Prince Charming (24 page)

Blake stood up and nodded. “Maybe not. We have kinda been a little bit hard on you.”

“Understatement of the fucking year.” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s mostly Bruce that hates you, not me”

“Could have fooled me.”

“He’s very jealous of you, and it’s gotten worse in the last couple of months.” Blake grabbed his pens and paper. “Just don’t cross him again, Mr. Encyclopedia,” he said, after a quick reshuffle of his papers.

“I’ll remember that.” Now it was my turn to stand up from the table. “Whatever. I’m going upstairs. Tutoring’s over for the day.” I walked away, leaving my phone, schoolbooks, and iPad on the table.

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S
UNDAY, MAY 12TH

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L
AINE CAME OVER that afternoon. Her idea, not mine. She said she wanted to study for the other upcoming AP exams, which still loomed over us like large boulders we had to move before graduation. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it sucked that these tests marred our last week of high school. We should have been celebrating, the way half the class already was at school. All they had to get through to make it to graduation were some bullshit finals teachers gave out to prove they taught up to the last day of class.

“Are you home alone?” she asked when I opened the front door. As usual, she had a huge grin on her face, and she wore a black cotton sundress with a halter neck. “I didn’t see any other cars in the driveway.”

“Yep.” I stepped aside to let her in the house. “Mom and David took Blake and Bruce to the Reds game. Diamond seats.”

Earlier in the week, I’d been bummed that they’d bought the twins such expensive tickets to the game as an early graduation gift. Diamond seats cost $250 a piece, and those two idiots didn’t deserve an afternoon of endless buffet and seats so close they could spit on the home plate if they wanted. Mom tried to justify it by telling me Blake and Bruce had earned them, because of their improved GPA. Bullshit. It had ticked me off to no end to find out that’s what my parents decided to give them. Why didn’t they give me something like that for my grades?

But now, I rethought my frustration. An afternoon at Great American Ballpark for them meant an afternoon alone with Laine Phillips for me.

“Diamond seats? Wow.” She gave me a quick peck on the lips, as she walked into the foyer.

“Yep.” I rocked back and forth on my feet, suddenly nervous again. I closed the front door behind her. “So. Do you still want to study?”

“Sure.” She glanced around the wide entryway. “So? Where’s your room?”

“Upstairs,” I nodded in the direction of the staircase.

For the first time in a long time, the privacy of my room made me thankful. Once we got upstairs, the heavy wooden door shut out the world, as if she and I had some kind of special place all our own. And trust me, when the hottest girl around wanted to spend time with just you, all you wanted was a room like that. Lucky me.

“Your room is huge.” She dropped her green messenger bag on the wooden floor and plopped onto the bed, where she bounced, twice. “Really. It’s kinda awesome. Like an apartment.”

“Yeah, they leave me alone up here.”

Still cautious, I took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. Did she really want to study? I sure didn’t. I wanted to have sex with her again. The word jumbled around in my head, squeezing out other thoughts and making me forget that I had grades to make and tests to study for that afternoon. Maybe I needed to flip on the radio so we had some mood music. Maybe she wanted me to grab her and throw her onto the bed, like something out of a movie. And maybe it was neither. I couldn’t figure it out, so I did nothing.

“Honestly, I really used to hate it,” I said, looking around at the full-sized bed, the bare desk, the TV on the far side of the room, and the small couch. “I always figured they shut me away up here to get rid of me after Mom married David.

“David hates me. Well, maybe not hate. But he doesn’t like me.” I shook my head. “Actually I don’t know, anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought he hated me for a long time, but my mom told me right before prom that he doesn’t. I just—I wish I knew.”

She clicked her tongue, as if in thought. “You haven’t talked to him?”

“No.” I stared at her for a moment, and couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to add, so I changed the subject. “You ready for this week?”

“Well, I guess I know the material as well as I ever will. I can’t believe this is our last week of high school.”

“I know.” I gulped, surprised at myself, and the confusion I felt over the upcoming week.

For almost twelve years of school I’d wanted to get away from these people, graduate, and get on with my life. I started talking about UVA back in the sixth grade, telling them I wanted to major in history and be an attorney in Washington DC, like I had some kind of destiny. I sleepwalked my way through school, worshiped Laine from afar, and disregarded everyone else except Nathan, Mark and Josh. Now, in the span of three weeks, everything had changed. Laine and I had had sex. School would end in five days, and I was more conflicted about going to Charlottesville than I ever had been, especially since it meant I had to leave the most amazing girl I had ever met at the end of the summer.

“It’s been a weird year,” Laine admitted. She shivered, and I reached out my hand to steady her.

“I wouldn’t take anything back, Laine.” Then I paused. “Except for maybe Evan’s death.”

She answered me with a sad smile, and a long, deep breath. “Yeah, I know. I wish that had never happened, too.” She paused. “But I’m happy we started hanging out, Geoff. Really happy.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah.” Now her smile turned genuine. “I really do mean it.”

I kissed her right then, because it seemed like the natural thing to do after she’d said something like that. My tongue made its way inside her mouth a half-second later, and we kissed on the bed as I propped all my weight on one arm and ran my other hand along the delicate skin between her jaw, earlobe, and the back of her neck. She moaned once, then twice in between kisses before she fell back on the bed, and I climbed on top of her. Her blonde hair fanned out on the bed and we moved together as she opened herself up to me. We stayed that way for another ten minutes or so in a frenzied make-out, until she broke away and smiled at me with her eyes.

No one in the world had ever looked hotter. No one.

“You’re a nice guy, Geoff.”

“Maybe.” My hand hovered above the ties around her neck as I contemplated undoing them. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I do.” She swallowed. “Didn’t you think we would?”

“Well . . . I mean . . .”

She fidgeted underneath me. “Do you have some?”

My jaw went slack. Of course I didn’t. I’d used the only one I had the previous time we had sex. My thoughts raced. I was frantic to come up with a solution. Then I had it. I hopped off the bed. “Give me a second.”

I ran down the steps from the second floor as fast as I could, tripped on two, recovered, and then sprinted to the bathroom that David and Mom shared. For once, David’s chores had an unexpected bonus. Inside the bathroom, I ripped open the cabinet below the his-and-hers sinks, and fished around the back. Half a second passed before my hands found the box I remembered from the twice-monthly cleaning I gave their bathroom.

Trojan Bare Skin condoms. Sounded legit. Not like I knew any better, though. Shrugging, I grabbed one, threw the box back in the cabinet, and slammed the door shut. As I jogged back up the stairs, I tried to slow my breathing. Laine might be ready to have sex with me, but I still wanted to look suave.

If I could.

“Whoa,” I said as I reached the top of the stairs. She lay on the bed, propped up by her elbows, naked. Well, not naked. She still had on a flesh-colored strapless bra and bikini underwear, but both of those left very little covered. Laine should have been on the cover of
Maxim
, but she was in my bed.

“Did you find some?”

“Yeah.” I held it up, sandwiched between my index and middle finger. “One.”

“Good.” When I didn’t move from the edge of the steps, she tilted her head. “What are you? . . . Um, don’t you want to . . .?”

“Yeah, I do. I just think you look hot,” I replied.

She laughed. I loved that laugh. I wanted to hear it forever.

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T
HURSDAY, MAY 16TH

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W
HEN I DROVE up to school, Laine and her friends already stood in the school parking lot, talking in a semi-circle. They reminded me of a clump of lollipops, with their brightly colored backpacks, meticulous hairstyles, and designer jeans. In the sea of restless students ready for summer break, these girls stood out because they had the kind of self-assured, attention-grabbing aura that repelled and attracted the rest of the student body.

Laine called over to me once she saw me get out of the car, and I couldn’t hide my smile as I walked to her. Okay, I may have sauntered, not walked. Do you blame me?

“Hey, Geoff,” she said after a quick peck on my lips in front of her friends. “You having a good morning?”

“Yeah.” I hooked my arm around her shoulders, slinging my hand underneath the thick strap of her backpack.

Glancing at her friends was interesting, to say the least. Jillian’s confused frown mirrored the expression of disgust on Monica’s face.

After a beat, Jillian shrugged. “So. It’s like that now? You guys are . . . together. Like . . . together.”

“Yep,” Laine replied.

“Confirmed. Like for real.” She still sounded confused. “That wasn’t just a rumor?”

“Nope,” Laine said, not dropping the smile from her face. “You guys know Geoff, right?”

“Sure we do.” Jillian twisted her mouth, and one of those weird, dramatic expressions crossed her face. “But what about Evan, Laine?”

Laine stepped a little bit closer to me. “What about him?”

“Like, I mean—”

“Evan just died,” Monica said, and I recoiled from the anger in her voice. She was a pointy-faced girl who almost never talked to anyone, outside of her clique. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Shut up!” Laine replied. “I’m so sick of this. I’m sorry Evan died, but he wasn’t the guy you thought he was. He just wasn’t.” She pulled even closer to me. “We weren’t happy for a long time. He didn’t love me.”

Monica snorted. “What? And Geoff Miller does? This guy?”

“Why do you care?”

“Evan was your boyfriend for two years, Laine! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it did,” Laine replied, not wavering. “But these last few months, he wasn’t the same guy he was when we started dating. He changed after he got into Ohio State.”

“You’re just saying that because you want it to be okay that you’re with Geoff now.” Monica said my name the same way some people would say the name “Osama Bin Laden.”

“Hey, wait a second,” I said, about to jump in and defend myself. “Is that really—”

“Don’t be a bitch, Monica.” Laine squeezed my hand. “And I’m not just saying that about Geoff. It’s true. That’s how Evan was.”

If someone had wanted to gather up all the anger and suspicion that surrounded the five of us at that moment, they could have bottled and sold it.

“So . . .” I rocked back and forth on my heels, trying to think of something innocuous to say that would break up the building tension. “Everyone ready for graduation?”

Monica rolled her eyes. “I’m sure we’re not as ready as you are.”

“I guess.” I looked down at Laine. “I need to write my speech.”

Jillian snickered. “I heard Nichole saying she wrote hers last month.”

“I’m sure she did.” I nodded in the direction of the front door. “So, do you want to go inside?”

Laine hooked her arm with me and smiled. “Of course.”

We should have known something was up when we walked in the front door of Heritage High. I expected the other students to stare and mock us, but this was altogether different. Whole groups of underclassmen fell silent as we walked up the wide staircase in front of the auditorium, and made our way through the hallway full of sophomore lockers. Some students whispered to each other, and after about ten kids did this, Laine tossed me a confused look. I tried to shrug it off, but I caught a few furious, disgusted glares, and heard more than one person call Laine a slut.

Then I saw why.

“Oh shit,” I said, as Laine and I rounded a corner near the science wing of classrooms. I dropped her hand and stopped walking. A large white flyer hung on every single locker in the hallway. Someone had printed a large, grainy photo on every single one, a photo I recognized instantly. “Prom Night for The Princess: Sleeping Around While Her Boyfriend Dies” was written in big, bold letters underneath the photo. It might has as well have been the headline on a supermarket tabloid.

“What is this?” Laine yelled. “What the hell is this?” She pushed a freshman out of the way, and ripped the flyer off the nearest locker. There were just a few students there, but the whole hallway fell silent. A couple of other students stepped away from us, giving us space. Every student at Heritage High had seen this photo, or would see it before the bell for first period rang.

“Oh, holy fuck,” I said, as shock flooded every blood vessel in my body. “Oh my God.”

“You took a picture of me in the hotel on prom night?” Laine looked from me to the flyer, and back again. “Geoff, What is this? If this is some kind of joke—”

“It’s not.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Get what? The flyer? Laine, it’s not—”

“How could you do this?” she shouted, her words directed right at me this time. Her eyes grew wider, almost crazed. She ripped one of the flyers in half, and then another. “Seriously, Geoff, how could you do this to me?”

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t make that flyer. Why would I do something like that?”

“I’m not fucking talking about the flyer!” She ripped a few more of them off from nearby lockers. “How could you take a picture of me topless like this?” One of the freshmen snickered, and she glared at him. Then she lowered her voice. “How could you?”