The Me I Meant to Be

by Sophie Jordan

  “Yeah. I know you. I’ve lived next door to you forever.”

  I stared at him for a moment. He did know me.

  I didn’t think Flor had ever understood that part of my personality. She was a people person like Zach. That’s why they’d been drawn to each other. Well, that and they were both beautiful. Beautiful people flocked together.

  “Hey, Zach! What’s up, man?” I looked up as a group of kids passed us. I didn’t recognize them. They probably didn’t even go to Madison. Zach knew people everywhere.

  He nodded and waved at them.

  I finished off the rest of my frozen custard, then walked to the trash and tossed my half-eaten cone inside it. Dusting imaginary crumbs off my fingers, I returned to the table. “Ready?”

  He popped the last bit of his cone into his mouth and stood. “Sure.”

  We climbed into his Jeep and pulled out of the parking lot for home.

  “Want to come over and watch a movie?” he asked.

  I hesitated. Tension crept over me, tightening my shoulders. The guilt was there . . . an uncomfortable niggle worming through me. I wondered what Flor would think of this scene. Me eating ice cream with Zach and then heading back to his place to watch a movie. It felt . . . intimate. Like a date. Like something a couple would do.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” he was quick to reply.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  He shook his head. “Really, Willa? You said you wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the way they were would have been you and me watching a movie. Probably one of your cheesy eighties flicks that I would have made fun of the entire time.”

  I winced. He was right, of course. We’d done that before. Countless times. I’d recently added Pretty in Pink to my watch list. Under normal circumstances—​previous circumstances—​I would have gladly forced him to watch that with me. But watching Molly Ringwald crush on some guy with Zach beside me probably wasn’t smart.

  I moistened my dry lips. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we can’t go back to the way we were.”

  Suddenly he was turning the Jeep, veering off the four-lane road onto a side street in a move that bordered on reckless.

  “What are you doing?” I pressed a hand to the window to stop myself from slamming into the door.

  He pulled into a vacant parking lot, braked hard, and slammed the Jeep into park. I glanced around, recognizing the building in front of us as the public library. It sat dark and silent. This time of night, no one was around.

  He turned in the seat to glare at me, his eyes glittering. “So what’s it going to be? Are we friends or not, Willa?”

  “Friends, of c-course,” I stammered, my hand still pressing into the glass of the window as though I needed to brace myself. “Of course.” There. That sounded more emphatic. “But just different friends than before.”

  “Different than before?” His voice turned mocking . . . almost cruel. He’d never spoken to me like that before. His eyes flashed in the dark confines of the Jeep, and all at once I felt like I was walking a tightrope. Any moment and I might go over.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, my stomach twisting. Suddenly that custard didn’t sit so well. I felt sick.

  “I wanted things to be different than before,” he reminded. “I suggested that very thing. I hoped we—”

  “Not that kind of different,” I quickly cut in. His offer to experiment still rang in my ears and made my face burn. I glanced around the empty lot, uneasy. “Take me home, please.”

  “That’s right. Time to run away. You’re good at that. Run inside your house. Hide in your room. Blame this not happening”—​he waved between us—​“on Flor.”

  I shook my head miserably. Going out for ice cream had been a bad idea. His eyes weren’t happy anymore. His features weren’t relaxed.

  My friend was gone, and I wanted him back.

  Only I didn’t know how to get him back. I didn’t know if I ever could. A vast gulf separated us.

  “Look at us. We’re supposed to be friends.” I released a brittle laugh. We weren’t acting like it. He was acting like he couldn’t stand the sight of me.

  I fought to swallow past a painful lump in my throat. This was what happened when you kissed your best friend. Things got confusing.

  Things got ruined.

  Something passed over his face, and then he nodded slowly, as though coming to a realization. “Maybe I don’t want to be your friend anymore, Willa.”

  That stopped me hard. Stung in the worst way. It hurt more than I’d imagined anything hurting.

  I removed my hand from the glass and pressed it over my heart. It was like I could feel it bleeding inside my chest cavity, ripped open and throbbing.

  “I have plenty of friends,” he added.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, looking down to where I now twisted my fingers until I could no longer feel them. “Good to know.”

  “I don’t do this to girls I’m friends with.”

  This?

  Alarmed, I looked up just as he reached for me. I caught a flash of those blazing eyes a second before he pulled me to him.

  I’d like to say I shoved him away. Slapped him. Called him a jerk. Anything.

  But I wasn’t as strong as that. Or as smart.

  Or, apparently, as good a friend to Flor as I should have been.

  Our mouths came together like two bullet trains crashing head-on. He hauled me over the console and onto his lap, guiding me into straddling his bigger body. I moaned and melted into him, so relieved. A moment ago I’d been afraid I’d lost him.

  Mouth devoured mouth, lips and tongues going at it. It wasn’t like the other kisses. As good as those were, this was all wild fury. Like two long-lost souls finding each other at last.

  The steering wheel was right against my back, so I had to lean forward, mashing my chest into his. One of my knees was wedged uncomfortably against the armrest of his door, but I didn’t care. It was a small discomfort when I had this.

  His delicious lips. His hands sliding under the back of my shirt, skimming my spine.

  He groaned into my mouth, his hands stroking and playing against my skin, fingers tracing down the vertebrae of my spine like they were playing the keys of a piano.

  “Your skin is like a dream.”

  I didn’t know what that meant. He couldn’t be talking about me.

  Still, I sighed into his mouth, aching in places I’d never known could feel such things. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed closer. My body might not have been experienced at this kind of thing, but it knew. It recognized what it wanted. My heart had always wanted Zach and now my body did too.

  He sucked on my tongue and I pulled back with a gasp, my eyes finding his in the dark as my hand flew to my mouth.

  “I dream about you, Willa,” he whispered. “I can’t close my eyes without seeing you.”

  I flattened a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart. I didn’t think I’d felt anything so solid, so strong. “I’m not one of the legions you’ve kissed, Zach.”

  It was important that I remember that . . . and that he realize it too.

  I didn’t want to become as ordinary as all of them. As expendable. Our friendship was special. I’d always taken solace in that. Even Flor had never had that with him. It was something precious just between us.

  His eyes flitted over my face. “You don’t think I know that?” His mouth was close now.

  “We can’t do this.” My voice wasn’t high-pitched anymore. No, just a barely-there whisper.

  He eased back a little. Only a little. I was still pinned under his gaze. “You think I haven’t thought about this? That I’m just here to play you? I wouldn’t do that to you, Willa. I’ve thought about this. About kissing you.” He stopped and let out a gust of air, looking physically pained. “God, it’s all I’ve thought about. I’ve played it over and over in my mind.”

  A whimper escaped me at hi
s confession and I leaned in, burying my hands in his hair, scraping my nails against his scalp as I brought my mouth back down to his.

  My hair fell around us in a curtain as we kissed. I reveled in sitting high over him. I felt powerful. Like I held this strong guy in the palm of my hand. His desire was mine. I controlled it. Me, who was never in control of much of anything in my life. Me, who never felt particularly wanted or desired, who watched as Flor and my other friends got asked on dates and went to dances.

  He grasped my hips, and suddenly we were rocking against each other. Movement was limited in the cramped space, but we managed it.

  I rubbed my breasts against his chest as we continued to kiss. The wild little sounds that broke from me should have embarrassed me. But this wasn’t me anymore.

  I was some other creature, wild and lacking all judgment.

  This must have been what it felt like to be drunk. Why kids did stupid things when they were intoxicated.

  I didn’t have alcohol as an excuse, though. I was simply drunk on Zach Tucker.

  Still under my shirt, his hands slid around my rib cage, tracing the edge of my bra. His palms came up over my demi cups and he was holding me then, cupping me with hands that I had stared at for years. In moments of weakness I’d imagined either one of his hands holding mine. Handholding.

  And now we were here. Doing this.

  Now those hands were touching me where no boy had touched me before.

  I pulled back from his mouth to look down at him. My breasts heaved where he held them in his hands. The intimacy should have scared me. It should have felt wrong, but I could only draw ragged breaths and want more of his touch.

  The air in the Jeep was thick and charged, crackling with tension. If we lit a match, we’d both go up in flames.

  His eyes gleamed with emotion I’d never seen from him.

  His palms flexed against me, thumbs brushing over the lace of my bra. My mouth dried.

  He stared at me, not speaking.

  His hands let go of me, dropping to seize the hem of my shirt. He pulled it over my head in one smooth move while I lifted my arms, helping him.

  How was this happening?

  How was I on his lap, shirtless, wearing only a bra?

  I wished it were a better bra. One of those sexy scraps of fabric my friends traipsed around in when we were changing clothes. A bra Flor would wear.

  I didn’t need to worry about the bra for long, though. His hands found the front clasp and flicked it free. It popped open and I didn’t move. Just watched him watch me.

  “Willa,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and awe-tinged.

  My insides quivered.

  His hands cupped me then, and I nearly flew off his lap at the first rasp of his palms on my bare breasts. Oh. God. Was it supposed to feel like this? Wonderful and shocking and vomit-inducing at the same time? No one had told me. None of my friends had warned me.

  My stomach couldn’t stop churning. It was like a thousand butterflies rioted inside me, looking for a way out.

  “Willa.” He pressed his mouth to my neck, my collarbone, looking up at me, watching my face with intense eyes as he played with my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, back and forth, back and forth, each swipe making me shake. “Do you like that?”

  Ohh. That voice. His hands.

  I whimpered as he tasted me with warm, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue hot on my skin, burning, singeing.

  I should have been horrified and stopping this. Instead I was galloping straight into it, arching into his touch and sliding my fingers into his hair, sighing and moaning and holding him closer to me.

  His mouth trailed down, closing over me, sucking me deep. Pleasure knifed through me.

  Oh. My. God.

  I gasped as a twisting tightness started in my belly. His hands were at my hips again, gripping me hard, urging me as I rocked over him, grinding down on that hard bulge in his jeans, trying to relieve the ache as much as I could with our clothes between us.

  It was clumsy and desperate and wild, but that didn’t stop us from trying.

  “Willa.” He said my name brokenly against my flushed skin.

  With his lips on me, I couldn’t think. There was only feeling . . . sensation. Fleeting flashes of thoughts that wanted to make sense.

  “Zach,” I choked, gazing down hungrily at his beautiful face. I heard the plea in my voice . . . a voice I didn’t even recognize. Didn’t even know.

  With a curse, he brought my face down to kiss again, his lips fierce and frantic.

  I melted against him, my mouth opening wide. Giving. Taking.

  What was happening? I’d give myself over completely right now and not regret it.

  Suddenly lights flashed and a siren chirped. My gaze darted over his shoulder to the rear window. “Oh my God! It’s the police.” My hands flew to cover my breasts.

  “Shit!” His gaze clashed with mine as we jumped into action. “Don’t worry,” he reassured me as I snatched my bra off the console. “I’ll take care of it.” I fumbled to get my arms through the straps. “I’m good with cops, remember?”

  I nodded jerkily, my heart beating painfully in my chest. It felt like it might burst free from my rib cage. “I remember,” I panted, letting myself feel hopeful.

  He lifted me off him and deposited me in my seat as I fumbled to bring the bra cups up over me.

  I jerked, stifling a scream as a police officer stepped beside the driver’s-side window, shining a flashlight into the cab, nearly blinding me. Clutching my bra together, I held up a hand over my eyes.

  He knocked on the glass.

  “Let me do the talking,” Zach whispered as he rolled down the window. “Evening, sir.”

  “That would be ma’am.” The light of the flashlight came back over me then. “I guess I don’t need to ask why you’re parked here. Licenses, please.”

  The police officer was a woman. Considering my boobs were hanging out, that made me feel a little better. I finally managed to snap my bra closed. I grabbed my shirt and tugged it over my head. I smoothed my hands over my hair and reached for my wallet.

  Zach had already given her his license. She’d studied it with no expression. Apparently his name as a local sports hero didn’t ring a bell. Or she didn’t care.

  With shaking hands, I handed Zach mine and he passed it through the open window to her.

  The woman studied it for a moment before shining the flashlight back on me. “Miss Evans?”

  I nodded. “Yes?”

  “You’re seventeen.”

  “Y-yes.” I shared an uncertain look with Zach. She’d said nothing about his age. He was already eighteen.

  “That means I’ll have to call your parents to come and get you.”

  GIRL CODE #24:

  Don’t believe everything you see on social media. Can you say Photoshop? Trust your own eyes.

  Flor

  I stared in shock as the fight started. Part of me wanted to dive into that circle and stop Grayson before he got himself killed—​crushed by some giant who went by the name of Mountain. As if that weren’t omen enough.

  What was he thinking?

  But the other part of me held back, reminding myself that he wasn’t Grayson here. Here, in this field in the middle of nowhere, he was Duracell. How strangely messed up was that?

  My genius National Merit Scholar tutor was some underground fight-club rock star. How was that possible? And where were his glasses? The random thought almost made me want to laugh.

  The other fighter charged Grayson, who stayed light on his feet, dancing out of the way. My shoulders sagged in relief as he dodged Mountain’s swinging arm.

  “If Mountain gets his arms around him, it’s all over,” Jed pronounced grimly, sharing a knowing look with his buddies. “No one has ever broken his hold.”

  I shot Jed a worried look. “Really?” No one? My pulse thrummed wildly at my throat.

  “C’mon, Grayson,” I whispered under my breath, f
ollowing his movements as he danced out of the Goliath’s way.

  The shouts of the crowd around me only added to my growing panic. I covered my mouth with both hands to stop myself from crying out like some kind of maniac.

  Grayson darted in and delivered a double-punch combo to Mountain. I couldn’t help myself then. I slapped the air in triumph. “Yes! Get him!”

  Brianna looked wide-eyed at me. “Wow. You’re really into this.”

  Mountain roared and got close enough to grab a fistful of Grayson’s hair. He swung him around, then flung him flat on his back on the ground. I felt the bone-jarring impact under my feet.

  I lunged forward. “Foul! Foul!”

  “Flor, this isn’t soccer!” Brianna shouted as she and Jed pulled me back.

  I struggled against them, watching in alarm as Mountain stepped over a stunned Grayson, placing a foot on either side of his shoulders.

  “Get up!” I screamed, my heart squeezing inside my chest. He’s going to be hurt. He’s going to be hurt. It was all I could think: a desperate mantra running through my head.

  Brianna tightened her hold on my arm. “Remind me never to bring you to a fight again. You’re way too invested.”

  Still clenching Grayson’s hair, Mountain forced his head up. I winced, watching as he pulled back his tree-trunk arm to deliver a blow.

  “No!” I screamed, the shrill sound of my own voice ringing in my head.

  I must have been really loud, because Mountain glanced at me with a satisfied look on his face.

  Grayson came alive then. He took advantage of the distraction and cracked his fist under Mountain’s chin.

  “Ohh! Here we go!” Jed proclaimed, slapping the shoulders of one of his friends gleefully.

  Mountain’s head snapped back from the blow and he let go of Grayson’s hair. Cheers and boos simultaneously erupted. Grayson didn’t stop there. He sent his fist straight up between his opponent’s legs, directly into his crotch.

  The crowd groaned in empathy. Even I cringed.

  Mountain went down with a shriek, holding himself between the legs and landing like King Kong with an earth-shaking crash.

  The ringleader of this sideshow jumped into the circle and grabbed Grayson by the wrist, holding his arm up in the air to declare him the victor.