by Goode, Ella
She grins. The devil grins at me. “I’ll tell you after sewing class,” she sasses and waltzes into the classroom, leaving me with a hard-on the size of a redwood.
I have only a few options here. I can go to the bathroom and rub one out or I can wait until my woody subsides. The problem is that these two choices take time so I opt for the third, painful one. I punch myself in the nuts.
Fuck! Tears prick my eyes. I bend over and gasp for breath. Maybe I should’ve spent two seconds trying to come up with another idea. Too late for that though. I heave out a couple more gasps and then straighten up. The sewing class has already started when I walk in. Ace eyes me curiously. I must have a pained expression on my face. I try to re-arrange my features into a smile, which only makes Ace’s head tilt to the side even more. I take the seat next to her and whisper, “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”
“Okay.” She slides a pile of supplies in front of me. “You owe Mrs. Burdock ten bucks.”
“On it.” I reach for my wallet and pull out the necessary cash. “What are we making?”
“A pillowcase.”
“Fresh.” I shake out the material and look around me. Everyone is sorting through their stuff and making notes. I glance over at Ace’s table. She’s got numbers on her pad. I narrow my eyes. “Is there math in this class? No one told me there’d be math.”
“There’s no math,” Ace assures me.
“I mean...I’m not gonna call you a liar, Ace, but there are numbers in your notebook.”
She stifles a giggle. “I promise you that there’s no real math.”
“There’s an equal sign. That definitely signals some kind of addition, subtraction. Maybe even that advanced thing called multiplication.” I mock shudder.
“I can help you,” offers a girl to my right.
Ace’s smile turns south. I hurry and turn the girl down so Ace doesn’t crawl over my lap and fight this student. “Nah, Ace has got it. She’s a human calculator, right?”
“Not really.”
“Well, if you need anything, I’m Marisa Hardy.” She holds out her fingers.
I glance toward Ace to see what she wants me to do because I can easily ignore this chick but if Ace wants me to be friendly, I can shake the hand. I raise my eyebrows in a silent question. She gives me a slight nod.
“Owen Fast McCoy,” I tell the girl and slap my fingers across hers. “New guy. Ace’s boyfriend. Ace is new here, too.”
“My boyfr—” Ace cuts herself off when Marisa kind of armbars me back so she can reach a hand out to Ace.
“I thought you were new, but I didn’t want to say anything,” Marisa says to Ace. The two shake hands. I like this Marisa girl. I give her a mental checkmark in the good column.
“Alice Alistair but everyone calls me Aly. Yeah. My dad got a job in town,” Ace says, “so we moved.”
“That sucks,” Marisa declares. “You had to move your senior year? I’d be livid.”
Ace makes a face. “Nah. I went to this awful boarding school before so I was glad to leave. FU seems cool. I mean, it’s only day one but most everyone’s been nice so far.”
“Is that where the two of you met? At the boarding school?”
“Nope,” I cut in cheerfully. “I saw Ace at the mall the other day.”
“We’re not actually dating. We’re friends,” Ace corrects.
“I’m a boy. We’re friends. That makes me a boyfriend. It’s kind of like math only with words.”
Ace sighs. “We literally just met today,” she says to Marisa. “And so we’re not dating or anything.”
Marisa is bemused. “Okay. I mean, whatever you two have going on isn’t really any of my business, but it’s cute. Whatever it is.” She slides back into her chair. “Just stay away from the football guys. They’re all assholes.”
I take that back. Marisa is not a good girl. I move her into the red column and put a big red x next to her name. “Wow, is this a needle?” I exclaim, picking up a small silver thing, hoping to derail any discussion about asshole football players. I wonder what Carter did that gives the team such a bad name. I mean, it can’t all be on Billy...can it?
“Yes, it’s a needle,” another girl giggles. I look up to see that half the class has moved their tables and chairs closer to Ace and me.
“How the hell am I supposed to get the thread inside this tiny eye?” I hold up the needle and squint. I’ve got magic hands. You can throw anything within an arm’s distance of me and I’m catching it. I don’t care if it’s a watermelon, a kettle bell weighing fifty pounds, or a football. I’m catching it. But this needle thing is so small that I can barely see it and the hole where the thread is supposed to go through is tinier yet. “Y’all are funnin’ me, aren’t you? This isn’t the needle. No one can put thread through this fucking hole. That’s ridiculous.” I turn to Ace for agreement but she’s covering her face with her hands to hide her amusement. All around me the faces of the girls are in different stages of laughter. With the needle still pinched between my fingers, I raise my palms up. “It’s true and any of you saying it’s not are lying.”
“Here, you can use my needle threader,” the barrette girl offers.
That sounds like a vaguely pornographic offer. I turn her down. “Ace here volunteered to thread all my needles. Thanks though.”
The girls return to their seats.
“I did?” she queries.
I grab her hand and lay the needle in her palm. “You did, silently, and I accepted. Knock yourself out.”
Ace takes the sewing tool, mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “I don’t know what is happening,” but threads the needle for me anyway.
Meanwhile, I smooth the plaid pattern and reach for the instruction sheet so I can figure out how to make this pillowcase. As I’m doing the stupid fucking math that no one warned me about so I can make the cuts right, it occurs to me that between the two of us, we’ll have matching pillowcases. Matching pillowcases belong on the same bed. Fuck, I couldn’t have planned this better if I tried.
11
Alice
My face hurts from smiling so much. I’m sure I look like a total goofball but I can’t bring myself to care right now. I’ve gone from being nervous about today to thinking my new school is killer. It’s Owen. Everything about being near him is light and easy now that I’ve let my guard down. Some of the girls were a little thrown off when he walked into sewing with me. Their eyes became as big as saucers when they realized he was staying. A few of them seemed more than smitten with him. Offering to help him with the simplest things. I just asserted myself a little bit, letting them know I had it handled without being bitchy about it. By the end of our first club meeting everyone was enjoying having him there.
I don’t know if he means to be funny or not but he is. More than anything I enjoy his attention on me. Even when those few girls batted their eyes at him in the beginning of club he either ignored them or didn’t care. His attention was always drawn right back to me, his gaze always watching my every move. I am an extraordinary sewer but with his eyes on me my hand shook just a tiny bit. The sexual tension between us ran rampant through my body, causing me to have a ton of pent-up energy.
“Can I take you home, Ace?” He wraps an arm around me as we head out. I lean into his body, enjoying the feel of being pressed against him. My hand snakes around his back with my other landing on his abdomen. His abs are as hard as I imagined they would be. My fingertips slide over them, memorizing each and every hard plain. My mind drifts to the words he said after the kiss before club. My body is begging to be as near to him as possible. His hold on me tightens as we continue to walk. I was so lost in thoughts of him that I haven’t answered his question.
“My mom is picking me up.” I sigh. I should have thought about that before. My mind flashes to us making out in his car. At one time I’d rolled my eyes about others making out in their cars for hours but I get it now. I want to be out in a car making out
with Owen. Hell, I all but climbed him like a tree when he brushed his mouth against mine. That could not have only been a kiss. It was earth-moving. My whole body lit up like a freaking Christmas tree.
“Then I’ll wait with you.” He pulls out his cell phone with his other hand, tapping away quickly with his thumb. “Letting my mom know what’s up,” he tells me before sliding his phone into his back pocket.
I smile up at him. He’s told me about his mom. She reminds me some of my own. She works hard but I know we all can’t be as lucky to have someone like Carl swoop in and save the day. Okay, maybe he didn't save the day. Mom and I would have made it on our own. We were always a good team but my stepdad Carl made life a whole lot easier. He also made my mom smile. To see the way her face lights up every time they are together warms my heart. She deserves it. Owen and his mom sound like a team too. It makes me feel more connected to him.
He flashes me that dimple, looking down at me. He even tilts his head, a sexy smile playing at his lips.
“Are you really a virgin?” I blurt out. Oh God. I did not say that. His smile turns into a giant one as he lets out a laugh, showing off his perfect teeth. “I think your dimple has superpowers.” I mutter. It’s doing crazy things to me.
Now I’m blurting things out I don’t mean to say. Let’s not forget trying to dry hump in school. I’ll add that to the list. Owen has a way of making me do and say random things that I would never have done in the past. Although by definition we are practically strangers, I feel as if we’ve known each other a lifetime instead of a day.
“My V card is all yours, Ace.” He gives me a playful wink.
“You think I’m a virgin?”
His arm around me tightens a hair. He gives a shrug. I didn't think about how he assumed I was one also when he said it. It wasn’t until I’d started thinking about how he still had his V card that it dawned on me that he was expecting me to be one too. I definitely stereotyped him because he is an athlete. Also because he is hot as hell. How has he managed to keep his virginity all of this time? He is not only drop dead gorgeous but so sweet to me that he has me crawling all over him.
I just can’t fathom that he made it through eighteen years without another girl getting in his pants. I’ve known him less than twenty-four hours and we are already talking about losing our virginity together. I’m not sure how I’ve gone from hours ago telling him I didn’t date to talking about my virginity.
“Doesn't matter. I know you have to be easy the first time for a girl. I wouldn't want to hurt you. If you’re not it’s no big deal.”
“I am one,” I admit. For some reason I feel my face flush. Why I don’t know. He told me he was still one too so there’s nothing for me to be embarrassed about. I wanted to wait until it meant something or I felt a connection with someone. The strangest part of all of this was that I didn’t have an ounce of nervousness when I thought of giving myself to Owen.
“I know. I’ll take care with it.” He opens one of the doors for me. A few students are still hanging around. A couple glance our way. Only hours ago I was trying to get out of his hold in front of the school and now I’m nestled into him as close as I can get. When we get out to the sidewalk, I brush my nose against his shirt, wanting one last breath of him before I have to go. His hand comes under my chin, lifting it so my head tilts back. I let it drop back more, knowing he’s going to kiss me again. He only brushes his mouth against mine before he’s stepping away. I want to pull him back into me but his words stop me.
“Your mom’s here.”
I jerk my head around to see my mom has in fact pulled up and is staring right at us. Now she has a goofball smile on her face. “I think she likes me.” He gives her that dimple. Of course she does. I can already see the idea of prom dancing in her head.
“You kissed me in front of my mom.” I groan.
“She’s going to see us kiss. It’s inevitable.”
My mom rolls down the car window. “Hi, Owen.”
“Hey, Mrs. Alistair.”
“Call me Sonya.” My mom is so happy that if I didn't know she was happily married and my mom I’d think she had a crush on Owen herself. “You need a ride?” she asks him.
“I’m good but thank you.” Owen pushes me toward the car, opening the door for me. He brushes his mouth against mine again. This time my mom can’t see it. It’s quicker than the last kiss. “Text me when you get home.” I only nod getting into the car. He shuts the door behind me.
“See you later, Sonya,” he tells my mom, who gives a goodbye too before rolling up the window.
“Did you see that dimple?” she asks me.
The one with magical powers? Who hasn't seen it? I don’t tell her that, though. She believes in things like fate and other forces being out there to guide us. I used to fight with her about it. I would try and explain cause and effect. Dad would smile and watch us go back and forth not giving his two cents. Though I know he’s totally on my side. At least that’s what he led me to believe. Now I’m not so sure because I’ve met a magical dimple. “Your dad has a dimple.” My mom lets out a long sigh as if thinking about Dad’s dimple.
He does have a dimple but it is one hundred percent normal. I don't find it sexy nor does it make me blurt out random things.
“Sweet girl, you better give me something.” I look over at my mom, who is about to come undone at the seams.
“I like him.”
“Well duh, he was kissing you and you were kissing him back.”
My cheeks heat. The kissing isn’t what has me blushing; it’s the fact that my mom witnessed it. She is never going to let up about Owen now. I am also never going to be able to convince her that he and I are only friends but I sure as hell am going to try.
“We’re just friends,” I rush to say.
“I don’t kiss any of my friends,” she says smugly as she pulls out of the school parking lot. She’s not fooled in the least.
“He keeps calling himself my boyfriend,” I give in, telling my mom. I don’t know why I was fighting it. I tell her pretty much everything. “He makes me laugh,” I add, biting my lip.
Mom peeks over at me. “He seems sweet. I just want you to remember—"
“I know, Mom.” I look out the window. Mom and I are close and have had the sex talk multiple times. She even put me on the pill when I turned seventeen, saying I might not be having sex but one day I would be and this was so I was prepared.
“I know you do, darling girl, but I’m your mom and I have to remind you.” She pats my leg so I look back over to her. “You can come to me for anything.”
“I know.” I lean over and kiss her cheek.
“Now tell me everything.”
I give her a rundown of my day. I skip the dick-punching and how hot and heavy my makeout session was with Owen. Some things are better left alone. I don’t want her worrying over an asshole like JJ, who I hadn’t seen since that class.
“Melody sounds…” Mom searches for a word.
“Different,” I supply. “A hip kind of different though. I think I’m going to like her.” I hope I do. I’m going to be paired up with her for the rest of the semester. She’s different and I can’t get a read on her. For some reason I enjoy that. Most of the kids at my old school were cut from the same cloth so meeting new people who are interesting is a good thing.
“You should invite her or Owen over for dinner on Friday. Both if you want.” Mom sounds super excited about this. It’s then I remember Owen asked me to a party. Well, he kind of asked me. He invited me on my calendar but I haven’t clicked it yet.
“Owen will have a game.”
“Oh, so you’re going?”
“Yeah, I think I am.” Owen didn’t ask me to but I want to see him play. I’m not so sure about the party but if he wants to do that I guess I could. We might end up making out in the car. I really like the sound of that.
“Your dad is going to be so excited,” Mom says as she pulls into the garage. When I get out Dad i
s already opening the door to the garage. He kisses Mom first before giving me a hug.
“How was your first day, sweetheart?” He kisses me on top of the head.
“Good.” I hug him back.
“So I—"
“I have no idea what college he’s going to,” I answer before Dad can ask, making him let out a small laugh.
“She’s going to his game on Friday though,” my mom adds in for me.
“He’s a good kid I hear.” Of course Dad asked around. I knew he would if Mom told him about Owen this morning. It’s hard to think of Owen as a kid. He’s bigger than my dad. When I first saw him I was sure he was in college.
“He’s funny,” I repeat.
“Yeah, super funny,” Mom teases me. I roll my eyes while Dad fights a laugh. I grab a banana off the kitchen counter. “I’m going to shower.”
“You need more than a banana.” Mom tries to stop me from leaving.
“Let me change and it’s late.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and then Dad. What I really want to do is text Owen. I put my phone into my bag and now I am itching to see if he texted me. I might have a problem. I’ve been away from him for ten minutes and I’m already wanting to talk to him again.
I head upstairs. I make myself shower and change before I finally give in and grab my phone. My heart gives a happy flutter when I see that Owen texted me. Not only once but twice.
BF: Ace, thought you were going to text me when you got home?
BF: Give a man a break here. One text isn't going to kill you. It will kill me.
I fire back a quick response.
Me: I was in the shower. Sorry.
I could have told him I was in bed or talking to my parents but I wanted him to know I was in the shower. My body still buzzes from our makeout session.
BF: You cannot tell me shit like that.
I don’t have to fight a smile this time. We aren’t face to face for him to read every detail of what I am thinking. I’m pretty sure I show everything on my face like Mom does.
