Tainted Love (A Totally '80s Romance 2)

by Addison Moore

  “What’s the big deal?” Then I see it in black and white. Cutouts of Russell’s and Amanda’s faces, each plastered over a single floating balloon posing as prospective candidates with Tess and Rachel each heavily campaigning in their favor.

  Should I stay or should I go?

  That is the question.

  Russell

  “It’s too tight.” I take a step back from my dad as he tries to hang me with the tie once again.

  “Here.” He loosens it up a bit, and I can breathe again. That’s the thing with my dad. He’s a pretty great guy, always there for me, always knowing what to do when I get in trouble, and he’s always there when a manly wardrobe challenge comes up. I really do appreciate him in every single way, even if what I want most in the world might come across as a slap in his face.

  “Thanks.” He gives my shoulders a quick pat. “Your mother is downstairs. She’s got a little surprise for you. I suggest you hurry up.” He looks at me in the mirror from over my shoulder, and a twinge of guilt coats me. For a second, I want to come clean to him about the arrangement I made with Mom, about the box full of letters and mementos tucked in a drawer under my bed, but Megan zips into the room and kills the moment.

  “Ohmigod!” She bops around, holding her face as if she’s about to pass out. “You’re like so totally hot,” she teases. “You’d better get downstairs. There’s a girl here to see you.” She plucks at one of her curls, and it bounces back like a spring.

  “A girl?” I don’t hesitate grabbing my wallet and keys before heading for the stairs. My heart pumps wild at the thought of seeing Heather tonight. I miss her. I miss her right down to that pink streak in her hair. I know for a fact she wasn’t at the game, because right after we scored the winning touchdown, I made a beeline for the stands, only to find she wasn’t in them. Jennifer and Melissa said they didn’t know where she was. I came this close to begging them to get her to show up tonight. I’m sick of beating around the bush. I’m ready to tell her how I feel. Yesterday at that club, I wanted to kiss her. Everything in me demanded to do it. A part of me didn’t really care that her brother was front and center about to witness the entire event. Lately I’ve been craving nothing more than to crush my lips to Heather’s beautiful ruby red mouth. My bones ache just dying to make her mine.

  I hit the top of the stairs and stop abruptly.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Surprise!” Mom calls from the bottom of the steps. There, in the foyer, is Amanda Prescott, her hair puffed and coifed a foot off her head, her body snug in a tight-fitted peach-colored gown with both her mother and stepfather by her side.

  It’s one thing to sacrifice each and every Saturday morning learning to do the two-step for two hours straight, but this? My mother has gone too far.

  Mom meets me halfway and stuffs a pink carnation into my chest.

  “It’s the corsage. Go ahead.” She coaxes until I hit the very last step.

  “For me?” Amanda squeals with manufactured delight when she spots the flower in my hand as if she didn’t just see my mother shove it at me.

  I place it onto her wrist like a good little drone while our fathers take a million pictures.

  “One last shot of the happy couple!” Mom shouts as we head out the door, and we both turn around. This time I don’t bother to smile.

  “Who knows?” her mother sings. “We might be doing this very thing in just a few years at somebody’s wedding!”

  She and my mother share a hopeful laugh while I drive Amanda to the homecoming dance in silence.

  The gym is lit up like a firecracker, and a string of balloons dangles from the entry, threatening to blow off into the night sky. We’re one of the last to get here, but then, the football team usually is.

  We head toward the gym, and Amanda threads her arm through mine just as we hit the door. She leans up and plants a warm one on my cheek as if it belonged there.

  “I like better check my look in the mirror.” She whispers it husky into my ear as if I should read between the lines. For all I know, she wants me to follow her back there so she can fall on her knees and aim to please. No thank you. “Like don’t go disappearing on me.” Her lips fall dangerously close to mine. “We’ve got a big night ahead of us, babe.”

  Babe? I watch in disbelief as she takes off.

  It’s dimly lit inside, and for that I’m thankful. There’s a thicket of bodies everywhere you look, and the center of the room is pumping with girls dancing to “People are People.” Megan is a Depeche Mode fanatic, so I’m familiar with the song and the lyrics. It’s always reminded me of the drama that went on last year with the San Ramos kids and the kids from Glen Heights. I’d like to think that’s all behind us, but something about this situation with Heather makes it feel as if it’s not, as if some way we’ve hit the reset button on that entire social class nightmare.

  “Hey, buddy.” Joel comes up and slaps me over the back right along with Jessie.

  “Dude, congratulations.” Jessie offers up a high five.

  “I should say the same to you. That was a great win.”

  “I’m not talking about the win.” Jessie nods toward a table in the back. “I’m talking about the win you’re gunning for later tonight. I’ve already voted for you, man. So congrats. I know you’re going to nail this shit.”

  “Nail what shit?” I stagger over to the elongated table with a sea of glitter fanning out from underneath it. There’s a sign up front, but there are too many bodies for me to make out what it says.

  Then I see it. A picture of my face next to Amanda’s and the words Vote for your homecoming king and queen! just beneath it.

  Crap.

  I glance back into the crowd, but it’s not Amanda I’m looking for. It’s Heather.

  I’d ask who did this, but I think I already know.

  “What’s up with that?” Joel bumps his shoulder into mine.

  “I have no clue. Where’s Heather?”

  Joel and Jessie exchange a quick glance.

  “Dude”—Jessie laughs into his red Solo cup—“you’re not even hiding it anymore.”

  “Does she know how you feel?” Joel looks pretty serious as he asks. Joel and I were never one to share “feelings” with each other. He’s about as close as I’ve ever been to anyone, and I’ve never shared the truth with him about who I am, where I really come from. Not that it would have mattered to him. But my mother pounded the fact there are some secrets that don’t need to be shared into my skull ever since I was a kid, and I guess I’ve never been too good about relaying how I felt to anyone. And, thanks to the fact I’ve developed an emotional range of a robot, I’ve probably ruined things with Heather before we ever really had a chance. Figures. The one bright light in my life, and she’d rather miss her own homecoming than be near me.

  Jessie whacks the side of my arm, jolting me out of my pity party. “There she is, man.”

  I look through the murky expanse to find Melissa and Jennifer shoulder-to-shoulder. A girl behind them peeks through every now and again with her blonde hair spiking up wild every which way. The only thing I can make out from below are a pair fishnet stockings and bright pink heels. Then, as if on cue, Melissa and Jennifer part, and a spotlight shines straight down on the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

  Heather Knowles looks like a queen in her short black dress, fanning out with a halo of purple around her thighs. Her collar sits up, surrounding the back of her head like a shield, as rows and rows of pearls crater into her cleavage.

  “Holy hell.”

  “Okay, dude.” Joel taps his elbow to mine. “You’re drooling, man. Not cool. Definitely not cool.”

  “Right.” I take a breath and straighten. Just as I’m about to head over, the music shifts. “Karma Chameleon” kicks on, and the girls let out a collective whoop.

  Melissa and Jennifer grab ahold of Heather and make a beeline for the dance floor.

  “Go out there.” Jessie seems undeterr
ed by the fact that Heather is currently under Culture Club’s spell.

  “What, and dance? Dude, I’m not dancing. I’ll do the slow shit, but that’s it.”

  “That’s right, stud”—a high-pitched voice strums in my ear—“you do the slow shit with me, like at least once a week.” Amanda. I close my eyes, wondering how the heck I ever got embroiled in this nightmare from the valley. Her breath reeks of liquor; it smells like the hard stuff, more Bacardi than it is Corona.

  I turn to find Tess next to her, attaching herself to Jessie’s side. “Don’t worry about the election.” She paints her hand over my chest. “Rachel and I have been manning the fort.” She winks, raising her cup in my direction as if toasting.

  “So, we’re a shoo-in?” It’s hard not to hold back how pissed I actually am. I know for a fact I only need to play nice with Amanda for another few weeks, then I’m home free.

  “If shoo-in means you won, yeah—like totally that.” Tess takes a bite out of Jessie’s ear, and he winces before making up some lame excuse before diving into the crowd. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my buddy is growing tired of his harem.

  “Hey, come here, baby!” Tess is quick to chase after him. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen too many girls sporting their Jessie Fox specials laced around their neck. He’s the king of the hickey, and, if I had a choice, I’d much rather be king of a little bodily discoloration than king of all Glen Heights High with Amanda by my side as queen.

  The song ends, and a slow song starts up. I spot the girls meandering off the dance floor, but I don’t take my eyes off Heather. All I need is a moment alone with her.

  “Russell.” Joel nods to the dance floor. “I’m dancing with Melissa.” He says it stern and tilts into me as if I should take the hint.

  My heart pumps like a million fists pummeling into it at once. I’m pretty sure if I ask her to dance she’ll shut me down Heather-style, which is pretty much worse than being shut down in general.

  “‘Crazy for You’ by Madonna!” Amanda squeals. “I effing love this song!” Before I can get two steps out, she’s draped over me like a wet towel.

  Heather locks those sad root beer colored eyes with mine, her gaze dripping down my body entwined with Amanda’s. Here it is, a real do-or-die moment.

  I place Amanda’s hands to her side. “Hold that thought.” It takes more effort than I realize to race to my rejection, but, on the off chance Heather will at least speak to me, it’s worth it.

  “Heather!” I step in front of her just as she’s about to head back out. Her tiny body postures with attitude as her hip juts out, her hand firmly planting on it. She looks adorable, and it’s all I can do not to break out in a silly grin. I can’t let her walk out that door. I’m pretty sure if she leaves this gym she’s not coming back. “God, you look beautiful.” My eyes drink her in at this close proximity. Heather Knowles has the face of an angel—a pissed angel, but nevertheless. “Can I please have this dance?” I never said I was above begging.

  “What?” There it is, that perennial sarcastic edge to her voice, and in a strange way, it feels as if I’m home.

  “Dance. You know—you and me?” I don’t wait for her answer, just take up her hand and wrap my arm around her waist. “Like this.”

  Heather’s body is slow to adhere to mine, but when she does, when I feel the gentle weight of her soft dress, I begin to lose it. She comes in close before giving in and relaxing her body to mine.

  Her heart kicks against my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s about to bolt or haul off and hit me, but for right now, I’m just thrilled to be holding her like this. My eyes close involuntarily before blinking back to life. It’s no dream. This is real. Heather’s gaze hooks to mine, and we lock on to one another as if there were nothing else we could possibly ever look at.

  “I’m not here with Amanda,” I whisper so low I’m afraid she didn’t hear it. A part of me didn’t want to say Amanda’s name out loud and jinx the moment.

  “Did you show up with her?” Her brows tweak, amused.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did you know that you’re about to be elected king to her queen?”

  “It won’t happen.” It’s true. I’ll leave before I experience that nightmare.

  “It will.” She shrugs. “You already have my vote.”

  Crap. Not what I wanted to hear.

  “You should say thank you.” She bleeds a sarcastic smile that cuts right to the bone.

  “No. Look—why don’t we take off?”

  Her bottom lip quivers as she looks to the exit, and an icy breeze licks over us as she considers this.

  “Attention!” The microphone squeaks from the makeshift stage as Mr. Sardona takes the mic. “May I please have the candidates for your 1985 homecoming court?” The crowd cheers as if another game were about to break out.

  “You’d better get up there.” Her eyes sparkle with tears. There’s hurt written across her face that spans far more heartbreak than a person deserves. “Look, you belong with someone like Amanda. She’s the ying to your yang. Would you stop trying to get into my pants already and just accept your yuppie fate? Sometimes life just makes choices for us.”

  “What?” A laugh gets strangled in my throat. “I couldn’t care less who Amanda ends up with. It’s not going to be me.”

  “It is tonight.” She drags me back into the heart of the gym and pushes me off into Amanda Prescott’s arms. Next thing I know, Amanda is dragging me along like the tail of a kite, and I’m on stage along with six other couples staring out into the bright lights as I struggle to make out the crowd below. But I still see her. Heather stands like a marble statue, unmovable in the middle of the dance floor, her sad, slightly caustic eyes set on mine as Melissa and Jennifer surround her.

  A drum roll goes off as Mr. Sardona leans into the mic. “Your homecoming king and queen of Glen Heights High 1985 are Russell James and Amanda Prescott!”

  Shit. A piñata full of confetti rains down on us as Fatima and Trina spring forth to place the crowns on our heads.

  “First dance belongs to these two.” Mr. Sardona kills the mic as David Bowie’s “Heroes” begins to vibrate throughout the gym.

  “Ohmigod!” Amanda shrieks through tears. “Like thank you for accepting me!” She offers a pageant wave to the crowd. “Like I’m so sure I’ve never been as totally happy as I am right now. Russ and I have like wanted this for like a very long time.”

  The music blares around us, the crowd roars, the sound of Amanda’s self-righteous cries all meld into one haunted carnival ride, but my eyes and my heart stay trained on Heather.

  Without another thought, I hop off the stage and head straight for the most beautiful girl in the room. That goofy grin she elicits in me each time we’re together struggles to break free, and this time I don’t fight it. Amanda and I could never be anything together, certainly not the heroes of Glen Heights High. It’s Heather who’s my queen.

  Heather’s eyes round out like fiery embers as I edge in close, and both Jennifer and Melissa back away at once.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice shakes ever so slightly, and this just makes me want her more.

  “I’m making choices.” I clasp my palms to her cheeks and land my lips to hers softly before backing up just a notch to see if she wants it.

  Heather gives the hint of a smile, and that’s all I need. I’m in. My mouth dives over hers, hard, far more determined than before, and I lose it. My tongue mingles with hers as I devour this beautiful girl with a kiss that makes every other lip exchange I’ve ever experienced seem like practice. The world begins to sway, to still. The gym, Amanda’s incessant shrieking, and all of Glen Heights High dissipate from around us, and I lose myself in the wet-hot nirvana of Heather Knowles’s mouth.

  4

  So in Love

  Heather

  I can say a lot of things about Russell James, but right about now, at the very top of the list, I can say with certaint
y that Russell James is a damn good kisser. His mouth moves over mine with a rugged assurance that this exact spot on the planet is where he most certainly wants to be. His tongue mingles with mine, soft and achingly slow, while he cradles my face in his hands. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed so sweetly, with so much intent and meaning behind it. This kiss, right here, pretty much disqualifies any other kiss I’ve ever experienced. And, unless Russell James ever kisses me again, this kiss just might go down as the only kiss that ever really mattered.

  The song drips to a bittersweet end, and Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” kicks right up, driving the crowd into a frenzy, and thankfully taking the spotlight off the two of us. As soon as Russell hopped off that stage, I heard a choir of gasps and oohs break out all around me. The word moded peppered through the gym on Amanda’s—for lack of a better word—moded behalf. I do feel bad for her. I’m not a monster, but I’m so happy to be locked in Russell’s arms I can’t quite focus on anything other than this moment right here.

  “You want to get out of here?” He hitches his head toward the exit, and his crown disjoints until it’s sitting crooked on his head. It’s an aggressively handsome look on him. Who would have thought? I’m the unofficial queen to Russell’s newly minted king.

  “Where to?”

  Melissa and Joel come up, both with odd congratulatory smiles, and yet neither one knows quite what to say.

  “It would be weird to stay,” I blurt out for no reason. “You know, now that we’ll be locked at the mouth for the rest of the night.” My fingers float up to my lips. God, somebody find the off switch. I keep this up, and Russell will snap out of his spell and realize I’m in the wrong tax bracket to be swapping spit with.

  I try again. “The king and I are taking off.” And that was better, how?