High School Lover

by Rose Croft

  And my conversations with Loren lately had been somewhat uncomfortable as if we both held some kind of resentment, but neither one of us would say anything about it.

  “Hey, Loren.” I tried to hide my excitement that she was there, standing at the doorway.

  My mom said she needed to get back to baking some pie or shit like that, I think. I wasn’t paying attention. She patted Loren on the arm and left.

  Loren had her arms crossed and her head down, staring at her feet.

  “Is everything okay?” I laid my sketchpad aside and sat on the edge of my bed, holding my iPod in my hand, still shocked that she was there. In my room. She seemed to be taking a huge risk coming to my house.

  She slowly walked over to the chair at my desk and sat down with her hands wrapped around her waist. “Yeah, I just wanted to see you. You know, just hang out. If that’s okay…if you don’t have any plans. I know I just kind of dropped by…”

  “No. Yeah, we can hang out.”

  She seemed relieved and glanced at my pad. “Were you sketching?”

  I nodded.

  “May I see it?” She stood up and came over to the bed, dropping down beside me. The room suddenly felt a lot warmer.

  “It’s still a work in progress.” I handed it to her. She traced her finger over the lines.

  “This is different. Not so dark.” It was very different from what I usually drew. Just an abstract piece of a person, but looking at it you couldn’t discern that. I didn’t want to tell her she was my inspiration. The person I was sketching.

  “Yeah, I’m trying something a little different.”

  She pointed to the iPod in my hand. “What are you listening to?”

  “Here.” I gave her the other earpiece and clicked on the music.

  “I love this song! ‘The Fragile.’ I listen to Nine Inch Nails when I write, too.” We listened and I watched her as she closed her eyes and moved her lips to the words as if she were in ecstasy. God, she was beautiful. And, God, I wanted to lean in and kiss her. She opened her eyes and put her hands on her cheeks. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. You’re staring at me like I’m some weirdo.”

  “No, uh, it’s cute.” I rolled my tongue over my teeth. Did I just say that?

  She smiled and took out the earbud. “May I watch you sketch?”

  I took mine out, too. “Right now?”

  “Yeah. I like watching you work.” I knew in class she watched me draw, and it never bothered me. Why did it bother me now? Because I’m sitting on my bed next to the girl who’s becoming my borderline obsession, and all I can think about is how I want to lean over and attack her mouth.

  But I could fight through it. “Okay.” I took the pad, reached behind myself and grabbed my pencil. I started shading, then stopped. “I need to get comfortable.” I scooted back to lean on the pillow at the head of my bed, propping my knees up. Loren stretched out beside me, bracing her head on her hand. And, fuck, it was getting harder to concentrate. But, she was staring at the notepad in fascination with the artwork, not trying to crawl on top of me and make out. Eventually, I calmed down and was able to lose myself in my work.

  I don’t know how long we were like this. I finally set the pencil down.

  “Wow, Andrew. It’s amazing. Tell me about it.”

  “It’s just an abstract I’d been thinking about doing.” I set the sketchpad aside, reluctant to go into any more detail. Loren shifted and put her hands behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling.

  She smiled as though she’d just thought of something clever. “Okay, hypothetical here…if you were forced to choose between art and writing, which one would you choose?”

  I grinned. “I can’t choose one without the other. To me art and writing are the same thing, just portrayed in different ways. They both convey a message.”

  “Well thought-out answer as usual, Mr. McKeon.” She mimicked our English teacher’s voice.

  I chuckled and sat up straighter. “I have a hypothetical for you, too. If you had to choose between being a famous poet or the world’s greatest athlete, which one would it be?”

  “Oh, poet for sure. The ‘greatest athlete’ sounds like there’s too much working out involved.”

  “Wow, Miss Douglas, you surprise me. I thought you’d pick the ultimate athlete.”

  “I love sports, but I’m pretty lazy about working out.”

  “Are you kidding me? Look at these guns.” I pressed a finger into her bicep.

  She giggled and flexed her lean arms. “Yeah, check out the gun show.”

  I was checking out the gun show. I wanted to run my hands over her guns. I grasped my knees, pulling them into my chest. She rolled on her side, planting her head on her hand again, looking up at me.

  “I saw you kiss her last night,” she said quietly with a hint of accusation in her voice. Record scratch. What??? Michelle and I were at a party some guy on the team had after the game. Loren was there with Bryan, and they seemed as happy as always.

  Was she pissed at me, while she was dating Bryan? Michelle and I had been sitting outside when she leaned in and suctioned her face to mine like a vacuum cleaner and gripped the front of my shirt like she was about to rip it off. She was quite aggressive. It was kind of a turn off. “And?”

  Loren lifted her hand up from her side, studying her fingers like they were weapons. “Are you two serious? She doesn’t seem like your type.”

  “We’ve only gone out for a month.” I knew I wasn’t imagining this shit. Loren was jealous. If that were the case, she needed to break it off with Bryan before she criticized what Michelle and I were doing.

  “Just be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  I nodded, biting my tongue to keep from saying something that would come out spiteful, and stared out the window. “How are things with you and Bryan?”

  “All right, I guess.” She tapped her side. “He’s nice and funny, but he’s not…” Not what? She shook her head. “Being around him is just different from being around you. I’m just more relaxed around you. I’ve missed this…spending time with you.” So Loren was thinking about me. Her phone rang. She jumped off the bed and grabbed for her purse on my desk. “I’d better get this. I’m sure it’s my mom.” She answered her phone and told her mother that she and Mike had just finished eating lunch, and she was going to drop him off and come home. Jesus, and then there was this whole issue with her parents, who apparently hated my guts. Even if we wanted to see each other, I didn’t know how it would work out.

  “I have to go.” Loren clasped her hands together in a plea, knowing this situation was out of her control.

  I pushed off the bed. “I know.” I stood in front of her, fighting against pulling her into my arms. “I had fun hanging out with you today.”

  “Me, too. Your picture is beautiful.” Without giving it a thought, I grabbed my pad and tore the drawing out. “Here. Keep it. You were my inspiration for it anyway.”

  She held it in her hands, staring at it like a prized possession. “I don’t know what to say…thank you. This is the sweetest gift ever.” Her eyes were watery as she threw her arms around me. I held her tight and nuzzled her hair, breathing in her fresh floral scent. She smelled like the early days of spring to me, when everything is new and reborn…life with vibrant colors. I whispered in her ear. “Michelle’s not you, Scout. No one is.”

  She inhaled sharply and tightened her hold on me.

  Eight Years Ago

  “Hey man, you got a thing for Loren?” Mike asked as we crossed the street to the park. Was I that obvious?

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “You seemed to cool it off with Michelle and, I don’t know, it’s just the way you two look at each other. You act like Romeo and Juliet.” What the fuck would Mike know about Romeo and Juliet? He never read any of the books from class. I did end it with Michelle. It wasn’t right if I was thinking about someone else when I was with her. I’d tried to move on from my feelings for Loren, b
ut the more time I spent with Michelle the worse I felt.

  “You know that story ends in tragedy.” I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

  “Of course I do, you told me about it, remember? Besides, I saw the movie with Claire Danes. She was so hot in that movie. And Loren’s parents don’t like you…so, there’s that, too.”

  I shoved his shoulder. “Is Loren meeting us here?”

  “Said she was.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious to see her. It seemed like, after she came to my house that day, we’d grown closer, and it was difficult to think of her as only a friend anymore. Not after what we’d said. In class, we’d joked around more than usual and she would touch my hand or nudge me whenever I said something she thought was funny. I never thought of myself as a comedian, but let’s be honest, it wasn’t too difficult to make Loren laugh.

  I tried not to think of her with Bryan, either. I also tried not to think about how she had to sneak around to see me, even just as a friend.

  She pulled up and stepped out of her car. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore sunglasses. She had on yoga pants and a sweatshirt.

  “Howdy, Lorne.” Mike waved like he was washing the front windshield of a car.

  “Hellooo, Michaela!” This was Mike and Loren’s little joke to each other—playing off each other’s name. She never did that with me, although I called her Scout. I pushed aside my inane moment of jealousy. I knew she and Mike were close like brother and sister, but sometimes my thoughts grew irrational when it came to Loren. To the point where she was almost all I thought about.

  We were standing around in front of the swings and Loren walked over and sat down in one, rocking back and forth. We talked about school, and Mike told another goofy-ass story about a guy on the basketball team who’d caught a knee to the groin in practice and dislocated his left nut. Why did every fucking story Mike told have to do with sports, balls, and someone taking a shot to the balls? When he finished his story, he held his hands up. “God’s honest truth, look that shit up on WebMD if you don’t believe me.”

  I didn’t really care one way or another about the guy’s story, I was too busy studying Loren. Usually, she would be bent over in fits of uncontrolled laughter, but today she gave a few forced giggles. Something was bothering her.

  I crushed out my cigarette and slapped Mike on the back. “Can Loren and I have a minute alone?”

  Mike grinned slyly. “Sure, buddy.”

  After he walked off, I knelt down in front of Loren. “What’s going on, Scout?”

  “Bryan and I broke up.” She gripped the chains on the swing. Her eyes were downcast.

  “Are you okay?” I wasn’t gonna lie, I wasn’t sad about the breakup. However, I didn’t like when Loren was upset. I hoped he didn’t break her heart.

  “Yeah, I ended it.” The words hung in the air. Suddenly, my chest felt ten times lighter; as if I could breathe again. That didn’t mean she was going to jump into my arms. But there was hope for the future. And even if she wasn’t mine, she wasn’t his—not anymore.

  “Happy birthday!” Loren smiled as she leaned on the door. She had her hair in a ponytail. She looked hot in her miniskirt and fitted, cropped sweater that showed a peek of her flat stomach.

  It was February and we’d both turned eighteen that past week. Loren invited me to her house to eat cake. She assured me it was fine because her brother Doug was playing in a golf tournament in San Antonio over the weekend, and her parents were down there to watch.

  I stepped in and wrapped an arm around her. “Happy birthday, Scout.”

  When she saw the small gift bag in my hand, she asked, “Is that for me?”

  “No, I just like to carry gift bags around wherever I go.”

  She elbowed me and took my arm. “Come on.” She led me to the kitchen, where I saw a cake and a gift on the counter.

  “What kind of cake did you make?” I asked, as she placed my gift beside hers.

  “German chocolate. I hope you like it.” I was sure I would because I never turned down anything sweet. She had eighteen candles poking out of the cake.

  She opened drawers, pushing things around while searching for something, but she couldn’t seem to find it.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I need a lighter.”

  I pulled one out of my pocket.

  “Thanks, Ol’ Smokey. I didn’t think to ask you.”

  She started lighting the candles and then pulled back her hand with an “Ow” after igniting only a few.

  I tsked her and took the lighter from her hand. “Here, novice, let me do it,” I said as I lit the rest.

  We stood together as the candles flickered. I peered down at her, waiting to see what to do next. She looked at me. “We do this together, okay? First, we make a wish, and after we’ll blow out the candles.”

  She closed her eyes as she wished. I stared at her lovely face and made my wish.

  She opened her eyes and saw my eyes on her. “Did you make a wish?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you wish for?”

  “I can’t tell you that. If I did, I’d have to kill you,” I joked and bumped her shoulder.

  “Then I’m not going to tell you my wish, either.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin, but her lips were turned up.

  I laughed. “You’re not supposed to tell what you wished for or it won’t come true. Haven’t you heard that?”

  “Of course, I knew that. You ready to blow out the candles?” She slipped her hand in mine, a gesture that seemed almost natural.

  On three, we both took a deep breath and extinguished the candles. After cutting the cake, I shoveled the delicious food into my mouth while she divided her time between eating slowly and staring wide-eyed at what I assumed was my animal kingdom–like eating habit.

  Later, she handed me my wrapped gift. “This is for you.”

  I ripped open the paper, elated to find two vinyl albums from The Jesus and Mary Chain and Dead Kennedys. “Wow, Loren, this is fucking awesome.” She knew that I loved to collect vintage records.

  She eagerly grabbed my gift bag and exclaimed like a five-year-old, “I want to open my present.” She removed the tissue and smiled widely. “I love this perfume!” It was Marc Jacobs Daisy. I should give props to the perfume salesperson at Macy’s.

  She spritzed some on her neck. “How do I smell?” She tilted her head and offered her neck for my approval. I didn’t need to smell her; I already knew she smelled wonderful. We’d spent so much time together lately as friends. We never took it to the next level. I was ready if she ever said the word, but I wanted her to tell me.

  I leaned in, with my nose almost nudging her skin, and my body was beginning to heat up as the heady scent of her and the perfume swirled through my nostrils. I leaned back before I gave in to the urge to ravage her neck. “Uh, it smells really good.”

  “I have another surprise.” She motioned me to follow her into her room.

  When we entered her room, I felt like I had just won the golden ticket to the chocolate factory and took in everything around me. I’d never been in there before. It was her style, not floral or girly. A solid lavender comforter covered her full-sized bed topped with two pillows. Not five thousand throw pillows or stuffed animals. The walls were gray and sprinkled with posters of The Killers, Arcade Fire, and The Black Keys. Thank God there were no posters of Justin Bieber. We’d have to end our friendship. She had a bulletin board that was covered with photos of her basketball team and her family, and I saw a strip of pictures of Jamie and her taken in a photo booth.

  I stood still, waiting, not sure what to do next while she grabbed her notebook and sat down on the edge of her bed.

  “I wrote another piece, and I think it may be the best thing I’ve ever written.” She held the notebook against her chest like a security blanket; her voice was laced with excitement and a hint of uncertainty.

  I smiled at her reacti
on, knowing that she was always hesitant to show me new poems but thrilled to see my reaction, because she knew I would love them. Loren knew. I always did. “Do I get to read this great piece of work or what?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nodded and motioned for me to sit beside her.

  “Well?” I asked expectantly as I joined her, reaching for the notebook.

  “I hope you like it as much as I do,” she added for final measure before relinquishing it.

  I scanned the lines, and my mind detonated. I felt the need to jerk my shirt collar away from my neck because I was on fire. The intense burning consumed me like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was almost like a sickness I had for her, and her words were the only antidote that would save me—make me whole again.

  Lust

  I want to be friends

  I want something more

  I want to hate myself for feeling this way

  I want to relish the sensations even more

  I want to kill these feelings before they destroy a special bond

  But, that’s not really true

  My selfish thoughts have no boundaries

  If you only knew

  Your kiss was the salvation

  I never knew I needed

  I’ve been lost ever since

  Hoping, praying that one day

  I’d be saved again

  By my beautiful dark angel.

  If I’d been turned on by her nonsexual poetry before, it didn’t come close to my arousal now. Those words, her words on the page, made me want to push her back on the bed and hold her, savor her, make love to her…be as close to her as I could in every possible way. The urge was so strong I almost shook. I wanted her stripped to the core in mind, body, and soul, vulnerable—in the same way she made me feel.

  My eyes lifted to hers, and the tip of her tongue passed over her lips. She rubbed her palms against her thighs. It was as though the poem were her prologue to how she wanted the rest of the evening to go.