by Sara Ney
Fine, ignore me. See if I give two shits
I glance at the clock. Forty minutes left in the period. I can handle that.
Only...
I keep stealing glances at Molly who has her head bent, the ends of her ponytail flirting with her collarbone. The little bow pinned in her hair is a nice contrast to the tight fit of her shirt, and my eyes wander to the bare skin above her neckline.
Staring at her neck reminds me of how fantastic she smells - how her smooth skin tasted against my tongue - and I shift in my seat, the memories making me hard. In the damn library of all places. Watching her sit there completely ignoring me like I'm not even in the room is bringing out all of my narcissistic tendencies, and now all I want is her attention.
I really am a fucker.
Yup, that's right - my resolve lasted all of five minutes.
"Look up, Molly," I quietly chant to myself. "Look up."
And then on cue, as if she can hear me, she does.
MOLLY
He's got my attention - now what's he going to do with it?
I watch as Weston stares me down and to say I'm totally confused right now is an understatement. For two whole days I waited for him to contact me - they felt like a freaking eternity. I carried my phone around pitifully, literally in my hand, because I didn't want to miss that 'ping' of a text alert or a phone call, hoping it would be him and being let down and disappointed each time it wasn't.
Not only that - I lay in bed pathetically both nights until my eyes drooped, waiting for my phone to light up in the dark. Every new friend request on Facebook could have been him but wasn't.
Waiting. Sucked.
All I keep thinking is "Gee Molly, you let him stick his tongue down your throat for crying out loud."
But you know what else sucks? The fact that I don't know who to be more pissed off at: him for blowing me off or me, or me for letting it affect me so much.
I really had thought...
Ugh, crap - you know what I thought...
Why do guys have to ruin everything with their melodramatic bull crap? I mean seriously. It's not like I wanted to skip down the halls with him holding hands - but a text or something would have been nice. A simple 'thanks for the date' would not have been too much to ask and would have taken him all of what, ten seconds?
Can I also point out that guys have the nerve to call girls dramatic when they're just as bad? I know exactly what Weston McGrath is thinking in that fat head of his - he's worried I'm going to unleash my inner stalker and fall madly in love with him when he doesn't have time for it. Which reminds me; I once innocently asked this guy Dave to a baseball game, and instead of just telling me no like a normal human being, he said he wasn't looking for a relationship. Um, so yeah, there's your proof that guys are just as bad as girls.
And for the record: I'm not saying I wouldn't fall in love with Weston... because I'm already halfway there.
I'm guess I'm disappointed it was just that one date.
The one date that ruined me for everyone else.
How annoying.
WESTON
I don't know how to fix this.
Molly is still watching me from her table a few rows over, an impassive expression if I've ever seen one. She raises an eyebrow, silently daring me to make a move.
I hesitate.
Then - in what some might consider a dick move - I push the chair opposite me out with the toe of my boot, sliding it away from the table in a silent invitation.
A plea, in my own twisted way, for her to come sit with me.
Leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms, I try to appear unaffected as I gauge her reaction. At first she narrows her eyes - obviously, she's trying to figure out why I pushed the chair out. Hell, I'm trying to figure out why I pushed the chair out when two minutes ago I was in panic mode about relationships.
So this could have just become one of those awkward moments in my life that I don't know how to handle. What I'd really like to do is walk out of study hall to avoid the entire situation, but not without getting my ass chewed out by the librarian or earning myself a detention. Damn, I hate second guessing myself. Would it have killed me to be friendlier when she was looking for a place to sit? The very least I could have done was offered up a smile. But at the time I was still trying to decode what her sitting with me might mean.
Shit, that sounded like something a girl would say.
And now... She's too far away.
At least it doesn't appear she hates me. Still studying me, Molly starts tapping her pen on the cover of her book - I can hear it from here - until the Goth chick at her table reaches out, grabs it out of her hands and tosses it on the carpeted ground.
Molly looks stunned, than I watch as her neck turns bright red, and I swear if I wasn't trying to get back into her good graces I would be laughing my ass off right now.
"Stop being a pussy Weston and get in there," my dad's voice echoes in my head. It's a mantra I've heard thousands of times and I've never repeated it to myself until now. So, hooking my booted foot back around the leg of the chair I've just pushed out, I pull it back in...then push it back out giving her a pointed look.
Her eyebrows raise and she cocks her head.
"Come here," I mouth quietly.
Indignantly Molly purses her lips, but even so the corners are upturned...the little brat.
"Please?" Begging in the library. I feel like such a douche.
It only takes a few more seconds before Molly is biting down on her lower lip and letting go of her own demons long enough to collect her things slowly and stand. My eyes roam her body as she walks towards me - I think I just realized I could look at her all day and it would never get old.
Her hip comes to rest on the corner of my library table as she stands in front of me with a hand on one waist, hip jutted out. "Let's get one thing straight mister," she whispers, still vertical. "I'm not one of your rink bunnies. I won't worship at your feet and I'm certainly not gonna -"
I grab her hand and pull her in for a quick peck on the lips to shut her up. "Sit down already, would you?"
It does the trick because she plops down in the seat I kicked out - Molly's glaring at me (but hey, at least she's here) before making a show of digging through her backpack. Since I'm new at this whole thing, I genuinely wonder how long she's going to keep ignoring me despite the fact that she's now seated at my table.
I don't have to wonder long.
"You really hurt my feelings," she whispers across the table without looking up from the open notebook in front of her.
Uh, yeah. "How?" Sorry but I'm clueless. I mean... I might have something of an inkling but come on people, it's not like two days is exactly a lifetime to wait for a phone call.
"Because jackass, I put myself out there and you couldn't get ahold of me?" Molly puts down her pen and levels me with her bright green eyes blazing. "Look, it's fine if you aren't interested, but just say so."
I push the ball cap back on my forehead and lean over slowly so we're eye to eye. "Oh, I'm definitely interested." I can tell by looking at her that her heart rate accelerated; her pupil's dilate and her cheeks immediately get pink. Then I make her laugh when I say, "Want me to prove it to you by carrying your books to your locker?"
Molly shakes her head back and forth but does nothing to hide her grin. "Why do I have the feeling you're going to be a pain in my ass." She gasps as her hand flies up to her mouth, obviously mortified that she swore in front of me.
Big deal. Like I care.
"Yeah, probably, but I bet you'll like it." I shrug. "Hey. Do you have any food in your bag?"
Nodding, she drags her backpack across the table and reaches her arm in, feels around, then blindly pulls out a bag of cashews and a granola bar. "You seem... hungry a lot. Is food all you think about?"
I grab the granola bar and tear into the wrapper with my teeth while she stares slack jawed. "Uh, yeah - well, that and sex."
Chapter Eighteen
/> MOLLY
"The thing about guys is, we have to tell them what they want. And that's bible. You should probably write that down somewhere." - Maddie
My legs feel kind of wobbly when the bells finally rings and we make our way down the hall.
I can hardly believe Weston is walking behind me, let along walking me to my locker; the heat from his hand on the small of my back imprints my skin as he guides me along through the crowded hallway. And strangely enough, he seems to know exactly where he's going - like he's been to my locker before.
The few times I get jostled by the sea of people, Weston's large hand comes around and grips my waist to steady me and it does terrible things to my insides. We reach my locker and after I dial the combination and pull open the small metal door, he leans forward and says near my ear "I can't really stick around - I should really get to practice or coach will chew my ass out for being late."
I shiver and nod my head, barely comprehending. What warm blooded female could concentrate with his warm breath near their ear? "Jesus, don't do that." I mumble.
"Do what?" his low voice rumbles again.
I turn to face him and I've put us in a position where his lips are now inches from mine. "We've been on one date. Don't you think panting all over each other in the hallway is moving a little fast?"
"Uh, no? Panting is only the start of what I want to do with you."
"Who talks like that?! We're in high school," I give him a smack then let my hand linger from his bicep back up to his broad shoulder - in typical guy fashion, Weston flexes his muscles. "Ugh, you're so...."
"Sexy?"
"I was going to say ridiculous...but yeah. You're sexy too." I turn towards my locker and start putting books in.
"Hmm. Can't say any girl has ever called me ridiculous before, but I guess I can see it. Want to have noodles with me tonight?"
I turn back around to face him and wrinkling my nose. "See, now when you say noodles like that - definitely not sexy."
Weston laughs and reaches for me, his large hand spanning my waist. "Shit, you get me so worked up and you don't even try."
I groan because I cannot honestly believe I'm standing here having this conversation. "If I say yes to noodles, will you leave me alone and go to practice?"
"Yes. But first you have to -"
"Well now, isn't this cozy - not wasting any time, Weston?"
WESTON
The snarky voice that interrupts us belongs to non-other than Alexis Peterson. She's standing across the hallway shooting daggers at Molly's back, one hand propped on her hip in a defensive stance. For the life of me, I don't know why any girl who wants to date me would get all up in my shit like it's any of her damn business.
Not to mention, the snotty comment just makes me think she's a petty bitch - and the fact that she did it in front of Molly makes me want to punch a locker.
Jealousy doesn't become her.
Actually, jealously doesn't become anyone but really, what are you going to do about it?
"What's up Alexis?" I ask through clenched teeth, ignoring her sarcastic remark; I'm going to pretend she didn't just give me a verbal put down in front of Molly. Because she's staring at us so intently I ask, "Did you have something you wanted to say to me?" Before I go ape shit on your ass?
Instead of answering me Alexis just stands and sizes Molly up, doing a visual inventory of her clothes, hair and makeup. Based on the curl in her lip, she obviously finds her lacking. Ah, so she's crazy and blind. "He's just using you," she finally blurts out, directing her comment at Molly. She seems awfully satisfied with herself.
"What the fuck Alexis?" She has some nerve.
I take a step forward.
Instead of reacting like the typical female and getting all pissed off like I expect her to, Molly lays the palm of her hand on my chest to calm me down. Standing her ground she turns her back to Alexis and takes a denim jacket out of her locker. In no rush, she shrugs into it, flipping her long ponytail over the collar and adjusts the cuffs. Finally turning Molly smiles kindly and weighs her words. "You know, I appreciate your concern. But I think I'll take my chances."
This girl is incredible. I want to grab her and kiss her, but Crazy Eyes is watching us.
I notice the smile doesn't reach Molly's eyes.
Closely watching Alexis, I'm pretty sure she wants to lunge at both of us like an alley cat. Who the hell would purposely date this chick, let alone sleep with her (word is she gets around)? Actually, I can think of a few people, but that's not my point. Her eyes widen in a slightly wild way while her face contorts and turns a shade of beat red.
And hey, what's with her clenching her fits at her side?
"You know Alexis, you might want to consider an anger management program..." This is my attempt at humor - no applause necessary.
Molly smacks my arm and ignores the murderous glares coming from the blonde across the hall and gives me a gentle nudge before saying, "Go or you'll be late. I can handle this." She nods her head toward Alexis.
Oh shit. That can't be good...can it?
I want to lean in to kiss her forehead, but refrain. "Okay...I guess I'll see you later then."
She nods.
With the corner of my eye trained on Crazy Alexis, I saunter off down the hallway, glancing back only once to catch a glimpse of Molly crossing her arms.
MOLLY
"I've never had an issue with you Alexis. What's the problem?" Only I'm not stupid: I know what her problem is with me. Just like I know she's been chasing after Weston and... from the looks of her she's got psycho tendencies.
I shut my locker door and hoist my backpack over my shoulder before crossing my arms and planting my right foot on the ground, steeling myself for whatever she's about to say. Let me remind you that I'm no stranger to confrontation; Hello, I was raised with Matthew who did nothing but start fights growing up. Yeah, I can hang with the best of them. Regardless, who in their right mind wants to get in an altercation at school over some guy?
This hasn't ever really happened to me. Even with Jenna and my other friends: we just don't squabble like this - and to be honest, I guess I'm only still standing here because I'm curious to see where all this is going.
Doesn't she realize Weston isn't even my boyfriend? And even if he was, well - then I guess we really would have an issue with her standing in front of me like this.
"I just wanted to let you know, you know, that he uses people."
This is news to me.
"Oh yeah? How so?"
"Are you kidding? Hello! He sleeps with everyone!" Her voice is elevated and I'm not sure she's even trying to remain calm.
"Everyone you say? Wow, that's a lot of people Alexis. So... has he slept with you?"
She huffs indignantly. "I'm not a slut like some people."
Uh, did she just insinuate that I'm a slut?
"Oh, so he's slept with everyone, just not with you." I snap my fingers and point at her, even though I know it's rude. "I get it - is that why you're pissed off? Because to be honest with you Alexis," I glance down at my watch. "I have other shit I could be doing right now instead of standing here watching you throw a temper tantrum."
"You are such a bitch."
I roll my eyes. She's so absurd.
"You know what? Weston is just a guy Alexis - Just. A. Guy. And one you aren't even dating." I wave my arm in that way that says 'whatever'. "Ugh, you know what? Be pissed. I'm leaving - unless of course you have something else you'd like to say since you have yet to blow me away with your observations."
Oh wow - I really am a bitch.
Shaking my head in dismay, I head off down the hallway.
But not before whipping out my cell photo to call Jenna.
Hey, I'm only human...and this is too good to resist gossiping about...
Chapter Nineteen
WESTON
"Thing about an itch is, eventually you're gonna have to scratch it." - Tate Myers, Riven Glen Hockey center.
For the life of me I cannot concentrate during hockey practice, and I'm lucky I made it through without anyone noticing my lack of focus - I mean, I missed almost every shot I made on the goalie for Christ sakes. As much as I hate to admit it, my sole mission - for the first time in my hockey career - was to get done and get out so I can meet Molly for dinner.
I'm itching to see her again.
And literally tripping into my pants after practice might not have been my proudest moment, or my smoothest, but this....this thing we've got going on is new to me, and after today I will be the first person to admit: I'm definitely liking it.
Dare I even admit to liking the sarcastic and insulting commentary in the locker room from my teammates? Apparently, they all knew I had a date this weekend and who it was with. Thanks to Rick. Luckily I didn't feel the urge to hit anyone when Lee Brickner spent the entire afternoon referring to me as Cupcake (okay, that's a lie...I did want to hit someone, just not as hard as I normally would want to).
See, what Brickner doesn't realize is that in some sick fucked up way, I kind of liked the teasing.
I haul ass on my bike to Kyoto, which I've already subconsciously categorized as "our place," and my body hums to life when I spot Molly's Jeep already sitting in the parking lot and, shifting down gears, I pull into the parking spot next to her. Through the plexiglass face guard on my motorcycle helmet I can see her head bent, texting behind the wheel. She looks up and smiles just as I remove my headgear and give my head a shake, running my fingers through my still damp hair.
We meet on her side of the Jeep, and childishly I give the small white bow in her hair a tug. "Hey," is my lame greeting.
She rolls her eyes. "Hungry?"
Yes. Hell- freaking - yes, I think, wanting to skip dinner entirely to make out; Molly's an amazing kisser, not to mention just thinking about sucking on her neck again is making me hard. I shift uncomfortably as if she can read my debauched mind.
