by Avery Kaye
Before you judge, let me make one thing clear. I’m not all about being in the spotlight, so to speak. Because I have been the youngest kid in my class since I skipped second grade, I’ve generally tried not to stick out from the crowd. Unlike my bestie. Whereas Madi is always standing in the spotlight, both literally and figuratively, I like being the girl backstage, keeping things running smoothly while letting her collect all the applause.
But every now and then I don’t mind stepping into the spotlight. For a short time. And getting some attention.
Thanks to Madi’s magic, I’m in that kind of mood tonight.
We stroll outside. It’s cool but humid. A typical September evening in Michigan, if there is such a thing. The rain stopped hours ago, but the air still smells damp and earthy. There’s a definite spring in my step as we click-clack down the sidewalk. The party is at a nearby house, rented by a group of students, just off campus.
Despite the fact that the party house is not even a football field’s length from campus, this isn’t a neighborhood to take a solitary stroll through at night. The streets are dark. The houses old and (many of them) tired. Porches saggy. Front lawns weedy.
But we cavort without a care in the world. Behind us, and in front, are other groups of students, all headed to the same destination.
As we get within a block of the party, the deep pulsing throb of music echoes through the silent neighborhood, calling to us, stirring our heartbeats. We stomp up the front steps of the Arts and Crafts era two-story house and barely squeeze inside the door before hitting a wall of students.
To our left, a guy says, “Twenty dollars each.”
Madi hands him a two twenty dollar bills and he gives us each a blue plastic cup. Then he points and tells us the keg is in the kitchen. Inside, the air is stale and stinks like sweat. With Madi leading the way, we thread through the mass of sweaty students packed into the tiny living room. Between the music and the volume of the partier’s voices, there’s no point in trying to talk to each other. So we walk and wave as we pass people we know, and I hold onto Madi’s arm to keep from losing her.
It seems like forever before we make it to the kitchen. One of the school’s star pitchers is manning the keg. He gives me an up and down look as he fills my cup then does the same with Madi. We step aside to let the people behind us fill their cups.
I slurp down cheap, lukewarm beer and scan the crowd. I see a lot of familiar faces. From classes. From my dorm.
“Come on!” Madi screams in my ear. “I’m ready for a refill. Drink up!”
I reluctantly force the bitter, warm beverage down my throat and vow to give my next one to Madi. But this time when we go back for more, the keg guy tells us to go outside in the backyard and get some good stuff. So we shove our way to the back door and stumble out onto the deck.
I suck in some fresh air.
Madi squeals and runs to the makeshift bar, set up on one side of the deck.
It turns out Ryan, the guy manning it, is the very same one she’s been obsessing over all summer. Which means the alcohol is going to flow free for both of us.
And flow, it does.
Despite my good intentions.
We do shots.
Lots of shots.
Sweet, yummy, fruity shots.
They go down smooth and warm my insides. In no time I’m having a shitload of fun.
Madi’s obsession cranks on some tunes and Madi and I dance with each other and with Ryan and his cute friend, I forget his name. We laugh. We sing. We drink some more. What’s His Name holds me as we dance, and I feel sexy. He bends to kiss me, but I duck my head. I don’t know why. He’s cute enough. And I’m having fun. But I don’t want to hook up with anyone. I know that’s what he wants.
When the song ends, I lean against the railing and fan my face. It’s gotten hotter outside. Very hot. Very muggy. The air is thick and heavy. I need a break. So do my feet. I yank off my shoes.
Madi clearly doesn’t need a break from anything or anyone. She has her tongue shoved down Ryan’s throat. Or maybe it’s the other way around. And they’re grinding against each other.
What’s His Name finds another girl to dance with. Rather, another girl to hook up with. Now the fifth wheel, I leave the makeshift dance floor on the deck, help myself to some vodka and shoulder the wood fence enclosing the back yard.
Suddenly a girl dashes out of the house, sprinting past me, shouting “police!”
I drop my cup.
Madi shoves her new boyfriend away and spins around, looking for me.
“Here!” I say, waving. When she stumbles down the deck stairs, I grab her hand and together we follow the girl who yelled the warning.
She dashes to the back of the yard and disappears behind a big bush.
Getting caught drinking underage is a big deal at my school. So of course I follow her. The bush looks big enough to hide all three of us…
Only, it doesn’t have to…
Because…
There’s a hole in the back fence. The bush is hiding it.
We duck through the hole and stagger/stumble across the neighboring house’s backyard, only to discover we’ve hit a dead end. The tall wooden gate leading to the street won’t open.
And, holy shit, there’s a dog! The massive beast comes barreling at us, barking and growling like a hell hound.
Figuring I’m about to die, I do what any sane girl would—I climb onto the hood of the little car parked in the narrow driveway. And then, because the dog might be big enough to jump up there with me, I slide my butt up on the car’s roof. Madi follows me.
The other girl is nowhere to be seen. Which is a good thing. Because there wouldn’t be room for one more person on our little island of safety.
“Hey!” a male voice shouts from the general direction of the house. “You! I’m going to call the police if you don’t get off my car!”
“Call off Cujo and we will!” Madi yells.
A shrill whistle echoes off the neighboring houses, and the attack dog gives one final bark before answering his owner’s summons.
Breathing easier, I scoot my butt down the windshield and drop to the ground. But now I don’t know where to go. And I don’t know where the other girl went.
One thing I do know: we can’t go back the way we came. Flashing blue and red lights are reflecting off every shiny surface around us. There are police cars all over the place.
“What do we do now?” I whisper to my fellow escapee.
The girl who led us through the fence, reappears from wherever she’d been hiding. Breathless, she throws her hands in the air. “The gate’s locked. He didn’t used to lock it. She points toward the hole in the fence. “Now that’s the only way out.”
“We’re fucked,” I grumble.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Madi whispers. “Obviously the guy who lives here knows we’re out here. What if we knock on the door and just ask him to unlock the gate?”
I laugh. “If he bothered to lock it, why would he unlock it for us?”
“Didn’t you see who lives here?” Madi asks.
“No. Did you? And why would it matter?”
She grins. “It’s your fave math professor.”
“Conners?”
“Yeah, Conners. Who else would it be? Come on.” Madi grabs my hand and starts tugging me toward the house. The other girl just stands there, watching us. “He likes you. He’ll unlock the gate for you.”
I dig in my heels and yank on the creeping hem of the dress I borrowed. Suddenly I’m painfully aware of how short it is. Why did I let Madi talk me into wearing it? Why did I let her talk me into going to this party in the first place? And why, oh why, did I drink all those shots? “No.”
“Yeah.” My very determined bestie catches my hand again and pulls.
I jerk my hand away. “Wait! I can’t let him know it’s me. He’ll fire me. Before I’ve even had a chance to start.”
“No, he won’t.” Madi folds her arms over her che
st. “First, he doesn’t know you’re under age. Or that you’ve been drinking…”
I shake my head and the world tips back and forth. “He knows how old I am. It was on the paperwork I filled out for the job.”
“And second,” Madi continues, unfazed, “I bet he was a partier when he was in school. I bet he still parties. He has a bad boy vibe about him.”
“Madi, I can’t take that chance. I need that job. You know I really, really need the money. And if he turns me in—”
“Fine. Hide there.” She points at a dark spot, behind the car. “I’ll ask him to open the gate. You can sneak out after us.” Madi flounces up the back deck stairs (as well as a drunk girl can flounce) and knocks on the French doors. The other girl follows Madi. I watch from my hiding spot.
I see the shadow as he comes to the back door.
I see the door open….
Madi was right. It’s him. It’s Professor Conners.
Jordan.
I watch Madi talk to him, pointing and waving her hands like she does whenever she’s drunk.
Then I see her go inside his house. Inside. Not through the gate.
Why would he invite her in his house? I thought he was going to unlock the gate.
What do I do now?
I hunker down, hiding deeper in the shadows and pray that Madi comes around and unlocks the gate from the outside, if that’s possible.
I hear a lot of commotion coming from the adjacent back yard. Shouting voices echoing through the tense silence. It has to have been at least five minutes since Madi went inside Dr. Conners’ house. Where is she? Why hasn’t she come for me?
I want to check the time, to see how long I’ve been hiding out here, but if I take out my phone, the glare will give me away.
Has it been five minutes?
No. It has to have been at least ten minutes. Probably longer.
Thanks to being terrified, I’m definitely losing my buzz, though I’m still far from sober.
An hour later (or so it seems) I creep out of my hiding spot and prowl up to the gate. Maybe Madi unlocked it but didn’t open it?
Maybe she’s wondering why I’m still sitting back here?
I pull.
Yeah, no.
So much for that theory.
I sigh. Where is she? She wouldn’t have abandoned me.
A distant rumble of thunder bellows. Fat droplets smack my head.
Wonderful. It’s going to rain again.
Another crack of thunder booms, and the wind starts howling, whipping my hair all over the place. Half blind, thanks to my hair veiling my face, I stumble back to the detached garage, pressing my back against the door.
The sky opens up.
I am doused. Instantly. Thoroughly.
Fantastic.
I’m stuck in Dr. Conners’ backyard. In a thunderstorm.
Where the fuck is Madi?
I inch around the side of the garage, groping in the semi-dark. The floodlight illuminating Dr. Conners’ deck doesn’t reach this far back. But by some small miracle I find what I was hoping for. There’s a side door into the garage. I give it a go.
Unlocked.
Ohthankgod.
I duck inside.
In here it smells like gasoline and lawn mowers. Without a light, it’s tricky to see where I’m going. But the little window on the opposite side lets in a bit of light. I can see there’s a crap ton of stuff in here, including a big old car. I grope and wiggle between bicycles and lawn tools to get to it. I peer into the window and try the door.
Unlocked.
Rain is drumming on the garage’s roof now. The storm is getting worse. And I have no idea how long I’ll be stuck in here.
I climb inside the car, choosing the backseat where it’s a little more comfortable.
The wind’s howling gets louder by the second. So does the thunder, booming at ever increasing intervals. The metal garage door starts banging, the rain pelting it like rocks.
I hate storms.
My heart is thumping.
Thunder crashes and I jump.
Did I say how much I hate storms?
This one is getting bad quickly.
And I’m stuck in a garage.
Crap. Did I think of checking the weather forecast before heading to the party? No, of course not.
Then again, if I were safe and sound inside that party house right now, would I care about the storm?
A loud thunderclap makes me jump again.
Am I sober now?
Yep.
Chilled, and wet, and sober, I wrap my arms around myself. I just want this stupid storm to end. By now the cops have probably packed up and headed back to the station. So, as soon as the rain stops, I can get back to the dorm, throw myself into my bed, and forget tonight ever happened.
How I regret going to that stupid party now.
That’s it. No more parties until after my birthday.
I poke my phone screen, and the glare practically blinds me. I squint as I swipe a text to my bestie.
Where are you?
She answers, Inside Dr. Conners’ house. He insisted I wait until the storm has passed. It’s bad.
I type, Tell me about it. I’m out here. IN THE GARAGE.
As if Mother Nature (who hates me right now) knows about our conversation, she stirs things up even more. The wind slams the side of the garage with fury, and I duck. This isn’t a normal late-summer storm. No. This is the kind that spawns tornados. I can feel it in my gut.
But I’m stuck in here. I this creaky old garage. With no way to get to safe shelter. Even if I wanted to.
A siren squeals. Loud. Long.
Yep, I was right. There’s the tornado siren.
I’m so screwed.
My phone chimes.
Kelsey?
I swipe. Yes. I’m here.
There’s a tornado warning.
I know.
I’m going to tell Professor Conners that you’re in his garage.
No.
Are you sure?
The small door flings open and slams against the stuff stacked in the garage, sending things flying. Wind and rain blast through the opening. The car literally rocks as it’s struck by the furious winds. “Oh no!” I drop my phone and ball up on the floor, wrapping my arms around my head.
How I wish I hadn’t gone to that stupid party! Not worth it. Not at all!
Now the door’s hanging wide open.
And it’s hailing.
Yes, it’s hailing.
The ice is thumping on the roof. The old roof. On this old garage.
I can only imagine how big the pellets are. Probably softball size. Probably big enough to knock down an old garage like this one. If not the hail, the winds could take it down.
Or…wasn’t there a tree behind the garage?
Shit, shit, shit!
I don’t have the guts to peer out the car window to see what else I might need to worry about. I wiggle down as low as I can and lecture myself on the lesson I’ve learned here. And, just for kicks, I throw in a prayer too. With a couple of promises to The Man Upstairs, should He let me live through this.
Suddenly, the car door swings open, and I shriek as rain, carried on the furious winds, pelts my back.
“Kelsey!”
I swivel my head around, catching Dr. Conners diving into the car with me. The door slams.
“Are you all right?” He’s drenched. Water dripping from his lashes, nose, chin. This is totally the wrong time to marvel at how insanely hot Dr. Conners is. In the middle of a tornado. But I’m an idiot. So I do.
“Yes,” I tell the gorgeous, courageous man who braved a wicked storm to check on me. “I’m okay.” Then, to look less not-okay, I get off the floor, sitting beside him.
“Why are you hiding out here? Why didn’t you come inside with your friends?” he asks.
“Because I didn’t want you to think badly about me. Because I was at the party.”
“If I judged you for
that then I would be a hypocritical ass.”
Something big and hard slams the car and he falls toward me, and suddenly I find myself nose to nose with one non-hypocritical non-ass. His eyes lock on mine. “Are you all right?” he asks, his mouth inches from mine.
I nod. “Yes,” I wheeze. It feels like there’s no oxygen in here. And it’s hot. Really, really hot. His eyes flick down to my mouth, and my heart starts galloping like a runaway race horse.
Is he going to…?
No.
Or is he…?
No way.
His tongue swipes across his lower lip, and my insides do flip-flops. This man is one part Chris Hemsworth, one part Jared Leto, and a dash of Brad Pit. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his late thirties. Which would make him anywhere from fifteen to twenty years older than me. Not to mention he’s technically my boss. And professor.
But none of those things matter right now. All that matters is this. The electricity arcing between our bodies. The invisible force pulling us toward one another. The throbbing heat pounding between my legs.
It can’t be my imagination. He has to feel it too.
His head tips slightly, moving closer.
Is he going to…?
The air crackles with static. Heat pulses through me. My nerves fire. All of them.
Yes, I think he is.
Closer yet, he inches, and the world falls away. Every fraction of a second seems to last an eternity.
He’s going to kiss me!
I wait. For that precious contact. When his lips meet mine.
“Kelsey,” he murmurs. Then he seals his mouth over mine, and a million butterflies take flight inside me. Instantly my blood boils. My skin tingles. The air around us thins. I suck in air through my nose while his mouth, so sweet, so gentle, seduces me.
His kiss is slow but not timid or polite. It’s teasing. Tormenting. Delightfully patient. Within seconds, I’m writhing beneath him. My heart pounds so hard against my breastbone it aches.
I can’t believe this is happening. It’s too wonderful to be true.
His mouth leaves mine to nip the sensitive spot under my earlobe. Goose bumps erupt over my arm and shoulder. I plant my hands on his shoulders and feel his muscles flex and bulge beneath his wet shirt.
He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.