“Sorry, guys,” I all but yelled to be heard over the music, “this isn’t my thing.”
Then James locked his hands around my neck and held on to me like I was an under seat floatation device and our plane was heading for a water landing. “Awww, we’re having fun, and we want you to be fun, too.”
“Yeah, about that… I have a boyfriend. So do you.”
James grinned. Then he ground into me. “We want to play.”
“I don’t.” Seriously, where the hell was Michael?
I reached up to pry James’s hands off when I caught Michael’s gaze. He stared at me intently from where he and his friends danced. Oh, he was paying attention, all right. He saw every single detail. And liked it.
Then they went to town. Jeez, I was trapped in my own personal girly show, only they were boys. That was it, however. They were still boys, both juniors in high school, while I’d cleared my first semester of college, more or less. As hot as this could’ve been with older guys, it needed to stop.
Awww jeez. They were young and they were hot, and they were hot because they were young, and how could Michael stand me? Was he looking at me because this turned him on or because I filled him with loathing? How could it not when even I made me sick?
And then the ghost of Josh Brennan reared his head. No Ouija board needed, just my overheated imagination and maybe some kind of martyr complex. I felt like a pervert for even being there. Maybe the Castelreighs were right. Maybe I had no business whatsoever dating their son. Could four months of college really make that much difference?
I looked up and met Michael’s eyes. He still danced with his friends, but I held all of his attention. His eyes burned into mine, and I realized I’d catch hell later. Somehow he knew exactly what had been going on. But if that had been the case, why had he not intervened?
Then his upper lip curled up, not quite a sneer, not quite a smile, but showing a lot of teeth. Oh, this was primal. Someone—two someones—had intruded on his territory, and he would have to reclaim it. Suddenly I found it hard to breathe. I ignored the children. The only person who mattered to me right then was Michael, and I watched him stalk me. I stopped dancing, letting Casey and James do whatever they were going to do in their addled state. It and they weren’t my problems.
As soon as I felt their pressure lessen on my front and back, I pushed them away. I saw only one person who mattered in that moment. Everyone else faded from view, objects to be negotiated in my attempts to reach him.
I took my first steps away from Casey and James, when one of the chaperones caught us all. “Jeremy Babcock? What on earth are you doing here?”
Of course it had to be the Gutslinger, the vice principal for discipline.
I scratched the back of my head. “I’m here with my boyfriend, who’s still a Davis High student.”
I had to project to make myself heard over the music, some thudding techno beat that suddenly didn’t sound fun anymore.
“And who would that be?”
I looked at the vice principal like she was stupid. No one was that naïve, not and be in charge of discipline at a suburban high school that spanned the socioeconomic spectrum.
“Are you serious?”
“You can’t blame me for trying. Regardless, the school takes a dim view on alumni crashing—”
I held up my hands. “I didn’t crash. My boyfriend and I paid for tickets fair and square, same as everyone else.”
“But… aha! You were dating Michael Castelreigh last year, and I see him plowing through the crowd toward us, so there’s a good chance you still are. Neither of you are juniors, and you can’t protest that,” the Gutslinger said.
One of the other chaperones had collared Casey and James, but they seemed to be having a fine time nonetheless. I shook my head. When would I ever learn?
The Gutslinger followed my gaze and apparently my train of thought. “I’m going to have to ask you both to come with me while we get all this straightened out.”
I nodded. “I suppose we’d better. The party’s over, regardless.”
“So how’s your brother?” she said as we all walked to her office. Well, Michael and I walked, the other chaperone herded Casey and James.
“I don’t know, I haven’t spoken to him since the middle of October, when he took our parents’ side in an argument. Before you ask, I haven’t spoken to them, either.”
The Gutslinger looked up at me. “You’re an unforgiving sort.”
“You’re one to talk.” My sense of humor, at least on that subject, had long ago run out.
“I never hold grudges, Remy, I only do my job. Every day is a new day, and every student under my care starts it with a clean slate. That doesn’t mean I don’t know which students will dirty their slates sooner than others, but I never hold grudges, and,” she said, “it’s never personal.”
“This is.” I didn’t elaborate, but I couldn’t help looking over at Michael.
Naturally she caught it. “Interesting.”
The Gutslinger sat Michael and me down in front of her desk, and then left us alone while she conferred with the chaperone holding James and Casey. “You two, sit.”
I had to admit, her tone of voice was far harsher than anything I’d ever heard her use on me, either when I was a student at Davis High or that evening.
Then she came to us and pulled a chair around to our side of her desk. “Some days—or nights—I wonder if I’m too old for this crap. All right, let’s get down to business. Are you the one who supplied them with whatever they’re on? I’m assuming it’s molly.”
I shook my head. “Are you kidding? I didn’t have anything to do with it in high school, which you know perfectly well, and I still don’t. You can call my coach, if you want. I’ve passed all my random drug tests.”
I didn’t think she expected that. “Hmmm. No, you were a straightlace in high school, that was for sure.”
“As it were.” My voice grated in my own ears. The reality of the situation was, she had no authority to detain me. Michael, on the other hand? She could make his life hell.
The Gutslinger folder her arms across her chest and turned to Michael. I knew it for what it was—cheap theatrics designed to intimidate high schoolers. “I’m rather surprised to see you involved in this, Mr. Castelreigh.”
My tough boyfriend no longer looked so tough. He looked like what he was—a scared high school senior called on the carpet for the actions of others. “I didn’t know anything about what they were going to do. I only wanted to have a nice night with my boyfriend.”
Damn, but the Gutslinger looked mean, and he looked terrified. “And it didn’t occur to you that breaking the rules to get him into the prom wasn’t the best idea?”
“The rule about one of us having to be a junior didn’t seem like a big deal,” he said softly, “not when someone on the organizing committee said sh—he’d get us in. We didn’t plan to cause trouble, we were just going to dance. It’s not like there’s anywhere else we can do that.”
The Gutslinger smiled faintly, apparently catching Michael’s slip of the tongue. “You’re right about one thing. There aren’t many opportunities for people under twenty-one to dance in Davis, and I’m not personally thrilled about my students driving to Sacramento for under twenty-one nights.”
Then the smile fell away, and she was all disciplinarian again. “It was entirely possible that if you’d come to me, Michael, we might have worked something out.” She held up a hand. “Possible, I say, not probable, and now much less probable for the senior ball this spring. That depends on how my investigation about tonight turns out, including those two. I don’t tolerate drugs in my high school. At all. And, Remy, I’ll need your coach’s phone number. If you have indeed passed your drug screens, I’ll consider the matter between you and me settled, because I have no legal recourse to go fishing for anything else.”
You’re damn right you don’t. I didn’t say that out loud.
She looked at me long a
nd hard. “But, Remy? Given the fact that there’s an active lawsuit between your family and the school district, your presence here is at the very least in extremely bad taste.”
Oh that was it. “That lawsuit is entirely the fault of your coaching staff, and you know it. They were aware of the Americans with Disabilities Act and their responsibilities under it, but they chose to ignore them in favor of AIDS-phobia or whatever you choose to call it.” The whole thing infuriated me. “Furthermore, that all came out in court and under oath. This school and this district have only themselves to blame. Right now, the lawyers are haggling over dollar figures, and yet I have in no way been ordered to stay away from my boyfriend’s school, which you also know.”
The Gutslinger sighed. “I know it’s their fault, which makes me furious. I was only ever on your side, if you’ll remember.”
I stared into her eyes, wishing my glare were a drill. “So don’t start in on me like I’m the enemy. I didn’t bring drugs into this school, and I don’t know where those two got them. They seemed fine through dinner, but all of a sudden, they were on me like white on rice. Furthermore, I haven’t led Michael astray, and I never thought doing an end run around the entrance requirements for the prom was a good idea.” I glanced at Michael. “I am not, however, always listened to, but I do have a perfectly legal backup plan on deck, so the evening’s not a total bust.”
“I see you continue to be mature beyond your years.” The Gutslinger turned to Michael. “You’re not off the hook yet, but I’m not going to call your parents, either. I’d like to talk to you more on Monday to see what you know and to see why you thought it was a good idea to take your friend up on her offer to circumvent the requirements about at least one of the couple having to be a junior. Depending on your answers, you’ll either be let off the hook with a warning, detention, or we’ll end up having that talk with your parents, after all.”
Michael groaned, but not in the good way. “Anything but that.”
“Oh?” she said.
“They think I’m a horrible influence on their precious little boy,” I said, none too kindly.
The vice principal made a face. “Because you’re over eighteen? They loved the both of you before you graduated, Remy.”
I nodded but didn’t trust myself to speak.
Michael, however, said, “You got it in one.”
“Now that,” the Gutslinger said, “is one of the stupider things I’ve heard for a while, and believe me, gentlemen, that’s saying something. Michael is capable of finding his own trouble, and you, Remy, were only ever a good student and a restraining influence on those around you.”
“Except the hardcore jocks,” I muttered.
“Except for them.” She squared her shoulders. “All right, you two run along. I obviously have bigger fish to fry tonight.”
As we left her office, I heard her say, “Well now, boys, what exactly did you think you were doing besides dry humping Mr. Castelreigh’s date on the dance floor?”
Chapter 12
WE COULDN’T get out of there fast enough. “So much for showing you a good time.” Michael sounded dejected.
I bumped his shoulder. “Hey, you showed me an interesting time. That’s almost as good.”
“An interesting time? As in, ‘may you live in interesting times’?” He smiled, or tried. That told me I needn’t worry too much.
I stopped and pulled Michael against me. “Are you okay? Really?”
“I will be.” Michael sighed into the hug, allowing me to support his weight. “It’s not how I thought the evening would turn out, you know? I had it all planned out. Dinner, dancing, then….” He coughed. I had an idea what came after that. “Oddly enough, being hauled into the Gutslinger’s office never factored into any of it, to say nothing of threats to call my parents. She knows we didn’t do anything, so what’s with this sword of Damocles crap?”
Classical references from a high school student. God bless Davis.
“I don’t know, babe. Maybe it’s because she can or because when it comes down to it, she doesn’t know how to deal with our kind in any other way.”
Michael lifted his head. “Our kind?”
“You know, well-behaved people. Nontroublemakers. She spends her days with miscreants, so she assumes we all are.”
“Miscreants? I like the sound of that.”
I snorted. “I’m not sure either of us could be miscreants or malefactors if we tried. You never did say how you wanted the evening to go. How did you want it to go?”
Suddenly shy, he buried his head in my shoulder again. “How I want all our nights to go.”
“And how would that be?” I thought I knew what he wanted, but clarity mattered.
Michael kissed my neck softly even as he ran his hands inside my dinner jacket and over my chest. “It’ll sound silly.”
“No, it won’t.” I kissed the side of his head. I meant it. I knew he felt embarrassed right then, although neither of us had done anything to be embarrassed about. Casey and James were another matter. I could only imagine how all those conversations would go on Monday.
“I want you in me tonight,” he whispered, right before licking my ear.
Oh my gawd—I had to lock my knees. Michael certainly had my number. We didn’t switch very often, but if my guy asked, I had to give it to him. I turned and shoved him up against the bank of lockers we were near, and he groaned. I kissed him hard, teeth clashing as I showed who was in control, at least for that night. He fought me, as if he weren’t quite sure how it worked. I grabbed his hands in mine and pulled his arms over his head, holding them there where it worked for both of us.
“Rem…,” he whined.
“Yeah, babe?”
“I can’t reach anything interesting.”
I smirked. “We’ll take care of that in a minute.”
Then I kissed him again, more gently, as I ground our cocks together. We both groaned. We both knew where this was headed.
Then a door opened and closed. I dropped our hands in a panic. We looked at each other, our eyes wide, our trousers very obviously tented.
“Oh shit,” I whispered. “Could we have picked a worse place?”
“Remy? I am not fucking in my car.”
I snickered at the thought. “You’ve got a great car, and I realize that car sex is supposed to be some sort of staple of college life, but we’re both way too tall. Come on, I’ve got an idea.”
I grabbed his hand and, giggling, we took off before anyone could catch us.
“Where are we going?” Michael said. “We’re not supposed to be anywhere else at school.”
“I know, that’s why we’re heading for a particular place I know.” I grinned. “Trust me. This place starred in some fevered fantasies.”
I led Michael to a sheltered corner that everyone saw daily, but no one ever paid any attention to. It had caught my eye one day when I was a sophomore. The corner was an architectural oddity, a place where the very oldest part of Davis High abutted more recent additions, just not very well. Virtually everywhere else the newer buildings met the older ones they blended reasonably well, but not here. This little space appeared to be the one place where the new architects simply hadn’t been able to make the new design match up to the old build. I didn’t intend to argue. It was sheltered from the wind that had come up and totally dark. Anyone patrolling the grounds wouldn’t see us, even if he walked right by.
“I had no idea this was here,” Michael said.
“You could’ve plowed me here every day at lunch and no one would’ve been any the wiser.”
Michael looked around. “So why didn’t I?”
“Because I didn’t have the guts.” I pressed him back into the dark recesses.
“Speaking of guts, I really want this,” he said, groping me, “in mine.”
“Some catchers are so pushy.” I started kissing him again, running my hands over his chest. Even through his shirt and undershirt, I felt how hard his chest was. Th
en I pulled his shirt out of his pants for better access. Some men shaved their chests, but not my Michael. I liked the feel—the sight, too—of his chest hair. I loved to rest my head against it after he had taken care of me, but not tonight. My guy had requested something different, and different he would get.
Tonight, I was in the driver’s seat, and he had handed himself to me. There was a trust there, an absolute trust, one I would die before abusing. It all reminded me of a Depeche Mode song, and since Michael had figuratively handed himself over on a plate, I went with it.
I turned him around and held him from behind for a moment. I rested my head against his back, enjoying the promise of strength, the potential for mastery and dominance. But sometimes even the strongest of men needed to be held, to be taken care of, to surrender control to one every bit as strong, one equally able to dominate. I knew that as well as anyone. Tonight was my night to drive, and I knew exactly what to do. I knew where I wanted to take Michael to make the drive a pleasurable one for him.
I lifted his arms up and placed them up against the wall, like I was about to frisk him. “Don’t move them,” I said, covering his body with my own, front to back, everything lining up.
Michael shuddered beneath me as I bit his neck. I planned to mark him, but that didn’t mean everyone had to see it. Just me. Well, me and whoever rowed behind him at practice on Monday.
I scraped my teeth down the sensitive skin where his hair was cut short, tearing a quivering groan out of him. I allowed my hands to roam. It might’ve been dark, but they knew the major landmarks.
Michael huffed out a breath and rutted back against me. “Yeah.”
I reached one hand down and dealt with his belt and pants, the better to drive around down there. Michael wanted it, and I did, too.
I knew I needed to reach my destination before the radiator blew, so I eased his pants and boxer briefs down over his amazing ass. As much as I wanted to stare at it in wonder, it was December, and I didn’t want any of his moving parts to freeze up—nor any of my own.
All That Is Solid Melts Into Air Page 12