Crushed (14 page)

“That was intense.” Ellie fidgets with string of her bikini top. It covers more than Cal’s but not much. Some birthday. I’m surrounded by half-naked girls, and my chances of scoring with any of them are less than zero. Add in Calista’s bizarre accusation, and it’s a perfect day. 

I let out my breath. “You could say that.”

“Feel like sharing?”

“Maybe later.” Normally, all the barriers I keep erected around my friends, I let drop with Ellie, but I’m not sure what just happened.

She tilts her head and observes me for a moment before picking up the buns I found sitting on the counter. “In that case, everyone’s waiting for you. Apparently, the munchies set in exactly three seconds after your second puff on the magic peace pipe.”

I pick up the tray full of burgers and wrap my other arm around Ellie. It feels good, not awkward at all. Like touching her is the most natural thing in the world. She leans in a little closer, and my eyes wander down to her tits. Heat radiates off the thirty-two places our bodies touch.

No one bothered to turn on the grill while I searched for the food. Instead, Reid lies on top of the counter, balancing a beer bottle on his head. 

“Dude, you absolutely cannot move. You can never move again.” Brady stands over him, his face serious. 

Reid whimpers a little. “I don’t want to be stuck here forever. Get that damn thing off of me.”

Ellie raises her eyebrows. “What are you two doing?”

Brady falls into a bout of idiotic laughter. “Reid’s stuck. He can never use his hands again, and there’s a beer bottle on his head.”

Oh, Jesus. They’ve obviously had something more than a little pot. 

Ellie strolls over to the edge of the counter. “Reid,” she says, her voice firm and serious. “I’m going to save you.” 

“Oh, thank you!”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Before you thank me, you need to promise that you will be my slave for the rest of the day.”

The beer bottle on his head totters a little. “Oh shit, don’t let it fall. It absolutely cannot fall.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just promise to be my slave, and I’ll free you.”

“I agree.”

Ellie wrinkles her nose at me and gives a devious grin before reaching over and removing the bottle. “You are free.”

Reid sits up and throws his arms around her. “Thank you, Ellie!”

There’s an evil glint in her eye. “Now, as my slave, you must obey my every command.” He nods. “My first command is to tell Brady he is a sexy, sexy man.”

 I choke on my beer. This is awesome.

“Do you have a camera? You should probably video this for future use,” she whispers mischievously. 

***

A line of beer bottles stretches from the diving board to the bar. Maybe fifty or sixty in all. That’s about six or seven beers per person. 

I think. 

My brain’s a little fuzzy.

The bar counter has more damage – the blender lies on its side with the sweet red contents poured all around it. Ash and spilled weed are everywhere. 

It’s my fantasy of Cabo during spring break come to life.

“So, was it a good birthday?” Ellie and I are jammed between the arms of a lounge chair. Our bodies face each other, but our heads rest against the chair, and our eyes are trained upwards, gazing at the stars. 

“Not bad.” I take another swig of my beer before reaching behind me to set it down on the patio. “Did you have fun?”

She inhales deeply, like she’s holding her breath. With a rush of air, she exhales. “I did.”

Sometime earlier tonight, she slipped a slouchy sweater over her bikini, but her long, toned legs are still bare and they tangle with mine. I allow myself to think about their smoothness moving against me, pulling me into her. A birthday exemption, if you will.

“Do you think we should move him?” Ellie points to Alex, who’s passed out in a nearby chair. “Or at least get him a blanket?”

I don’t want to move. I want to lay here with Elle, staring at the stars. “He’s fine.”

“Is everyone else asleep?” she asks.

“Probably. Or otherwise engaged.”

She shifts and rests her hand against my thigh. I keep my eyes up, pretending not to notice. 

“How are you doing with the Calista and Alex thing?”

Ah that. Surprisingly good. Even with Cal’s little kitchen ambush. “Fine. It’s no big deal. I’m over it.”

And I am. Calista’s right. I didn’t choose her. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t.

Ellie reaches across me and steals my beer. When her lips touch the bottle, she leans her head back. I stare at the smoothness of her neck and imagine doing all kinds of things I shouldn’t. 

The chilly night breeze brushes over us, but I’m not cold next to her. Ellie’s like a heating blanket.

“I’m drunk,” I say taking the bottle from her. “Very, very drunk.”

Her fingers graze my bare chest, and my breath catches. Did she mean to touch me like that?

I’m staring at her, and she’s staring at me, and then Ellie’s tongue darts along my lips. Her hands tug at my hair. 

God, it feels right.

I wrap my arms around her, bringing her closer. Ellie bites my lip and sucks it into her mouth. I roll her over, bracing my hand near her head.

“You drive me crazy,” I whisper.

“So, you like me?” Her breathy words come out in uneven bunches. 

“Uh huh.” 

She kisses my lips again, swallowing my words, devouring me. I close my eyes and surrender completely, enjoying the euphoria surging through me. 

“I’ve liked you since the first time I came over. I’ve never liked anyone the way I like you,” Ellie whispers.

Her teeth nip my neck and a surging fire spreads through my body. I don’t trust myself to touch her out of fear I may actually explode. Technically impossible, but at this moment, with Ellie Jacobs biting my neck and wrapping her arms around me, I believe in the unimaginable.

I balance on one arm. “What are we doing?”

Even under the moonlight, her swollen lips are the color of ripe strawberries. 

“I don’t know.” She stretches out next to me, our bodies inches apart, but not touching. Her warm breath fans across my face. “I didn’t think I was looking for you.”

The inches are like miles. Her skin beckons me, and I lift my hand to stroke her arm, but Ellie stands up.

She leans over me, letting her dark hair fall on to my face. The scent of chlorine stings my nose, and I twist my hands around the ends of her hair.

“Happy Birthday, Fletch.”

Her fingers trail along my jaw before she pulls away and disappears into the night.

18

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Brady points at my sports jacket like it will give him an STD if he gets too close.

I run a comb through my hair. The back doesn’t want to lie flat, and the front hangs in my eyes. Mom’s going to insist on a haircut. “I have to give the welcome address at the Alumni Luncheon, remember?”

Today marks the start of Alumni Weekend, that special time of year when old people crowd the campus, trying to relive their long-gone glory days. Current students avoid them as much as possible, but I have the misfortune of being the offspring of two Harker alumni. Lucky me. 

“That’s right. You get to eat something that isn’t beige or gelatinous, while the rest of us attempt to choke down the standard prison food.”

“I invited you.” Mr. Tolst said I could bring a friend, but no one wanted to go – not even for the decent food. 

He grins. “I have much better things to do with my time.”

“Like what?”

He rocks back and forth on his feet. “I don’t know. Writing a paper on the lifecycle of a moth. Or organizing my socks by color.”

“That sounds like something Ellie would enjoy.”

Brady eyes me suspiciously. “About Ellie. It’s almost November. How close am I to getting myself a sweet new ride?”

It’s been a week since my birthday - since the night Ellie and I kissed. We didn’t talk about it the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. In fact, we haven’t talked about very much at all. 

I mess with my tie. Brady absolutely cannot know we kissed, but if Ellie and I keep avoiding each other, he’s going to get suspicious. 

I give my hair another look in the mirror and try to appear casual. “She’s fine. I’m in full control of the situation.”

“You have four months to go. Reid and I have an over/under going on when you’ll crack. Especially with the way she wants you.”

My pulse speeds up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh c’mon, Fletch. Ellie’s always hanging around. You’re not that stupid.”

I give him my best don’t-fuck-with-me glare. “Ellie Jacobs is, and will continue to be, just my friend. So start stocking up on the lotion now, dickhead.”

“Whatever, Fletcher. You know you want a piece of that.”

I step into the hallway. Definitely, but I’ll never admit it out loud.

***

Mom hugs me tight, crumpling the piece of paper I have shoved in my pocket even more. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hey, Mom.” I say, stepping back. “You look nice.”

She’s tall and thin, like Dad and me, with long blond hair and blue-green eyes. Most women would die to look like her, and Dad jokes that Mom’s kryptonite for any man with a working set of eyes.

“Thank you.” She twirls to show off her dress and the hours she spends working out with her trainer. “I bought this special for today.”

Next to us, Dad chats up Cal’s parents, Catherine and Tomas Desmarais. Most of the people who come to Alumni Weekend are over forty. Mom, Dad, and Cal’s parents stand out among a sea of frozen faces and gray hair.

Catherine is an older version of her daughter from the dark, curly hair and big, green eyes to the smattering of freckles across her nose. Brady insists you can tell how a girl’s going to age by checking out her mom. If he’s right, Cal’s going to be hot when she’s middle-aged.

“Cal’s not here yet?” I ask. It’s not like her to be late.

Her mom pats my arm, like me asking about Cal is the greatest thing ever. “She’ll be here shortly. Don’t you worry.”

I wasn’t worried. Just curious.

Mom links her arm through mine as we walk to the dining hall. This weekend, all students receive picnic-style meals in their dorms since the Alumni are more important than us.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

I shake my head and tap the pocket holding my now-crumpled speech. “Naw. It’s easy. All I have to do is stand there and recite. Can’t mess that up too much, right?”

Mom squeezes my arm. “That’s my boy.” 

Our table is in the front, near the stage, at the place of honor. Dad’s getting some sort of “Distinguished Alumni Award.” Like that means anything, but still, he’s into it.

Since the round tables don’t have placards, I pull out a chair for Mom and take the seat to her left. This way Dad can be on the right and facing the stage. I’ll have to crane my neck to see, but that’s fine. Tomas sits next to Dad with Catherine to his right, which means Cal’s going to be on my left, if she ever turns up.

The waiter takes our drink order. Mine is completely age appropriate for once, a Coke. 

Catherine checks her watch and glances at the door.

Mr. Tolst hobbles onto the temporary stage the school built across the back of the dining hall. “Good afternoon, distinguished alumni. We’re so glad you took time out of your busy lives to join us for a weekend of commemorating what makes Harker special.” 

Now open your checkbooks and get out a pen. 

“If you will, please join me in welcoming Fletcher Colson. Fletch is a senior and son of two Harker alumni — our Distinguished Alumni Honoree, Will Colson, and his wife, Julia Colson.” I walk toward the stage as he recites my pedigree like I’m some sort of show dog. A polite round of applause circles the room, and I adjust the microphone so it reaches my mouth.

“Good afternoon.” I smile out at the room just as Calista scuttles toward our table. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt. What the hell? 

I clear my throat and continue. Public speaking comes easy to me; I love an audience, and the words tumble out of me. People laugh when appropriate, and when I get to the end, I say, “Now, it’s my honor to introduce my father William Colson, this year’s Distinguished Alumni Honoree.”

Dad strides across the stage like he’s storming Davos and claps me on the back. It’s my signal to step behind him. Mr. Tolst joins us, hands Dad a plaque, and they shake hands. When that’s over, I slink back to my chair, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as Dad launches into his speech.

“Hey,” I say to Cal as I take my seat. “Why were you late?”

She picks at the salad the waiter placed before her. “I forgot.”

Unlikely. Cal doesn’t forget crap like this. I can’t ask anything else though, because Dad’s still talking and Mom gives me the tight-lipped, hush look.

When Dad finishes, everyone stands and claps. He shakes hands with Mr. Tolst again and makes his way back to our table. 

Mom leans into him and kisses his cheek. “Well done, Will.”

Dad takes a sip of his whiskey. What I wouldn’t do for some of that.

Food magically appears in front of me, and I dig in, eager to eat something palatable for once. Next to me, Cal keeps picking at her salad. Suddenly, Julia stands up.“Excuse us.” She yanks Cal out of her seat and marches her through the dining hall doors. 

Okkkay
. I have no idea what’s going on, but Cal’s obviously in trouble.

We all pretend not to notice. 

Cal’s dad, Tomas, asks me, “Where do you want to go to school next year?” 

I swallow a bite of asparagus. “I’m applying to a few Ivies and liberal arts colleges. My front runners are Stanford and Princeton.”

Dad breaks off his conversation with yet another antiquated alumni. “Princeton. Fletch is going to Princeton.”

It’s a statement. Like he’s going to will me into Princeton.

“When did you graduate, again?” Tomas asks Dad.

“Class of ’94.”

“That’s right.” Tomas raises his glass of scotch to me. “Here’s to Princeton, Fletch.”

I raise my glass of Coke in acknowledgement.