Chapter 7

Zack

So, I guess you could say I had a pretty fabulous Monday. Hillary Cantrell, of all people, asked me to tutor her, and, unless I was getting my signals all wrong, she seemed interested in me. I should have been excited about the possibilities the evening held. But I wasn't, really. I was, however, nervous. I mean, she'd done some modeling work for Teen Vogue, which I was told is the sluttier version of Seventeen magazine. And until I'd won the quarterback position last year, I'd been a Nobody. Now I was a Nobody with a quarterback position, which gave my status a slight nudge. But Hillary Cantrell was way out of my league. Like she was in the majors and I was batting Pee Wee Ball. And, to make matters worse, I had to wait until Wednesday for our little study session, as I had to work both Monday and Tuesday nights.

But I made it to Wednesday. After practice I rushed home to make sure the cleanup job I'd done in my room the night before was still, you know, relatively clean—although only my mom and I were at home, so no one was there to mess it up. I'm not sure why I was worried about it. I showered, changed into fresh clothes, the stage was all set... and I was pretty sure I just heard her car pull up.

I ran down the stairs, almost wiping out on the landing, then tried to look cool while taking a peek out from behind the curtains of our front window. Tossing her hair, she glided out of her killer red Mustang convertible, reaching back in for her books as if they were an afterthought. When she came around the front of her car I could fully appreciate what she was wearing—slicked on, leathery black pants with some sequins on them and a matching crop top, tight and... very supportive.

"Holy shit!"

"What was that Zackary?"

I jumped. "Mom, geez! Don't sneak up on a guy like that."

"Sorry." She was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "I want to meet your new girlfriend."

"Mom." I whispered, although I doubt Hillary could make us out through the wood door. "I told you. She's not a girlfriend, she's a study partner."

My mom glanced over to where Hillary was walking by our windows, along the sidewalk leading to our front door.

"Not in that, she's not."

I frowned. "Mom."

"Okay, Zack. Okay."

The doorbell rang.

I waited to open it. I didn't want to appear too anxious.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Could you give me some space?"

"Fine." She "dusted" the coffee table with the kitchen towel. I sighed and opened the door.

"Hi, Hillary."

"Zaaack." She tried to slide her hand around my waist but I backed up so she could see my mom staring at her with her mouth hanging open.

I cleared my throat. "Uhh, Hillary, this is my mom."

Her tone of voice changed completely. "Well, very nice to meet you, Mrs. Issaacs." She shook my mom's hand, and Mom had to put the rag down to do it. "And is Mr. Issaacs home?"

Mom cringed at that, but recovered. "Umm, no. He died two years ago."

"Oh." She turned back to me. "Well, are we going upstairs...?"

"You guys would probably be more comfortable at the kitchen table," my mom suggested.

I shook my head vigorously but when Hillary looked in my direction, I straightened and ran a hand through my hair. "I thought we'd go upstairs. It's quieter."

Mom smiled. "I won't make any noise." Why was she acting so weird? She never acted this way when Zoe was over.

"Oh. We don't want to disturb you Mrs. Issaacs. Come on, Zack."

Hillary took my hand and led me up the stairs while my mom shot her a dirty look. "But remember, we have an open door policy...."

I knew we had a rule, I needed to keep my door open if I had a female visitor, but it was never enforced, so it was strange that she mentioned it. I shook my head and mouthed, "Mom!" as Hillary dragged me upstairs.

My mom held her open hands up and mouthed, "What?" Although I was certain she knew she was embarrassing me.

"To the right," I told Hillary when she reached the top of the stairs.

She entered my room and dropped her books with a thud on my desk. "So. Nice room," she said in a voice that clearly stated it wasn't.

"Yeah. I haven't done much in the way of decorating." Like, nothing. Twin beds were set up against the wall on either side of the window, and I had some car posters hung that Zoe had given me when I was saving for my car. I had an old beat-up desk under the window, but it was my dad's, so it meant a lot for me to have it there. And my desk was at the foot of the bed to the left as we entered.

Hillary spun in a circle, checking the small space out. I heaved my backpack up to my bed to get my stuff out. She opened my closet doors, which was the one area I hadn't gotten around to cleaning.

"Oh, my gosh. How do you deal with this little closet space?"

I looked over. "Uhh... I don't know. It's never really been a problem." I turned back to search for a pencil. I found one and spun around as she was closing my bedroom door. "Oh. Umm. My mom has that rule about the door being open...." I felt like an idiot saying it.

"And you're going to listen to that?"

I froze for a second, then shrugged. "It is her house."

Without turning around, she opened it with a disgusted look on her face and sashayed over to flop on my bed. "It's your house, too," she griped, checking her phone.

I shrugged, then stood uncomfortably while she looked at her phone. "So, calculus. What part are you having trouble with?"

"Huh? I don't know. It doesn't matter."

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it would help to know where to start."

Her mouth dropped open and laughter filled her eyes. "Oh, my gosh." She abandoned her phone on the bed. "You really thought we were going to study, didn't you?"

I frowned. "That is what you said."

She advanced on me and took my book, spiral, and pencil and threw them on the far bed. "Oh. That's so cute." She grabbed me around the waist. "I love how cute you are." Ruffling my hair, she backed me into the closet door, out of sight of the door to the hall. "I bet your momma's good boy, aren't you?" Her hands dropped over my ass and her lips locked onto mine. I was so surprised, I didn't react at first. Then I lost myself for a while to those lips.

Until she started moaning. Loudly.

"God. You're such a good kisser." She got out while changing angles.

A thrill ran through me.

"I knew you would be with those full lips. Mmm. Oh, yeah."

With some reluctance, I broke her lip-lock and straightened my arms to gain a few inches.

"My mom is go—" was all I could get out before she stretched and caught my lips again.

"Hillary, we have—" She was nothing if not persistent.

"Really, we have to stop." I dodged out of her arms. "If my mom hears us, we can say goodbye to staying up here."

"It would serve her right," she grumbled, "after making us keep the door open."

I bristled a touch at this, but didn't have much time to explore it as her next question baffled me.

"Are you sure it's that and not Zo-e?" She said her name like a song, and stuck a hand on her hip.

"Zoe? What would Zoe have to do with anything?"

She shrugged. "You guys are together all the time...."

"Oh." I laughed. "Zoe's my neighbor. We've known each other since we were little. And we still hang out some—shoot hoops, that kind of thing."

"O-o-oh. That's why." She rushed over to the window. "Is that her house?"

"Yes, actually."

"Hmm... I pictured more of a trailer. I guess her dad is a lawyer, though. You'd think they'd have one of those huge places in Hawthorn Heights."

Zoe in a trailer? "It's really nice inside. Plus, he had a lot of debt from his first marriage."

"Ooh. He was married before?" She bounced onto my bed. "Dish."

"Uhh," I wasn't comfortable discussing the McCords with her. "I don't know much." I sat on the floor, leaning against the other bed.

"What? I thought you all were pals?" She said it like an accusation.

I shrugged. "We are. We just don't discuss that kind of stuff much." It was a lie, but I wouldn't feed in to her nosy obsession with Zoe's family.

She got up and returned to the window, sliding my curtain back to look out. "Too bad. Mr. McCord is a hottie. I'd do him anytime."

Okay, that's weird.

It's one thing for my mom to fantasize about him, but Hillary was like, twenty years younger or something. "No offense, but I don't think he'd give you a chance. He's happily married now."

"Happily married or not, they all come around eventually."

What did one say to that? I couldn't tell if my unease about the conversation was more about my being nervous about having one of the most sought after girls in school in my bedroom, or if I didn't really like her. I wanted to give her a chance though.

"Well, I doubt he would cheat on her, especially when they're having a baby soon."

She clapped her hands together. "Yeah. I heard. Zoe must be mortified."

"Mortified? Why?"

"Well... it's proof her parents are doing the nasty."

I laughed. "That's one way to look at it, I guess. But if you saw them together, you'd know by the way they look at each other. And Zoe's really excited about having another baby brother."

Oops. I'm giving her too much information.

Hillary got on the floor on all fours and crawled towards me. "Why don't you play some music and we can get-it-on without your mom being any the wiser?" Her voice was seductive.

Okay. This is my shot. I just need to relax.

I smiled, leaned forward, and initiated the first kiss.

She took her lips away long enough to say, "Mmm. Music."

I whipped out my phone, shuffling the music. Seether's "Fine Again," came on and, since it's one of my favorite songs, I took it as a good omen.

She paused a few seconds later. "What is this shit?"

Or maybe not such a good omen.

"Uhh... Seether."

"Don't you have any Rihanna, or Taylor Swift, or something?"

"Umm... no." Never.

"Katy Perry?"

I shook my head. I skimmed through my music for anything she might enjoy. "What about Imagine Dragons?"

"No way. Miley Cyrus?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Why don't we listen to KISS FM then?"

"Okay." I hopped up and turned on my dad's clock radio. "What's the number?"

She looked stricken. "You don't know the number for KISO?"

"I'm afraid not." I smiled. "I guess my taste in music sucks."

I kind of expected her to say something about different people appreciate different things. Instead, she said, "You got that right. It's 96.1."

I found the station and she patted the floor next to her. I took my place again and we started kissing, but my mind was reeling. Could I date a girl who didn't like Seether? It seemed highly unlikely. Unfathomable really.

She unbuttoned my shirt a few buttons and I slit my eyes and caught sight of her cleavage.

Wait. Wait. Maybe I can. I need to be open-minded.

But my mind wandered back to my first concert.

* * *

Zoe and I went to see Seether in Omaha. Her dad was nice enough to offer to drive us. Then my mom volunteered to come, too. I knew she wanted to score some one-on-one time with Mr. McCord. They went to dinner while we jammed. My mom was nervous because our tickets were for the floor. And, to be honest, I did pretty quickly have to figure out where to place myself to make sure no one wiped Zoe out. It was pretty wild in there. And Zoe was the wildest of them all. Not drunk, violent, obnoxious wild, but dancing and singing her head off wild. We talked about the concert the whole ride home, vowing to catch them again next time they were in the area.

When my mom and I got home, I asked her how things went with Mr. McCord. Since Dad was gone, she shared things with me more. She got this funny look on her face and said, "Well, Zack... I've never been turned down in a nicer way before." She smiled. "I could tell he wasn't expecting it, but he was so sweet. To tell you the truth, I think he was more upset about rejecting me than I was about being rejected. He approached it logically, in a very lawyerish way, and explained living next door to each other, things might be difficult if the relationship ended. I offered to move across town."

"You didn't."

"Yes. I'm afraid I did." She chuckled. "We had a good laugh over it, and he gave me a hug. And that was that." She paused, then asked, "It sounded as if you and Zoe enjoyed the concert."

"Oh. It was amazeballs."

She wrinkled her forehead. "I take it that means good?"

"That means awesome."

* * *

Zoe introduced me to Seether. And Three Days Grace. I introduced her to Avenged Sevenfold and Breaking Benjamin. Any one of which was infinitely better than the crap pouring out of my radio's speakers right now. As I let my thoughts drift, Hillary let her hands drift—into my pants. I jumped.

"Uhh... I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh." She quickly removed her hands.

"Be back in a second."

When I closed the bathroom door behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief. I mean, it was all a bit much. Before last week I wasn't even sure she could tell me my name. I knew I should go with the flow, but I couldn't somehow. I needed to be straight with her. I took one more deep breath and returned to the room.

When I came back in, she was lying on her stomach in one of the beds with her feet kicking to the rhythm of the new Ed Sheeran song, which I actually kind of liked. In that one moment, she looked pretty cute and innocent, until she noticed me.

She sat. "Hey baby. Feeling all better and ready to roll?" She shot me a wicked smile.

I sat on the opposite bed and she stared at me. "Hillary. I want to be honest with you."

She nodded, which was encouraging.

"This is all... well... going a little fast for me. I really want to get to know you better, before we dive in... too deep. You know what I mean?"

"Not really." She looked at the carpeting for a second. "But I guess I'd be willing to give it a try. What do you want to know about me?"

I sighed. "Well why don't you tell me about your modeling. How you got into it, what you like about it, what you don't like about it...."

"Okay." She crossed her legs beneath her, which I would have sworn she couldn't do in those tight leather pants. "I started when I was fourteen."

She had to grow up fast, then.

"My aunt owns an agency in Chicago. She actually had me in front of a camera when I was a baby, and we had a ton of shoots when I was a toddler—"

"I'd love to see those some time."

She blinked. "You would?"

"Sure. I bet you were cute."

She smiled. "Well, of course." She paused.

"Do you enjoy doing it?"

"What?"

"Modeling. Do you enjoy it?"

"You know, I've been doing it so long, I don't even think about it. But, yeah... I guess I like it. And the money is insane. I've almost got my college education paid for."

"No shit?"

"No, really. And as far as not liking something about it, I think most models would say having to be super cautious about everything going in their mouth, whether it could affect their body in any way. But I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess. I can eat anything I want and I stay about the same weight. My mom says it'll catch up with me someday, but by that time I'll be old and ugly and won't care."

"I bet some of the other models hate you for that, huh?" I was only kidding, but she took me seriously.

"Yes. And let me tell you, a hungry bitch is a scary bitch."

I cracked up. "You're funny."

She laughed, too. "This is nice, Zack. No one ever asks me about myself."

I'm sure most were happy to use her. Although she didn't exactly make that difficult.

"Well, I'm glad you're having fun. Do you want some popcorn?"

"Yeah. That sounds good."

I stood and offered her my hand. "Come on. Let's make some." On the way downstairs I asked, "So, are your parents comfortable with your modeling?"

"Oh, ho, ho. My mom is. I think if it was up to her, I would have quit school and we would have moved to New York. My dad, on the other hand, can't stand the fact that I do it. He won't come right out and say so, but he still makes that clear."

To my surprise, Mom had made herself scarce. I was actually shocked to find she wasn't hanging around outside my bedroom. I was reminded of a story about my mom and a mouse we once caught, so I told it to Hillary while we made popcorn. It seemed to freak her out.

"But you haven't seen one in a long while, right?"

We had one nearly every winter. That was the result of living in the middle of cornfields. "No. It's been ages." I didn't want her to be scared while she was at our house. And I hadn't seen a mouse in our house this early in the season, ever.

We took our popcorn upstairs and talked about her little sister, Sydney, who was twelve. The two didn't get along at all. In fact, I could tell she detested Sydney.

I decided, when I could get Hillary to stop jumping my bones, she was actually all right. She tended to be a bit more cynical than I am, but I thought she might have reason to be. Living in a world where most women hate you, and most men think of you as a sexual plaything, it would be hard to be up all the time.

But at the same time... I noticed she never once asked about me. Asked about my family, my job, football, school—anything.

"Zack, I want to be honest with you, too."

This could be progress. "Okay."

"This whole taking it slow thing, just ain't the way I roll. I'm willing to go along with it, but if I find another guy who puts out, I'll be gone as fast as my Mustang can take me."

I knew that was pretty fast. "I guess that's only fair. But I hope it won't come to that."

"Me, too," she said, but I could tell she meant she was hoping I'd step it up a tad. She stood. "I've got practice, so...." She moved toward the door. I got up to walk her out. "You sure you don't want to...."

She grabbed me behind the neck and reeled me in. She bit my upper lip, then covered my mouth with hers. Her tongue danced with mine in a not totally unpleasant way. Desire rose as she pressed her hot little bod against mine. She grabbed my belt buckle and sirens cut through the passion fog she'd created. I wasn't ready to go there with her. Not now, anyway. I backed away and cleared my throat.

"Practice."

She frowned, seeming genuinely perplexed by my resistance. I held the door for her and waved her through. After a brief hesitation, she headed out. On impulse, I slapped her ass as she passed and she giggled.

"Ooh."

She traipsed down the stairs. "So, when are you taking me out?"

"Uhh...." This caught me by surprise. "Saturday?"

She shook her head. "We have a competition in Kansas City. I'll be gone all weekend."

I tried to remember my work schedule and the days of my games. "Next Saturday?"

She nodded. "That'll work." Looking around, she added, "Hey. Can I use the bathroom before I go?"

"Of course. It's down the hall. Right before you hit the kitchen, on your right. Oh. Your books." I turned back to get them.

"Leave 'em. You'll bring them for me in the morning, won't you?"

"Uhh... sure. But don't you need them for homework?"

She shrugged. "Nah. The Bachelor is on after practice, so...."

"Ahh. I see." I watched her walk away and shook my head.

I sure hoped she was good at her modeling, because, somehow, I wasn't sure if college was in her future.