Dating: For the Block

by Stephanie Street

  “The warning bell will ring at seven fifty-five and class starts at eight-oh-five. I put your schedule in the front zipper pocket of your backpack.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a hook beside a bookcase filled with overflowing three-ring binders and textbooks about everything sport related from basketball to injuries to sports psychology. Had he actually read that last one?

  I nodded, acknowledging what he’d just said, but my attention was already on the computer screen in front of me. I’d long since discovered where he stashed his password in his desk drawer and he never seemed to mind if I got on the internet passing time in here.

  “Teachers are pretty lax about phones during passing periods so if you need anything you can shoot me a text then or come find me. I’m in the gym all day except sixth period when I have a health class in the computer lab.”

  From the corner of my eye, I watched as he wrapped the lanyard holding his whistle around his neck and pulled a baseball cap with an EH emblazoned on the front low over his eyes. It was his standard coaching uniform unless it was game day when he dressed up in a suit and tie.

  “You gonna be alright, kiddo?” he asked, his hand on the doorknob.

  No. I wasn’t. But telling him that would accomplish nothing, so I just nodded again too afraid I’d burst into tears if I tried to speak.

  I pretended to be engrossed in the computer screen while Dad watched, looking for clues to my true feelings. I prayed he wouldn’t find any. I loved my dad, but I needed a few minutes to get it together before going to find my locker and first class.

  “I’ll see you after school. I’m sorry you have to stay for practice but maybe you can get homework done.” With a sigh, he abandoned the doorknob, taking one long step toward his desk. “Have a good first day, Mia.” He leaned over to kiss the top of my head before finally leaving.

  I waited until he was gone to let the tears filling my eyes flow down my cheeks. Picking up my phone, I checked the time. Seven-thirty. That meant it was only four-thirty in Los Angeles, way too early to call Brooke and vent all my feelings.

  It was even earlier in Alaska. That didn’t mean there weren’t already two texts from Mom wishing me a happy first day and asking me to call her.

  I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

  After allowing myself five minutes to wallow, I took out my class schedule. I was familiar enough with the layout of the school I wasn’t worried about finding my classes, but it would probably be a good idea to at least look at it and memorize the order.

  After spending a few minutes comparing my list to the bell schedule, I finally decided to make my own list that had the classes, classroom number, and the time the class started and ended. Rooting around in the backpack Dad put together, I discovered a student planner and found the correct date, thankful once again I hadn’t had to move mid-semester. At least I wasn’t behind.

  By the time I memorized my schedule, it was time to find my locker. The combination had been stapled to my class schedule and while I had a basic understanding of where things were, I had no idea how the lockers worked or where I’d find mine. I gave myself two more minutes of deep breathing and an internal pep talk where I reminded myself this would all be over in five short months then I could go wherever I wanted.

  L.A. was at the top of my list.

  At seven forty-five, I left Dad’s office, making sure to securely close the door behind me. The last thing I needed was to get in trouble for some idiot having access to Dad’s office.

  Taking steps that I hoped appeared more confident than I felt, I left the sports complex wing of the school and made my way toward the hallway where I knew the seniors had classes and hoped I’d find my locker there. It was still twenty minutes before the final bell would ring but the halls were filling steadily with bodies and chatter. The faces were unfamiliar and the sounds of their conversations made me feel lonely. I missed my own friends. I missed people who weren’t my friends. For a split second, I even missed him, he-who-shall-not-be-named-or-thought-about.

  Yeah, just kidding. I didn’t miss him at all.

  Okay, that was a lie. But I shouldn’t miss him. The jerk.

  I took a flight of stairs. To the right was the junior hall and to the left was the senior hall. I turned left and immediately began searching the numbers on the lockers for one that matched what was written on the slip of paper Dad had given me all while trying to ignore the curious stares I’d been getting since I walked out of Dad’s office.

  Wasn’t it enough that I had to leave my old school and friends, did I also have to become the newest freak show at Eastridge Heights?

  I passed a restroom and realized nature called. Making a quick U-turn, I backtracked to the bathrooms. There were a couple of girls standing in front of a large mirror, fluffing their hair and gossiping. I couldn’t help overhearing them while I took care of business.

  “Look, girl, you do whatever you want, but Grayson Levitt is a player,” one of the girls said.

  Her friend sighed. “Gray is a flirt not a player, there’s a difference.”

  That name sounded familiar. Grayson Levitt. Grayson. I searched my memory. I didn’t know very many people at this school so if I recognized his name that meant he was probably on the basketball team. I tried to remember the guys on the team from last year. If these girls were talking about him, he was a senior like me which meant he’d been a junior last year. I remembered looking at the program from the Holiday Tourney, specifically the juniors since I was also a junior at the time. There was a Noah. Mateo, an unusual name that was hard to forget.

  Grayson. Was there a Grayson? I couldn’t remember.

  “Tell that to all the girls he leaves with broken hearts,” the first girl said.

  Sympathy for these unknown girls flooded me, as did anger at this boy. This Grayson.

  The second girl snorted. “Name one girl in this school that doesn’t still love him even after he’s done with her?”

  Ew. That didn’t sound good. This Grayson guy sounded like a jerk. I was well acquainted with jerks.

  “Oh, he’s charming. I’ll give him that, but he’s still a player with serious commitment issues.”

  I heard the unmistakable screech of paper towels being dispensed and torn from the roll before both girls made their way out the door. Using my foot, I flushed the toilet and exited the stall and washed my hands.

  Listening to those girls was a good reminder and I let myself think of him. Jonathan. My stomach soured. I was glad I’d skipped a big breakfast. Jonathan Kent was adorable. Not the most popular guy at my old school, but he held his own, mostly because he was smooth. Charming. He knew what he wanted and how to get it. I knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a player, but he was just so darn nice it was hard to believe he was a bad guy. I’d been crushing on him for months when he finally noticed me and asked me to go out with him.

  Looking back, I realized I walked right into his trap. It was so embarrassing. Jonathan had never really wanted me. Or, at least, not just me. All the time we dated, while I thought we were exclusive, he’d kept a long string of girlfriends on the side.

  Or maybe I was the one on the side.

  It didn’t matter. All I knew was that once I told him I was leaving, feeling heartsick and betrayed by my mom, I turned to my boyfriend who basically patted me on the head, said it had been fun, and he’d be fine. There were plenty of other girls to console him after all.

  How had I been so blind?

  I should have realized a guy like him would be a sleaze. Like the worst sort of used-car salesman, he had lured me in, made me buy the car, and then laughed in my face when it died on the side of the road less than a mile from the dealership.

  It was a valuable lesson. I wouldn’t be sucked in again. Smooth was just another word for heartbreaker. Charming was code for snake in the grass. Well, I didn’t like snakes. At least Jonathan had taught me how to recognize their spots. I wouldn’t be so easily fooled next time.

 
Next time? Who was I kidding? No guys! I needed a break. Boys complicated things under the best of circumstances, the last thing I needed was a relationship muddying the waters when everything else was already screwed up in my life. Graduation. Quality time with my dad. Those were the goals. And then I was out of here. Worrying about players was moot. All I had to do was stay away from boys and I’d be fine.

  Right.

  The hall was jammed with students by the time I left the restroom. I still needed to find my locker. Shoving my nervousness and insecurity down deep, I scanned the numbers on the lockers on either side of the hall. I’d almost made it to the end when I finally reached the section where it should be.

  Not that I could actually see the number because it was blocked by some guy making out with a girl.

  Double eww.

  I stopped in front of them. Of course, they were too wrapped up in each other to notice. I fought the urge to throw up and it wasn’t even because they were being super gross. In fact, if I was willingly watching such a display, say in a Rom-Com with a bag of popcorn, instead of thinking ew, I might have thought awww.

  However, they weren’t in the tv in my living room and I didn’t have a bag of popcorn. Instead, they were standing directly in front of my locker.

  I cleared my throat.

  They didn’t even twitch.

  Eyes narrowed, I put my hands on my hips. I was so not in the mood for this. Especially not after dwelling on Jonathan, as well as my own stupidity, for the last five minutes in the ladies room. If I wasn’t so annoyed that they were blocking my locker, I might have been embarrassed about watching them, but since they were blocking my locker, I felt justified giving them the once over. Not that either of them noticed.

  The guy was probably six feet tall and fit, not ripped, but he had nice muscles that were easily detected through the hooded sweatshirt he wore. His blonde hair stood in all directions like he’d only taken the time to run his fingers through it before leaving for school this morning. It shouldn’t have looked as good as it did. Instead of the skinny jeans a lot of guys were wearing these days, his were snug on his hips, and rather fine looking behind, and relaxed through his thickly muscled thighs.

  The girl he held gently in arms that under different circumstances would have had me begging him to hold me tighter, was petite and just as blonde as him. She held a couple of notebooks against her chest, keeping their contact from getting any closer than it already was.

  Apparently, she was an idiot. If a guy like him was holding me close like that, I’d have lost the notebooks and molded myself against him like wet newspaper.

  I cleared my throat again.

  He continued to kiss her. Not slobbery, wet kisses, but soft and sweet kisses that shouldn’t have had me imagining what they felt like since he was bestowing them on someone else. No wonder she hadn’t realized I was standing there. It was a miracle she was even standing on her own two feet. Kisses like that had the power to render a girl boneless.

  What was I thinking? This guy obviously knew what he was doing and that made me angry. Since she was obviously the victim here (of his charms), I reached toward his shoulder and tapped twice. Hard.

  He lifted his head as though coming out of a fog. Her eyes were still closed as he turned to me. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to give him a piece of my mind when his gorgeous green eyes landed on mine, leaving me speechless.

  With my mouth hanging open.

  4

  Grayson

  The guys on the team teased me about being a player. And maybe that’s what it looked like from the outside, but I was no smooth operator. I liked girls and for some reason I couldn’t quite understand, they seemed to like me back. But I didn’t take advantage. I was a nice guy. My momma had raised me right.

  But I was still a guy.

  So when Kylie, and it was Kylie not Riley, threw herself at me in front of the row of empty lockers in the senior hallway, I was a little slower than I should have been to remember my number one rule- Flirting, not kissing. Flirting was a fairly innocent pastime that usually didn’t get me in a lot of trouble. Kissing on the other hand, no matter how you sliced it, hinted at something more, something I wasn’t prepared to give to any girl- commitment.

  Kylie caught me off guard and it had been a minute since I’d indulged. Actually, more like several months. Some player I was, huh?

  I wasn’t so distracted, however, I didn’t notice Miss Annoyed, or maybe it was Miss Annoying taking up real estate so close she was staring in the windows. Seriously, what kind of person interrupted what Kylie and I had going on? Not that we were being over the top or anything, there wasn’t even tongue involved. We were surrounded by people, for goodness sakes. There were still boundaries. Right?

  This chick was completely ignoring them.

  So, I ignored her.

  Kissing Kylie wasn’t unpleasant, after all. Ticking off the rude girl was a bonus.

  And she was ticked!

  Miss Annoyed cleared her throat once. Twice. Without looking I could tell she’d set her hands on her hips. Curiosity was winning out the battle with my hormones, I hadn’t really wanted to kiss Kylie in the first place and would have ended things sooner if I hadn’t been interested in seeing what ole huff and puff was going to do about it.

  A hand whipped out, coming down hard on my shoulder. Twice.

  I took my time pulling away from Kylie knowing I’d likely feel guilty for using the poor girl to annoy the other one, but then, kissing had been Kylie’s idea, not mine.

  I turned my head and WHAM! The warmest pair of brown eyes hit me right upside the head. My arms dropped from around Kylie’s waist and like a bull being led by his nose ring, I took a step toward the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Tanned skin she sure hadn’t gotten here in Indiana. Chocolate hair in a sexy bed-head bun, caramel eyes, and pouty pink lips.

  I was drowning-

  But then those warm eyes turned frigid and her plump lips thinned into an angry line.

  “Can you take this kiss fest somewhere else, please?” Her tone was cold water in my face.

  Pulling myself together, I faced Kylie with a soft smile. “See you later?” I didn’t really want to see her later, but what else was I supposed to say after allowing myself to get sucked in by her charms?

  She nodded and with a smile that said I was going to have a hard time shaking her loose, headed toward her own first period class.

  Miss Pissy-face growled, bringing my attention back around to her. I wasn’t complaining, even with her angry expression.

  “Hi, I’m Grayson,” I said, squelching the urge to flirt and offering her my friendliest smile instead. I had to do something to get that scowl off her face.

  Her eyes narrowed as though my name meant something to her, but how could that be? I searched my memory. Not only did I not recognize her, I couldn’t think of a single reason for her to be angry with me.

  “Figures.” Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes rolled.

  I let my eyes stray from her face in order to take in the rest of her.

  She was shorter than me, but not a lot, maybe half a foot. Her backpack hung from both shoulders and she wore the exact same sweatshirt I’d put on myself earlier that morning. Which threw me. The shirt was only for players. Who was this girl?

  The sweatshirt did nothing to hide her beautiful curves and her skinny jeans just accentuated the length of her long legs making my mouth water, pulling me in again. If I wasn’t careful this girl would be leading me around by my nose. But she was wearing a team shirt. Was she dating one of the guys? Just the thought had me feeling a little sick.

  I tried to focus. What did she say?

  What figured?

  I shook my head to clear it, but it wasn’t working. Those legs were no joke.

  “Move!”

  Again, her tone yanked me out of deep water and into the safer shallows. I shuffled my feet, shifting my body to the right.

  She stepped forward an
d reached out to turn the dial on the locker I’d been blocking. Well, that explained the bad attitude. She’d caught me making out with another girl in front of her locker. I leaned my shoulder against the locker next to the one that was apparently hers now. The bell was about to ring, but I didn’t care. Art was pretty laid back and Ms. Carlson loved me. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d been late to class because of a pretty girl.

  “I’m sorry for blocking your locker. These have been empty all year.” This was my flirting spot. My own locker was directly across the hall but it was always crowded over there.

  The new girl snorted, but otherwise ignored me. I let my thoughts circle back around to what she’d said before.

  “What do you mean, figures?” I wasn’t full of myself but I wasn’t used to girls reacting to me this way. I really was a nice guy which made it easy to get on a girls good side. For the most part.

  She continued to ignore me and I continued to watch her. The longer I looked, the hotter she became. There was something incredibly attractive about the way she didn’t give a crap about me or the fact that I was practically drooling on her shoulder. It was like I wasn’t even there. That had never happened with any girl at this school and as far as I was concerned it made her the most interesting female I’d ever come across.

  She fished a binder and a mechanical pencil from her bag before stowing it on a hook in her locker. She hugged the binder to her chest and stuck the pencil in the pouch on her sweatshirt before her eyes met mine. It made me inexplicably sad to see how guarded they were.

  “It means your reputation precedes you, Grayson.” Her shoulder hit mine hard as she brushed passed. She’d taken a good five steps before she stopped and caught me ogling her fine backside. “Oh, and you’ll need to find a new make out spot, champ.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but she’d already turned around. My eyes traveled over the back of her again until they caught sight of something on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. A series of white letters contrasted with the navy fabric.