Tainted Love (A Totally '80s Romance 2)

by Addison Moore

  Mom and she take off, leaving the door wide open, and I head over and shut it, lock it for good measure.

  “That was awkward.” I’m slow to meet with Heather’s eyes. I’m pretty sure my mom just treated both her and her mother like shit.

  “No, it was fine.” She shudders as if it were anything but. “Here.” She tries to stuff the batteries back into my hand.

  “Nope, they’re yours.” I curl her fingers over the loot, and her eyes widen at me. “That’s the real reason I brought you up here, not to land you in my bed.” A crooked smile comes and goes. “This time,” I tease.

  “Well, thank you.” She shakes her fistful of Walkman fuel. “But it doesn’t look like I’ll be rolling on the high seas of your waterbed anytime soon now that I’ve been permanently banished.” Her cheeks flood with color as she rakes her gaze across the floor. “I get it. There are certain girls your mother respects, and certain girls she—”

  “Doesn’t know.” I pull her in without giving it a second thought. My arm warms over her waist, and an electric buzz stems from her, leading all the way to my gut. “I swear my Mom isn’t like that. She’s not like them. It’s just an act.”

  Heather takes a full step back and nods. Her eyes glisten with hurt, and it rips my heart to pieces knowing that I’m somewhat responsible, at least as far as my mother is concerned.

  “Your mom deserves an Oscar.” She speeds for the door. “Oh, and if she asks. Tell her my vibrator doesn’t take AAs; it takes a D.” Heather bolts out the door and down the stairs before I can stop her.

  Shit. I lean against the dresser a moment before hearing the front door slam like a shotgun blast. I head out and hear voices in the foyer as Ms. Knowles and my mother exchange polite goodbyes. I don’t waste a second before heading down just as my mother shuts the door behind her.

  Mom sags dramatically a moment before breaking out into a mischievous smile.

  “Sorry about that.” I’m not sure why I apologized. “But I sort of think you owe someone an apology, too.”

  “Well, I’m sorry!” She tosses her hands in the air as she speeds to the kitchen, and I follow. “Next time you feel the need to donate to the needy, please do so on their turf. What were you thinking, bringing that poor girl into your bedroom?” She holds her palm out in an effort to stop me. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” She pulls the blender filled with a thick green fluid from the fridge. She’s been on a health kick, heading to these new aerobics classes every week in hopes of one day crossing the century mark with a youthful exuberance. “I know you’re a teenager—a man—that you have needs. And I certainly know what appeals to you about girls like that.”

  “Okay, stop before you say things we’re both going to regret. First of all, would you cut the crap with the girls like that comment? And crap! Did you have to accuse her of having a vibrator? Now that was classless. Besides, we’re no better than them. We might live in a bigger house, on a more prominent street, and drive a car where the brakes work one hundred percent of the time, but deep down, both you and I know we are the same as those people on every level.”

  Her eyes narrow to slits. You can practically hear her seething at my words.

  “Look”—she softens on a dime, gone is the fury, back is the loving mother I’ve come to know—“she’s just not the one for you.” Her eyes grow with amusement. “Now Amanda—now that’s a girl who has everything you’re looking for—and she knows how to run a brush through her hair.” A momentary look of disgust sweeps over her. “Face it, honey—Amanda Prescott is your destiny. I’ve known it since you were a little boy. Do you honestly think it’s a coincidence that she’s at Glen? No. This is the way it was supposed to work out. Trust me, this has fate written all over it. You are each other’s great loves!” She clasps her palms over my cheeks, her eyes filling with tears. “The cotillion is simply going to be the catalyst to get you where you need to be. One day you’re going to thank me for this.”

  I take a step back while she pours us each a cup of her latest concoction.

  “Sarsaparilla.” She lifts her glass as if she were toasting. “To true love.”

  A dull laugh rattles through me. “To true love.” I pick up a glass and take a bitter sip.

  True love is something I doubt will ever happen between Amanda and me. The only thing Amanda Prescott is at the moment is a means to an end. Once that ridiculous cotillion is through, I’ll get what I really want.

  I look my mother in the eyes, and she settles on me with an unspoken challenge.

  I’m sure she’s already regretting the offer, but if my mother is anything, she’s a woman of her word.

  Come November, I get what I’ve wanted my entire life. Something money can never buy. Something I may regret the minute I receive it.

  For me, it’s my true destiny. For my mother, it’s the day her every façade comes crumbling down.

  Wednesday, just before practice, I make a run for the library. I’ll admit, it’s not a campus locale I visit often, but, for today, I need the peace and quiet only this place can provide. It’s hushed inside, too hushed. The silence feels unnaturally thick as the scent of rotting books sweetens the air. The tables are peppered with the most studious of the bunch. A few girls look my way, suddenly tugging at their curls, biting their lips in hopes I’ll take a seat at their table. It’s not an ego thing. I swear it. It’s more like a football thing. Ever since I’ve donned my uniform, I’ve gotten more girls than I know what to do with. Jessie calls them “jersey chasers.” He should know; he has his fair share. Although with him, they’re more like hickey chasers.

  A blonde with headphones planted on her ears sways to a silent rhythm with her nose buried in a book. Heather. My adrenaline goes off for no reason once I spot her. Probably a warning.

  I plop my backpack down opposite her and take a seat. Her gaze rises slowly to meet with mine, and I offer a shit-eating grin. She’s been pretty cool since the waterbed incident. My mother, on the other hand, is still outraged.

  “What’s up?” She snaps off her headphones, pulls the gum out of her mouth, and lands it on the body of her Walkman.

  “College apps,” I whisper. I pull out my folder and begin shuffling through them for the hundredth time. “They’re due in a few weeks, and I’ve yet to start my essays. You filling ’em out?”

  “Nope.” She closes the book she’s reading and rests her hand on her chin as if I were boring her.

  “I am. Six.” I say it low for her ears only. “I’m hoping for something close to home. I’ve got a kid sister I’d like to see on the weekends.”

  “Family man,” she whispers. Those ruby lips of hers expand, and I can’t help but linger over them a moment.

  “That’s me. How about you?”

  “I’ve got four. Two brothers, two sisters. We’re all a pain in my mother’s ass.” She sticks the gum back into her mouth and proceeds to chew up a storm. “I’ll probably go to San Ramos Community College.” She shrugs. “I think I want to be a nurse. How about you?”

  “I’ll eventually go to law school.”

  “Awesome. I hear there’s a huge shortage of attorneys, so at least you’ll have job security.”

  My gaze drifts back to her, and I frown. “You’re a riot, but I think you already know that.”

  “I think you like it.”

  A smile twitches on my lips, but I won’t give it. “Maybe I do.”

  Heather leans in with her heavy red lips, her dark overdrawn eyes, and my heart slaps against my chest as if it just passed out. Damn. She is beautiful in a slash-your-throat-open way.

  “Guess what I have in my purse?”

  “Your vibrator?” I don’t miss a beat, and I don’t dare laugh.

  A few of the girls in the vicinity flit their eyes in our direction, even though I said it low enough.

  Heather gasps and straightens, looking around in horror in the event the librarian heard, and I can’t help but think how cute she looks—how happy I am
to have elicited that reaction in her.

  “You, my friend, are an asshole.” She laughs as she whisper shouts the expletive, and something in me loosens. Heather Knowles is probably the coolest chick I know. Why did I wait so long to finally get to know her?

  “That’s too bad because I hear you like dick,” I counter.

  A squeal gets locked in her throat. Her eyes round out, but that huge look of surprise on her face, that giant O-shaped smile lets me know she’s loving every minute.

  “Would you stop!” She covers her mouth with her hand and tries to hold back a laugh. “We are in the library!”

  “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice calls from behind, and we both look up to find the librarian herself pissed to high heaven. Her bun is so tight her eyes pull back. Her lips are knotted up with anger. “Out.”

  Heather and I pack up and leave, exiting the building together as the sun blinds us momentarily.

  “So, if you want to have my baby, you’ll have to get in line,” I tease.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m cutting to the front. I can’t wait to usher people out of my vagina for you.”

  We share a dark laugh before an awkward silence settles in.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” I offer, stepping in front of her until my shadow blocks the sun from her eyes.

  “But you did mean to get me kicked out of the library?” She’s still stuffing her books into her bag. She’s wearing a pair of knee-high combat boots to go with that short skirt of hers, and judging by the discomfort level in my boxers, every last part of me approves.

  “What can I say? It’s my superpower.”

  Her eyes settle over mine, soft and sweet, a far cry from the message those boots want me to believe, and suddenly I’d like to know her story.

  “I mean it, though,” I whisper. “Sorry if I came across like a dick.”

  “I think we’ve already established that you are one.” Heather belts out a laugh, her perfect straight teeth glow against the velvet of her lips, and my stomach squeezes tight. “Stay cool, James. We’re going to rock the yearbook!” she shouts as she heads toward the parking lot.

  “Rock the yearbook,” I mumble mostly to myself.

  I watch her get into her tiny car and speed away as the dust rises in her wake.

  I might be a dick, but I am damn glad I’m in yearbook.

  The week rolls by, and we don’t win the game Friday night. It’s a shit deal when I have to listen to Coach bitch about the fact all of his star players from last year could have handled the other team. I don’t go to the after party, just sink back in my room, pick through my shoebox, and drift into a thick, much needed sleep.

  The next week, Heather Knowles and I start in on our campus-wide sweep of paparazzi proportion, taking pictures of any and every class from underwater basket weaving to the chess club. Each time I mention that we get a few candid shots of the cheerleaders, she rolls her eyes as if she’s going to be sick and insists she’ll get some action shots during the game. I kind of like the way she blushes with the hint of rage at the mention of the cheerleaders. A small part of my ego wants to believe she doesn’t want me in their midst, that Heather Knowles wants me all to herself, but judging by the steady stream of sarcasm she seems to reserve just for me, that’s wishful thinking on my part.

  Friday night there isn’t a game, but, by the time the fourth week in September rolls around, General is coming down to Glen, and they have very vocally threatened to kick our weak, preppy asses.

  Coach has both Joel Miller and Frankie Delacruz come into the locker room before kickoff and offer up a pep talk to the team. They finish up their speech with a fighting roar, and the rest of the team thunders right along with them. The Glen Heights Pirates are pumped, and primed, and ready to go. I high-five Jessie and tell him I’ll meet him on the field as I head over to Joel and Frankie.

  “Dude.” I slap Frankie some skin. “It’s good to see you, man. You hanging out after the game?”

  “Damn right. I’m home all weekend.”

  “I bet the girls are already taking a number.” All Frankie ever had to do to land a girl was point at her.

  “Nope, not for me.” His hands ride in the sky as if it were a stickup. “I got me a girl back at school. I’m keeping my nose clean.”

  “What’s this?” Joel lets out a whoop. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “You should know, dude.” Frankie mock socks him in the gut. “You fell first.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll have to extend the bachelor baton in Russell’s and Jessie’s hands.” His brows narrow a moment. “Although, Mel says you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Heather. Is it true, man? Are you into Heather?”

  “What? No.” I’m quick to deny it, but my insides burn with acid as if contesting the idea. “I’m not with anyone. I’ve got this stupid cotillion crap with Amanda, but that’s all. Heather and I are just friends. She’s cool.” My gut burns again as if suddenly I’m allergic to her. Shit. I feel like an ass saying anything about Heather, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. “I’ll catch you fools after the game. The party is at Craig’s tonight. He’s got a keg coming, so get thirsty.”

  Frankie slaps me on the back as we head out to the already wild crowd. “Get us a win, you pussy.”

  “Will do.” I jog through the balloon arch and tap each of the cheerleaders the traditional pregame high five before one of them yanks me back.

  Amanda pants through a smile as she smacks me with her lips, her tongue diving into my mouth before I can stop her.

  “What was that for?” I pull back, annoyed as hell at her public display of unwanted French affection.

  “For good luck, stud.” She licks her lips like a promise and runs her finger over her mouth where the offense just took place. “And when you crush the other team, you’ll know exactly who you need to thank tonight.”

  Crap.

  I start to take off, and my eyes snag at a girl in the front row with her shredded tights, her combat boots, and her long dark coat. Her hair is wild and free, and her face is powder white and beautiful, but it’s that pained look in her eyes that knifes me. Heather lifts her camera, and the flash goes off in my direction before she melts back into the crowd. I know who I want to win this game for, and it’s not Amanda Prescott.

  We win. We fucking dominate. Twenty-four to six. The atmosphere after the game is electric. The cheerleaders, the entire crowd pours onto the field, screaming, roaring out our victory in a game that in all honesty we should never have won in the first place.

  Amanda runs for me with her arms open wide, and I pause, looking at the sight just past her where Melissa, Jennifer, and Heather celebrate with Joel and Frankie. I bypass Amanda’s shrieking howls and head straight for my friends, but, instead of stopping there, I collapse my arms around Heather, and before I realize what I’ve done, I’m spinning her—we’re both screaming at the victory Glen Heights just stole from the toughest school we’ll play all season.

  “You were amazing!” Heather slaps my chest as I set her down.

  “Yeah, like really good,” a girl’s voice calls out as she spins me toward her. Amanda lands another slap of a kiss over my lips, and this time I wipe my mouth down with my wrist. “So like there’s a huge party going down. I hear Glen really knows how to rage. Like you going to be there?”

  I turn back to find Heather has already taken off with her friends, and a sick feeling coats my stomach. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” I take off for the parking lot where Joel helps Melissa into his truck. I spot Jennifer Barkley’s Samurai and bolt over.

  “Hey, Knowles.” I nod, trying to look casual with my helmet still hooked to my fingers, sweat dripping down my temples from that last miracle play we pulled off. “You headed to the party?”

  Her expression sours at the sight of me as she holds up a camera.

  “Someone has to record the crap that goes on around here.”

  Something about her words stings me right to
the bone. I know for a fact she saw Amanda swatting me with a wet one just now.

  “All right.” My adrenaline skyrockets as if I just scored another touchdown. “I’ll see you there.”

  Both she and Jennifer scowl at me as the Suzuki takes off, narrowly missing my feet. Okay, she’s pissed. Wait, why is she pissed?

  I stare off at the road as a row of taillights trails their way out into the street.

  I’m not really starting to have feelings toward Heather, am I? Can’t be. She’s just a friend—a very fucking beautiful, sweet, down-to-earth friend.

  Those exist.

  Don’t they?

  “I’ve got two kegs.” Craig Amalfiano greets me with a smack to the gut. “Get in there, dude. I’ve had at least three cheerleaders ask about you. If you need a bedroom, you can take mine. I’ve reserved it for the king, man.” He lets out a howl, and I can smell the beer on his breath as he sinks into the crowd. The backyard is swarming with people. I even spot a few guys from the opposing team thrashing around, having a good time. “Judy is a Punk” blares over the vicinity like some sort of a Ramones’ benediction as the party gets underway. Girls are rocking out on the patio, fist pumping, heels flying, and I’ve already spotted three different couples ditching into the house. Craig’s parents are notorious for allowing such debauchery, going as far as procuring the kegs themselves, filling the coolers with Coronas and wine coolers for the girls.

  I spot Joel and Frankie over by Melissa and Jennifer, so I head over. My heart sinks as I pan the vicinity and don’t see a sign of my favorite punk, Heather. Suddenly, the party doesn’t feel worth the trouble. She said she was coming, but maybe she’s already snapped a few pictures and left. I know she has a job at the mall she’s mentioned a time or two. Maybe she had to head into work.