by RH Tucker
His dark auburn, shaggy hair, is more brown than red and waves in the slight breeze that rolls through the hallway. He kind of reminds me of Grant Gustin, but more fill out. I glance over his shoulders and chest, his dark shirt stretching across his chest. Yes, definitely more filled out. And he’s got thin lips. But there’s enough there that makes me stare at them now. I wonder how they taste. God, Izzy, get a hold of yourself.
“So, what do you say?” Matt looks at me.
“Hmm?” I’m broken from my face-contouring thoughts, realizing he’s just asked a question but I have no idea about what.
“After school? Or if you want, we can hook up later tonight?”
“What?” The word comes out much harsher and higher-pitched than intended. “What do you mean?”
Matt gives me a look like I’m crazy. Why is he talking about hooking up with me? What did I miss?
“Uh, the shopping list?” He waves the packet at me. “I don’t have anything I have to do after school, so we can go after if you want. Or, if your busy, we can go later this evening.”
“Oh.” Relief floods my system, and actually, a little disappointment. “Shopping. Right.”
“What’d you think I meant?”
Now he’s staring at me, and he smirks, knowing I’m embarrassed. I can feel my cheeks getting red and the more he smiles the hotter I feel. “Nothing.”
“Right. What’s your number?”
“What?” I repeat the word again.
“Izzy, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Control yourself, Izzy.
“Too much caffeine or what?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, taking the out he’s given me. “Probably sugar too. I should probably lay off the venti caramel frapps.”
“Or just go with a small.” His smile returns and now I’m staring at his lips again.
“I think you mean tall.”
“I’ve always thought those names were stupid. Who calls a small a tall? Anyways, what’s your number?”
I give him the number, and he plugs it into his cell. “All right, I got it. I’ll hit you up after my last class, and we can go from there. Do you have a car?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, cool. Did you want to drive to the store together or meet up there?”
The question should be simple to answer. But my thoughts zoom right past Reasonable Street, blast right through Rationality Row, and crash directly into Hot Whispers in Close Quarters Avenue. I suddenly remember his breath against my ear and the touch of his skin when I rubbed his face last week. If we took the same car, could something happen? Get a grip, Izzy! It was one whisper. He’s talking about working on a class assignment with you, not trying to pick you up for a date.
“Meet up there,” I answer, but it sounds like a question.
“Okay.” He stares at me for what feels like just a moment too long. Did he want to ride together? Was he really flirting with me when he was whispering in my ear? “I’ll talk to you later.”
He turns and leaves, and I don’t do anything but watch him as he walks away.
“Yeah,” I reply to myself.
Turning around, I head in the opposite direction. It’s lunch, and I know I have to try and get a hold of myself. If for no other reason than if I’m acting all weird around Cindy and Veronica they are definitely going to know something’s up. I have no problem telling them about what happened in class, but if I do, I’m afraid I’ll just snowball it all together into seeing him at the convention. As much as I want to tell them, I don’t want to break Matt’s trust either.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as my phone beeps.
Unknown: Now u have my number. Enjoy lunch, my baby mama :)
As soon as I read the text message, there’s a smile plastered on my face that won’t be leaving anytime soon. Damn you, Matt Hillard, and your hot whispers.
Chapter 12
Matt
I had to fight from frowning when Izzy said she’ll meet me at the store. I can’t get a read on her. I wasn’t trying to overtly flirt with her in class, but I was definitely throwing it out there. Everything seemed to just bounce off her.
Maybe I was misreading everything, and she wasn’t making flirty comments. Maybe that’s just how she acts, and she doesn’t view me as anything more than a classmate. She stared at me so long that I started to think I had something in my teeth. It wasn’t like she was admiring me, it was like she was mapping out the curves of my face. I’d be all for it if I knew that she was actually checking me out and not just gawking at some pimple I might have growing. At least I got her number, even if it was for class.
I make my way over to the quad, meeting up with Carter, Emma, Jen, and Micah. Just as I sit down, Micah gives me a head nod and leaves the table.
“Is he—” I stop myself, looking over at Carter.
“What?”
My eyes flash to Jen and Emma, who stare at me. “Never mind.” Everyone shoots me a weird look, but go on eating their lunch.
Micah seems nice enough, but ever since Carter and I have started eating lunch with them, he never sticks around once I show up. It makes me wonder if he’s gay and likes me. I know, I know. That sounds stupid, but I can’t figure out why he’s fine hanging out when Carter’s around, but once I show up he gets all quiet and leaves. Not that it’d be an issue if he is, I’m just curious.
“Three weeks till prom, guys.” Jen sounds a little too excited.
She’s every bit the opposite of Emma. Where Emma is much more the type of person who just likes to hang out, Jen is very much the party girl. “Matt, are you planning on going with someone special?”
“Why? You offering?” I shoot back at her with a grin.
Jen is gorgeous. Taller than a lot of girls in school, she has blonde hair and is just fun to be around. To say she isn’t my type would be a lie because she’s practically every guy’s type. But we’re just friends. Plus, there is whatever that thing is between her and Lucas. Even if I was interested in going out with her, I couldn’t do that to him.
“You wish,” she teases. “Actually.” She leans closer to Carter. “Carter, I really want to go with Franco.”
“Franco?” Carter grimaces.
“What? What’s wrong with him?”
“Jen.” I open my bag of chips, taking a bite of one. “You’re seriously into Franco Avila?”
“He’s a hottie.” She licks her lips playfully.
“What about Lucas?” Carter asks, looking over at me.
“Mm-mmm.” Emma hums, giving a stern look to Carter.
We both know to tread carefully when dropping Lucas’ name. We don’t know their history, but while it seems Lucas might have a crush on her, she avoids his name completely, practically ignoring his existence. Emma must know more because she purses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head.
“Never.” Jen shoots both of us a death glare.
“Okay.” I glance at Carter, fear starting to seep into my bones with the look Jen’s casting at us. “Anyways, I don’t know if I’m going to ask anyone.”
“Matt,” Emma gives me a hurt look. “You can’t go to our senior prom alone.”
“Eh, it’s not a big deal.” I lift my shoulders. “I’m on the committee, since ASB runs all that stuff, so I gotta make sure everything’s in order. Plus, if what Oscar and Yvette say is true, I’m most likely gonna be voted on to the prom court when that comes around. I’ll be too busy to have a date.”
“Well, either way,” Carter slaps my back, “we’re getting a limo. You down to join in?”
“Sure.”
“Anyways,” Jen says loudly, making sure we look back at her. “You guys know Franco. Set it up. Let him know I’m interested.”
“Jen,” I grimace. “He’s kind of player.”
“Oh, no.” She waves her hands at me. “Those are just rumors.”
Carter looks at me, then back at her, gritting his teeth. “Those aren’t rumors, girl.”
“W
ell, every player needs someone to pull in the reins.”
I give Carter a worried look, while Emma stares at her friend. “You really like him?”
For a brief moment, the party girl, care-free attitude, disappears. Jen exchanges looks with Emma, and all I see is a girl who likes a boy. I wish I can say more to her, but I don’t know her that well. Plus, even if I’m not good friends with Franco, I don’t feel like I can bash him for hooking up with girls who also have no problem just hooking up. I just hope it isn’t going to happen to Jen, who’s become a friend now.
“I’ll see what’s up,” Carter acquiesces.
I shoot him an are you sure look, but he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t have to. We’re both thinking the same thing.
The moment of honesty is over, and Jen goes back to talking about the kind of dress she wants to get. I look to the other side of the quad where Izzy eats lunch with her friends. I wonder if things were just a little different, and I wasn’t a closet nerd, would I ask her to the dance? I’d like to think I would.
After my last class, I send her a text. Our instruction is to go to a supermarket and do the ‘shopping’, so we decide to go to one just down the street from school, that sits at the end of a strip mall.
I pull into the parking lot and realize I have no idea what kind of car she drives. Getting out, I wait next to my car, hoping she sees me and we don’t have to go searching for one another inside the store. After about five minutes, she pulls into the parking spot next to me.
“Wow.” She whistles as she locks her door.
“What?”
“Mr. President on fleek.” She looks over my car.
“Don’t tell me you’re a car chick?”
“First of all, that’s pejorative.”
“How?”
“Secondly, I’m not. But a Lexus IS 250 is certainly a nice car.” She runs her finger over the silver paint job.
It is a nice car. But other than going fast, I have no clue of the engine type, how much horsepower, or cylinders, or anything else that someone who’s into cars knows. It was a sixteenth birthday present from my dad.
Living with a father who’s barely home, we have a housekeeper. My brother and I are afforded pretty much anything we want, which again, I think is due to my dad just wanting to make sure his two sons are happy and not pissed off. Isaac has taken the divorce pretty well, all things considered, but I was seriously pissed off at them both for a while. Who gets divorced, not for infidelity or even because you fall out of love, but because of money reasons?
As I said, it sucks. But I did choose to stay in California. With myself grumbling under my breath whenever my dad was home, the guilt gifts were plentiful.
I know that’s certainly the reason I got a brand-new Lexus on my sixteenth birthday. It was close to the one-year anniversary of my parents’ divorce. He didn’t have to say it, but I know that’s why he bought it. On the plus side, arriving at school in a new Lexus always looks pretty cool. Hey, a president has to ride in style, right?
“Eh.” I brush it off. “A car’s a car. You got a Honda Civic. Those things aren’t too shabby.”
She stops, turning her head to the side. “You seriously aren’t comparing my ten-year-old Civic, to your nearly-brand-new Lexus.”
I laugh. “Come on.”
We both have our packets out as we walk down the aisles, pointing at different items we want for our egg. We hit up baby food and diapers first. Turning to the breakfast aisle, I point at a box.
“Okay, Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes?”
“Neither.”
“What? Toucan Sam or Tony the Tiger? They’re the best.”
“Nope.” She smiles and reaches for a different box. “My heart belongs to Lucky.” She clutches a box of Lucky Charms.
“Okay, I’ll give you that one.”
After the cereal aisle, we move along and find ourselves in toiletries and bathroom supplies. Going over dish soap and laundry detergent, I take a look behind us and see shampoo and conditioner. I grab a bottle of each since I’m running low, and our housekeeper isn’t going shopping for us until the end of the week.
“You use conditioner?” She looks up at me.
“Yeah, you don’t?”
“No, I do.” She pauses, and her eyes glance at my hair as she smiles.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she replies, still smiling.
I go to push the cart, but before I can, she reaches over and grabs a bottle of something and puts it in the cart next to my stuff.
“What’s that?”
“Just hair treatment stuff.”
She watches me as I grab the bottle and read the label. It lists a number of oils, and there’s a picture of a blue lotus on the front of the bottle. I crack it open and take a sniff, my eyes immediately jumping to her hair.
“That’s what that smell is.”
I grin and can see her cheeks blushing. Then I start blushing, knowing my words tell her I could and did smell her. Putting the cap back on, I set the bottle in the basket and nudge it along, trying to regain my composure.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She waves but doesn’t look at me.
“I just meant you smell good.” Yep, my face is about to explode now. “Uh, I mean it. It smells good. You don’t smell good. No–” I grind my teeth together, growling at myself to regain some shred of composure. Thankfully, I hear her giggle, and for whatever reason, it calms me down.
“Thanks,” she says, finally looking at me. “Should we check out?”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
As we set up our hair products on the conveyer belt, the cashier starts to ring it up together.
“Oh, that’s mine.” Izzy points to her bottle. “You can ring it up separately.”
“Nonsense.” I wave at the cashier to keep going. “I got it.”
“Matt, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” I smile.
“Thank you.”
“All right, that’s thirty-three fifty-seven,” the cashier says.
“Twenty dollars?” I look at the screen and see how much the hair treatment bottle is.
“Yeah?” Izzy says, and I turn back to her as she bites her lip nervously.
I raise an eyebrow, looking over her hair and find her ear I whispered into earlier. “Okay, it’s worth it.”
She blushes again, letting out a laugh.
“Oh, are you two doing Mrs. Henderson’s social experiment?” the cashier asks as I slide my card in the chip reader. I can see her looking at the packets we’re both carrying.
“Yeah,” Izzy answers.
“I can’t believe she still does that.” The cashier laughs before looking at both of us. “You guys make a cute couple.”
Of all the blushing moments we’ve shared throughout the day, I figure that comment would be the kicker. But, surprisingly, Izzy is quick to comment back.
“Oh, we’re not together.”
“Oh,” the cashier responds and sounds a little disappointed.
Putting a hand to her mouth to whisper, but speaking loud enough for us both to hear, Izzy looks at me then at the cashier. “He keeps too many secrets.”
The cashier looks at both of us, not understanding the comment.
“Wow.” I sigh as we walk toward the exit.
“What? It’s true,” she answers without turning around.
I think I’m starting to like this girl.
Chapter 13
Izzy
After twenty-four hours, I’m sure of two things. Possibly three. First, Matt likes the way I smell. Second, he’s definitely flirting with me. The third one I’m not so sure about is how I feel about him. I mean, I definitely exchanged the flirtatious barbs with him. He’s kept his new seat behind me and leaned over to whisper something to me before class. I make sure to toss him a knowing glance before Mrs. Henderson calls everyone’s attention. And as easy on the eyes as he is, it still bugs me that
he feels like he has to hide who he really is.
I’m still trying to figure out what exactly I’m feeling when I get to my lunch table with Cindy and Veronica.
“I’m so glad I didn’t take sociology,” Veronica says, glancing over at my little egg on the table.
“What is that?” Cindy points at a mark I drew on the egg.
“I drew an Avengers A on her.”
“Her?” Veronica looks at me strangely.
“Yeah, I say Toni with an I and it’s a girl. Matt calls her Tony with a Y, saying she’s a boy.” Both of them exchange looks and then smile at me. “What?”
“So, how’s that working out?” Veronica asks with a coy grin.
“I got paired up with Emmet Jackson. If we fail this project, it’ll be his fault. He nearly dropped the egg yesterday.” Cindy looks annoyed.
“It’s actually going really good.”
As if on cue, I get a text message.
Matt: How’s our boy doing?
Me: I told you, she’s a girl
Matt: If u wanted a girl, u shoulda came up with a name first
I laugh as Cindy and Veronica stare at me. They both look down at my phone and then smile at each other.
“Wow,” Cindy says. “You’d think this was a real baby you guys had.”
I don’t say anything but can’t stop my mind from drifting to Matt, and I feel my face get flush.
“Oh my God.” Veronica’s jaw drops. “You want to have his babies.”
“What? No.” My voice pitches higher than normal.
“Yes, you do!” Cindy agrees. “I don’t blame you, girl. I don’t call him President McHottie for nothing.”
“You guys, I don’t want to have his babies.”
“Izzy.” Veronica takes a drink of her water. “You know there’s been many-a-hook-up formed from Mrs. Henderson’s little experiment she holds every year. “
