The Lance Temptation (3 page)

For one mad moment, I almost ran over there and threw myself in his arms. Seeing him sent relief throughout my entire body. But then I realized where I was and who I was with. My relief morphed into cold dread.

I lurched ahead to the parking lot and tried to hide by walking directly in front of Lance, but I didn't hold out much hope. Even with his muscles, he was thin and wouldn't provide enough cover. There were heavy trees circling the parking lot, and even though their leaves were gone, I prayed they'd block us from Marc's view.

We approached a red vintage Mustang convertible. I knew it was vintage because my cousin had one, and it cost him every cent he had and then some. Pete unlocked the door. “Emili and Lance, you're in the back.”

Lance started to protest, but he must've seen the warning look of authority on his brother's face, and decided against it.

I grabbed Farah's arm and whispered, “Marc's here and he might've seen me.”

She pulled her arm free and glared at me. “Emili, we're ready to go,” she said aloud, her voice all candy-coated. She indicated the open door. “You first.”

I stared at her helplessly. “Did you hear? I don't know what to do.”

She leaned close. “Marc's boring! I've told you a million times. This is so much better. You'll thank me later.” She laughed up at Pete. “Okay, Pete, unlock the other side, and I'll slide right in.”

 

 

I got into the back seat of the car, and something shifted inside of me. The person I'd been my whole life evaporated right out of my body. I was no longer Emili Jones, the plain and predictable girl who could always be counted on to do the sane thing.

Now I was Emili, the girl willing to get in a car with a guy who wasn't her boyfriend. Emili, the girl who hoped her boyfriend wouldn't find her missing at the game.

Lance climbed in behind me. I wasn't stupid — I could see he had a major crush on Farah. But against his brother, he didn't have much of a chance. Oh, he could compete in the looks department, definitely. But the rest of it: age, possessions, his own car, a driver's license. No, not even a little.

Lance leaned toward me, his face a mere inch away. I could feel the sweat forming like dew on my upper lip. My eyes opened wide.

“Cecily, anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?” Our noses touched. All I could do was shake my head. His breath cascaded over my face, my mouth. He leaned in closer and his lips brushed mine. So soft, so warm. I stared into his eyes in the shadows of the back seat. I couldn't move. He kissed me again, a little longer this time. Then he rested back on his side of the seat and let out a soft laugh.

I caught Farah's glance in the rearview mirror. She gave me a gleeful smile.

My hand went to my mouth. I tried to slow my breathing. Lance had kissed me. Twice. It was completely different from Marc's kiss. Wonderfully different. My entire body tingled and a mixture of joy and fear trembled deep in my stomach. The shaking spread till I was sure Lance would feel it. I glanced over at his dark profile outlined against the car window.

If nothing else ever happened for the rest of my high school years, this would be enough.

He'd kissed me. I couldn't believe it. Me, Emili Jones. I tried to relax as Pete started the car and we took off. I'd no idea where we were going. I wanted to ask, but I thought it wouldn't be cool so I remained silent and kept my eyes straight ahead. Farah's body was draped over Pete's until I wondered how he could drive.

“Where are we headed?” Farah asked.

“You wanted to see where I live, right?”

Farah nodded in the dark. She snuggled even closer to him if that were possible.

I finally dared to look again at Lance's face. In the fleeting light from the street lamps, I saw it was rigid. He was mad, and I knew it had to do with Farah. My heart stalled. I wasn't enough for him. He couldn't compete with his brother, and I couldn't compete with Farah. And it was Farah he wanted. Did he regret kissing me already?

We headed down a shadowy side street. I wasn't sure which one, but guessed it didn't matter at that point.

“Here we are,” Pete said, stopping the car. “C'mon, let's go in.”

We were in front of a two-story brick building. There were maybe four apartments, but I couldn't be sure. The small gravel parking lot in front of the building was empty. There were no lights on in any of the apartments. On the upper walkway, one lone light bulb buzzed like a bug zapper. The whole place felt eerie, deserted.

“I'm below,” Pete said.

I must have appeared ridiculous, all tight and frozen. My body didn't want to move. My legs had gone numb. What would my mom say if she knew where I was? What would Marc think? Would anyone find out I'd left the game?

I had to be delusional. Of course someone would know I left the game. I'd done nothing to hide it. Jeannie's face crossed my mind. She had a big mouth, and I'd never known her to keep it shut.

“Come on, Cecily.” Lance pulled gently on my arm. “Let's go inside.”

My legs began to work and I followed him. The smell of pine air freshener was heavy as we walked into Pete's apartment. In my mind, I saw myself entering Hansel and Gretel's forest heading straight for the witch's candy trap. Pete switched on a lamp. Its feeble light flickered, making tall shadows across the floor. The living room was small, scrunched. One shabby plaid loveseat was shoved up against a pale gray wall. Next to it was a flat screen TV with a pile of remotes littering the floor. Under the window was a round table with two rickety-looking chairs shoved underneath. A computer sat on the table, its power light blinking.

The tiniest kitchen I'd ever seen was at the opposite end of the room. There was a microwave, a fridge that wouldn't reach a short person's knees, and a sink. Random posters of motorcycles scattered the walls.

Everything was clean and straightened as if Pete knew he'd be having company. Two doors led off the living room.

“The bathroom.” Pete pointed. He nodded toward the other door. “And the bedroom.”

Farah's eyebrows rose. She twirled in the middle of the room. “This is a great apartment. Show me the bedroom.”

Was she going to desert me? Meaning I'd be out here alone with Lance? This was miles out of my comfort zone. My hands balled into fists. How had I let Farah drag me into one of her love nests?

“Farah…” I started.

“The bedroom?” Farah asked, leaning into Pete.

He laughed. “Come on then.” He opened the door, and they went through. Farah closed it behind her with a definite click.

I thought I heard Lance mumble, “Jerk,” under his breath, but I couldn't be sure. He studied me and gestured toward the loveseat. “C'mon Cecily, let's sit.”

I didn't want to sit, didn't even want to be there. This was beyond awkward. I knelt on the rug by the pile of remotes and began organizing them by size, placing them in front of me like a puzzle.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked. My hand froze above the remotes. I'd heard that tone before — what he truly meant was, “What kind of weirdo are you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“C'mon. Leave them.” His voice was soft, coaxing.

I looked up. His eyes were incredible — he could be a wizard or something. I gave him my hand and he pulled me to him.

“Let's sit,” he said again.

He led me to the loveseat and we sat. “No need to waste a good evening.” His voice was suggestive, and he sidled up to me. “They're obviously busy in there.”

I tipped my head toward the closed bedroom door. “My friend, Farah,” I said.

“My brother, Pete,” he answered. His face tightened for a moment, but then he shook it off.

“Want to watch TV?” I asked, chewing the inside of my lip.
Brilliant.

“Cecily, we can surely come up with something better.”

He leaned in and kissed me. I tensed.

“Hey.” He was whispering now, his tone amused. “Would you loosen up? I'm not going to bite you.”

I coughed nervously. “I know.” I hardly got the words out when he kissed me again. I wished I could say I pushed him away. I should have, and I intended to. At least for the first couple of minutes. But his mouth on mine felt so delicious I did nothing but kiss him back — winding my arms around him.

So this is what t
he girls in the bathroom meant.
It
was
worth gushing about.

I thought back to my kisses with Marc. I hadn't truly kissed him at all. I hadn't even given him a chance. If we'd kissed like this… I stiffened.

I was a total jerk.

“Cis, what's wrong? You've gone all tense again.”

I pushed against him. “I need to leave. I honestly need to leave now.”

“An attack of conscience?” He laughed softly. “It's okay, Cis, I won't tell a soul. I like you. You can trust me.”

He moved in to kiss me again, but I pulled back and stood up. My legs wobbled, and for a panicked moment I thought I might fall right on top of him.

“Can your brother take me home?” I detested the pleading tone in my voice, but I had a burning desire to talk to Marc, to make this right somehow.

“Maybe, but why not stay?”

Confusion clouded my brain.
What should I do?
This thing with Lance couldn't,
shouldn't
go any further. I stared again at the bedroom door.

Lance grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. I landed right on top of him. He breathed heavily and circled my waist with his arm, holding me tight. He nuzzled into my neck, kissing my shoulders under my T-shirt. Then his lips found mine.

Time stopped and I melted into him.

The computer on the table buzzed, breaking the spell.

What am I doing?

I scrambled up. “I have to go.”

“Pete's occupied. Stay longer — just a few more minutes.”

I shook my head and went to the bedroom door and knocked. “Farah, let's go,” I called through. “It's getting late…”

I heard some scuffling and the door opened. It was Farah. Her cheeks were flushed and her fierce red hair fell messily across her face. Her eyes were shooting fire. “What do you mean late? The evening's hardly started.”

Then she seemed to truly look at me. Her face softened and she sighed. “Oh, all right, Emili, we can go. You look pathetic. Pete, can you take us to Emili's house?”

It took a minute before Pete appeared at the door. He was straightening his shirt. “You got it, babe. But I want a rematch.”

“Goes without saying,” answered Farah.

I didn't utter a word on the way home. My brain screamed, proclaiming me a cheat and a liar. It was relentless. My insides hurt, like sandpaper had taken up residence. I could feel Lance's eyes boring into me, but I kept mine straight ahead.

“Wait,” I cried as we neared my house. “Just let us off here. Don't take us all the way.”

“Come on, Emili, why not?” Farah asked.

“Mrs. Sander doesn't drive a Mustang.”

“You think your parents are glued to the window? You think they care what kind of car lets you off?” Farah asked.

Lance laughed.

“No problem, Emili,” Pete said. “I can drop you guys here.”

He pulled over to the curb, and I practically tripped crawling out of the car.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.
Was I actually
thanking him for letting me p
rove I
was
disloyal
?

Farah opened the car door and got out. She tugged on her skirt with one hand then ducked halfway back into the front seat.

“Pete, great evening — too short, but great.” She twisted around, shot me a pointed look, then leaned back into the car to smother Pete with a long kiss.

Finally, she came up for air. “I'm holding you to a rematch.”

“I'll be waiting,” he replied.

Farah shut the door, and the car peeled off. I could see Lance looking at us through the back window. We started down the block, Farah following me with huge overblown moans.

“Honestly, Emili, you're such a party-pooper. We were having a great time.”

I stopped and glared at her. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes wide. “Just saying,” she said.

We got home and went inside. No one was in the living room. “Mom, we're back,” I called. I didn't see her, but I knew she'd hear me. I shoved Farah down the hall into my bedroom.

Farah plopped on the bed. “Pete is absolutely better than I ever dreamed. We were having such a great time until you…”

“I know,” I said sharply. “I'm the poop who ruined your evening.” I sat down on the bed. “Did you…”

Farah peered at me and rolled her eyes. “It's rude to kiss and tell. But Pete's not a total fool. He knows he's older than me and it wouldn't be smart.”

Why did I get the feeling she was reciting a line instead of telling the truth?

She gazed off into space. “But oh, the preliminaries.”

“Preliminaries? Are you kidding me? That's what you're calling them?”

“Oh grow up,” she said. “You're so busy judging every single thing in this universe you can't enjoy anything.”

I sat there, silent.

“Well, it's true Emili,” she continued. “I've been trying for months to get you to shake it off and have some fun in life.” She leaned back on her elbows. “Why do I even bother?”

“I wouldn't know.”

She sat up and tugged on my sleeve. “But you have to admit, it was fun wasn't it? I know you like Lance.”

Her face radiated playful eagerness, and I couldn't help smiling. “I don't want to like him. I have a boyfriend.”

“Yes, yes, I know. The perfect and proper Marc Rounder.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled. “Marc's nice; even you have to admit it.”