High School—Junior Year
“Yo, Lane, I need a favor,” Murphy calls out, slapping me on the back while strolling past me in the guys’ locker room.
I tug on my T-shirt. “What’s up?”
He stops at a locker a few down from mine, opens it, and turns my way. “Put in a good word for me with Carolina.” A sly grin passes over his flushed, freckled face. Dude was struggling to hit twenty push-ups in gym class earlier. “You two are tight and all, right?”
A sour taste fills my mouth. Carolina Adams has always stayed in her own withdrawn world, but little by little, I’ve been tugging her into mine. That tugging has shone attention on her since we spend so much time together. That’s when I want to push her back into her world, away from the just-surpassed-puberty douche bags like Murphy.
“Sorry, dude. I have no good words to say,” I answer with a shrug.
He groans, throwing his head back. “Come on. Do your boy a favor.”
Murphy is not my boy. The only time I’ve been around him outside of school is in passing at parties. He’s a lightweight who brags and lies about hooking up with girls. No way in hell am I letting him near Carolina.
“Why do you want me to lie to her?”
He produces an overeager smile. “I’m asking her to prom.”
The fuck he is.
“No, you’re not,” I say with warning.
“Yes, I am,” he fires back, irritation growing in his tone.
“She already has a date. Me. Ask someone else.”
I snatch my bag from the bench and walk away without a backward glance. When I’m in the hall, I drag my phone from my back pocket, open my texts, and hit Carolina’s name.
Correction: the name she changed her contact to.
Me: Meet me at my car after school. I’m taking you home.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: Okay, Mr. Bossy. What’s up?
Me: It’s too much to text. My fingers hurt. They had quite the workout last night.
The Smartest and Coolest Girl in the World: Gross. If you meant for that to be a sex joke, it was weak sauce.
I can’t help but chuckle.
Me: See you at my car, you pain in the ass.
A year has passed since Carolina helped me write my paper.
Help meaning, we put off writing it and hung out instead. We watched TV. I taught her how to play my favorite video games, and we ate as if we were on death row and it was our last dinner.
Day after day, we hung out with the intention of writing that dumbass paper. I ended up writing it myself in twenty minutes and still scored an A.
Who said doing shit half-assed never got anyone anywhere?
After I turned in the paper, we kept hanging out, and somehow, we became friends—which was a fucking shock to us and everyone. She introduced me to chick flicks, and I introduced her to a thing called having fun—like taking her to parties, where she wasn’t allowed to leave my side. I’ve brought her out of her shell, and she’s calmed me.
Somehow, in some-fucking-way, we click.
I’m a dude who doesn’t want to get in her panties.
She’s a chick who doesn’t want to bang me.
There are no expectations between us.
We study. Watch movies. Go out for pizza.
She has dinner at my house at least two nights a week.
My mom fucking loves her.
Her parents, however, aren’t my biggest fans, but they keep their mouths shut because my family donates a shit-ton of money to her father’s church. Carolina hasn’t been banned from hanging out with me yet, but that doesn’t mean Pastor Adams hasn’t attempted to sway her view of me.
I grin when I find her at my car with a stack of books balanced in her arms. She’s wearing one of her signature sweaters, skinny jeans, and flats that tie up to her ankles. The sweater looks itchy and is ugly as hell, but I’ve learned to love them. A string of fake pearls lines her neck, and her deep black hair is straight, hitting her shoulders.
“What was so important that you had to text me during class?” she snaps when I reach her. “Mrs. Heath confiscated my phone in front of everyone and wrote me a warning.”
“Screw Mrs. Heath.” I grab her books from her arms. “Tell her you’re my best friend next time she pulls that shit. Guarantee she’ll hand it back in seconds.”
“What does that mean?” She scrunches up her nose. “Your family might be the Kennedys of Blue Beech, but I’d suggest you calm that ego down, good sir.” She turns around and gets into the Charger while I toss her books into the back seat before getting into the driver’s side.
“It means, Mrs. Heath attempted to confiscate my phone once. I made a compelling argument. She gave it back. Not to sound like a dick, but she’s scared of me.”
“Uh, that does make you sound like a dick.”
I shrug, starting the car.
“Are you going to tell me what your compelling argument was?” She makes a sour face. “God, please tell me you didn’t sleep with her. She’s married and as old as your mom!”
“Hell no. Married cougars aren’t my type. They tend to be too bossy. All I simply said was, I was sure her husband would love to know what her favorite after-school activity was.”
“Which is?” She cocks her head to the side. “Isn’t she the tennis coach?”
“She’s bumping uglies with the PE teacher.”
“Gross.” She sticks out her tongue. “Doesn’t he have a wife and, like, five kids?”
I nod. “Sure does.”
“How do you always know these things? You know everyone’s business.”
I shrug. “I watch people. I pay attention. Not to mention, I work on the school’s cameras sometimes.” I poke her shoulder. “Don’t think I haven’t seen Clint Evans stopping by your locker between periods.”
Her eyes widen, a blush rising up her cheeks, and she shoves my side. “Oh my God! You spy on me?”
“Nope.” I struggle to fight back a smile. “I’m making sure the school is a safe environment for my fellow peers to learn.”
“I’m so sure that’s where your concern is.”
“And not to put poor little Clint on blast, but dude calls his mother mommy when they’re on the phone.” I exaggeratedly shudder. “Some weird shit there. I wouldn’t take on that kid.”
“You’re seriously terrible, you know that?” Her lips twitch into a smile. “Don’t pick on Clint for being a mommy’s boy when I’m sure you have no problem with girls being daddy’s girls.”
“Oh, man, you set yourself up for this one. For your information, I do dislike chicks calling their fathers daddy because it’s what I prefer they call me in the bedroom.”
She shoves my shoulder. “I don’t know why I talk to you.”
"I’m your favorite person in the world, that’s why.” I shake my head, clapping my hands. “Now, let’s step away from the daddy talk and move on to serious business. Grab your planner, sweetheart. Pencil me in to pick you up three Saturdays from now. Seven o’clock.”
“Okay,” she drags out. “What’s up with the preplanning?”
“Prom night. Let me know the color of your dress, so we can do all that matchy-matchy bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” She scowls in my direction. “You can’t just tell me I’m going to prom with you.” She throws her arms up, her voice nearing hysteria, like the boring romance movies she forces me to watch. “You didn’t even ask!”
“No need for me to ask. You’re going to prom with me.”
“What if I don’t want to go with you? You didn’t even give me a promposal!”
“Tough shit. You won’t find a better date. Not to mention, I’m the only guy in this school who won’t try to weasel his inexperienced dick into your virginal panties.” He raises his brows. “If you want a promposal, I’ll get one of those banners that fly in the sky or some shit.”
“You’re so romantic.” She crosses her arms, pouting her glossy pink lips. “Have you ever thought that I don’t want my panties to stay virginal? Maybe I want to change that on prom night.”
“Maybe you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” I clear my throat, and my voice grows deeper. “You’re my date. Your panties will remain untouched.” I jerk my thumb toward her planner in the back seat. “Put it in there, circle it with a red marker, and don’t forget.”
She huffs. “What about Leanne, the girl you’ve already asked to prom?”
Shit. I fucking forgot about Leanne. “She can either be your sister-date or kick rocks.”
“I am not having a sister-date!” she shrieks.
“Looks like she’ll be kicking rocks then. I’ll bribe her to go with someone else.”
Murphy is available.
“I can’t believe I speak to you.”
“You. Me. Prom.” I lean over and kiss her cheek. “My mom is making tacos tonight. You coming over for dinner?”
“Ugh, fine, but I’m only coming for her and the tacos.”