Someone to Love(36)

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.





8


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.