by Vremont, Ann
"Let me guess, you finished already?"
He knew it wasn't the truth. I just drew another sip of my water. He wouldn't hassle me too much about it - not when I looked healthy from the feast Oscar had provided me with. Last week, when I was looking pale and slightly ghastly, he had nagged a little more.
He bit into the burrito and then pointed at my cup. "You going to tell me why you hardly ever eat?"
"Sometime after you tell me why you've been missing class so much lately."
He swallowed his food, followed by a drink from his cup. "Fair enough."
I leaned forward, waiting for his explanation. He took another bite, chewed, took another sip. I cleared my throat and raised my eyebrows at him.
"Oh, I didn't mean I was going to answer you." This time, the smile he offered was a little grim -- very un-Chris-like. "Fair enough that you get your secrets if I get mine."
I moved his tray to the side, playing keep away from him. "C'mon, Chris. For seven semesters straight you've gotten attendance awards. What's up?"
He snatched his slice of pizza off the tray. "It's cool, Lee. Just stuff with college, the scholarship and all. Principal and teachers are fine with my being out."
I let him have the rest of his food back and watched him eat. He would offer me little bits, a slice of pepperoni, a big sour cream-dolloped bite of the burrito, but I waved the offers away.
After my last demurral, he screwed his mouth up and gave a little puff. "Am I ever gonna see you eat, Lee?"
I blinked and tried hard not to imagine my lips pressed against his throat, his chest shirtless with my palms pressed against his stomach. I blinked again, erasing the image.
"Maybe," I answered softly.
***
The topic of the Leavers' Ball came up during seventh hour. "It's not like regular prom clothes, though," he said and unfolded a black-on-red flyer that the non-prom committee had printed out.
I read the description and then looked down at the name of the committee chair - Boston Ricelli. She'd gotten suspended at the beginning of last term for staging a sit-in protest when the school wouldn't put a goth theme on the ballot for Senior Prom. "So old time England, lots of velvet and paisley, huh?"
"Yeah, Boston is getting her goth night after all," Chris laughed. He looked towards Ms. Fields' office, saw that she was busy with her computer and then leaned close so that our shoulders were touching and he could whisper in my ear. "So, you're going with me, right?"
His breath curled warm against my skin and I tilted my head until it touched his. I tried to play like I didn't have a tingle working its way slowly down to my stomach. "Well, seeing as no one else has asked -"
"Too cruel, Lee."
"I'm kidding." I gave him a sideways glance to make sure I hadn't really hurt his feelings. "You know you're a great friend, right?"
He checked Ms. Fields' office again and then put his lips right against my ear. When he answered, his voice was low and vibrating. "I make an even better boyfriend."
This time the tingle shot hot and fast straight down to my toes.
Beneath the desk, his hand curled around mine. He gave the side of my face a small nudge with his nose. "So, I'm taking you, right?"
I nodded, sure that I couldn't manage even a shaky "yeah" around my swelling blood fangs.
We sat close to one another the rest of the period. The clear intimacy in our demeanor earned us a small frown from the usually one-hundred-percent laid back Ms. Fields. But she didn't say anything and we rode her tolerance through to the dismissal bell.
Chris held my hand up to the front door, letting it fall casually right before we stepped out onto the sidewalk where Danny was leaning almost as casually on the hood of his car, waiting to take me back to the silence of his house.
Chapter Three
I wish I had an excuse that I could live with for how quickly I fell into Chris after that. I told myself it was because Danny was being cold and pushing me towards it. That was true, but how Danny acted and what he wanted were two different things. And he was acting without all the facts -- like why I really, seriously, truly had needed Oscar's blood that night and why I couldn't tell him the truth about Oscar or my attackers.
The truth wasn't something I had to worry about with Chris. He never pushed for it, didn't probe my stories for hints of deception. He only seemed to care that I was as into him as he was into me.
At the end of the week, Chris dropped me off at my locker before first period and tucked a pink hall pass into my hand. "Since you're not eating lunch anyway, meet me at the ag buildings."
I cocked a brow at him.
"I have something I want to show you."
That earned an eye roll from me.
"No," he laughed. "Seriously. I really have something to show you."
I tucked the pink slip of paper into the mini-pocket on my jeans. I glanced at the nearby lockers but no one seemed to be watching us. "Okay."
Chris left, grinning ear to ear. The image of his smile stayed at the front of my mind through the classes leading up to lunch. I could list every word every student and teacher said. I could name which student had the squeaky pencil during second period (Connelly), or who was popping gum in third (Brevis). But overlaid on top of all those things was Chris, eyes sparkling, strong cheekbones lifted, the right side of his mouth raised a little higher as a lock of his dirty blond hair fell over one hazel eye.
Maybe the image stayed with me because the smile stayed with him -- at least he was still grinning when he met me outside the row of greenhouses. Taking my hand, he led me inside the first building. A main aisle split the greenhouse in half. Like pews in a church, plants were arranged in tidy rows. Unlike the flower house, everything here was tall. Maize, sunflowers, platter sized tomatoes hanging heavily from plants taller than me.
All the way at the back of the greenhouse were six narrow work tables, three on each side of the aisle. Chris went to the last table on the left. Pushing a stool under the table, he cleared a path to the corner where he pointed toward the student parking lot.
I stepped past him. "What am I looking for?"
"The closest one."
Right then, the closest thing was him. I could feel the warm press of his body against my back and bottom. He reached across my shoulder, his finger aimed at a red convertible.
"That one."
A 1990 Mustang, the car was older than either of us, but it was a shiny apple red with pearl gray seats.
"Sweet!" I looked back to find that he wasn't paying any attention to the car. His chin was about an inch from my shoulder, putting our mouths just a few inches apart. I swallowed hard and tried to ease forward, but I was already pressing against the clear plastic walls. "Your parents get it for you?"
"My foster parents?"
I was surprised. He had never referred to Ted and Edna (or "Tedna" when they were particularly of one mind) as his foster parents. I turned to look at him, which was a mistake because, instead of being chest to back, we were chest to chest and I could see his pulse dancing in his pupils.
"Nah, I saved up." He took a step back, finding the stool he had pushed under the table and pulling it out to sit on its edge. I thought he was giving both of us breathing space, but he hooked his fingers through my belt loops and tugged me closer.
"I didn't know you had a job."
Chris shrugged. "People give me things, setting little hooks because they think I'm going to make it to the big time. Tickets, DVDs, jackets -- I sell most of it."
He sounded almost bitter, something I'd never heard in him before, and I let him tug me the last little bit until our bodies were touching again. "Everyone wants to sink their hooks in, Lee. Everyone but you."
He tilted his head, turning his words into a question.
"I like you because you're sweet, and funny and smart." I placed my hands on his shoulders. "Not because you're the fastest runner in the state."
"You forgot--"
"And gorgeous," I quickl
y amended.
Chris nodded, satisfied with my answer. His hands slid from my belt loops to the small of my back and then lower until he was cupping my bottom. I was already leaning on him, my balance questionable. He started to pull me up his body and I had to wrap my arms around his neck to keep us from falling over.
"Climb on, Lee." He kissed where my jaw line meets the bottom of my ear lobe.
I tried to shake my head but he kissed me again, a little lower, while his grip on my ass tightened.
"You want to," he whispered before gently biting the lobe.
"Yes." I was clutching the back collar of his shirt to keep my hands from roaming over him.
"Hell, I think Danny even wants you to."
His hands were down around the back of my thighs, just under the curve of my butt. I could feel the tips of his fingers between my legs, making my ass and pussy twitch.
"He doesn't, really," was all I could manage.
"Well, then, he's a fucking idiot for pushing you away." His mouth switched sides, kissing near the top of my collar bone before his tongue trailed up my neck to pull that ear lobe into his mouth. He sucked gently while his fingertips slowly rubbed at my perineum.
When I didn't move, he pushed forward, his ass rising off the stool. A quick dip with his knees and he lifted me up. My legs settled around his hips as he sat back down.
"Chris, this -"
"Shh." He was lightly biting at my neck. One hand rested against the small of my back, while the other moved up under my shirt to cup my breast. "Nothing's going to happen."
I could feel his cock hard against my crotch. His breathing was becoming more erratic, the bites and squeezes a little harder. And I knew I was as wet as a Phoenix street during a summer monsoon.
"Chris, it's already happening..."
He shushed me again. "I just want to feel you moving against me, hear you moaning my name, Lee."
His lips found mine before I could make further protest. He'd given me quick little pecks on the cheek, brushed his lips a time or two against my forehead, but this was our first kiss. It started slow, just mouth against mouth, but then his lips parted, his tongue playing along the center groove of my lips, sliding side to side until I opened.
His hand moved under my bra, his index finger and thumb finding my hard nipple and pinching it between them. The kiss broke for a second, our mouths open, our cheeks pressed to one another's as he came up for air. The kiss resumed, tongues thick and tangled together. I started to slide against him, riding the hard line of his erection.
Chris drew me closer, increasing the pressure of my pussy on his cock. He lowered his head until his forehead was pressed against my shoulder. His hand milked my breast, squeezing and pulling my nipple raw.
He slid his other hand down the back inside of my jeans and panties. I pivoted my hips and pushed tight against him so that my clit was rubbing against his dick and his fingertips were wedged against the opening of my cunt. I knew he could feel the tight circle of muscle dancing against his touch.
A desperate little moan escaped me. "Chris."
He caught my gaze and held it. "Rapunzel."
My blood fangs were out but hidden behind the tight press of my lips. I nodded at him, letting him know I was coming. The tip of one finger found its way into me and I closed around it. I bit down on my lip, sucked on a thin ribbon of blood as my body started to contort from my climax.
As I subsided, Chris's finger slid deeper in, stroking me mad all over again.
"Too much," I moaned, wanting more but not sure if I could control my other impulses when we were this intimate, his body a furnace against mine.
He eased his hand out of my pants, but still cradled my bottom as I rested against him. When I finally stood, he leaned forward and kissed me deeply one last time. "Lucky for me you're never hungry."
Shaking my head, I caressed his neck for a second. "You don't know the half of it."
Chapter Four
It's hard to be simultaneously happy and miserable, but I did a fair job of being both in the days that followed. At school, I thought almost exclusively of Chris.
He made it easy, always being ready with a smile, never hiding in his office reading gruesome reports about hits ordered by Mexican cartels, never once suggesting I let someone else take me to the Leavers' Ball.
There were no more trips to the greenhouse, but wherever we walked together, we held hands or had an arm around the other's waist. At lunch, we'd pick a distant table, me half on his lap sometimes or my legs draped over him.
Our public displays of affection were so bad the lunch monitor would come by several times each day, rap the table and tell us "Six inches. Remember to leave room for God."
Every third or fourth time, Chris would rap the table back and say something outrageous like, "Only six inches? No wonder he got pissed and flooded the earth."
And then the school day would end, Chris would walk me to the front of the school, no longer letting go of my hand as we left the building. Danny would be standing at his car and it was like a knife in the heart - mine, Danny's and Chris's.
On Thursday, with six days of school left, we were leaving the building and Chris looked from Danny to me and then squeezed my hand. "You still have a thing for him."
I stopped walking, looked at Chris and squeezed his hand back. "I have a thing for you."
"But for him, too." The dark circles were back under his eyes. Not because of Danny but for reasons he wouldn't tell me. He had offered me lies about some more tests and interviews to ensure his scholarship. I knew they were lies by the change in his voice and all the subtle body responses that it would take a heart monitor and blood pressure cuff for anyone else to detect.
But I didn't press him because he didn't press me on my secrets and it all felt like it was going to work out in the end - at least until seventh period was done and the three of us were within a hundred yards of one another.
I gave his hand a little tug. "Look, he's booting me when school is up."
Chris looked over at Danny, studying him intently for a second, and then looked back at me. "No, he's not. He just wants to think he is."
Right now I wasn't worried about Danny or if seeing me standing there holding Chris's hand was hurting him. I was worried about those circles under Chris's eyes, and a dozen other little signs I could catalog but find no explanation for why they worried me.
I caught his free hand and stood facing him. Standing on tiptoe, I kissed him. It was short, but it brought a smile to his face.
My hair was falling over one shoulder. He pushed it to the side and then straightened my sleeve as if he were putting me back in order before sending me off to Danny for the night. As I turned to leave, he caught me one last time by the sleeve.
"I'm out tomorrow."
I lifted a questioning brow. "More rings of fire to jump through for that scholarship?"
"Yeah, my grades weren't that good before I had such a beautiful tutor." He looked away for a second then looked me in the eyes and smiled. "Don't worry about it - I just wanted you to know that tomorrow is not a convenient day for another kidnapping."
Laughing, I shook his hand off, calling back as I walked away. "Right, Kennedy, I'll make sure we schedule it for next Tuesday."
My remark, loud enough to reach Danny's ears, earned me a short interrogation inside the car.
"Tuesday?"
I glanced at his face to see if it was Danny or Officer Gutierrez inquiring. All I saw was the cop mask. Whether Danny was still in there behind it anymore, I couldn't tell right then.
"Yeah, his foster parents are out, so I thought I'd meet him at his place and we could fuck - be a real couple at the Leavers' Ball." I lobbed my words at him in a dry monotone, carefully watching his expression. It was a shit thing to do, but not as shitty as what I did when he offered no response.
"So, you think you could drive me over and pick me up after?" This time my voice was sweet and sincere.
He shook
his head at me. It wasn't a disgusted shake, or a "No, I won't drive you" shake. It was one of those "You'll understand when you're older why I did this" sort of shakes.
I hate those.
***
It was Friday and Chris was out, but there was still one boy at school who could make my slow beating heart do a complete back flip. Of course, "boy" is relative and he wasn't a student, although he sometimes played one.
I closed my locker to find Oscar reading a flyer for the Leavers' Ball. He didn't look at me, but I was sure he knew I was looking at him. His mouth quirked to the left in a cruel smile.
"Up for a visit to the greenhouse, mija?"
"Fuck off, de la Royo." I said it low under my breath while I tried to cover my shock. How the hell did he know about the greenhouse? What else did he know?
"You don't want me to leave, Lee. I can offer so much more than some dry hump charade." Oscar touched his index and middle finger at the bend of my elbow to keep me from turning away.
I glared at him while I felt around inside my skull and wondered if I would be able to tell if he was in there fucking with my brain.
His fingers moved up to my throat, the pressure whisper soft. "Baby girl, you shouldn't play so hard to get. It makes a man loco."
"I'm not playing." I closed my locker and shouldered my book bag.
"Neither am I." He handed me the flyer. "Your little masquerade of still being human is almost up, Lee."
The school bell rang and he faded into the crowd of students rushing to their next class.
***
Danny picked me up from class just like every other day. I didn't meet his gaze. I wasn't sure if he knew Oscar had been on campus. No one had pulled me out of class after his visit. No emergency bells had gone off. But, in my gut, I felt like Danny had watched the whole exchange.
It wasn't impossible. There were over twenty-six hundred students at the school. I knew less than three dozen by name. Outside that small circle, any student I passed in the hall outside my locker or classes could be an undercover cop. Even if I wasn't considered worth the surveillance cost, Oscar was most-wanted-list material.
