Transpire

by Monica Cole

  He shakes his head like somehow I’m being ridiculous. “Come on, Elaine.” He sighs. “It’s one party. Just come for an hour, and if you’re still miserable after that, you can leave.”

  I hate when he does this. He gets that pleading tone in his voice and that pitiful gleam in his eye because he knows it will win me over every time. Not to mention I still feel guilty for leaving which is enough reason in itself to make me feel like I owe him.

  “Fine,” I groan, letting him know that I’m not happy about it. At. All.

  “Good.” He grins and opens the front door. “Make sure you’re ready when I get home. The party starts at seven.”

  I wave my hand dismissively as I turn on the TV.

  “Oh and Elaine.”

  I pause, glancing over my shoulder.

  “It’s a pool party.”

  Chapter Five

  Past

  August 19th 2012

  It’s almost been a month since Canyon and I met on the cliff, and I haven’t seen him once since he followed me back to town. I think he finally got the message. Or just realized I’m a bitch. It’s weird because I’ve been expecting him to show up somewhere. At the grocery store. The McDonald’s drive thru. My house. He seemed pretty adamant about not leaving me alone, so I guess I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t carry through even though I should probably care less.

  It’s not that I hate the guy. I mean, how could I? He basically saved my life, but there’s something about him that makes me …uncomfortable. He saw me at my most vulnerable, when all my walls were down and no matter how fast I put them back up, I feel like he’s barricaded behind them with me. That’s why I’m mostly glad he hasn’t shown up¸ because the last thing I need is some guy trying to help me. Or whatever he was trying to do.

  My phone alarm is blaring again for the fifth time this morning, and even though I’d love to slam it against the wall, I turn it off and drag myself out of bed. After I get dressed in a white tank top and jeans, I lace up my tennis shoes and head to the kitchen. When I walk in, Parker is sitting at the table drinking his coffee. I notice the extra mug waiting for me, so I drop down in the chair beside him. He knows I’m not a morning person, so he doesn’t bother to say anything. He just continues reading the paper until I set down my empty mug ten minutes later.

  “You ready for your last first day?” He folds the paper and lays it across the table then picks up his coffee and takes a drink.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say with a shrug.

  “Come on, Elaine. It’s your senior year. At least pretend you’re excited.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I plaster on a cheesy smile that makes him shake his head and laugh. “Better?”

  He sets his mug on the table and brushes what look like toast crumbs off his University of Tennessee shirt. “I guess. Just make sure not to smile like that for any guy if you ever want to find a boyfriend.”

  I reach over and smack him in the chest which only makes him laugh harder.

  “You’re a jerk.” I say, climbing out of my chair and taking my mug to the sink. “And for your information, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

  He runs a hand through his cropped dirty blonde hair and offers me a half smile. “Who knows, maybe this will be your lucky year. God knows you need one. You spend way too much time in your room.”

  “That’s because Netflix is a better boyfriend than I could ever find in real life.” I say defensively. “Besides,” I pause, eyeing him closely, “why do you care if I have a boyfriend or not?”

  “I don’t. I just think it would be good for you to have someone to keep your mind off things.” Our gray eyes connect, and I don’t have to ask to understand what he means. He’s talking about things with the wreck. About him. About how it’s effected the both of us.

  “If it’s a distraction you’re talking about, then entertaining myself with all seasons of Dexter should do the job.” I walk towards the living room and grab my backpack from the floor. “Boyfriends are overrated anyways.”

  After I tell Parker goodbye, I head outside to wait for the bus. The only problem is that the bus has passed my house, and I can see it slowly disappearing at the end of the street. I groan and start walking, the only option I have since I don’t have a car. The high school isn’t far from our house, and I’m used to walking to town anyways. I shove my earphones in and blast some Maroon 5, finding that I’m in a pretty decent mood considering I just got ditched at the bus stop. It’s also dark outside, with gray, overcast skies and air that smells like fresh rain. My favorite kind of day.

  By the time I reach town, the sky is an ominous black. I hope it holds off until I get to school, but just in case, I pick up my pace. When I approach a crosswalk, I press the button, bouncing impatiently on my toes. To the right of me is a line of cars, and I don’t know why, but I have this weird vibe that someone is watching me. I casually glance around across the street and at the buildings around me. Then I check out the row of cars beside me. I’m pretty sure my mouth hits the sidewalk when I see his truck parked a few feet back. He’s looking right at me, arm propped on the open window, the corner of his mouth curled in amusement. How the hell did I not notice him before?

  Before he has the chance to talk to me I look away and the second the light changes, I dart across the street to safety. Only I don’t feel safe. I feel like he’s following me, and I’m half tempted to turn around and see if he is. But if I do that and he actually is following me, I’ll look like I was expecting it, and I don’t want to give him that satisfaction. I turn up the volume on my iPod and keep walking, but I can’t ignore the prickly sensation of awareness all over my body. As much as I want to look back, I keep my gaze forward and turn down the street leading to the high school.

  And then I see it. A flash of black from the corner of my eye. I look over and there he is, cruising along beside me in his Chevy. I stop short, staring at him in bewilderment because holy crap…I don’t remember him being this attractive. Seeing him in daylight is like staring straight at the sun. He is stunningly brilliant. So much, that I can’t look at him for long without feeling a little disoriented. I quickly pull myself together, adjusting the strap of my backpack while doing my best to seem disinterested in his sudden appearance.

  “Call me crazy, but I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me.” I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head down, so I can see him better through the window.

  His grin widens, the curl of his lips creating a dimple on the left side of his scruffy cheek. “As fun as stalking you sounds, I’m actually on my way to school.” He nods at the road, fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel. “Do you always walk to school?”

  “Do you usually drive that fancy ass truck?”

  His head dips down, probably in an attempt to hide a smile, but he just smashes his lips together and motions his head towards me.

  “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

  This doesn’t sound familiar.

  “If I say no are you going to follow me all the way to the high school?” I ask sarcastically.

  He gives a one sided shrug and drops his head back against the seat. “You want to find out?”

  My lips curve. Just barely. The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance and I look up to see an unwelcome bolt of lightning tear through the darkening sky. Perfect.

  “Looks like it’s about to rain,” Canyon points out, voice laced with amusement, and I know the cocky son of a bitch thinks I’m getting in the truck.

  I pop my hip to the side, taken aback by the fluttering sensation that appears in my stomach when his eyes follow the movement. I swallow hard.

  “Guess I better walk fast then,” I say somewhat nervously. He is still staring at my hips, which has about the same effect as placing my brain on a hot sidewalk.

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugs and puts the truck in drive. He revs the engine right as the first raindrop hits my head. “But just so you know, that pink bra you�
��re wearing is going to be even more visible if you show up at school with wet clothes.”

  I frown and cross my arms tighter over my chest, although I’m sure it doesn’t do a lick of good if he’s been able to see my bra this entire time. Another raindrop hits my nose and that’s all the warning I have before it starts to pour. I’m drenched in a second flat, and I can hear Canyon chuckle as he rolls the window up. Since I really don’t have any other option but to accept his ride, I fumble with the door handle and haul myself into the cab, slamming the door behind me. I notice he’s smiling, and it’s all I can do not to crawl across the seat and slap that smile right off that pretty face of his. Irritated, I toss my backpack on the floor, acting like it’s some inconvenience that he’s being nice. Which it kind of is. I probably could’ve been at the school by now if he hadn’t stopped me.

  As he merges onto the street, rain plummets from the sky, so hard I can barely see through the windshield. I’d never admit it but I’m kind of glad he offered me a ride, even if it means tolerating him for the next three blocks. We’re both quiet for minute until he breaks the ice.

  “So, is this your senior year?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “You excited?”

  I shrug indifferently.” I guess you could say that.”

  “I think I could say you don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.”

  I shrug again. “It’s just another school year like all the rest. The only difference is that it’s my last year of high school. After that it’s another grueling four years of college before I’m thrust out into the big old world where I’m forced to be an adult and do a bunch of soul sucking adult things.”

  Canyon busts out laughing, and I’m positive it’s the most perfect thing I’ve heard in my entire seventeen years of existence. “Someone’s got a bright outlook on life,” he says, sliding his hands up and down the wheel. “Do you have any idea what kind of soul sucking career you’d like to have?”

  His question takes me off guard, partially because no one has asked me something like that before.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. “I haven’t really thought about it. I guess I have enough time to figure it out before then.”

  He nods and I like that my answer is good enough for him.

  “What about you?” I ask. “You seem like one of those people who has their life mapped out pretty well.”

  He pushes his lips to the side, like he doesn’t agree with my statement. All I notice is how cute he looks when he does it.

  He stops moving his hands, lifting one to run it over his jaw. “Mapped out, yea. By me, not so much.”

  I hum in understanding. “Controlling parents?”

  “Controlling dad. Especially when it comes to my future,” he says. “My dad is a doctor, and so was my grandfather. My dad has always expected me to follow in their footsteps. You know, typical cliché rich boy problems.”

  I glance out the window and laugh. “I’d say you’re anything but typical. Most rich guys wouldn’t admit they’re a cliché.” I look back to find him staring. Brown eyes glued to mine, and it takes everything in me to stop a shiver from crawling over my skin.

  “So,” I start, breaking eye contact, “your dad wants you to be a doctor, but I have a feeling that’s not exactly what you want.”

  He keeps his eyes on the road, tapping his thumbs to the music playing faintly from the radio. “Not exactly,” he says vaguely.

  I wait patiently for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t answer. The rain has let up, and I can see the school up ahead. He pulls into the parking lot, immediately finding an empty space close to the building.

  “Photography,” he says out of the blue, and it takes me a minute to figure out what he’s talking about. He shuts off the engine, throwing the cab into silence. “I want to be a photographer.”

  “I think that fits you,” I agree, although I barely know him enough to have an opinion. It’s not hard to imagine him with a camera slung around his neck though.

  We both remain quiet, eyes focused out the windshield. It’s barely drizzling now, and I figure we better head inside before it starts back up.

  “Guess we better get to class.” I undo my seat belt and grab my backpack from the floor. “You coming?” I ask when I notice he hasn’t moved.

  “I’m not going.”

  I give him a confused look.

  “I don’t go to school here.” He tugs at the collar of his white dress shirt. My eyes skim down, taking notice of the black and gold stripped tie and black slacks he’s wearing. I don’t know how I didn’t notice the uniform earlier. Maybe because his face is so distracting.

  “You go to St. Paul’s?” I blurt out, my tone a mix of surprise and disgust. St. Paul’s is a private school in the next town over, and our sworn enemy, especially where sports are involved.

  He laughs, dragging a hand through his hair. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

  “Considering St. Paul’s is our school rival and full of a bunch of arrogant assholes, it kind of is.” I study him for a minute. “Is this your first year there or something?”

  He nods. “First year and last. My dad and I moved here a few months ago after he was offered a job at the hospital. I’m originally from Ohio.”

  That explains the weird accent. Definitely no twang to it.

  “That kind of sucks. Being forced to move your senior year,” I say, genuinely sympathetic. I’ve been in this town since before I was born. I can’t imagine how much it would blow to be uprooted a year before graduation.

  “It’s no big deal.” He says, stretching his arms behind his head. The bottom of his shirt comes untucked, teasing me with a sliver of bare skin. “I went to a private school back in Ohio that sounds similar to how St. Paul’s is going to be. I didn’t leave much behind but some shitty people and even shittier weather.”

  He looks at me right as I take my eyes off his torso. My cheeks flush, his eyes finding mine, and it feels like the truck is getting smaller. The air is thick and suffocating.

  “I hate to break it to you, but this town isn’t any higher up on the shit stick,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

  His lips curve. “Yea, but the people aren’t that bad. At least from what I’ve seen.”

  His eyes never leave mine when he speaks, like there’s an underlining meaning to his words. There’s no way he could be referring to me. I’ve been pretty bitchy to him. The truck is painfully quiet and when I look up, he is staring at my mouth. At least I think he was. He blinks so fast and the intense look in his eyes softens.

  Reaching down, I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “I really need to get to class.” I say, my voice mortifyingly high pitched. I can’t climb out of the truck fast enough.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say. I lean against the door, rain dripping softly on my head. It definitely wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be.

  He unbuckles his seatbelt, and I watch as he reaches behind him, grabbing a sweater from the backseat. “Here. You might want to wear this unless you want guys ogling that pink bra of yours all day.” He tosses it to me and I hold it up, examining the gold St. Paul’s emblem adorning it.

  “Are you kidding me? I’ll get attacked if I wear this around here.”

  “The only thing that’s going to get you attacked is strutting around in what you have on.” He lets out a low throated chuckle that makes me so hot I’m shocked my clothes don’t dry on the spot.

  “Just turn it inside out.” He suggests and reaches over the passenger seat. He snatches the sweater, twisting it right side in. “You’ll thank me later.”

  He hands it back, and I shove my arms in and button it up. I immediately regret wearing it, because it smells like cigarettes and expensive cologne. An intriguing mix of rich boy/bad boy he has going on.

  “Again. There isn’t going to be a later. I don’t know why you keep assuming that.” I’m not sure why I’m so against being around Canyon. Maybe it’s
because he challenges me. He’s persistent, to the point that it makes me wonder what he sees when he looks at me. When I look, I don’t see anything special. I’m bitter. My heart callused over with regret and I don’t know why anyone would want to be friends with someone like that.

  “Whatever makes you sleep at night.” He smiles coyly, reaching around to buckle his seat belt. “Have a good last first day of high school, Elle. I know I will.”

  “Oh my god, are you wearing a St. Paul’s sweater?” My best friend Whitney saddles up beside me as I chunk my books into my locker.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in the tiny mirror hanging on the door and cringe. I look like a wet rat, my light brown hair plastered around my face and what little mascara I put on today is smudged underneath my eyes. When I shut the locker, Whitney’s face is inches away, her small green eyes framed with winged eyeliner.

  “Did you hear me? Or are you ignoring me? Because I’m not going to stop pestering you until I find out whose sweater that is. Did you hook up with someone at St. Paul’s? You better hope it wasn’t Mason Doyle, because I’ve heard rumors that he has the herps.”

  “Oh my god will you chill out,” I whisper harshly. She’s practically yelling, drawing unwanted attention from students passing by. “I didn’t hook up with anyone. Why is that your first assumption?”

  She pushes out her bright pink lips. “Wishful thinking I guess. I thought you’d finally broken out of that prudish shell of yours.”

  “I am not a prude. I just don’t feel the need to hook up with a different guy every week, unlike some people I know.” I stare pointedly at her, and her mouth twists into a knowing grin. We start down the crowded hallway toward our Trig class which is the only class we share this semester.

  “Okay in all seriousness though. Who gave you the sweater?”

  I crush my books harder against my chest. “Just this guy I met.” I say dismissively.

  “Obviously. But who is he? I probably know him.”