CinderEli

by Rosie Somers

  Either she didn’t notice my awe, or she chose not to acknowledge it. “We can study in the rec room.” She flitted past me, grabbing my hand along the way. Her hand was warm in mine, and the touch sent a little thrill through me. I fought the urge to look down at our joined hands, instead letting her lead me through the house.

  The rec room turned out to be a small arcade, only with better furniture. The room was massive and filled with everything I’d ever dreamed of owning: a pool table, arcade games, gaming systems, a wet bar. Band and movie posters lined the walls at regular intervals, accentuated by light fixtures and underlined with small bar tables and stools. The room was a party waiting to happen. Did Katie actually hold parties here? I would have, if this was my rec room.

  “This is where you study?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t usually.”

  “Study here?” Where did she study then?

  “At all.” And suddenly I wasn’t interested in the games or fantasizing about throwing parties in this theme park of a rec room. Clearly, I was going to have to work very hard for my A in Chemistry if Katie wasn’t the studying type.

  Three

  Katie

  “So, that’s basically it,” Roman told me as he closed his book and uncrossed his legs. Thank goodness! We’d been studying for close to two hours, sitting cross-legged on the floor, knees touching, and we hadn’t spoken to one another any more than had been necessary. I couldn’t have concentrated on Chemistry if it was my favorite subject. It definitely wasn’t.

  Now that our study time was almost over, I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. I wanted to spend more time with him, maybe get to know a little about my lab partner besides the fact that he obviously knew a crap-ton more about Chemistry than I could ever hope to learn. I checked the time on my phone: 6:52. We had at least three hours before my parents would be home. I always hated being alone in this big house at night, but it seemed like they were always away at some function or dinner.

  “Hey, wanna get a pizza? I’m starved.” Was my voice a little too loud? The last thing I wanted was to come off as desperate for him to stay. Even if I kind of was.

  “Uh,” he glanced at his watch, “sure.”

  “I’ll order. What d’ya like?” I dialed the number even while I was asking the question. Was it weird that I knew the number by heart?

  In minutes, I’d placed the order, and we’d fallen into an awkward silence. I wracked my brain trying to think of something to break the tension. Finally, “Hey, have you seen The Hollow Effect?” Did he even like horror movies?

  “I haven’t yet, but I’ve been wanting to.”

  Score.

  “Yeah, me too! I’ve been thinking about renting it. Wanna watch it?” Hopefully, I sounded calmer than I felt. I was already picturing cuddling up to him in the dark, burying my face in his neck at the scary parts.

  “Yeah, okay. That would be cool.” Talk about a lukewarm reaction. Suddenly, I was losing my nerve. Did he really want to be here? Maybe he just felt sorry for the weird girl who was so klutzy she’d fallen all over him in front of thirty other students.

  I tried not to think too much about it as I led him to the media room. But, by the time I had the movie ready to stream through the projector and turned to face Roman, he’d bypassed the twelve single-seat leather recliners and opted for the only loveseat. Maybe he’d picked the seat because it was front and center, and admittedly the best seat in the room. He had his shoes kicked off, one arm folded behind his head, and when he noticed me watching him, he patted the seat next to him in invitation. Maybe he was interested. I flipped off the light, grabbed the remote, and joined him on the loveseat.

  He was all heat next to me. His breaths were coming in nearly silent, shallow bursts. It was a short, nervous sort of panting, like prey caught in a trap. I ran a casual hand through my hair, then let it fall to rest on the black leather between us, barely an inch from his own hand.

  I feigned an interest in the movie, even though I couldn’t have concentrated on anything but Roman and how close his hand was to my fingertips. When his breathing evened, I shifted just a fraction of a hairsbreadth so that my pinky rested over his thumb. He shivered under the touch, but kept his gaze locked on the screen.

  Sliding over in my seat, I pressed my arm against his. When he didn’t pull away, I laid my head on his shoulder. A moment passed, then two. Finally, Roman turned his head and shifted in his seat just enough to look down at me without breaking the contact between us. I tilted my face to look up into his eyes and sucked in a nervous breath. His eyes closed to half mast, and I was almost certain he was about to kiss me.

  Buzz. The intercom to the front gate buzzed. Someone was here. Whoever it was had the worst timing in the world. As I looked up at Roman, he licked his lips nervously. Maybe he was just as aware of me as I was of him, but was just better at pretending not. I considered ignoring whoever was out there. Until the buzzer sounded again.

  I practically fell out of the loveseat on my way to the intercom and all but slammed my hand down on the button. “What?” Did I sound as frustrated as I felt?

  “Pizza,” a young, male voice called through the speaker.

  I rested my forehead on the wall next to the speaker and sighed. I’d forgotten all about the pizza. With a quick and apologetic look over my shoulder to Roman, I buzzed the pizza guy in and headed for the front door to meet him.

  ****

  My best attempts to not stare awkwardly at Roman while I stuffed my face with pepperoni and cheese were failing miserably. Every time he licked his lips, I imagined having those pink lips pressed against mine. He seemed to be trying just as hard to not look at me—only he was succeeding. There was something about Roman, something different from other guys. He wasn’t aggressive like they were, didn’t try to get to second base the minute we were alone. And he’d seemed almost relieved when the delivery guy interrupted our almost kiss.

  We ate in silence, and the whole time, I was wracking my brain trying to think of something halfway-intelligent to say. I finally settled on humor. “So, that’s the hottest horror movie I’ve ever seen.” I gestured to the projector screen across the room, where the movie we weren’t really watching was paused.

  Roman flushed an endearing shade of rose pink and nodded. Then he quickly shoved another bite of pizza into his mouth. I couldn’t tell if that meant he enjoyed what had almost happened or was busy trying to think of a way to get out of there.

  Our silence was interrupted by a series of tinny, cartoon-like chirps sounding from the vicinity of Roman’s pants. I eyeballed the offending area in an attempt to figure out what the noise was, realizing just a moment too late that I was giving him the creepy-stare. Roman set his paper plate on the seat next to him and fished his cell out of his pocket.

  “Hey, Pop?” he answered. I could hear a voice on the other end, but couldn’t make out the words. “Yeah, sure. I can be ready in a few minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

  He was leaving.

  Roman ended the call and sent a quick text before shoving his phone back into his jeans. Then he smiled at me apologetically. “That was my dad. He’s on his way home and said he could swing by and pick me up so I don’t have to take the bus home.”

  “Oh, well, do you live far? I could drive you…” Did I sound too needy? Truth was, I wasn’t all that altruistic—I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

  Roman seemed to consider my offer for a moment. “No, that’s okay. He’s probably almost here now.” He stood and reached for his sneakers, slipping them on without untying them. When he’d gathered all of his stuff, I followed him to the front door.

  I opened it for him, using it to hold myself up as he stepped over the threshold. “Thanks for coming over.” I prayed I didn’t sound as deflated as I felt.

  Roman turned to look back at me, illuminated by the porch lights framing my front door, he looked almost angelic. “It was fun. Maybe we could uh… study again sometime.”
Was he blushing when he said that?

  “I’d like that.” Headlights cut through the wrought iron bars at the end of the drive, and I reached behind the door for the button to open the gate. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at school on Monday, maybe.” I mentally berated myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Our school was on the block schedule, which meant I wouldn’t have a class with Roman until Chemistry on Tuesday. Did I sound desperate hoping to see him on Monday?

  He nodded and turned to jog down the steps toward his father’s car. I watched as they pulled away, and shut the gate as soon as they were out on the street. Then I shut the front door and leaned back against it. What was it about Roman that had me acting like a prepubescent girl with her first crush? He definitely wasn’t the type of guy I usually went for. So, why couldn’t I get him out of my head?

  Four

  Roman

  Monday morning arrived on the heels of a rainy, dreary weekend. The world was overcast and gray, with a rain-slicked sheen covering every surface, but somehow it all seemed bright and cheerful. I’d floated through the weekend lighter than air, and all because of a kiss I’m not even sure would have taken place had the pizza guy not interrupted. But Katie had certainly seemed interested.

  I thought about finding Katie and trying to talk to her about it when I got to school. All weekend, I’d fought the urge to call her—I didn’t want to seem too eager, too interested. But when I entered the English wing, the warning bell rang, and I was forced to give up any hope of seeing her before first period.

  By the time lunch rolled around, I still hadn’t seen Katie. We must not have had any classes near each other. We probably didn’t even have the same lunch period. I resigned myself to the fact that I probably wasn’t going to see her today and headed for the cafeteria. Navigating the throngs of students loitering by lockers and congregating mid-hallway took longer than I expected and by the time I made it out of C-wing, I was ready for fresh air.

  “Roman!”

  I would recognize that voice anywhere. Katie was calling to me from somewhere near the quad. I scanned the concrete picnic tables for her and finally caught sight of her. She was alone at a table at the far end, half-standing and waving one arm in a huge arc over her head. When our gazes connected, she waved me over to her, and I changed course immediately.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I tried to play it cool once I got over to her.

  She sat back down and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “How was your weekend?” She sounded almost nervous. Was it possible that she might be just as on edge around me as I was around her?

  “It was good. I didn’t do a whole lot.” I mentally kicked myself. Great, way to make myself sound unpopular by admitting I’d done nothing.

  Katie smiled. “Hey, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my birthday is Sunday.”

  Why was she telling me this? “Happy early birthday.”

  “Thanks,” she shrugged, “but, I wanted to let you know… I’m uh… having a party. You probably think it’s dumb, I know. But my parents are really into birthdays. It’s gonna be a masquerade… er… a costume party.”

  Understanding dawned. She was telling me she couldn’t study this weekend. “Oh, okay. I gotcha. We can study another day. That’s cool.”

  Her eyes widened, and she sputtered for a moment. “No!” Her tone was louder than before, but she was quick to quiet again. “No, what I meant was… well… do you want to come?”

  She was inviting me to her party? I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, something hard and cold smacked me in the back of the head.

  “What’s up, dweeb?” Great. Brad was here. He walked around to straddle the bench Katie was on, and two more meatheads from the wrestling team claimed the bench on the opposite side of the table.

  I rubbed the back of my head as Brad tossed a water bottle from hand to hand. At least he hadn’t hit me with anything that would make a mess.

  “You guys friends?” Katie shifted uncomfortably.

  I waited for Brad to answer—I wanted to hear his response.

  “This loser? Nah, the only reason I know him is ‘cause he’s related to me. Unfortunately, he didn’t inherit the coolness gene, eh dweeb?” Brad’s wrestling buddies laughed.

  I wished I had an answer to that, some smart quip that would put Brad in his place, but I had nothing. So, I said nothing.

  Katie’s perfect lips parted on a silent, “Oh.”

  “I better get going,” I told Katie, choosing to ignore Brad and his friends.

  “Yeah, don’t you have something nerdy to do?” The one closest to me heckled, and meathead number two guffawed and slapped his friend on the back.

  “Guys, stop,” Katie warned, but her voice was soft and tinged with something I didn’t quite recognize, disgust maybe? She turned to me, looked like she wanted to say something, but I couldn’t bear to hear whatever it was she was about to say.

  “Anyway, see ya around.” I turned on my heel and headed for the cafeteria.

  ****

  The next few days dragged by. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on other things, more important things like schoolwork, I just couldn’t shake the memory of that confrontation with Brad. It replayed in my mind over and over. I stayed home “sick” from school on Tuesday so I didn’t have to face Katie, and by Thursday, I’d built up Katie’s non-reaction in my mind to such huge proportions I considered skipping school. But that wasn’t my style. Besides, I couldn’t skip Chemistry for the rest of the semester. I needed the A to clench that scholarship to State.

  So, I dragged myself out of bed that morning, and forced myself through my morning routine. If I were honest with myself, I would have admitted I might have checked my reflection a few extra times, spent a few extra minutes choosing my clothes, worried over my appearance a little longer than most mornings. But I told myself I was just being as conscientious as every other day.

  Katie rolled into first period just seconds before the bell rang. Mr. Carlson raised an eyebrow in her direction, but didn’t comment. She slipped behind my chair, moving much more gracefully today than last week, and settled in her seat next to the wall. “Hey,” she whispered from behind the cover of hair hanging in front of her face as she bent to ruffle through her backpack on the floor.

  I nodded back at her. Mr. Carlson took to the front of the room and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Good morning. I trust everyone has read chapter three, on scientific measurement, and is excited to show me what you’ve learned.”

  A couple students groaned, and Katie frowned. I mentally patted myself on the back for reading ahead so I wasn’t too far behind the class even though I’d missed the lesson on Tuesday.

  Mr. Carlson passed a stack of papers to the student closest to him. “Take a packet and pass them on. Get with your partners and answer the questions on the worksheet. When you get to the last page, you can pick a lab station at the back,” He pointed to the counter running the length of the back wall, and I turned to follow his gaze. He’d set up six stations with beakers and other tools. “And do the activity. I recommend some of you start with the activity, then work on the seatwork portion, so everyone’s not fighting for a station at once.” Then he returned to his desk and the computer there.

  When the last two packets landed on the desk in front of me, Katie visibly paled. “Shoot.”

  “You didn’t read chapter three?”

  She shook her head. A few pairs of students meandered by us to the back of the room.

  “It’s okay. Scientific measurement isn’t as hard as it sounds. I can walk you through it. Do you want to do the lab first or the worksheet?”

  She looked at the lab stations with something like panic in her expression. “Uh, let’s do the worksheet first.” Then, she scooted her chair closer to mine and leaned in to read the worksheet.

  It took everything I had to stay focused on the assignment with Katie so close. Every time I took a deep b
reath, my shoulder brushed hers, reminding me of sitting next to her in her parents’ media room, touching by not touching. My stomach was a pretzel, twisted up with nervous energy. With each new question on the paper, I had to focus on the individual words and digest the question with purpose, trying to ignore her proximity and the way her hair smelled of apples. We were probably getting every question wrong, but I couldn’t have answered them any better. I was just lucky to be able to form coherent sentences right then.

  After Katie had to look up the fourth straight answer in the book because I couldn’t answer it, I dropped my pen onto the table and pushed my chair back from the table. I tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling tiles, and let my arms fall to my sides on a heavy sigh. Rotating my shoulders to try to relieve some of the tension, I closed my eyes and silently willed myself to just disappear. What was wrong with me? I was acting like I’d never been near a girl in my entire life. How was Katie able to do this to me?

  Katie’s chair scraped the floor and the sound of clothing rustling followed, but I didn’t open my eyes to see where she was going. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to tamp down the flood of nerves rising inside me, and calm my pulse back to a normal rhythm. It was almost working.

  Until cold fingers pressed against my neck from behind. The touch of Katie’s hands on my skin startled me more than the chill of it, and I flinched the slightest bit.

  “You’re so tense.” Her voice was like velvet against my ear, the softest, sweetest whisper as she gently massaged my shoulders. “Is everything okay?”

  Her touch sent ripple after ripple of awareness down my spine, and gooseflesh broke out across my neck and arms. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the effect her touch had on me. I was torn between scrambling to escape and shifting closer to her. I settled for staying right where I was and hoping my voice didn’t betray my turmoil when I spoke. “I’m fine.”

  Her hands continued to move across my shoulders and upper back, never hesitating, even as she said, “I don’t believe you.”