Kissing In Cars (10 page)
Why is he saying these things?!
Me
: noodles *do* sound good...great. now I'm hungry. thanks a lot!
There is yet another long pause before he responds, and I have to question at this point whether he knows
anything at all
about the female species, because if he did there is no way he would take so long. It's freaking driving me out of my mind, and I have enough energy coursing through my body right now I could easily bust out my cross trainers and jog a few miles.
Weston
: so my parents are probably going to freak when they find out im asking you this, but...do you have plans this weekend
?
This weekend? As in three short days from now?
Me:
i...think im free. why? did you want to go have those noodles ;)
Long pause.
I take this time to close my eyes and imagine what his his long muscular body looks like stretched out on his bed, in only mesh gym shorts. In my mind, they're red and his chest is bare. Defined pecs and strong calf muscles flexing as he decides what he's going to text next.
I bury my face in the pillow and let out a loud groan.
Weston:
no. more like...an actual... idk. date
.
And that's the moment I kick the covers off my bed and let out a blood curdling scream.
WESTON
"Just when you thought you couldn't piss me off even more, you go and out do yourself." - Brian McGrath to Weston
I have a date.
Holy shit, an actual date.
I haven't had a real one in... well, never.
And my mom is totally going to kill me when she finds out. Correction: my
Dad
is totally going to kill me when he finds out. I'm less worried about my mom...
You see, the thing is - even though my parents do pretty well financially they're still counting on me to receive a hockey scholarship for college. I've been playing since I was crapping my pants: to say that it consumes my life would be the understatement of the year.
This usually means:
1. No girlfriend, which means I tend to not get laid very often. Or not at all, depending on what season it is, contrary to popular belief.
2. No job, which means I have to kiss my dad's ass when I need cash for something.
3. No life.
Most people assume that I don't participate in school functions because I'm some kind of insensitive asshole, but that's not the case. The fact is I don't have the time; never made the time.
If I'm not at hockey practice, I'm sleeping off hockey practice.
Or eating.
As I'm about to slam the door to my locker shut, I grab a Pop-Tart from the dwindling supply on the top shelf. I have one pack left. Fucking Rick is always eating my shit and never replaces any of it. As I rip the silver wrapper open with my teeth (it's cherry by the way, my favorite) I sling my loaded down backpack over my shoulder and tug my ball cap down over my eyes in an effort to avoid having to stop and talk to my peers, who loiter in the halls. Unfortunately, I'm forced to raise my head and nod to a few people along my way to the cafeteria.
God am I starving
.
I almost make it as far as the lunchroom when Alexis Peterson flounces up to me and rests her small hand on my upper arm. I let out a loud groan of frustration, but that doesn't stop Alexis from latching on. She's this smallish cheerleader type who appears everywhere she's not wanted, apparently. I mean, hasn't she heard of personal space? Even though she's grabbing my arm, she's bouncing in place on the balls of her feet. You know, like
Tigger
- only more annoying.
"Hey Wes, you have practice after school?" she practically purrs, giving me a toothy grin and twirling a lock of her black hair. I notice that she has lipstick on her teeth and battle the urge to curl my lip in disgust.
"Uh yee-
ah
, Alexis. Just like every single day of the week..." Now, at this point in our short conversation she's running her index fingernail up and down my arm, which is bare because I'm wearing a cut off shirt.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
. I want to swat her hand off me, but instead I just give my arm a quick shake.
It has no effect on her whatsoever. What is it with this chick, can't she take a hint?
Seriously man, all I want to do is eat...
The cafeteria just behind her is getting crowded and the lunch line is growing. But Alexis isn't done with me yet. "So, like, my parents are going, like, to be out of town this weekend..." her voice trails off meaningfully at the end. I look at the lunch line, than impatiently back at Alexis.
What is she freaking talking about
?
"Uh yeah," I say mindlessly staring straight over her head. "That should be fun. You should throw a party." From where I'm standing, I can see Erin Blazer and Derek Hanson taking trays at the beginning of the lunch buffet. They're laughing at something Samantha Granger is saying, and even from here I can see Sam swatting at them and is royally. Pissed. Off. Those two are sucks dicks.
I stifle a laugh.
"Are you even listening to me," Alexis pouts, pulling on the front of my shirt like a sulky kid begging for attention. I look down to see that her bottom lip is thrust out. Uh,
newsflash
ladies: guys don't like girls who act like spoiled brats. The toddler look is a total turnoff.
"Alexis spit it out, because I'm hungry as
shit
and Blazer's getting all the bread."
"I was actually thinking you could maybe, like, come over and we could like, do stuff."
Like, do stuff?
"
Uh, gee Alexis, I have a date, so... I'll be doing
stuff
... Just. Not with you." I am able to shrug her off so I'm able to hike my backpack up onto my shoulder and push the hair out of my eyes from under my ball cap. Alexis just stands there, blankly staring at me as if I've sprouted three heads, and I can't help but look at her curiously. "Are you okay?" I ask (and just so we're clear, I don't really give a shit if she's okay. I'm just asking to be polite).
I wave a hand in front of her face to check for vitals.
She finally blinks. Satisfied, I shrug and turn to walk away. I am mere seconds away from being sated by as much government regulation pizza and accordion fries that I can eat...
I guess being a guy, I'm not particularly observant.
Especially being as hungry as I am. If I was even a tiny bit observant, I would have seen Alexis stiffen and her small fists clench at her sides. And I
definitely
would have been prepared for what came next.
"
You what
?!" Alexis screeches from somewhere behind me.
She sounds like a banshee.
Dude, there is no way in hell I'm turning around, even though everyone within fifty yards turns to gawk. That chick is obviously batshit crazy, and clearly there's a reason I had the good sense not to hook up with her. Instead, I book it to my regular lunch table and dump my backpack before making a beeline for the food.
***
"What the hell was up with Alexis Peterson?" someone asks me a few minutes later as I'm dunking five fries at once into the sea of ketchup at the edge of my tray.
I stuff my mouth. "Batshit crazy," I mumble somewhat audibly.
"Well. I'd still bang her." Erik Gunderson practically shouts, and a chorus of raucous laughter erupts.
"Gunderson, you'd bang your own sister for a slice of pie." Rick hollers in his loud ass voice. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the cafeteria attendant taking notice of us and change direction, heading right for our table.
"Dude, shut the fuck up. Keep your voice down," I hiss. I swear, my friends are freaking idiots...and I, unfortunately, am their leader.
"What the hell was Alexis blabbering about anyway? I saw Kristy Rose haul her off into the bathroom." This observation is from Rick. He's sitting across from me eyeing up the last slice of pizza on my plate.
I cover it with my free hand.
"I don't know man, I wasn't listening to a thing she was saying. Something about me going to her house this weekend and mess around, I guess." As I'm saying this I arrange the last of my fries onto my pizza, fold it in half like a sandwich, dip it in ketchup and bite down.
"
That
is fucking disgusting," Rick says.
I shrug, chewing. "It all ends up in the same place anyways..."
Rick leans his arm over across the table and his index finger lingers near the corner my mouth. "Dude, you have a little ketchup right....here...."
I slap his arm away. "Get the fuck away from me you idiot." But I laugh, because sometimes he can be funny, even if he is a complete and total dick.
From where I'm sitting I have a clear view of the entire area. On the opposite side of the cafeteria is a long bank of windows that someone has painted an advertisement for the upcoming football game and Fall Formal dance, and if you want my opinion whoever painted them did a shitty job; as in, my half blind cousin Stuart could have done a better job with if
both
his eyes were bad (oh, and by the way - in case you're at all interested - this year before Homecoming we're playing the Clarksville Panthers and... I'm
pretty
sure we'll get our asses kicked since all the "real" athletes play hockey).
Obviously there are also vending machines in the cafeteria, located right in the corner of the room... which just happens to be the place where Molly Wakefield, as I've recently discovered, eats her lunch.
Yeah, discovering that little tid-bit was exciting for me too
.
I crack open a carton of cold chocolate milk and zero in on my target while I chug it.
Today, she's had her back to me the whole time, but I watch her just the same from under the rim of my cap like I did in the library the other day. I lean back and stretch, flexing my back as Molly's friend gestures wildly beside her. Her friends brightly colored tee shirt looks splattered with paint, and her long silver earrings catch the sun from outside with every shake of her head.
I rack my brain for the friends' name. Jane. No, wait. Jennifer. Janna?
Whatever
. It happens to be the same blonde chick that has a small seizure every time I walk by.
No lie.
Someone steps in the way and blocks my view so I have to crane my neck a little to the left. The voices beside me are gradually getting louder as they reenter my stream of consciousness.
"....no freaking way..."
"...Wes... date this weekend ..."
"...she is so full of shit...Tell him you don't have a date McGrath..."
"McGrath? Are you listening?"
Someone hits my arm. "Huh? What."
Rick and Derek exchange looks than Derek, who is also sitting across from me, swivels in his seat to survey the room. He even shields his eyes with his palm, like he's saluting the sea of students. What a wise-ass. "Okay, so who were you just checking out?"
"No one." The lie rolls off my tongue, and I crack open another carton of milk and guzzle it down, crushing the carton on the table with my palm when I'm done. No way in hell am I going to tell these douchebags I have a date with Molly Wakefield. The one highlight of my dismally social-life free senior year. I would never hear the end of it.
"Bullshit dude. You spaced out."
"That's because nothing you say interests me. In fact, I'm done here." I grab the edge of my tray before collecting my backpack, and rise from my seat at the same time Molly is rising from her table across the room.
I stand unmoving and watch her instead of walking away.
She's facing me, and our eyes connect. Finally, Molly gives me a small self-conscious wave, and if the Three Assholes of the Apocalypse weren't sitting in front of me, I'd probably wave back. Her long hair is in a braid that's cascading over her shoulder and she's wearing this cute pink dress
Man she's pretty.
My lips curl slightly into a small smile.
"
Are you fucking kidding me Weston
? Molly Wakefield?" Rich picks up his tray and then instantly slams it back onto the table in a rage, sending a few fries scattering across its surface. "You asshole."
His pronouncement doesn't surprise me and quite honestly, I don't give a crap if he's upset. You're probably wondering if there's such a thing as "Guy Code" - the answer is yes - but in my opinion it doesn't apply in this case. Why? Well for starters:
1. Rick is my teammate, but he is not my friend. He's thrown me under the bus so many times I've lost count.
2. He once tried to sleep with my cousin, Tracy.
3. Lastly - Oh, that's right. I don't give a shit about his feelings.
I blow out a puff of air so I don't lose my temper, but to be honest I can already feel my nostrils flaring, a telltale sign that I'm about to. As calmly as I can, I set my backpack and tray down, and rest my palms against the edge of the table, leaning over so that my face is inches from Ricks. The brim of my hat almost touches his forehead.
I am aware of hundreds of watchful eyes boring into me.
"Is there a problem?" This voice does not sound like my own; this voice is low and menacing.
"Yeah,
you're
my goddamn problem." Rick's eyes dart over to where the lunch attendant is standing and he stays imbedded to his seat. But he's itching for a fight.
"Why is that," I probe.
"You
know
I asked her out." He says through gritted teeth, drawing his sentence slowly out. "You were standing right there."
I frown at him through narrowed eyes, leaning closer. "And what was her answer?"
Rick shrugs coolly but his demeanor is anything but. "She'll come around."
I laugh right then and I have to admit, even to my own ears it sounds slightly maniacal.
"Yeah? Well you...scare the
shit
out of her." I quietly snarl, suddenly realizing it as the awful truth. That day in the hallway when Rick was harassing Molly for a date, I should have shoved his punk ass up against my locker. She'd looked so scared. Shit, the more I remember it the more pissed off I become. "Do yourself a favor
Rick
," I spit out his name sarcastically. "Don't talk to her. Don't talk
about
her. Hell, don't even
look
at her. Because if you do, I will find out, and then I will beat the
shit
out of you." My triceps flex and my shoulders drawn taunt. "Do we have an understanding?"