Teach Me (11 page)

             
“My little Ali Goody Two-shoes,” he whispers, smirking. I sigh in relief, knowing that I just dodged a bullet. Jeremy is still holding my face
and now has a strange look in his eyes. I know that look—it was the same one he had right . . . before . . .

             
Jeremy’s mouth almost smashes into mine. His lips are eager as his hands slides from my cheeks to the back of my head. He keeps kissing my unresponsive mouth until he is satisfied. I couldn’t react in time to push him back. I literally froze in shock.
Why does he think he has the right to kiss me?

             
“I’ll see you tonight at seven,” he says, kissing me one last time before jogging to his car.

             
Oh yeah.
Because I agreed to go out with him tonight.
Jeremy thinks we are getting back together.

E
i
g h t

Cooper

             
I don’t drink very often, but, man, right now I am pretty drunk. Ali has been out with that punk, Jeremy, three times over her winter break. What I can’t wrap my mind around is how she kissed me that last day of school and went right into Jeremy’s arms.

             
I should have given her a detention.

             
I walked to her house tonight and am just waiting for her to get home. I just want to see her, maybe even talk to her. The last time that
he
brought her home
he
tried to kiss her, and she almost let him. Maybe she knew I was watching because she looked around then went inside, alone, leaving Fisher on her doorstep. It was pretty sweet seeing how bad he wanted that kiss, how he expected it, and didn’t get it.

             
Now I am sitting across the street and two houses down tying one on. This house is for sale, so no one is occupying it. I should buy it. That’ll show her. Ali has been out for almost three hours again. Probably seeing some stupid movie and eating some stupid dinner.
So stupidly predictable.

             
I am so stupid. I hang my stupid head in my hands and pull at my stupid hair.

             
I am drinking some sort of rum wrapped in a paper bag from the liquor store—I have become a cliché: drunken ex-boyfriend stalking the woman he loves and just can’t let go. My stomach burns from the alcohol, so I stop drinking. The first smart thing I’ve done tonight. Leaning against the door behind me, I just stare across the street. How could I have been so hasty in breaking things off with her?  I haven’t forgotten one minute of our summer, though we are now plagued with the colder weather . . . colder times.

             
My eyes close as I picture Ali the first day I saw her: dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail and big sunglasses covering most of her face. I had been watching her for a good ten minutes before she even noticed me. Once she did, my life changed. I watched her from the water as she watched me from the sand. The night that I kissed her, six days later, was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Her body fit to mine, her lips soft but urgent.

             
Not like the last time I kissed her. I was so upset seeing her agree to go out with that idiot, I just couldn’t think straight. I had written that letter only because I didn’t want to hold her back—then to see her moving on. My emotions and testosterone just reacted. I wanted to keep on holding her and kissing her, but it isn’t possible. Our relationship isn’t possible. My heart hurts so bad I am physically in pain.

             
No. Wait. That would be the rum.

             
I lean over the porch and throw up the only thing in my stomach, alcohol. I all but curl up in a ball and cry. What the hell, I do end up curling up and let the pain have me . . . then pass out.

             
I wake up and feel something soft over me and know someone is close by. I try to sit up and see that Ali is next to me reading a book with a flashlight. She notices that I am awake.

             
“You almost got caught out here,” she says, putting her book down and turning the flashlight off. There is a blanket over me, and I recognize it as the quilt from her bed that we had
lain
on back in September. I try to sit all the way up and am immediately too dizzy and want to puke again. Ali shifts and fumbles with something next to her.

             
“Here,” she says, helping me. “I have water and crackers for you.” Ali’s arms slip
under mine
as she props me against the wall. She is so close to me, taking care of me. I can smell the coconut scent surrounding her, and the sense of being home surrounds my heart.

             
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, taking the water and sipping it. A grin crosses her lips.

             
“I’ve seen you out here every night that I’ve gone out with Jeremy,” she mumbles. “When he dropped me off, I noticed you slouched over and waited until he left to come over. When I found you, well, I guess I knew you could use some help.”

             
I rub my head. “What time is it?” The moon hangs lazily in the sky. I think, or hope, I have thrown up most of the alcohol I consumed, but I am still feeling the effects.

             
“Three in the morning,” she answers.

             
“It’s not what you think,” I say, feeling my stomach roll. Ali nods, watching me.

             
“What
is
it then, Cooper?” Her eyes look as sad as I feel. I want to tell her that I just can’t let her go and how much I love her. But I am buzzed, and when I tell her how I really feel, I know I need to be sober so she takes me seriously.

             
Instead I say, “I don’t know.” She hands me another bottle of water, more crackers, and a couple of sticks of gum. Oh, man. I so suck right now.

             
“Can you walk?” she demands suddenly.

             
“You’re right.” I push to stand and immediately curse the invention of rum. “I need to get home.” Ali shakes her head and sighs loudly, balancing my weight with her shoulders.

             
“You live too far away to walk, and I’m not letting you in my car if you’re just going to throw up again,” she says, struggling to lead me forward. I make a mental note to ask her how she knows where I live. “My dad is fighting a fire in the farmlands up north and won’t be home for
three, maybe four more, days. You can crash at my place, but just for the night.”

             
I know that I should be saying no and walking home, but I can’t. “I’m drunk,” I state the obvious. Ali laughs and pulls me forward. I am vaguely aware that she somehow managed to get me upstairs and has tucked me into her bed. I can feel her pulling my shoes off and her hesitation as she considers what to do with the rest of my clothes. My eyes are closed, and she is humming while placing extra blankets on me. The room is spinning, and I want to make it stop.

             
“You are freezing,” she says to herself, thinking I have passed out again. She sits on the bed and brushes the hair from my face. “You are so handsome, Cooper.” Her lips press softly to my forehead. “I miss you every day, and every day I wish that things could be different. Why did you write that last letter, huh?  What made you think that would make anything better?” she whispers then leaves the room. I ache at the thought of her leaving. I miss her too, and I want to tell her, but the rum has rendered me mute. Slowly my mind drifts into a disturbed sleep.

             
What a horrible night. My head hurts more than I ever thought possible; now that I think about it, so does the rest of me. I roll over and feel the tightness of my empty stomach. I need to eat. I swing my feet out of bed and realize I am still in my clothes from yesterday. I don’t even remember how I got home. I force my eyes open, trying to pull back what memory I have from last night. I wanted to talk to Allison, so I decided to
walk to her house, and on the way was a liquor store . . . I bought a bottle of rum . . . Ali was on a date, so I camped out across the street . . . oh shit.

             
My head snaps up, and I force my eyes open. I’m in Ali’s room. Ali found me last night and took care of me. I look around the room that is decorated in mostly pinks and yellow. I am trying to reconstruct the events from last night. I hope I haven’t made things worse between us. There is a note on the pillow: 

             
Cooper, sleep as long as you’d like. I put a fresh towel in the bathroom so you can shower. My dad is taller than you, but I found something that might fit you.

             
I groan in embarrassment and look at the clock. It is almost noon. I pull myself to my feet and make it to the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and turn on the hot water. The shower feels good but not good enough to make me feel better. After I towel off, I pull on Mr. Starr’s clothes—jeans are a little long and big, so is the shirt, but they will do. I find and use Ali’s toothbrush; that will be my little secret. I step back into the bedroom and inhale. It smells like Ali. I want to look and touch everything, but I hear noise downstairs. She must know I am up.
Time for the walk of shame.

             
I make my way quietly into the kitchen. Ali has
earbuds
in and is humming and swaying to the music that I can’t hear. There is a pot of coffee brewing, and she is making pancakes. I lean against the counter and just watch her. It looks like it will start to rain any second, but the dim early afternoon light seems to dance off her like the summer sun. Her hips are
slowly moving back and forth; her hair is hanging down to the middle of her back. She is wearing sweatpants and a tank top. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen.

             
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care about how stupid and drunk I was last night. I don’t care that I told her to move on. All I care about is her, Allison. I love her and need to be close to her. I move across the cold kitchen floor and put my hand on her swaying hips. Ali jumps and lets out a little scream.

             
I remove the
earbuds
as she turns around. “It’s just me,” I say, smiling. “Who did you expect?” 

             
Ali swallows and turns back to the stove. “I am making you pancakes,” she says evenly. I guess that is fair. My feelings have only grown stronger—I can’t expect hers to be the same especially since I told her to move on. Oh, and that stupid jerk, Jeremy. I pull my hand back, but she stops me, putting it back on her hip. “How are you feeling?” Her voice is now soothing and concerned, and it takes me a moment to answer because her skin is exposed between her pants and shirt, and I want to touch it.

             
“Better, thanks to you,” I say, moving so my front is almost pressing to her back. I lean in and inhale her scent. I just want to hold her tight. “If I said anything last night . . .” 

             
Ali laughs at me, not with me because I am too ashamed to laugh. “You were pretty messed up.” She puts the last of the pancakes on a plate
and turns off the burner. “I couldn’t just leave you there.” She turns around, and my hands seem glued to where she has placed them. “You keep showing up, and I don’t know what to do anymore.” She puts the palms of her hands on my chest, and I wait, expecting her to push me away.

             
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Thunder interrupts us, and Ali jumps. My arms instinctively wrap around her, protecting her from any harm. Rain lightly falls outside, and we are standing there holding each other, unable to make eye contact.

             
“Why are you sorry?” Ali asks. I snort out a laugh.

             
“I am sorry for so many things I don’t know where to start,” I admit. Ali looks up with her big brown doe eyes.

             
“I don’t like Jeremy,” she says, to my surprise. “I just want to feel wanted.” Her cheeks blush, and I can tell she wants to look away. I hold her face with my hands so she can’t. I’ve missed this face too much to not have the opportunity to stare at it.

             
“You have always been wanted, Ali,” I say with so much passion I can’t think straight. My lips are almost on hers. “Sometimes we can’t have what we want the most.” Ali closes her eyes and takes in a long breath. I know her well enough to know this is what she does before she makes a decision or before she says something important.

             
When her eyes open again, they are smoldering. “If it is me that you want, Coop”—she pauses and runs her hands under my borrowed shirt—“you can have me.” I anticipated her to tell me to leave, that I’ve hurt her too much. I want her so bad that I lay awake at night regretting that I would never have a chance to even touch her again, and here she is, offering herself to me. I pull her against me hard, and our mouths almost slam together.