Someone to Love (14 page)

The small office is crammed with six other
girls, and holy shit—one of them happens to be Molly.

I speed on over.

“I thought you said this was a
refill
,” I hiss.

“I never said those words. I said, I ‘ran
out.’” She pinches a smile, and her dark brows peak in a malevolent
manner.

“Ran out of what?”

“Patience.” She spits it in my face.

I take in a breath, shaking at the thought of
being tricked into getting her on the
pill
of all
things.

“Patience? I’ve run out of exactly that.” I
warn her.

We sit through a quick debriefing, but I’m so
hopped up on my newfound insanity I don’t hear a word they say.
Afterward, I practically drag her out into the blizzard-like
conditions, so I can drill her a new one in peace.

“What the hell was that about?” I ask as she
makes her way to the passenger’s side of the car.

I unlock it, and we get in.

She dusts the snow off her sleeves before
answering. “Look, I owe you one. Okay?” She shakes her head as
though I should be grateful for her divisive services.

We drive home through stunted silence. I’m
sure Molly is secretly doing the happy dance at what a live idiot I
am—and I can’t think straight to formulate two words because she
happens to be right.

I drop her off at the entrance to the bed and
breakfast.

“Molly?” I call to her just as she’s ready to
slam the door.

“Yes?” She gives a sweet smile, looking all
of twelve in the process.

“Do yourself a favor—wait for someone
special. Trust me, he’s not roaming the halls of your high school.
And if he were, he wouldn’t be sleeping with some girl named Tracy,
or Stacy, or anybody else. He’d only have eyes for you. Don’t give
away something you can never get back, save it for someone you love
and who really loves you, too.”

Molly sighs, expelling an entire plume of
smoke from her lips.

“Yeah, whatever.” She slams the door with a
marked finality and runs toward the glorified hotel.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was
starting to believe in something that just a month ago I would have
bet was nothing but a myth.

Love.

I guess it really does exist.

Yeah, whatever.

Cruise

The snow bears down on us as we make our way
into the Cineplex 10 where our respective dates are waiting. Kenny
looks hotter than hell in her denim jacket, skinny jeans, and
heels, but unfortunately, judging by her blue limbs and purple
lips, she’s about to turn into the world’s cutest Popsicle. I did
happen to notice she’s lacking in the winter coat department. If I
didn’t need every dime to eat I’d help her out. Might just do that
anyway.

“So who’s Pen bringing?” She glows as she
looks up at me.

A cold chill tingles through my spine at the
idea Kenny might have thought she was my date.

Pennington speeds in this direction before I
can rectify the situation with Monique hot on his heels. Her hair
flows down her back like a flame, and she’s wearing those
thigh-highs she’s famous for. I’ve seen her in them at least a
couple times with nothing else but a smile.

Shit
.

“Oh my gawd!” Monique lunges at me with a
running start and hikes her legs around my hips. She leaves me
physically spinning, already dry humping me in the foyer of the
theater. “I have missed you!” She pokes her finger in my stomach
before dipping down to my crotch. “But I’ve missed
you
even
more,” she sings.

“Whoa!” I set her down, almost afraid to
glance at Kenny. Her lids hang low. I can’t tell if she’s pissed or
about to cry. She wraps an arm around Pennington, and it’s only
then I notice they’ve both accessorized with their matching purses.
Something about it rubs me the wrong way, even if it was
accidental.

“I guess it’s me and you, Pen,” she says it
sultry, like she means it and begins to nibble on his ear. Her
teeth graze over his earlobe, and she cuts me a glance before
moaning into the endeavor.

My stomach clenches just witnessing the
unholy encounter. That should be my fucking ear.

Shit. This isn’t going as planned. And what
the hell did I plan anyway? Driving her wild with jealousy so she
could hone in on any feelings she might have for me? And now Pen
and his extra-curricular cartilage are getting all the
attention.

“Let’s do it.” I pull Monique in by the
shoulder and lead us over to the ticket counter.

We all agree on a horror movie,
The Damned
and the Restless.
I suppose I’m the damned tonight for shoving
a perfectly good Kendal Jordan in my horny little bro’s direction.
Monique would be the restless in this equation since she’s already
felt up my crotch a half a dozen times, no matter how hard I try to
evade her efforts.

“I’m buying.” Pennington volunteers like its
some heroic effort on his part. Nothing like being financially
emasculated by Pen to further toss the night into the crapper.

Kenny looks over her shoulder at Monique and
outright scowls. For a second I think the claws are going to show,
but Kenny reverts and twitches out a charitable smile.

Do I detect that Kendall Jordan is, dare I
say, jealous? My adrenaline kicks in at the prospect. I sling an
arm over Monique’s shoulder, inspiring her to snuggle in deeper. I
believe this is feeding in beautifully to my original misguided
intentions. And, since we’ve already met up with the green-eyed
monster before getting out the gate, I’d say the evening is off to
a pretty damn good start. I’m hoping at the end of the covetous
rainbow lies a pot of golden affection. And right now there’s
nothing more I want than Kendall Jordan’s affection.

I gaze into Monique and moan. “Popcorn?” I’d
hate for Kenny to miss the real show, the one in which I
accidentally drive her into my arms. I jab an elbow into Kenny.
“What about you? I’ll spring.”

Her perfect pink mouth falls open as she
takes in the body slinked around mine.

“Pennington, what do you think?” she asks,
latching onto him, with her long slender arms and my insides
explode in a ball of acid.

“For you?” He slips his hand around her waist
far below her hip, and I see her fidget, trying to keep him from
hitting pay dirt. “I’d buy the left side of the menu if you
wanted.” He dots the sentiment by planting a kiss in her ear.

Who the hell kisses someone in their ear?
Idiot.

Pen loads us all up on enough junk food to
proficiently rot the teeth out of our skulls before the movie’s
over. I specifically told him I didn’t want any. The last thing I
want is to look like a charity case, but it’s me who ends up
hauling all the crap to the theater.

Kenny leans into Monique. “You guys mind if
we sit by you?”

My heart thumps a little faster at the idea
of Kenny wanting to sit together.

“We can trade Gummy Bears and Sour Patch
Kids.” Kenny nods at the sexual python currently strapped to my hip
as if this confection-based currency were the sole purpose of
securing proximal seating arrangements. And sadly, it very well
could be.

I lead us over to the middle right, my usual
landing place. I don’t care what anybody says, it’s the best place
to see a movie. I let Pen slide in first, then Kenny, and I’m quick
to file in after her.

First of all, I’m not that into horror
flicks. If really want to scare the crap out of myself, I’ll
consult the file marked “student loans.” I nearly shit a brick the
last time I looked at the running total.

Monique dips her hand under my shirt and
slips those icicles she calls fingers inside. There’s nothing wrong
with Monique. In fact, she happened to be at the gym when I was
setting things up with Pen and overheard the conversation. She
practically volunteered to be my date. I’ve slept with her at least
twice, although the details are fuzzy. All I remember is her hair
falling in my eyes while she rode me like a stallion.

The theater dims to pitch and I envision
Kenny riding me like that—her long, glossy mane whipping me
softly.

I move my jacket over my jeans in the event
my spontaneous salute to Kenny, decides to cause a scene.

I look over and note she’s stealing sideways
glances every chance she gets. Monique’s hand flops like a fish
over my leg until it bounces onto my crotch, and I shift away in
the event she feels inspired to help me release a little tension. I
don’t need much deliberation to know I’m not going there again with
Monique, tonight or any other night.

Kenny cinches her lips and slides toward Pen.
His hand slithers over her shoulder, landing square over her tit
like a freaking missile shield.

Crap.

My breathing grows erratic by the minute
because I’m about to beat the shit out of my brother for feeling up
my girlfriend.

Did I just call Kenny my girlfriend?

First, I’m talking love, and now I’m on the
brink of some romantic commitment? I glance over at Monique—the
lust-driven look in her eyes, her legs already parting with the
invitation. I could have her if I want to. I’m sure there’s an
empty corner or bathroom stall just waiting for the two of us. It’s
obvious she’d be more than up for the challenge. But nothing in me
wants to play that game again. It was empty, shallow, and felt like
I was falling down a bottomless pit with no comfort, and no rest,
and for damn sure nothing a box of condoms could cure.

The movie drones on and Monique begins
gnawing at my ear, inspiring me to deflect her efforts. I have no
clue what the hell is going on with the movie because all I keep
thinking about is how the fuck long Pen is going to act like some
human boob warmer.

Kenny looks over at me and catches my gaze.
She glances down and makes a face at the vile limb in question
until she delicately removes it from her person. I give a little
smile as my entire body exhales with relief.

Monique dives her hand between my legs. I’d
better douse this fire before Kenny tries to one up us in the movie
make-out department and turns this into some kind of copulation
relay.

“You mind?” I say it nice enough, but there’s
never a good way to tell someone to stop trying to have sex with
you.

Kenny leans toward me, and I shift in her
direction until our shoulders rest up against one another. I drop
my hand low, hoping she’ll do the same. Her fingers brush up
against mine until we slowly interlace, and my heart races like a
sixteen-year-old about to get lucky at prom. Holding hands in a
dark theater with Kenny outweighs every public sex act I’ve ever
committed. This was gratifying, satisfying, and intensely erotic
all on its own.

I’m in love with Kenny.

There it is.

I’ve broken the worst promise I’ve ever made
to myself, to never fall in love again. But Kenny is definitely no
Blair. She’s a million times better. For once, I’m thankful things
ended the way they did for me last summer, or I wouldn’t be sitting
here holding hands with the only girl on the planet I want to be
with.

She gives my hand a squeeze and rubs tiny
circles over the top with the warm pad of her thumb.

Kenny Jordan is by my side, and all is right
with the world.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was
starting to have feelings for me, too.

Kendall

The Syllabus

Early Tuesday morning, on what will
officially be my first day at Garrison, I pull back the curtain and
catch a glimpse of the dark, angry sky. The brooding clouds, all
dressed up and nowhere to go, lie stagnant overhead like a layer of
black coals. The evergreens stretch their branches toward heaven in
hopes to burst the pregnant sacks, but are impotent to the
challenge, and the earth remains dry, thirsty for something that
might never come.

The sun has no hope in a place like this. I’m
not sure I can get used to a world without sunshine, but the snow,
the friendly footprints of the birds and squirrels stamped
throughout the roadside, more than make up for its loss. Then
there’s Cruise. The way his smile widens when he sees me, those
brilliant flashing teeth that would make pearls ashamed of their
color, the five o’clock shadow affording him that perennial bad-boy
look. He reduces me to dust and ashes without even trying. There’s
no doubt Cruise Elton is unforgivably sexy. How I long for him to
be mine. How thirsty I am for his body and soul to want me the way
I desperately want him. I wonder if that shower of affection will
ever come. If it will ever be genuine or just some lesson on how to
score a homerun.

The double dating debacle runs through my
mind. I’m such an idiot for thinking Cruise would ever want to be
my date. But he sort of was in the end, and that’s all that
matters. I can still feel his fingers relaxing over mine, warming
me with his palm, the current that ran through us, alive and
anxious. Cruise and his affection seem as innocent as a downed
power line thrashing in a pool of water. Loving Cruise would only
hurt in the end, cause irreparable damage if I’m not careful. But
I’m not all that interested in being careful anymore.