by Amy Sparling
Dakota looks up from her cell phone. We may eat dinner together as a family, but my parents quit complaining about her phone a long time ago. I guess they’ll take what they can get and having their kids at the table is good enough for them.
“What kind of drama?” my sister says. She looks from Ella to me. “Wait, are you two dating?”
“No,” I say quickly, but like a normal person.
“No!” Ella sputters, holding up both hands as if someone’s got a gun aimed at her. “No, nothing is going on. Can we please not talk about it at the dinner table?”
Mom gives me a knowing look and it’s kind of awkward. It’s almost like she knows exactly how much I care about Ella, and the idea of Mom being privy to my private thoughts makes me shudder.
Mrs. Lockhart laughs. “Okay, now I have to know.” She looks at my mom. “Did you catch them making out? We always knew it’d happen eventually.”
“Even better,” Mom says. I put a palm to my forehead. No point in trying to stop it. “I heard yelling outside and walked out in time to witness Ethan’s ex-girlfriend throw a punch at Ella.”
Mrs. Lockhart drops her wine glass and it wobbles on the table but doesn’t fall over.
“Someone punched you?” she says, grabbing her daughter by the face and turning her head around to check for damage.
Ella wriggles out of her grip. “No, I blocked it.”
“It was awesome,” I say. Now that it’s all out in the open, a weight feels lifted from my shoulders. I can’t help it when I explain the entire story to them, leaving out only the small detail about Ella throwing herself on me and declaring herself my girlfriend. The moms watch me with interest and Dakota smirks the whole time, having found something finally more interesting than staring at her phone.
“Wow,” Mrs. Lockhart says when my story is over. She pours herself and my mom another glass of wine. “That’s kind of badass. I’m proud of you, El.”
Ella folds her fake pizza in half and takes a bite. “Just another day in my kickass life,” she says. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll humiliate the quarterback of the football team.”
“That’s me,” I say, tossing a forgotten wine cork at her.
Ella snorts, dodging my friendly fire. “Ops, I had no idea.”
“Really?” I lift an eyebrow. “It’s kind of the most important position on the team . . .”
She holds up her hands. “Hey, I just steal football boyfriends—I don’t stalk them.”
*
Ella offers to do the arduous task of searching for a decent movie to watch on Netflix, and I take a quick shower before joining her in the rec room. I’d showered after gym today, but being around Ella earlier had wreaked havoc on my armpits. I need to smell nice if I’m going to cuddle up with her on the couch all night.
I hold back a grin while I get dressed. This might be the best Friday night ever. Plus, my phone’s only missed call in the last three hours was from Toby. He wanted to hit up a party but I told him I was busy. He didn’t ask about my plans and I was grateful. I’m not exactly ready to tell everyone about Ella yet. Especially since I have no idea what we are right now.
Friends, yes. But something more is lingering on the horizon and it can’t be overlooked. Even our family has noticed.
I tap on the rec room’s doorframe. Ella’s curled up in a fuzzy blanket in the middle of the couch and she looks back at me, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest. I want her to invite me in, if only to hear her say she wants to be closer to me.
“Guess I was hoping for another wet towel show,” she says, poking out her bottom lip. “But fully clothed Ethan is okay, I guess.”
I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “I can go change if you’d like. Slip into a towel for you.”
She shrugs. “Nah, it wasn’t that great of a view anyway.”
This girl will be the death of me. “Can I come in?”
She stands up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. Her face squishes up while she studies me from head to toe. “I guess. I mean I have nothing better to do . . .”
She looks a little surprised when I close the door behind me but she doesn’t tell me to keep it open. Even though I want to grab her in a hug and feel her body against mine, I walk right past her and sit on the couch. Two can play this teasing each other game.
She drops down right next to me, in the middle seat. Already this is going better than the last time we were in here alone. “Okay, so, there’s not many movie options tonight. I was thinking maybe we start a new TV show.” She looks over at me expectantly. “It could be our thing. We can pick one with a lot of episodes and watch them all over time.”
“That works for me. I’m all about finding more ways to spend time with you.”
Her chest rises as she draws in a deep breath, her lips puckering into a smile. She swallows. “We’re gonna end up making out, aren’t we?”
The timid look in her eyes makes my head spin. My heart struggles with my head in what I should say that won’t scare her away. “We don’t have to.” And I mean it, I do, but I know disappointment seeps through my voice.
She leans over and runs her fingers across mine. I turn my palm up and her hand slips into mine. “I want to,” she says. “I don’t know why exactly, but I want to.”
I take her cheek in my hand and tilt her lips up to mine. This kiss is different. It’ sweet and longing, soft and pressing.
She leans into me, crawling into my lap. I welcome her with open arms and I take her blanket and pull it over both of us. She smells like flowers again, and I breathe her in deeply, like I might never get to be this close again.
“This is fun,” she murmurs against my lips.
“Mmhmm,” I mumble back, kissing her open mouth. I slide my tongue across her lips and she shudders in my grasp. It is the cutest thing ever. We melt into each other, kissing like we’ve been doing this forever. Like I already know every inch of this girl. She’s still the same girl I’ve loved my whole life. We’re just a little more complicated.
Some TV show plays on the flat screen, the glow reflecting off her creamy skin. We slide down the couch until we’re lying side by side, feet intertwined and hands tangled up in each other.
I run my hands through her hair and kiss her hard, our tongues tasting each other.
“This is the best day ever,” I whisper against her neck.
She crawls on top of me, resting her elbows on my chest while she peers into my eyes. Something sad flickers across her features and I run my hands up her back. “What’s wrong?”
She wets her lips. “I don’t know how to stop hating you,” she says softly.
“What does that mean?” She’s on top of me, her boobs pressing against my chest, her lips just inches from mine. I taste her lip gloss. How can she still hate me?
She shakes her head. “I guess I hated you so long, it’s hard to come down from that. Like, one minute, I want you really bad. The next, I’ll look at you and remember all the years of hating you. I used to get physically sick if I saw you in the hallway at school.”
My heart drops to my stomach. I brush her hair out of her eyes. “Ella, I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to hurt like that.”
She lays her head on my chest and wraps her arms around me. “I know. I don’t hate you anymore. It’s just hard. This feels right and wrong at the same time. Does that make sense?”
I stroke her arm and watch the steady rise and fall of her head on my chest. “Yeah, I get it. It is a little weird.”
“I just—how can we know this is real? Seems like we’re making out just because we can.”
I must take too long to reply because she looks up at me, fear stitched across her face. “Are we something? Or is this—nothing? I mean, I’m fine either way.”
I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “I don’t think you’d be fine either way. I wouldn’t.”
“So what does that mean?”
I’ve always
loved you.
The words lodge in my throat so I think of a safer thing to say. “Maybe we should take it slower. We started as friends on Monday and by Friday we’re hooking up on the couch. Maybe. . . and it kills me to say this, but maybe we should slow down?”
Ella shakes her head. “I don’t want to slow down. You know how long I wanted for you to like me back?” She grins and it’s a huge turn on.
“So then what are we?” I ask.
She presses her lips to the space below my collarbone. “We’re us.”
Chapter 18
Now that Ethan and I are comfortably in make out territory, the weekend flew by faster than that tornado destroyed my house. We spent the entire time hanging out in the rec room, making up for lost time. April wanted me to go prom dress shopping with her but I’d lied and said I wasn’t feeling well. Actually, it wasn’t that much of a lie. The idea of being away from Ethan, even for a few hours of trying on dresses, made me physically ill. So it was kind of true.
It feels like nothing can ruin my Ethan high until Monday morning when we arrive in the school parking lot. I’m still finishing off my donut holes and Ethan reaches a massive hand into my bag, stealing one.
I slap it away. “You already ate yours, fatty.”
“But the donut holes are so good. I should get these next time.”
“Yeah, you should because I don’t like sharing.”
Ethan’s smile reaches his eyes and the moment of silence that follows makes us both lean forward. Then he blinks and pulls back, drumming his hands on the steering wheel.
“Um, we probably shouldn’t kiss in the parking lot?”
I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but I sink back into my seat. I can’t really get upset about this. Ethan had tried to figure out what we were, what we’re doing. Are we friends with benefits, friends making a onetime mistake, or the ultimate big deal: boyfriend and girlfriend? I’d blown off the question by declaring that we are “us”. What does that even mean? I was too caught up in the moment, wanting his lips back on mine, his hands roaming wherever they pleased. I can’t be held responsible for my actions in that moment. Yet here we are, in the school parking lot, about to walk right into the lion’s den.
I sigh through my nose. “Is Kennedy still texting you like crazy?”
He makes his half-shrug movement. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Then I guess we just cool off at school. Keep to ourselves and give it more time.”
“But you pretty much declared that we’re together in my driveway,” he says. “So, maybe we can kiss in the parking lot.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
Nervous doesn’t even begin to explain the feelings coursing through my veins right now. I’ve had a boyfriend or two over the years, but they were never that serious. It never went beyond hallway hand holding and sitting together at lunch. Do I really want the wrath of Kennedy Price if I show up holding her ex-boyfriend’s hand just a week after they split?
I look around, checking to make sure there’s no one watching us, then I lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Not fair,” he whines.
His lip pokes out and I pretty much have to kiss him now. There’s no way to deny this boy of anything when he’s looking so hot.
I lick the donut sugar off my lips and kiss him.
“Perfect.” He unbuckles his seatbelt. “Now I can enjoy my day.”
I give him a look. “You’re dumb.”
April’s waiting for me inside the school. She’s wearing a black skirt that is definitely shorter than the mid-thigh dress code rules, but she covers her tank top with a shimmery cardigan that goes to her knees in an effort to get away with it. Her eyebrow quirks when she sees me walking in with Ethan.
Sure, he’s been driving me to school all of last week, but we’d made sure to part ways long before we reached the main doors.
“Uh, hi,” April says, giving him a once over.
“You’re April, right?” Ethan says. “I hear about you constantly.”
Her expression doesn’t give away if she’s pleased or annoyed to finally meet him. “Likewise.”
“Poe!” someone calls from across the hallway. It’s one of his jock friends who I vaguely recognize from his lunch table. “You gonna let me copy your homework or what?”
“Guess that’s my cue to leave. Can’t let Keith get another detention for not having his homework,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
I nod and then Ethan’s arm is around my shoulder and he leans in, kissing me on the forehead before he leaves. Every muscle in my body freezes. How exactly does one react to their first public display of affection from the hottest, most popular guy in the school?
“Girl, you have three minutes to explain everything,” April says, grabbing me by the arm and hauling me toward first period. “Something tells me you weren’t sick last weekend.”
“I totally was,” I lie. Well, half-lie. “But since we’re on the topic . . . yeah . . . that happened.”
April squeezes my arm. “I don’t know if I should be happy for you because he’s so hot and now you’ll have a prom date, or like, if I should be a good friend and warn you that this might end terribly.”
“It’s not anything like that. I mean, we’re not going to prom.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
I open my mouth but can’t think up a good excuse. The hallways seem a little more packed today, and I’m hit with a feeling of déjà vu. People are staring. And smirking. And doing that thing where they look at you and then look at their friends and start laughing.
“Am I the center of attention again?” I ask.
April looks around, scouting out the scene with her perceptive best friend skills. “You think word got out about you and Ethan already?”
“It was one stupid forehead kiss. Like thirty seconds ago,” I say, looking around but trying to make it seem like I don’t care. Everyone is definitely staring at me.
“What’s going on?” I ask a freshman as we walk by. She turns a deep shade of red and turns away.
April chuckles. “Face it, Ella. You start dating the hot guy, you become fodder for high school gossip. If we were celebrities, you’d be on the cover of every gossip mag right now.”
This isn’t cool. Why do we even need a high school popularity caste system? Can’t we just all go about our days ignoring what everyone else does?
I mean, I guess I knew people would be curious to hear that Ethan and I are kind of a thing now, but does that really warrant staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head? I’m not even walking with him right now.
April stops between the two neighboring classrooms that have our first periods. “Will you be okay by yourself?” she asks. “I could sneak a hall pass and come hang out with you.”
I shake my head. “I can handle this. Besides, it’s a better thing for people to stare about than that stupid tornado.”
When Mr. Davis is halfway through his lecture about the Civil War, I’m almost positive that something else is going on. People will not stop staring at me. From students I’ve never talked to, to the ones I’d consider friends, they’re all sneaking glimpses at me, snickering and generally making me feel like there’s not a hole big enough to hide inside.
I turn around to Humzah, a straight-A student who used to invite me to her birthday parties when we were kids. “Is everyone staring at me or am I just imagining it?” I whisper, although I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
She looks down at her notes and then nods. “They’re staring. I’m sorry.”
“Is it because of Ethan or the tornado?”
She looks a little confused by the question. “Um, both?”
Mr. Davis’ khaki pants appear next to us. I look up to find him frowning at me, a dry erase marker smelling like chemicals in his hand. “My class is not a time for socialization, ladies.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble, turning back a
round. Mr. Davis begins writing more notes on the board and there’s a tap on my shoulder.
Humzah whispers, “Facebook.”
I spend the next half an hour trying to sneak a look at my phone without Mr. Davis seeing. Finally, another teacher comes to the door and he talks to her for a few minutes. I slip out my phone, angling it in my lap to where the desk will cover it from Mr. Davis’ point of view, and go to Facebook. It doesn’t take long before I scroll down and see something shared to the West Canyon High School’s cheer page.
My lungs suddenly forget how to breathe but that’s nothing compared to how I’m pretty sure my heart has stopped beating. I gasp for air and then my heart races, sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins.
The photo was originally posted by Kennedy Price, last night at eight-thirty in the evening. It’s been shared three hundred and sixty-two times.
“Mother f—” I mutter under my breath. Okay, maybe it was more of a pissed off growl instead of a quiet murmur.
“Ella,” Mr. Davis says. “Language.” He closes his classroom door and walks back to the white board. “And put the phone away. I won’t give you a second warning.”
Heat pumps through my cheeks until my nose goes numb. I slide the phone back into the zippered pocket of my backpack but the image I saw has already burrowed into my brain, a perfect photo recall that might never go away.
Kennedy, or probably some techy nerd she bribed, had photo shopped a very unflattering photo of my face on top of a cartoon tornado. The tornado had stick hands and legs and a Comic Sans caption at the bottom that read: Ella the boyfriend stealing slut-nado.
Stupid, yes.
There’s not even a single element of humor to it but it’s managed to capture the attention of the whole freaking school. The staring and whispering behind my back continues throughout second and third period. I’m filled with a mixture of anger and humiliation and right now they’re both competing for space in my mind. One thing is for sure: all school work has been completely ignored. My teachers could be teaching the secret to curing cancer and I wouldn’t know. My mind is elsewhere.
