by Sparling,Amy
“What have you been up to, Caplan? I haven’t really talked to you much lately.”
Or ever, I think. Kris reaches out and pulls at a loose string on the knee of my jeans. The move is weirdly intimate, and the warmth of his hand sends a shiver straight to the lower part of my belly.
I pull in a ragged breath. “Not much. My life is boring.”
He chuckles. “I can help you make it more interesting.”
I pretend to look like I’m not very convinced, even though I know for a fact a guy like Kris Edgemont could make anything interesting. “Why don’t I believe you?”
His lips pull into a grin and his fingers flatten on my knee. He glances up, probably to make sure the substitute isn’t watching, and then his hand slides up, up, up, until it’s nearly at my crotch. His skin leaves a searing hot trail along my jeans and I freeze.
He leans forward, sliding his desk over to mine. If anyone were to look over here, it’d probably look like we’re telling each other secrets since we’re so close. My breath catches, his cologne swirling around me.
Kris’s eyes go straight to my cleavage and the whispers in my ear, “Let me show you at lunch.”
I swallow. And breathe the word, “Okay.”
Chapter 13
Leaving campus for lunch is strictly off limits. Back when I was in eighth grade, we all couldn’t wait to get into high school because SHS had open campus for lunch. Then, with my stupid luck, during my freshman year they changed the rules so that only juniors and seniors could leave for lunch.
Dana got around this rule by using her friend’s student ID to pretend to be a senior. The off campus IDs had this big red bar across the top and you had to flash it to a teacher on your way out the door. Dana looked enough like her friend that the ID worked every time.
And then, because fate hates me, the school got a new cafeteria supply company and I guess they figured they could make more money selling lunches so they closed off campus lunch for all students starting the year I was a junior.
So yeah, it’s totally against the rules to leave.
Which is probably why it feels so exhilarating as I power walk through the hallways with Kris by my side, dodging teachers and sneaking out the back way near the athletics hallway.
“Are you sure we won’t get caught?” I ask, immediately regretting the words because it makes me sound like an idiot.
Kris pushes open the door that leads to the back parking lot that I didn’t think anyone actually used. He looks both ways and then turns a sneaky grin to me. “I’m sure. Come on.”
We walk across a grassy area and then we’re in the parking lot, going toward a red Chevy truck that I’m guessing is Kris’s. The sound of a door closing behind us makes me stop.
“Hey!”
My heart pounds as I realize we’ve just been caught.
Then Kyle says, “What’s up fuckwad?” and I figure it’s probably not a teacher behind us.
I turn around and see Tommy Rodriguez jogging up to us. He’s also in the popular crowd, and there’s been rumors that his manhood is on the extremely huge side. I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing I know about Tommy, except that he’s also on the basketball team with Kris. Tommy moved here a few years ago and slid effortlessly into the popular crowd. I really don’t know how people do that, but I guess having a big thing kind of helps.
“Dude, you’re ditching me for a chick?” Tommy says, shaking his head. “Not cool.”
“I’m not ditching you. Get in.” Kris gives me this apologetic look and pulls open the drivers’ side door. I realize now that his truck is a single cab which means there’s only one long bench seat—which means I get to be in the middle.
I climb in and Tommy jumps in on the passenger side, his long legs brushing against mine as I squeeze into the tiny middle seat.
Kris buckles his seatbelt then immediately slides his hand back over my thigh, igniting the fluttery feeling in my stomach again.
“Jack?” he says, like it’s a question.
Tommy nods.
“What?” I say.
“Jack-in-the-box,” Kris clarifies. “You down for that?”
“Oh, yeah sure.”
Have I mentioned that I kind of can’t think coherently when a guy’s hand is on my thigh?
Kris and Tommy talk about basketball and school projects that they think are “bullshit” and I sit quietly while we head to Jack, the nearest fast food place, my focus on the hand on my thigh. Kris has manly hands, bigger and kind of meaty. I find myself wondering what Jonah’s hands look like and I wonder why I never really paid attention in the few times we’ve hung out.
A knot forms in my stomach and I try shaking it away, but as I’ve learned lately, once my brain starts thinking about Jonah Thedford, it’s hard to make it stop.
At the restaurant, there’s about a dozen other SHS students here, and I can’t believe so many people leave for lunch even though it’s against the rules now. They could all get written up if caught. Is this really what I’ve been missing out on all these years of being a rule follower?
It feels trivial but also exciting. Kris pays for my food without a second thought, and I’m smiling the whole way to our seat, which is a corner booth in the back of the restaurant. This could kind of be considered a date, if I liked Kris. He’s hot and all, but there’s no connection here. No magic flirty spark that sets my heart on fire like…well, like when I’m with Jonah.
Not that it matters.
Just like in the car, the guys talk so much I barely get a word in, but it’s not so bad. Kris sits real close to me so that our legs and hips and sides are touching. At one point, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and finishes eating his fries with his other hand.
I’m positively blushing now, and I don’t even know why. I am like 99% sure I don’t have a crush on Kris. But, could I?
I’m pondering over how cool it feels to be sitting in a booth with a guy’s arm around me when I get the sudden feeling that I’m being watched. Casually, I glance over, seeing tables of people who are eating and too busy to notice me.
Then I see Jonah. And this time it really is him. He has a milkshake in one hand, the straw tipped to his lips. He’s standing by the counter waiting on his food and he’s staring at me.
I give him a little smile, which makes my heart go all pitter patter like I’m in a freaking daydream or something. Jonah’s eyes bore straight into mine for the longest time—or maybe only a few seconds—and then he looks away.
“Zoey.”
I flinch and look over at Kris. Both he and Tommy are now staring at me which means I’ve missed out on something they said to me. “What’s up?”
Kris says, “You ready to go? Tommy found a ride with someone else so it’ll just be us.”
Something in the way he says that makes me nervous. Tommy snorts. “More like, I was forced to find another ride, so you’re welcome,” he says, winking.
“Sure,” I say, still feeling dazed from that weird encounter with Jonah. I check the time. “But we still have ten minutes left until the bell rings.”
The bell after lunch simply signals that we have a ten minute hall time until third period, so technically we have twenty minutes left before we need to be at our next class. I don’t want to go back to school just yet, but Kris seems to have other ideas.
“Exactly,” he says, his eyes filled with lust as he leans in, his lips on my ear. “Ten minutes is all I need.”
He grins, and I smile back because it feels like the kind of situation where I should know what he’s alluding to, but I’m totally lost.
Then, I get it.
I really get it.
In the back parking lot of the school, where the only other car is parked several yards away, Kris Edgemont makes his move.
“You’re really fucking hot,” he says, his eyes on my cleavage as he slides off his seatbelt and moves a little closer to me. His hand goes to my chest, his fingers cupping my breast over my shirt. He leans
down, and then his lips are on my neck.
I gasp, then lean into his touch. Kris Edgemont knows exactly what to do. His tongue slides across my neck as he kisses a trail down to my collar bone. He has one hand on my boob and the other placed softly on my cheek.
He pulls back for just a second and then goes in for a real kiss. And just like that, I am kissing a hot basketball player. Kris’s tongue moves quickly as he kisses me hard and rough, deepening the urgency. His hands slide down my body, between my legs and up again, making me gasp and moan in ways I didn’t know I was capable of.
The intensity is so high, so ravaging, that I barely have time to wonder if I’m doing this right—if I’m a good kisser—if he’s enjoying this too.
And then, just as quickly as it began, he pulls back, his chest heaving. I have to catch my breath and I’m hoping like hell that he doesn’t start talking because I’m so freaked out by what just happened and how weirdly it turned me on. I barely register that Kris just pulled out his dick. My eyes widen as he takes my hand and wraps it around it. “Oh yeah, baby,” he whispers as he guides my hand up and down the shaft.
Okay, now I’m kind of panicking.
I’m touching a penis and I don’t even know how this happened. Kris’s head falls back against the headrest and his eyes close. He’s doing most of the work really, but I keep stroking because he’s making me. His hand is so much bigger than mine, and it closes over mine, going up and down, up and down.
I can’t stop thinking that this is all so weird, so wrong. All those exciting feelings and horny thoughts from a moment ago are gone, gone, gone. I am not turned on anymore. This isn’t exciting for me, it’s just—weird.
“Oh shit,” Kris mutters, his movements getting faster and faster. He’s gripping so hard that my hand is starting to hurt, but for some reason I don’t want him to be mad at me so I keep going, keep rubbing his erection the way he’s showing me.
Kris curses again and then he freezes, then kind of shudders for a second. Warm, sticky goo falls over my hand. I am suddenly so very disgusted at what just happened.
Kris sighs, his eyes still closed as a smile spreads across his face.
“There’s wipes in the glove box,” he says. He releases my hand, and I reach over and get two wipes, handing one to him. He cleans himself up and zips his pants back up. I focus on wiping all the semen off my hands, and then Kris tosses his wipe outside onto the concrete. I do the same thing and it makes me feel so, so gross.
I’ll never be able to see a dirty napkin on the ground again without wondering if someone jacked off into it.
“Bell’s about to ring,” Kris says, pulling his keys out of the ignition. “Let’s go.”
I swallow and climb out of the trunk. My whole body feels weak as I walk back to the school with Kris by my side. My left hand is sore from the work out I just did, and there’s this weird aching feeling in my chest.
I think it’s regret.
Kris goes first and makes sure there’s no teachers in the hallway and then motions for me to join him. Soon, we’re back in the school and the bell rings and the hallways fill with people, just like it’s any normal day.
Which, I guess it is, for everyone who didn’t just give their first hand job.
Before we part ways, Kris puts a hand on my lower back and whispers into my ear. “I’ll make sure the guys know you’re not a prude anymore.”
Then he slaps my ass and turns down another hallway, leaving me in this building full of people, where I somehow feel more alone than ever.
Chapter 14
I walk through the halls in a daze. My hand smells like an antibacterial wipe, but it still feels dirty. Forever ruined, somehow. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe Kris, of all people, randomly decided to talk to me, then buy me lunch, then make out with me in the cab of his truck.
A little voice in the back of my mind reminds me that this is kind of exactly what I was planning on when I made that stupid list to avoid being a prude. Being sexy, acting sexy, and hooking up. It’s just what I wanted. Right?
So why do I feel so … weird?
I think about the first part of my time with Kris, when he was feeling me up and kissing me in ways I didn’t know were possible. That part was hot. It almost didn’t matter who was on the other side of his lips. I just liked the making out. I want to do it again, but this time I don’t want it to end in me holding some guy’s thing while he essentially pleasures himself.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I knock into someone walking the opposite direction. I look up, realizing I’ve somehow walked from one end of the school to the other without paying attention. My third period chemistry class is at the end of the hall and my brain was taking me there even though my thoughts are on chemistry of a different sort.
I blink a few times, trying to get back in the present, but memories of what it felt like to be kissed—really kissed—won’t go away. My lips practically tingle with the phantom memory.
I reach the end of the hallway and a strong hand grabs my arm. Before I can react, I’m tugged toward the staircase and then shoved behind it in the little triangle space under where the staircase bends and keeps going up to the second floor.
I panic at the sudden darkness, my hands balling into fists even though I’ve never fought anyone in my life. As my eyes adjust to the near dark, I see black shaggy hair in the eyes of the guy standing in front of me. I recognize his intoxicating body wash and take a step back.
“Jonah? What the hell?”
“Shh.” His finger presses to my lips. He points up above our heads to where dozens of students trample up and down the stairs. “We don’t want to get caught in a no trespassing zone, now do we?”
“No trespassing?” I ask in a hushed voice. My heart is pounding from both being scared half to death and then realizing I’m now once again alone with Jonah, which let’s face it, has been the only thing I’ve longed for lately.
He points to a caution sign on the wall a few feet over. It literally says No Trespassing. I guess after the architects built this place the administration realized the little dark space below the stairs would make an awesome make out spot if students ever found it.
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. “Wow. There really is a sign.”
“We need to talk,” Jonah says. His back leans against the painted brick wall behind him and in this small space, he’s about ten thousand times more intimidating.
I fold my arms across my chest in a pathetic attempt to look like I’m so not intimated by him. “About?”
“You can’t be hanging out with Kris Edgemont.”
I wait for him to continue, to give a reason why, or maybe just to say please instead of bossing me around like that’s an acceptable thing for him to do. Instead he just leans against that freaking wall, all casual and uncaring, yet somehow caring at least a little bit because he’s requesting a lot from me.
“Why do you care?” I say. Above us, the footsteps get fewer as students are rushing off to class.
“I care because no one should hang around that guy. He’s bad news.”
“I thought you were bad news.”
His tongue flits over his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving me. That intense stare might just be the death of me, and now I can’t stop looking at his lips.
“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you. I don’t want to see another good girl be sucked into that asshole’s talons.”
I swallow and tear my eyes away, choosing instead to look at his forearms that are still crossed. “I don’t think talons suck, exactly. More like grab or snatch.”
He smiles. “Fine, I don’t want you grabbed by his talons. He’s a shit person, Zoey. You should stay away.”
“Why do you care? We aren’t friends.”
He shrugs. “We’re kind of friends.”
I take a step forward, trying to get in his face, but it doesn’t really work because he’s taller than me. Also, maybe I do it because I’m a
ddicted to that fluttery feeling that swells up in my stomach when I’m close to him.
“Okay, well not that I would listen to some guy under the stairs,” I say, and he smirks, “but I probably won’t be seeing him anymore. He asked me to lunch today and it was…well—”
“Chauvinistic and degrading?”
I look up, meeting his intense gaze. “How’d you know?”
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I know everything. I also know you’re not some easy bitch like half the girls in this school. You don’t need to waste time on guys like that.”
That fluttery feeling in my stomach is back and hotter than ever. I can’t stop staring at his lips, at the angle of his jaw, his broad shoulders—all of it is such a turn on. And now that I’ve had a taste of what making out can feel like, I want more.
“So what guys should I hang out with?” I say, taking another step forward. I stand up straight to make my boobs look bigger but Jonah’s eyes never leave mine so he’s really missing out on the view.
“Better guys,” he says, and it looks like he might say something else, but I don’t give him the chance.
I throw my arms around his neck and lift up on my toes and kiss him. He freezes and for half a second I think I might piss myself out of fear that he’ll reject me—but then he relaxes and those strong arms wrap around me. He kisses me back slowly, passionately, his lips moving over mine like he’s afraid he’ll break them. I push closer to him, wanting to feel his body against mine.
My hands run up the shaved part at the back of his head and I slide my tongue across his lips. He groans, exhaling against my mouth. Then, as swiftly as he pulled me under the stairs, he turns me around, pushing my back against the wall. One hand grabs my hip and the other holds my neck while he kisses me.
It’s so freaking sexy I think I might die. I grab onto him and hold him close, my fingers tangled up in his shirt. Then his lips are hot on my neck and if I’d thought Kris knew how to kiss a girl’s neck, I was wrong. Jonah’s kisses send zaps of pleasure down to my toes. His breath is minty and warm on my skin. My head falls to the side, begging him to keep going, so he does. I’m keenly aware of his strong hand, those long fingers wrapped around my side and squeezing tightly. He doesn’t go for my boobs though—he just holds me against the wall, pressing his body against mine until every inch of me is lit up in pleasure.