Fall Out Girl (11 page)

My concern only grew as the day drew to an end. I chastised myself for the hundredth time for not seeing this coming. Jake had given me clues all along. But the love and trust we shared muddied my objectivity.

I plugged my earphones in, closed my eyes, and listened to music. A pang alerted me of an incoming message.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I had fallen asleep. I glanced at the cell screen.

Caleb:
Open your window

I got up, unlatched the lock, and slid the window open. Before a word was out of my mouth, Caleb hopped inside my room.

“Hey, what ar—?” He crushed me to his chest, and his lips seized mine.

I pictured myself poking his eyes, kicking his balls, and pressing my foot on his neck as he slithered on the floor in severe pain. That’s what I wanted to do. Really, I did. Instead, my arms, against my will, slipped around his neck, and my body melted under his consuming warmth.

He smelled of cold air, cologne, and the male scent that was only his. I inhaled deeply. Yeah, I may have sighed a little; his heady presence did mysterious things to my body. It was almost as if I lost any connection between body and brain. As if my spinal cord had been severed and mended in such a way that it was connected and dependent on Caleb. He had taken charge of my actions. The thought was sobering, making me push him away.

“How did you know which was my room?” Oh, God, such a lame question.

“I’ve been watching your house,” he said and glided his hand back to my waist.

“Stalker much?”

“I’ve been accused of worse,” he said, nuzzling the crook of my neck.

An uncontrollable shiver ran through my body, giving me away. “Should I reconsider that restraining order? Your dad could grant me one.”

His body tensed briefly. There was something seriously wrong between him and his dad.

He ran his nose along the skin on my collarbone. “I only did once or twice.” His fingers found the strap of my tank top. He pushed it down and planted a kiss on the tattoo on my shoulder. His tongue skimmed over my skin. Oh Lord.

“What’s with you and birds?”

“Huh?” Trying to reorganize my jumbled thoughts, I shook my head slightly.

“What kind of a bird is this?” he said, his fingers gently tracing the ink.

“Um, it’s a swallow.”

“These too?” he asked, bringing my wrists to his face. He skimmed his nose along the sensitive skin on my inner wrist, one, then the other. Finally, he kissed each tiny bird.

“Um… yes.”

He swooped my hair over my shoulder. “How about this one?” His warm breath tickled the sensitive skin behind my right ear.

I nodded mutely.

“Are there any others I haven’t seen yet?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“That’s none of your business.” I freed myself and stumbled back away from his web of seduction. I felt drunk, intoxicated even. My mind refused to produce a coherent thought.

“What do you want?” I finally got my brain to fire.

“You,” he said, stepping forward and closing the small space I had placed between us.

“You had your chance, sweetheart,” I said sarcastically. And what a chance it had been, I had thrown myself at him. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment at the memory.

“No, not sex. I want you. All of you.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped away from his embrace. I needed space to think clearly.

“What were you listening to?” He plopped on my bed, lay on his back, and put one of my earphones in his ear.

I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him. He was confidently comfortable sprawled on my bed. All hot and handsome.

“Interesting,” he said after listening for a while. A dimpled smile flourished on his face. The unbidden picture of me licking that dimple flashed in my mind. It had appeared like those unwelcome pop-up ads on the computer.

“Are you always so nosey?” I tried to retrieve the earplugs and phone, but he gripped my hand and pulled me on top of him.

His body was firm beneath mine. He said, “What’s the name of this song?” He put an earplug in my ear.

“Ameno,” I replied, relenting to his charm.

“I didn’t peg you for this kind of music. I was totally expecting Pearl Jam.”

I disentangled our legs and slid off him onto the bed. He turned to his side and buried his face in my pillow. “It smells of you.”

“Oh, yeah? Pot?” I asked in a self-deprecating tone.

He smiled and shook his head. “Gardenia and mint.”

I finally gave in and just settled next to him. What was the use of fighting? Not only, didn’t he appear to be leaving soon, but also, I didn’t want him to go. That night I had been feeling terribly lonely and sad. We lay on our sides, facing each other. I couldn’t completely accept the fact that I had a boy on my bed. Not to mention that said boy was Caleb Cahan. I tried to be nonchalant. Having him in my room was allowing him to see a side of me that I kept hidden. Apart from Jake, Caleb was the first person to set foot in here.

He brushed the hair falling on my face. “You’re beautiful.”

Elvis crooned through the earplug about how lonely he felt. “Wow, love, your selection of music is surprisingly diverse.” Caleb seemed astonished.

And to add shame to the night, I blushed.

He scrolled down my playlist. “Interesting,” he repeated.

My pink cheeks undoubtedly deepened to a tomato red. I resisted the urge to snatch the device from his prying hands.

“You know I can adequately describe someone’s personality based on music selection?” he said as he continued to snoop through my phone.

“What does mine say about me?” I asked against my better judgment.

“Hmm,” he said with a crease between his eyes. He was pensive, focused on the task of deciphering me.

“Well?” I felt vulnerable. And I despised feeling that way.

He closed his eyes in mock concentration. “She’s a vulnerable, lonely, old soul, sensitive, kind, generous, skeptical, and strong.” He opened his eyes and gazed at me. “Oh, and has a terrible crush on a boy who is desperately trying to earn her trust,” he said flirtatiously.

“Jesus, Caleb, you’re so lame.” I shook my head. But, God, he was so right regarding the rampant attraction I had for him.

“And you do a good job hiding who you are.” His voice turned serious and deep. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. My lips tingled, yearning for it, but instead he asked me, “Who are you, love?” His eyes were pools of warmth and all things nice. They hypnotized me, pulling me in. But by falling into their depth, I risked drowning.

“I’m the girl you refused to have sex with. So what is it? You want drugs? I don’t give it away. But if it means you’ll leave me alone, I’ll sell you whatever you want.”

He was quiet. “Oh, you dig alternative music. I like it.”

His approval sent a giddy satisfaction through my body that I refused to acknowledge. “I have spent all the days of my existence waiting for your approval.”

“No… You can’t be serious!”

“I am?” I asked, confused.

“What I meant is ‘Will you marry me?’”

“What?”

“You dig Bob Marley, and
Redemption Song
is in a playlist titled ‘Favorites.’ You, love, are a woman after my own heart.”

“Are you for real?”

“Shush…,” he said, placing a finger on my lips. “These lyrics deserve a moment of reverence. Bob was the man, he sang like a prophet,” he said and joined Marley. I looked up at him. Eyes closed, drumming fingers, lips moving, face full of emotion. Shit, I was in deep trouble. With his cocky smile and insistent presence, he was slowly crumbling the walls surrounding my heart.

When the song ended, I felt a desperate need to say something to diminish the intimacy engulfing us. “So, what’s your vice?”

“You. You’re my drug. And I’m beyond recovery.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You’re so addictive.”

“Do those shitty pick-up lines really work?”

He propped himself up on his elbow, gazed at me, and asked, “You tell me. Are they?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were inquisitive, and if I was not mistaken, insecure and vulnerable.

I wanted to have a smart comeback, but my mind reeled.

Caleb caressed my cheek and kissed me. He slipped the comforter over us and we snuggled. Christina Perri sang about a little bluebird and a broken heart.

I blocked away my resistance and fell captive to his spell, allowing my heart to beat in time with the moment. Deep in my soul, I felt every kiss. I carved every moment of that evening inside the contours of my heart.

Soon the crazy chemistry sizzling between us would run its course, and I would go back to the old frigid version of myself. But at that moment I opened enough to feel the air of my room, still and permeated with his scent. To absorb the warmth of his body, the touch of his hand, the thump of his heart beneath my fingers, the sound of his occasional laughter, the sight of his grin, the stillness of the dark quietly stretching across my room.

If I could harness snippets of time for eternity, I would choose that moment with our legs tangled under my purple comforter, laughing, kissing, touching, and whispering until we fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was Monday. The other side of my bed was empty leading me to wonder if the previous night had been a dream. I rolled to my side and found a note on the pillow that still held on to the unique and heady scent that was Caleb.

Good Morning Love,

Sorry I couldn’t be here to wake you up. Had to go home and change for school. Already miss you.

And, oh, in case you were wondering, I did kiss your lips before I leaped out the window. Your response? Well, I’d rather tell you that in person.

See you at school.

PS. When you’re sleeping you’re as ethereal as a celestial being, and it feels sinful for a mere mortal like me to witness such a heavenly sight.

The paper crackled inside my balled fingers as I brought the small note to my chest. It was disturbing, but I did swoon.

Oh my, oh my, I was in deep trouble. Though those were just scribbled words, they seemed dangerous, like a vibrant, venomous snake lurking in a corner, waiting to bite. I needed an antivenin to protect my heart. However, for the first time in years, I didn’t have a second plan.

I WENT THROUGH my daily routine with a novel sense of expectation stirring inside my chest. It was like a volcano waking up after a long slumber, a slow and continuing stir before it finally erupted. I wasn’t sure how to deal with these new emotions and this new situation. Yeah, I know I claimed to be badass. Nevertheless, I was still a teenager, vulnerable to hormones. I hated to admit it, but I had fallen for Caleb. Hard. To add insult to the whole circus that had become my life, I yearned to listen to his voice, especially when he called me love. Yep, I hardly recognized myself.

Hunched over my desk, lost in reverie, I drew loops inside loops, hardly noticing when Caleb sat in the empty seat beside me.

“Good morning, love. How did you sleep?”

Without looking up, I heard Megan whisper, “Are they an item?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jessica responded.

“Didn’t sleep much, but had a fantastic night.” I shrugged. “Although as a consequence, my body is seriously sore.”

Caleb frowned in confusion. Then he glanced at Jessica and Megan and awareness filled his features. Mr. Banks called the class to session. Before I focused on what he was saying, I heard Jessica murmuring in a not-so-quiet voice, “Gross! She should use all her drug money to buy some class. Oh yeah! You can’t buy class. You’re either born with it or not.”

Jessica one, Luna zip. Did I reply? Absolutely not. Did I care? No, not really. I was beyond wasting precious energy worrying about other people’s opinions.

When the ringing of the bell ended the first torture session of the day, I jolted out of my chair and headed out. From my periphery, I had a glimpse of Jessica’s body blocking Caleb’s path, her hand planted on his chest. The chest I had rested my head on all night long. An unidentified emotion surged through my body making me feel like a raging primate. One coherent thought flooded my mind: breaking every finger on Jessica’s detestable hand.

With a heaviness in my chest, I zoomed to Literature class, the second torture chamber of the day.

At lunchtime, I spotted Jake sitting with Pat. I gathered a tray and filled it with a mango salad and chicken sandwich when familiar hands slid around my waist. My body went rigid. Fighting every fiber of my being, I gathered my strength and stepped away from the warmth of Caleb’s body.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed.

“Hugging my girl?”

“I. Am. No. One’s. Girl.”

“Oh. My apologies. After last night, I assumed there was more to us.”

“You shouldn’t go around making assumptions about people you barely know.” I turned back to the buffet and added a banana to my tray.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he said, putting a banana and a sandwich on his tray also.

“Last night was a hook-up, a meetup. Whatever the hell you want to call it. By no means has that given you a claim on me.”