting position. With a sigh, I let her. It’s weird to see Johnny up there, and see this super star part of his life. He’s no longer just the guy who had a blast playing Follow the Leader with my Jubilee kids, or the boyfriend who messily fed me ice cream while we watched stupid movies on TV. He doesn’t (didn’t) belong to just me—he’s everyone’s hero. I don’t know how to feel about that, but I guess since we’re no longer together, it really doesn’t matter.

  I’m glad I stayed, though. Johnny, Nick, Mack, and Jason arrange themselves in the center of the court. Music suddenly blares over the speakers, and the guys spin into motion. The entire gym goes crazy.

  The guys move in choreographed synchronization to a mash up of popular songs—and they’re great! Mack and Nick are particularly good, but I can’t take my eyes off of Johnny. The way his body flows with the music is effortless and hypnotic—and sexy as hell.

  They execute a perfectly timed back flip, and I’m cheering and clapping with everybody else—then the music suddenly dies. At first, I think it’s some kind of technical difficultly, but then a cheerleader runs up and hands all four of them microphones. The next thing I know, a the melody of a familiar slow song is playing over the speakers.

  Oh my god. “On Bended Knee” by Boys II Men—my guilty pleasure song!

  Johnny brings the microphone up, and starts singing. Oh my god! He hates singing! What the hell is he doing?! I can’t even…

  His voice is pleasant and slightly raspy, and his boys back him up with some decent harmonizing. They fall behind him as he starts walking in my direction.

  Oh, no. Don’t do it, Johnny.

  I watch in horror as he comes to a stop in front of me, his eyes trained on mine as he gets down on his knees in front of me for the chorus. Suddenly, I am surrounded by four big football players wondering why we can’t get things back to the way they used to be.

  I’ve watched many videos online with surprise serenades, and I’ve always thought it was so romantic. But in reality, sitting in the gym with the entire freaking school watching—it’s just mortifying. My cheeks flame with the cheesiness of it all. This better not end up online!

  I sit there, frozen and stiff, and I know Johnny can tell I’m pissed, but he continues on. He radiates sex and charisma, putting all his efforts into giving a good show. He tries to tug me into a standing position, but I don’t budge, and he has to either let go, or break my arm. He lets go. I’m sure every single straight girl in the audience is ready to throw their panties at him. I, on the other hand…as soon as I find a way to break out of this shock-induced paralysis, my butt will be out the door, running for the hills. I can’t even look at the other guys.

  The song ends to thunderous appla
use. Johnny leans forward to kiss my cheek, whispering a quick “sorry” in my ear, before he and the other guys run off. I refuse to look up, even though Sara keeps nudging me with her shoulder. I can practically feel the bulls eye painted on my back.

  “That was so sweet!” Sara gushes, bouncing next to me.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, feeling like a Grinch.

  Ben ambles over, a smirky grin on his face. I glare at him. “You set me up,” I accuse as he squeezes in next to me.

  He cocks his head to the side innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hey, you look cute in that shade, Juliet. Humiliation red, is it?”

  “Shut up.”

  I grow more agitated as the day wears on. What was Johnny thinking?! He knows I hate being the center of attention, and I hate having our private business aired in front of the entire school—again! While I can admit I loved the high drama that was our relationship, I don’t like how he’s turning our break up into some kind of three ring circus. It’s so embarrassing. How can he not get that?

  I slink around school, face still crimson. Lots of people talk to me now, especially the girls. I see Cherry Flavored Girl in the bathroom, and she gives me the weirdest smile. It’s somewhere between a snarl and a grimace, with her lips peeled back from her teeth, and the corners of her mouth pulled up in a double fish hook grin. It frightens me so badly that I turn around and leave before I get to do what I came for.

  I avoid Johnny, skipping lunch, and running in the other direction when I see him heading toward me with the determined look of a investigative reporter going after a big story. I feel physically violent toward him, and I don’t know if I can restrain myself.

  I successfully evade him until Lit. He’s standing outside the classroom, waiting for me, hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

  I skid to a stop. I almost consider making a dive for the bathroom across the hall (I still haven’t had a chance to go), but he’d just follow me in. This is stupid—why am I even running, anyway? It only makes him chase me harder.

  “Enough,” I say wearily, looking up at him. “Just stop, already. There’s nothing to say.”

  “Teeny, I’m sorry.” He sighs in frustration, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I shouldn’t have—it seemed like such a good idea in my head. Then I saw your face, and I knew I blew it again. Just—tell me what you want me to do to fix this.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  I try to go past him, into the room, but he thrusts his arm out, blocking the door. “That’s the one thing I can’t do.”

  “Try,” I snap.

  “Juliet.” He cups my face with both hands, and looks deeply into my eyes with his beautiful blue ones.

  My heart starts thumping uncontrollably. Damn it, how can he keep doing this to me? My hands are starved for the feel of Johnny’s smooth warm skin. I want to run my hands down the familiar contours of his chest. I’m dying to reach up and take fierce possession of his mouth—the way a passionate couple would in a dirty romance novel.

  I almost think I would, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re standing right outside of my Lit class.

  Fighting the magnetic force that’s pulling me to connect our bodies, I wrench away from his grip and his gaze. My eyes suddenly meet an exotically mismatched pair.

  “Dean!” I say, trying to sound glad to see him. Moving away from Johnny, I start toward Dean—who slows down considerably when he sees the two of us blocking the doorway.

  He glances from me to Johnny, observing the tension in both our bodies. It looks like he’s about to keep walking, but then he abruptly stops, and reluctantly nods at me in acknowledgement.

  Ignoring Johnny, I glare up at Dean. “Did you start on ‘The Canterbury Tales’ yet?” I demand with the serious intensity of a life or death question.

  “No,” he replies, but he’s looking at Johnny with a raised eyebrow.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Johnny lift his shoulders in a shrug. He starts backing away, continuing to look at me, before turning around and disappearing down the hall.

  I keep my head firmly turned away until he’s gone—then my whole body sags in relief. I forget Dean is standing there until I almost bump into him. I move to go around him, into the classroom, but he moves with me, getting in my way.

  God, he’s big. He looks down at me with a hard expression on his flawless face. “If you really don’t want him then hurt him, hard and quick, and walk away.”

  I start to say something, but then I realize I don’t have any idea what. Finally, I look Dean in the eye—the green/gray one. “Sorry, but I’m not like you—I couldn’t hurt anyone on purpose,” I say, and squeeze past him.

  Johnny and Dean have been stepbrothers for about two years. While they don’t hang out a whole lot, they seem to get along well enough. I know Johnny respects Dean, and sometimes he even refers to him as his brother. I wonder how Dean feels about Johnny?

  “Do you think Dean’s gay?” I say abruptly to Tanya, who was staking out my locker at the end of the day.

  “What?” Laughing, she turns to me, whipping me in the mouth with her sentient curls.

  Picking strands out of my lip gloss, I reply, “Well, you said he never dates…?”

  “He doesn’t—he hooks up.” Tanya waggles her heavy eyebrows. “And only with older girls—women, actually. And I hear he’s really selective about who he chooses. He’s not a man-whore like Johnny—oops, sorry! Total fail on my part.”

  I wave away her comment, and pretend to be intent on closing my locker door. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not together anymore.”

  “Really, ‘cause someone should tell Johnny that.”

  “Believe me, I’m trying.” I roll my eyes.

  “Whatever. I wish I had your problems. Are you going to the dance tonight?”

  “No, I work.” I start to head toward the doors.

  Tanya trails after me. “So, about my friend, Bobo…”

  ******

  Chapter 11

  I should creep right back out the front door when I hear Michelle and Derek fighting, but I’ve never heard them like this before. I’ve never heard Uncle Derek sound this mad, and Michelle is crying.

  It’s that last thing that has me bursting into the living room, unannounced.

  “I did it!” I say before taking in the scene. “I sent it to her.”

  Michelle and Derek are standing in front of their brown suede couch, both rigid with tension. Derek is holding a white box in one hand, and Michelle is standing in front of him, tears streaming down her face. They both turn to stare at me.

  “Juliet…what are you doing here?” Derek shakes his head, both confused and frustrated.

  “I, uh, knocked. I couldn’t help but overhear.” I clear my throat nervously. “Um, Uncle Derek? I sent Michelle a gift as a thank you for helping me with…some stuff I was going through. Break up stuff, you know?”

  Derek arches a blonde eyebrow at me. “You sent your aunt lingerie as a thank you gift?”

  He pulls something red, lacy, and silky from the box, dangling it in the air for emphasis.

  My eyes grow huge and my mouth drops open. I don’t dare look at Michelle, who has grown deathly silent.

  Quickly recovering, I replace my shocked look with a bland one. “Oh, yeah. It’s a girl thing, you know? She had mentioned she wanted to spice things up in the bedroom…” I trail off with an uncomfortable chuckle. Michelle whimpers very quietly, letting me know I’ve just digging a deeper hole for the both of us.

  “I suppose you sent her this note, too?”

  Note? Oh, shit.

  Derek is holding a square piece of paper in his meaty hand. “’I can’t wait to see this on you,’” he reads from it.

  I can’t even look at them. I run my fingers along the seam of the couch, speaking in a tiny voice. “Is that not appropriate?”

  There is a brutal silence, then an explosive exhalation.

  “I’m outta here,” Uncle Derek mutters.
He storms away.

  Only when I hear the front door slam do I dare look at my aunt. She’s frozen to the spot, staring at me in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry!” I blurt out. “I was only trying to help!”

  Michelle closes her eyes, shoulders slumping. “I just about had him convinced it was from Yanni.”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip. “Yeah, that would have made more sense. Sorry.”

  Michelle opens her eyes again. “Not your fault,” she says wearily, dropping onto the couch.

  Tentatively, I come around and sit next to her. “So, who’s it really from?”

  She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and just when I think she’s not going to answer me, she starts talking.

  “There’s this new guy at work. He’s really cute, and funny—and he’s been flirting with me a lot. At first, I just joked around with him—you know, teased him back…silly harmless stuff. Then we got to talking, and he’s—he’s really great. We seem to have a lot in common, and he really listens to me, you know? Things just got out of hand.”

  I stare at her, dread filling my stomach. “You didn’t…?”

  “Oh—no! I swear to God, I didn’t let it get that far. Shit.” She plants her face in her hands. “I didn’t even know he had my address!”

  “Well, what was he thinking, sending it here?”

  Michelle’s reply is muffled and incomprehensible.

  “What?” I say.

  She briefly lifts her head up. “He doesn’t know I’m married,” she confesses, before dropping her face back into her hands.

  “Oh, Michelle,” I groan. She is so pathetic that I try to rub her back comfortingly. “At least you haven’t done anything yet. Right?”