The Force of Gravity(24)

I WAKE UP before my alarm goes off and spring out of bed. I hop in the shower, taking extra time to use my favorite scented body wash and shave my legs—twice. I don’t want to look like I’m dressing up for him, but I want to look hot, so I keep my outfit subtle, slipping on my white denim skinny jeans and an aqua T-shirt that complements my eyes. I take my time perfecting my makeup and curling my hair.

By the time I notice the clock, I realize I’m out of time. I down some coffee and steal a piece of bacon from my dad’s plate while he’s talking on the phone. Anticipation creeps into me as I drive to school. What’s he going to say to me? Are we going to talk about Friday night? Obviously, I’ll have to act natural during class, but I can’t ignore what happened. What if he doesn’t say anything? Should I ask to meet after school? There is no way I can survive another day without knowing where we stand, or what’s going to happen next.

If he doesn’t address it, then I will, I decide.

My nerves magnify as I make my way into the building, and I fight the urge to grin like a baboon when I walk through the door of his classroom. Refusing to look at his desk, I take my seat.

Avery is at my side before I even set my bag down.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I look up at her, confused. “Yeah, why?”

“Mr. Slate totally humiliated you Friday night,” she says, condescension drowning out her attempt at compassion.

Actually, he made me feel like a woman, stupid little girl.

“I’m cool, Avery,” I say, pulling out my notebook.

Her golden locks spill over her shoulder as she peers down at me, her voice dripping with synthetic concern. “I felt so bad for you.”

“I’m sure you did,” I say, straight-faced. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine. He even apologized.”

“He did?” She lingers at my desk, waiting for me to dish out the details. She’s like a bumble bee hovering over an open soda can, thirsty for artificial syrup.

“Yeah, so don’t worry about it.” I give her a hard look, making it clear that our conversation is over, and she hesitates for a moment before heading back to her desk.

I glance over at Elijah’s desk as he shuffles through a stack of graded assignments. He clears his throat and tugs on his tie, unbuttoning his collar.

Good. I’m not the only one on edge.

As he explains the graph on the board, my gaze falls to his lips. Those succulent lips were on my neck just three days ago. Watching him write out equations on the board and listening to him give a quick review on logarithms, you’d never guess he just made out with a student less than sixty hours ago. Either he’s done this before, or he’s just as confident as he portrays.

I hope it’s the latter.

He doesn’t make eye contact with me once, and I continue to admire his ability to keep his cool. The bell sounds, prompting noisy chatter as everyone gathers up their things and rushes out the door.

Elijah’s voice captures me through the ruckus. “Kaley, can you stay back a minute?”

My breath catches in my chest. This is it. The moment I’ve been craving all weekend. I thought I prepared myself, but my body tells me differently as I float to his desk, where he stands waiting. I rake my hand through my hair. Is he going to ask me out? Does he have a plan set in place? Is he going to sneak a passionate kiss? My lips burn at the thought. He waits for the last student to exit before facing me. The swirling butterflies in my stomach remind me we’re alone. Again.

“Kaley,” he says, dropping his gaze. “I’m sorry . . .”

“For what?”

When he looks back up at me, the pain in his eyes alarms me. “For Friday night. . . . I lost control, and I’m sorry.”

“What?” is all I can manage. But his face tells me all I need to know. A lump rises in my throat. “Well, I’m not sorry,” I blurt out. Maybe he just needs reassurance that I can handle this.

“It never should have happened,” he says quietly. “I took advantage of you, Kaley, and it won’t happen again—I promise.”

Pressure plows into my stomach, ripping the air from my lungs. No, no, no. I take a moment to process his words. There are way too many things wrong with those two little sentences. “Look, if you’re worried I’m—”

A group of prattling students burst through the door, and he hastily takes his seat, turning his attention to his computer.

“Are we understood, Kaley?” he says in his teacher’s voice, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The entire world slows down as I try to grasp the situation. My feet are imbedded into the floor, my entire body immobilized. His eyes remain fixed on his monitor as the classroom fills around me. I finally tear myself away, pushing past clusters of students, and dash out the door.

My pace quickens with each step as I rush down the hallway. I round the corner toward the exit and charge out of the building. The security guard hollers after me, but I stride past him across the parking lot without regard. He shouts again, and when I don’t answer, he follows me to my car.

“Hey!” he bellows as I open the door to the Chevelle. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m eighteen,” I say in a dead voice. I toss my bag in the back and plop down in my seat.

“Excuse me?” he says, haughtily. “I don’t care how old you are when you’re on my grounds. You need to come with me . . . now!”

Why do security guards always seem to have an inferiority complex? His cocky attitude makes me want to ram him with my car. Instead, I slam my door and crank the volume on my stereo. My car sputters to life, and I mash on the gas pedal, praying it doesn’t stall. As I peel out of the parking lot, I watch him flail around in my rearview mirror. I’ll probably pay for that later, but I don’t care.



MY DAD IS just leaving when I pull up the driveway.

“Kay, are you all right?”

“I don’t feel well,” I say as I brush past him into the house.

“Do you need to see the doctor?”

“No, I just need to lie down.”

“Well, call me or your mom if you need anything, okay?”

I don’t respond. When I reach my bedroom, I grab my iPod and slide my headphones over my head. I set the volume on full blast and drop to my bed.

I don’t cry.

I don’t move.

I don’t feel.



WHEN THE BATTERY on my iPod dies, I pull myself up and grab my old CD player out of my newly organized closet. I plug my headphones into it, set a random CD to repeat, and collapse back on the bed.

The next thing I know, someone is shaking me, and I fling open my eyes and am greeted by a dark figure. Deep-purple shadows fill my room and the smell of dinner wafts from downstairs. I must’ve fallen asleep, but I don’t feel rested. I slide off my headphones when I recognize his face.

“What time is it?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”

Tommy’s voice is gentle. “It’s five o’clock.”

“AM or PM?”

He laughs quietly. “PM. Are you okay? You weren’t at school today, and Emily and I have been trying to call you.”

“I think I left my phone in the car, sorry.” Not that I would’ve answered it.

“Your dad said you were sick and that I could come up and wake you.”

“I’m fine. I left school after first period. I don’t know what it was; I just didn’t feel well.”

He sits next to me, resting his hand on my arm. “How do you feel now?”

Like someone just stabbed me in the chest and left me for dead.

I sit up. “Better,” I lie.

“Emily told me about your parents. Is that what’s really going on with you?”

“She wasn’t supposed to say anything,” I say, switching on my lamp. That irritates me a bit. Emily is supposed to have my back, not Tommy’s. But maybe she’s just worried.

“Well I’m glad she did—I’ve been worried about you, Kay. I couldn’t figure out what was up with you lately. You can tell me anything, you know.”

Oh, can I? Can I tell you that I think I’m in love with my math teacher, and he’s all I think about? Can I tell you that he made me feel like a woman for the first time in my life? Can I tell you that he just tore my heart out, and it hurts far worse than I’d care to admit?

I gaze into the beautiful ice-blue eyes I’ve known since I was thirteen—eyes that care about me. And even though I’m sensitive to Emily always siding with Tommy, I know she cares about me, too. I’m lucky to have such great friends, especially when I haven’t been fun to be around lately.

I pull Tommy in for a kiss and slide onto his lap. With one leg on either side of him, I push him down on the bed, kissing him forcefully. He grabs my hips, pulling me against him. A little voice in my head tries to remind me that it’s nothing compared to the make-out session with Elijah, but I push it down. We wrestle around for a while before I break away. Still on top of him, I sit up and smile down at him. I bite my bottom lip, hesitating.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, breathless.

“I want you to book that hotel room.”

He props himself up on his elbows. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I reply. I kiss him again with the same aggression, and he grabs my backside eagerly.