FALSE 9: Red Card Series

by Erickson, Megan

  “Over there.” She pointed to a miniature door that looked like something out of Alice and Wonderland. These old college homes had the weirdest quirks. We squeezed through and then sprinted across the grass of the backyard.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw cop cars speeding down the street on Frat Row, so leaving the way we came was off limits. I couldn't get caught by the cops. I'd be kicked off the team. “Shit!” I yelled.

  Bianca ran in front of me, her long legs eating up the distance. She shot me a look over her shoulder, and it was all big eyes and a huge grin. “Come on, Lavin!”

  I smiled back at her, because even though there was a real risk of getting caught, there was also this lick of exhilaration chasing down my spine – the adrenaline rush of doing something forbidden, with someone who was forbidden. I pumped my arms and kicked up the speed as we took off down a trail in the woods behind the house.

  We crunched on the fallen leaves on the path as we ran, the full October moon filtering through the trees our only light. Every once in a while, a beam would catch on the shine of Bianca's hair, and I kept my eyes on that as we ran deeper and deeper into the woods.

  When we came out the other side, I stopped abruptly as the rusted, twisted iron fence of the town's cemetery came into view. Bianca was still running. “Bianca!” I yelled as loud as I dared. But she didn't stop, she kept going, right under the old archway into the heart of the cemetery.

  “Goddamnit,” I whispered as I jogged after her. The Parksburg Cemetery had so many urban myths surrounding it that no one knew what was based on fact and what wasn't.

  There were the three college students who went missing back in 1972. Their bodies were never found, but legend said they haunted the cemetery, pointing their bony fingers in the direction their bodies were buried. There was the old professor who shot himself in his house, and his ghost wandered the cemetery to scare wayward kids.

  And growing up with Dad, I didn't take urban legends lightly. As I entered the cemetery, my spine was ice, my knees wobbly. I lost sight of Bianca and spun in a circle looking for her. And also for ghosts. Always for ghosts. With their cold breaths and haunting voices.

  Fuck, I hated cemeteries.

  A hand touched my neck and I jumped five-fucking-feet in the air until I whirled around and spotted Bianca. Her hand was clapped over her mouth, and she was clearly trying to stop herself from laughing. I pointed at her. “That was not cool, Bianca. So not fucking cool!” She bent over and didn't bother to hold back the laughter now. I stood with my hands on my hips and glared at her. “There are approximately twenty spirits believed to haunt this cemetery you led me into.”

  She straightened up, tears of laughter trickling out of the corner of her eyes. “I'm so sorry. But your face.”

  I sighed heavily and turned away. She took a step toward me. “Lavin? Are you mad? I'm so—”

  I held my hands up in claws and growled at her. She squealed and turned around to run. I chased her, not really giving a shit about ghosts anymore. For a moment, nothing else mattered except for Bianca's laughter, the hard ground under my feet, the inhalation of the crisp fall air into my lungs.

  We came to a stop under a mostly naked tree. Bianca turned to face me as she backed up until the tree stopped her retreat. I prowled toward her and she held her hands up to her face, crying, “Please don't hurt me,” in an exaggerated actress voice.

  I stopped in front of her, and she dropped her hands to stare at me with a dramatic lip quiver.

  “Bianca?”

  She dropped the act, and I didn't know if it was the tone of my voice or what, but her expression was earnest. “Yeah?”

  “I just want you to know I wouldn't follow anyone but you into this cemetery after dark.”

  Her lips turned up in one corner. “Lavin?”

  “Yeah?”

  She lifted her hand and with light fingertips, brushed my cheek, then down my chin and over my bottom lip. Every single touch left a spark of heat in its wake, until I was sure my whole face was on fire. I wanted those fingers everywhere. All over my skin. All over me. I wanted to be consumed with the heat of her skin on mine.

  “Bianca,” I whispered.

  Finally, her gaze met mine. “I wouldn't want anyone else to follow me.”

  Her eyes dropped to my mouth, and my heartbeat was bass drum pounding in my chest. Could she hear it? Because fuck, it was like crackling thunder in my ears. A bead of sweat dripped down my spine. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but I was also terrified out of my mind. Her eyes fluttered, those gorgeous lashes shining in the moonlight. She licked her lips and leaned forward. I sucked in a breath, the air stalling in my lungs. I was going to go for it. I was going to make every effort to stay out of the friend zone this time.

  But before we could make contact, a beam of light cut across the entrance of the cemetery, we both turned to see flashlights emerging from the woods. Cops. “Shit,” I whispered.

  She shoved me. “Go. Over the fence.”

  “Okay, come on.” I grabbed her hand, but she shoved me off.

  “No, you go, Lavin. I'm going to stay here to make sure they don't see you.”

  “What? Why? Let's go!”

  She shook her head. “You're twenty, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I’m twenty-one, so I’m fine. You can’t get caught by the cops leaving a party. You’ll get kicked off the team!” Her face hardened as voices began to reach our ears. With a furious whisper, she said, “Just go, Lavin!”

  I ran. I ran because Bianca told me to. Because I couldn't get caught. Because I didn't know what else to do but listen to a girl who'd just rocked my world without even kissing me. Once I vaulted over the fence, I turned to see Bianca leaning against the tree. A shaft of moonlight shone on her dark head, and her hand was raised, her fingers pressed to her lips.

  Four

  Marco Polo

  I shoved the rest of my spaghetti in my mouth, checking the clock. I had about twenty minutes to make it to my Monday night class. I carried my plate into the kitchen. Dre was there, leaning against the counter eating stir-fry out of a bowl that looked tiny in his massive ball-catcher hands.

  Other than a quick text exchange on Saturday to make sure he was okay, I hadn’t talked to him all weekend since he’d gone home to see his family.

  “So what happened Friday?” He bit into an egg roll and chewed loudly “When I got home you were in bed already.”

  Dre was twenty-one, so he didn’t have to book it out of there like I did. I washed my plate, because Shane got pissy about dirty dishes laying around. “Ran out the back. Made it to the cemetery with Bianca. We saw some cop flashlights and she told me to take off.”

  He slowed his chewing, then swallowed. “What?”

  “She said she wasn’t underage, but she knew I couldn’t get caught. She stayed to make sure they didn’t follow where I went.”

  “Really? That’s badass of her.”

  I dried my hands on a paper towel “Yeah, I know.”

  When I straightened, Dre’s attention was back on his food. “Something going on there?”

  Did I want there to be? Hell yeah. I’d spent the entire weekend with a perpetual hard-on just thinking about her. But was there going to be? No. Because I wasn’t fucking dumb, and there was no way that girl saw me as anything remotely deserving of getting anywhere near her person for an extended period of time. Also? I didn’t want my balls nailed to the bench by Coach.

  I shook my head. “Nah. You heard Coach.”

  Dre grinned. “Not sure wild horses would keep me away from a girl who looks like that.”

  “Well, I’m not you, Dre.” I muttered. “I gotta get to class.”

  “Have fun.”

  “Never.”

  I took a few steps to get out of the kitchen. “What about you? I saw you making some plays at the party.”

  He flashed me a white-toothed grin. “Trying to work on this girl, but she isn’t having it. Imma keep
trying though.” He winked.

  I laughed. “Good luck.”

  “I don’t need it.”

  With a shake of my head, I walked out of the kitchen. Slinging my book bag over my shoulder from where I’d left it at the door, I jogged down the stairs of our porch and set off at a brisk pace to campus.

  The sun was setting, and while I hated night class, I liked the two-mile walk to campus, knowing I wouldn’t get much of a chance to stretch my legs for the next three hours.

  By the time I reached campus, I was already dreading sitting through a History of Education lecture. Still, I strode into class, sat down at a desk that thankfully didn’t fucking squeak, and prepared to be bored to death.

  Three hours later, and I was tearing out of the classroom. Maybe this night class had been a terrible idea. I thought it would open up my schedule more, but I was not made to sit in one place for that fucking long. I felt like ants were crawling beneath my skin. Then I realized those weren’t ants, but my phone buzzing.

  I pulled it out of my pocket to see it was a text from Bianca. I stopped walking and immediately plunked my ass down on a bench outside the library.

  Bianca: Where are you?

  Lavin: Hey, B, I’m good, had a great weekend, thanks for asking.

  Bianca: Nice attitude, Saint. Who saved your ass Friday?

  I shook at my head at phone with a laugh.

  Lavin: Some creepy girl who likes cemeteries.

  Bianca: I think she sounds cool.

  Lavin: She’s all right, I guess.

  Bianca: For real, where are you?

  Lavin: Outside Grainger.

  Bianca: Perfect.

  Lavin: Why?

  I waited. No answer. I stared at my phone, willing another text to come through. I gazed around me, but there were only a few stragglers on campus now that the final class of the day was over. This was stupid. I should go home. But my ass stayed glued to the seat like Bianca had magically secured me there.

  I huffed and fidgeted, angry at myself for not playing hard to get like Dre. That was his best move, and girls fell for it every time. Not like me, who sat on this damn bench like a lapdog.

  I heard footsteps and glanced up. Bianca walked toward me on the concrete path, wearing white Converse shoes, skinny jeans, and a short cropped jacket. Her hair flapped in the wind behind her as she made her way toward me, a massive grin on her face.

  I’d thought of leaving to show her a lesson? Fuck that. I’d sit here for her until my ass grew numb.

  She didn’t say a word, just grabbed my hand and tugged me to my feet, not even stopping. I nearly tripped trying to keep up with her as she sped down the path past the library. “Uh, hey again,” I said. “Yeah, I’m good. I had a great weekend. Ate some food, did some homework. What’s that? Oh yeah, I slept great. Did you have a good weekend?”

  She rolled her eyes at me over her shoulder, still flashing that big grin. “It was fine.”

  I fell in step beside her, but she didn’t let go of my hand. We were heading toward the field house. “So, what are we doing?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Uh, okay. Am I going to like this surprise?”

  Again with that sexy grin. “Maybe.”

  My hands were sweating. Did she notice? Was she grossed out? “Bianca, I—”

  “Shhh,” she pressed her fingers to her lips and tugged harder on my arm.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Why are we shushing?”

  She stopped and turned to face me so abruptly that I crashed into her. I had to brace myself with a hand on her hip while her chest smashed into me, and I sucked in a breath so I didn’t do something stupid like moan. She raised three fingers and pressed them against my lips. “Five minutes. Give me five minutes with no questions, and then you can ask any questions you want.”

  I pressed my lips together under her fingers. Her eyes were huge and dark, shining in the yellow lamps of the campus lights. I’d told Dre there was nothing there, and now here I was ready to follow her anywhere like a lemming.

  I nodded, and she stuck her little tongue out between her teeth, eyes flashing with glee. Then we were off again, her tugging me along behind her. We reached the field house doors, which she pushed open, me on her heels. A student employee sat behind the desk, eyes on his phone. The field house courts and gym were open for another half hour, so his job was to scan IDs and sign in anyone who wanted to use the facilities. He barely glanced at us, as he pointed to the card scanner and sign in book.

  “Just here on an errand for Coach Mendoza,” Bianca said, flashing her uncle’s ID badge. “Just have to get something from his office. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Her uncle’s ID badge? She’d stolen Coach’s fucking card? I tried to tug on her arm. This was fucking madness. But she didn’t let up, only gripping me tighter while dragging me through the lobby. The kid behind the desk just shrugged and went back to whatever he was doing.

  I was about to ask her what the hell she had planned, but she had a sixth sense for my big mouth because she turned around, once again holding that finger to her lips.

  I clenched my jaw and offered little resistance. She squinted at some of the direction signs in the hallways, and it wasn’t until we headed down the new wing of the field house that I got a sense of where we were going.

  My guess was confirmed when she slipped Coach’s key card through the scanner, opening the doors to the pool. The damn pool, which closed hours ago, and was dark except for the moon and distance campus lights shining through the floor to ceiling windows.

  The door clicked behind us, and that was when I finally opened my mouth. “Bianca, five minutes better be up now, because I got a lot of fucking questions.”

  She turned in a circle as she took in her surroundings, arms spread wide like a figure skater, before she pulled them against her chest. Admittedly, the pool facility was banging. They’d torn down the old one and just finished construction at the beginning of the semester. An eight-lane pool took up most of the area, and then there was a smaller, deeper pool with three diving boards of different heights. My shoes squeaked on the wet floor, and I inhaled the humid, chlorine-filled air.

  “Bianca,” I began, but my voice dropped out when she toed off her shoes, the flat soles smacking the tile floor as she peeled her coat off to reveal nothing but a tight white A-shirt tank top. Her hands went to the top of her jeans, and in a flash, she had them wriggled down over her hips, revealing nothing but a tiny scrap of baby blue cotton.

  My mouth went dry as the Sahara. Her bra was the same color of her skin and nearly sheer, so I could see the outline of her dark nipples. “Uh,” I said as she began to walk toward me barefoot, her hips rolling, tits bouncing with each step.

  “Lavin?”

  Her voice was seductive, and I was pretty sure in that moment, I would have done literally anything for her. Jump off a cliff? Sure. Run a marathon? Get my shoes. Kill a man? With my bare hands.

  “What’re we doing here?” I managed to croak out.

  “I wanted to go for a swim.”

  I stared at her, my entire body like a goddamn furnace that was about to blow. Was I hard? Enough to pound nails. Was I also terrified out of my mind? As if Jason in a ski mask was on my damn heels.

  “Y-you wanted to go for a swim,” was all I managed to say.

  She nodded, like it wasn’t fucking crazy that we were at the pool, after hours, where we were most definitely not allowed, and she’d used her uncle’s stolen card to get us in.

  “Do you want to swim?” she asked, her head tilted, teeth biting into her bottom lip.

  She knew what she was doing. That sexy head cock, the lip nibble. Christ, I was going to come in my pants. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Not a single thing. All I could do was follow her with my eyes as she turned around, giving me a view of her perfect ass, which wasn’t even close to being confined by those panties. Oh hell no, her ass cheeks were all freeedoommmm and jiggled as she walk
ed.

  With one last look at me, she raised her arms over her head, one hand on top of the other, and dove into the deep pool. Her body arced under water like a mermaid, hair streaming behind her in a black sheet.

  She surfaced with the elegance of a dolphin, wiping the water off her face as she twirled to face me. Her bare legs kicked under her, keeping her afloat. This entire fucking scenario gave a new meaning to wet dream.

  “Come in,” she said, her eyes flashing. “The water’s warm. And I’m all wet.”

  Right sure. Just jump in. No biggie that this entire situation could get me kicked off the soccer team. Suspended from school. Maybe even expelled. But then she crooked her finger at me and all fucking sense flew right out my head. Because what had she said? Oh right. I’m all wet. Sue me, but I would be a fool to turn down being closer to a wet Bianca.

  I tore off my shirt, shucked down my pants, leaving me only in a pair of—thank fuck not full of holes—black boxer briefs.

  And like a stupid fucking lovesick kid, I dove in. I opened my eyes underwater, heading right for her flailing legs. I grabbed an ankle and yanked down. I heard a muted yelp from above just as Bianca’s body came shooting toward me. She grabbed onto me, and through the veil of hair around us, I could see she was laughing, her mouth closed, but her eyes open and alight, her cheeks bulging as she held her breath.

  She shoved me, bubbles escaping her mouth as she let out a burst of underwater laughter. I tugged her to me, easily wrapping her up in my arms before I kicked upward. We surfaced with a splash. Black hair was in my eyes, and I blindly reached for her again. With a laugh, she evaded me, kicking out and successfully splashing me in the face. I growled and went after her, slicing my arms through the water as she took off toward the other end of the pool. I was a decent swimmer, but Bianca wasn’t bad either, as she flew through the water, head down in a front crawl.

  When I drew close, she spun around, cupping the water and sending an arc of spray into my face. She squealed as I sputtered, and then I came after her again. She made it to the side in time to scramble out of the water and jog to a diving board, her hair sending water flying as she whirled around to see if I was following. I stopped, bracing my arms on the edge. “Hey, don’t run.”