by Megan Linski
“Yeah, right.” I let out a laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t have a job?” he asks. “It’s okay if you don’t. Most of us wait until we graduate. Aren’t a lot of places to work up here.”
“I’ve thought about getting one, but I won’t be spending money on sweaters. No offense,” I add, backing away. “I’m saving for college, you know. Stuff.”
I give a really lame shrug. He leans in closer. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Cassia. I hope you like it here in Heaven.”
Before I can react, he grabs my hand and shakes it. Yet it’s not really a handshake… it’s more of a caress, a gentle touch. A volt of electricity shoots up my arm when his skin touches mine. It’s enough to make me gasp.
Cairo seems to notice. He pulls his hand away. I turn, forcing myself to leave even though I really, really don’t want to.
If I didn’t know any better, I say we had some sort of connection there. A spark between us. Something that joined him and me together, tying our fates as one.
Pfft. Sure. Wake up, Cassia.
“That was so embarrassing,” I mutter to myself as I walk away. “And awkward. Stupid, stupid.”
When I get back to my table the girls are ogling me like I’m some animal in a zoo. “What?” I ask. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Cairo Cross talked to you,” Lavonne starts. “That’s what.”
“Why is that such a big deal?” I ask. Cairo’s a good-looking guy, to say the least. He should have no problems talking to girls.
“Because Cairo doesn’t talk to anyone,” Emalee says. “Or any girls, really. He hangs out with his football buddies and that’s it. No interest in women at all.”
“That’s weird.” I cast a glance over my shoulder.
“Maybe he’s gay,” Sydney suggests.
“Why is that always the assumption if a guy doesn’t date?” Emalee asks.
“Look, he could have any girl he wants and he doesn’t take any of us. He has to be gay. It’s the logical assumption,” Lavonne quips.
While the girls are arguing about Cairo’s sexuality, I’m watching him. I don’t care if he’s gay, but damn, what a tragedy for the female population if he is. Why would someone like him, a popular kid who has all the girls falling for him, keep himself single and not even allow himself to speak to someone of the opposite sex?
Maybe he is gay. Or maybe he’s afraid of getting hurt. Most people would consider that lame, but if he’s in that camp, I can understand. I’m in the same boat.
“You’ve got both Thames and Cairo crawling all over you on your first day!” Sydney says excitedly. “It’s something everybody thought was impossible! Senior year is going to be great!”
“If I were you, I’d go for Cairo and have Thames as a backup,” Lavonne says.
“What? No!” I say. “I’m not interested in dating anyone.”
“Girl, you could have the two guys that every girl in the school wants and you don’t want either?” Lavonne says, astonished. “You’ve got some high standards!”
“I disagree with you. I think she should pick Thames over Cairo,” Emalee says, as if she didn’t hear a word I just said. “He’d be more fun.”
“At least Thames attempts to be normal,” Lavonne argues. “He’s a bad boy, so it makes sense he doesn’t want to shack up. Doesn’t like being tied down. But Cairo’s the star quarterback and he won’t let any girl even come near him. I mean, who does that?”
“I just talked to them, guys. It’s not that big of a deal,” I say.
The bell rings. I grab my stuff for my next class. Thank God my English class doesn’t have any of them in it. I bet they’ll be texting about me back and forth all day.
I’m not here to get a boyfriend. I’m here to focus on my academics and be the best student I can be, so I can get out of here.
I go to my locker to get my next textbook. When I open it, I’m floored to see the green owl sweater neatly folded on the top shelf. It’s in my size.
I turn my head. Standing at the edge of the hallway, looking directly at me, is Cairo. His pale green eyes, sharp and visible even from a distance, gleam. He gives me a warm grin before sticking his hands in his pockets. He then strides around the corner, and out of sight.
I can’t help it. The next day, I wear the sweater. It’s just too cute not to, no matter what mysterious circumstances circulate around it.
I don’t know if I should be more concerned that Cairo managed to figure out where my locker was or that he bought the sweater for me. It’s not a big deal that he got into it… school lockers are easy to break into… but how did he know where, and more importantly, why?
Did he see me open my locker that morning, and I somehow didn’t see him? That would mean he was paying attention to what I was doing. I was on his radar before I even knew he existed.
“Hi, Cass.” Thames is standing at my locker first thing. His eyes flicker down to the owl, and he says, “Nice sweater. Bought one from the Key Club?”
“No. Cairo bought it for me.”
I open my locker. Thames has suddenly gone very still. “What?”
“Cairo. He’s the…”
“I know who he is.” Thames cuts me off abruptly. I stop unloading things from my backpack. He grimaces, and says, “Sorry. We don’t exactly get along. But he bought you that?”
“Yeah. I told him I didn’t have the money to buy one, and it showed up in my locker later,” I explain. “I know it was him. He was looking right at me when I found it.”
“Huh. He’s kinda weird, don’t you think?” he asks, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.
“He’s a Key Clubber. He probably felt bad that I couldn’t afford the sweater and bought one for me out of sympathy,” I say. I’ve been giving myself this explanation all morning, despite my personal hunch it’s not right.
“Sure.” He nods in agreement, but the frown he wears says otherwise. “Come on, we’re late for class.”
Thames is sulking. His shoulders stay hunched all throughout Chemistry. He still talks to me, but it’s obvious his mind is elsewhere.
“I’m surprised you showed up today,” I tease during Chemistry, to try and get him to lighten up. “Word on the street is you like to skip.”
“I skip sometimes, but it’s just to ride my bike when it’s nice. Or when I have better places to be.” He lets out a huff. “The only thing worth taking here is shop class.”
“You should probably pay attention. Colleges don’t like to see absences,” I remind him.
“I’ll be fine. I have a 4.0 and got a 34 on the ACT,” he replies. He doodles something on the corner of his paper.
“Wow.” My eyes widen. “You must be really smart.”
“I guess.” He tosses down his pencil. “Smarter than some people here who can get the teachers to pass them based on how far they can throw a football.”
God, he’s grumpy. “With grades like that I’m surprised you don’t play sports too,” I say. “The teams could proably use a big guy like you.”
“Sports are stupid,” Thames replies. “I’d rather spend my time doing other shit instead of running around on the field pretending I’m important.”
“Um… alrighty then. I turn my attention back to the board. Was that a crack at Cairo? If it was, he wasn’t very suttle about it. A 34 on the ACT… Thames is practically a genius. For all his bad boy exterior, Thames seems like he’s a real braniac.
It’s a starkly different picture compared to Cairo, who Thames implied skates by on his athletic abilities rather than actually getting the work done. I haven’t been here very long, but it’s obvious to me the two boys are very different.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Thankfully, there’s a new rumor going around about the head cheerleader cheating on her boyfriend that sufficiently distracts Sydney, Emalee and Lavonne, and prevents them from gossiping about me. I look for Cairo, but he’s not around. I’m disappointed that he’s not in any of my cl
asses.
“He’s not here,” Emalee says as she sees me staring off where the Key Club table was yesterday. “He and the other club members went to buy toys for the children’s hospital. I guess it was a successful fundraiser.”
“Oh.” The word whooshes out from my lips, a sound of disappointment. I quickly pull myself together. I can’t believe I’m this obsessed with a person I only met once, and for five minutes. What is wrong with me?
At the end of the day, Thames meets me at my locker again. He’s fallen into the habit of being there every time the bell rings between classes. Some people would find it annoying, but I actually kind of like it. It’s nice having someone to be there for you and talk to you, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
“I’ve got to go home and fix my bike,” Thames says. He seems particularly moody. “Damn caliper is acting funny again.”
“Do you want me to help?” I ask, a little too soon.
“Do you know anything about bikes?” Thames asks. He smiles for the first time that day.
“Not a damn thing,” I reply. “But I’m willing to learn.”
Being with Thames sure beats sitting awkwardly at home with Isolde. Last night we both went to our separate rooms and stayed there. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with me.
“All right. We can take my truck.” We stride toward the door. “I can drop you off whenever.”
Unexpectedly, he puts his arm around me. Thames’ arm is heavy on my shoulder, and warm. He smells like leather.
Usually I’d be opposed to physical contact with… well… anyone, but Thames seems different. Is different. He obviously hasn’t had an easy time of it either. It’s like he understands. We’ve only known each other for two days, but already I feel so close to Thames. Instinctively, I know I can trust him.
“I’m not worried about getting back early. My homework’s already done,” I reply. I let his arm sag on me as we walk to the car.
Thames’ truck is pretty old. He has to play with it to get it started. I text Isolde to let her know what I’m doing and silence my phone, so I don’t check to see whatever she texts back. The truck starts abruptly forward, giving a loud rumble. Thames turns the radio on full blast, to a channel that plays screamo rock music, and takes off.
Thames is a crazy driver, and I love it. He goes twenty miles over the speed limit the whole way there. He takes turns and corners so fast that the truck nearly tips over. Most people would be clutching their seats right now, but not me. This makes me feel alive.
Thames jerks to a halt in front of an old garage next to a farm house. With a wild look in his eyes, he glances at me. I can’t wipe the grin off my face.
“Sorry bout that. I forgot to ask if you wanted to drive,” he says.
“I’m not legal,” I tell him. I get out of the car and gently shut the door, so the truck doesn’t fall into pieces at the impact. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble if we got pulled over.”
“No permit?” Thames, who seems to have no regard for the truck, full-on slams the door on the driver’s side. The truck shakes.
“I haven’t taken driver’s ed yet. I’m waiting until I turn eighteen to take the test and get my license,” I tell him. “It’s only a few more months away.”
“So you haven’t driven before?”
“I have. I know how to drive.” I had to learn, in order to get away from Eric.
“Illegal driving. I like that.” Thames smiles. He walks to the garage and pulls up the door. I take a look at the farmhouse.
“Do you live here?” I ask. Inside the garage are an array of tools, two cars, and what I’m assuming is Thames’ crotch rocket. I’m no expert in bikes but it looks expensive, and fast.
“Naw, my buddy lets me keep my tools here,” Thames says. “I live alone.”
“Alone?” I ask, surprised. “But… you’re still in high school.”
“Yeah, but I’m eighteen.” Thames pulls up his pants, which were previously hanging dangerously low on his hipbones. I tried not to look earlier, but it was a bit distracting.
“How do you get by?”
“I work nights. Long nights.” He picks up a wrench. “One of the reasons I haven’t gotten a chance to ride until now. I’ve been trying to work on it during lunch time, but the drive here takes up most of it.”
I sit on a crate. “Sorry, but… why?”
He rolls the bike to the front of the garage. “Baggage, remember?”
I guess. But what could be so upsetting to Thames that he felt like he felt like he had to live alone? Working late nights as a senior in high school to support yourself? I’ve been desperate enough to consider it in the past, but ultimately decided that staying in the system and boosting my grades would be a better option than trying to make it on my own.
But Thames seems like a lone wolf, the type of guy who does what he wants regardless of what anyone else says. Maybe his parents were just too controlling and he felt like had to break out. That’s got to be it.
Mechanic work is equivalent to rocket science in my book. Thames tries to teach me what he’s doing, but I’m clueless. Eventually he gives up and just works on the bike, talking to me about random stuff.
It doesn’t matter. I’m happy enough just to be here.
“Finally.” Thames stands up, throwing his tools to the floor. “That was a real pain in the ass. Shouldn’t have taken me so long.”
I don’t think it took him that long. It’s still daylight out. Thames fires up the bike and grins when he revs it. It sounds mean.
“You wanna go for a ride?” he asks. He gets on the back of the bike and waddles it toward me. “I have a spare helmet.”
“I’ve never ridden a crotch rocket before. I don’t know how.”
Thames puts the kickstand on the bike, handing me a helmet before putting on his own. “You can ride on back. Just grab onto me.”
I put the helmet on. “Whatever.”
Thames swings himself over the bike. I hop on back, looking around for something to grab.
“You need to wrap your arms around my waist, and hold on tight,” he says. “We’re gonna be going fast. Don’t want you flying off the back.”
I loop my arms around his middle. Instantly, a fresh wave of heat radiates against my skin. Wow, he’s got a hot body temperature. And damn, what kind of a job does Thames have that gives him such rock-hard abs?
Thames kicks back the stand and drives the bike out of the garage. He goes at a comfortable speed out the driveway, until the tires hit the asphalt. He then revs it into high gear, and the bike jumps backward. The front tire rears a few inches off the street and I cling tightly to Thames. The crotch rocket goes from a reasonable speed to flying in seconds.
The trees become a green blur as we race by them. Michigan is a wonderland, consumed by the smell of burning rubber and cold wind rushing across my face. A thrill of exhilaration sweeps through my stomach and up my chest. There’s nothing but us and the bike, balancing on a precious line between life and death that Thames is intent on pushing as our speed climbs higher and higher.
This is living. This is what I’ve been missing.
I glance down at the odometer. It’s inching toward one hundred miles per hour.
I figure out that Thames is going into a turn too fast seconds before he does. I open my mouth to cry out a warning.
“Thames, you need to slow down!” I shout over the engine’s roar.
But by then, it’s too late. Thames tries to save it, but he overcorrects, and the bike jerks roughly to the side. I go flying off as Thames and the bike end up spinning out from underneath.
My body hurtles through open air, twirling towards a collection of trees, rock, and hard pavement. My brain barely registers what’s happening. I have no way to prevent the death that comes next, the violent end that I’m destined for.
I figure my life ends here. Until a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around me, and catch me as I fall.
I slam against
something, but it’s not the road. It’s a body. The arms enclose around me, and hold me tightly as we both go crashing to the ground. Whoever is behind me breaks my fall as we go skidding onto the pavement at a rapid speed. We tumble over and over before finally sliding to a stop on the side of the road.
My vision fades in and out. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm down. I’m barely conscious right now. I don’t even know if I’m still alive.
I try to move my limbs. Miraculously, nothing’s broken. I sit up, shoving down a wave of nausea due to vertigo. I take my helmet off and press a hand against my mouth. My clothes are dirty and torn, and I have a few bruises, but I’m all right.
This isn’t possible. I shouldn’t be alive.
There’s only one explanation. Someone caught me, but how? I didn’t see anyone on the side of the road, and even if they were there, there’s no physically possible way they could’ve broken my fall, or even caught me in time. They’d have to be some kind of superhero…
My mouth drops open when I see that Cairo crouching next to me. Another truck, a newer one than Thames’, is parked next to the fragments of the destroyed crotch rocket.
“Cassia, are you hurt?” Concern shadows Cairo’s eyes. He parts my hair back, checking for injuries. I’m shaking all over. I must be in shock.
“Thames,” I whisper. I jerk my head around, looking for him.
I nearly have a heart attack when I see him kicking the remains of his trashed bike, swearing under his breath. He glances back guiltily at me before looking down, ashamed.
No way. We completely crashed. That accident should’ve killed Thames, or at least left him with some very serious injuries. He should be in the hospital right now in critical condition, but there’s not a scratch on him.
Was the crash possibly not as bad as I thought? I remember the odometer and realize that’s not possible. At the speed we were going, both of us should be dead.
The boys up here aren’t just hot. They’re indestructible.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Cairo.
He doesn’t answer, just checks me for injuries, squeezing my limbs and pressing his thick hands against my middle. My whole body starts to shake.