The Force of Gravity(40)
I’m mindlessly chewing my pencil eraser, fantasizing about his powerful shoulders hovering over me as we make love on his desk when the piercing bell jolts me out of my daydream. Everyone gathers up their belongings and rushes out of the classroom, but I take my time—I’m dreading next period. Elijah is routinely cleaning the whiteboard, and I watch his back muscles with a newfound knowledge that makes it almost impossible not to jump on him right here. He sets down the eraser and scans the room before settling on my legs. For a brief, precious moment, we’re alone.
“You’re killing me, Kay,” he says.
I grin in triumph. He nods for me to come near, and I saunter over to his desk, half-hoping he’ll fulfill my recent fantasy.
He leans forward, his deep caramel eyes sparkling. “You look beautiful today.”
A shock of electricity strikes my throat, sending a line of fire down to the deepest part of my stomach, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to lean in and kiss him.
“Not that that’s different from any other day,” he says with a killer smile.
I open my mouth to speak just as the door swings open. A group of chattering students fills the silence, and Elijah turns to his computer as I rush to my desk and grab my bag. Without glancing his way, I scurry out the door, my body humming.
When I reach my locker, it’s as if an invisible force field zaps away my joy and replaces it with dread. I switch out my books and take my time, strolling to second period.
Please say he’s absent today.
No such luck. When I arrive to class, Tommy is already seated. He stares straight ahead as I approach my seat next to him, and anger floods my vision. Coward. I know I’m guilty of my own indiscretions, but his blatant disdain sparks an unexpected rage in me. Even as I slide into my seat, he gives no inclination that I’m even there. I look his way ten minutes into class, still nothing.
Slate’s right, he is a dick.
From the disaster in the hotel room, to the pure ecstasy of Slate’s house, to fighting with Emily and Avery—and then my brief moment with Elijah this morning—it’s a challenge to stay focused. It’s easy for me to slip into the weekend memories, though, and I’m soon back at Elijah’s house, watching him pull his shirt off and drinking in his perfect statuesque body. I want so desperately to be back in that moment. I watch his breathtaking smile in my mind’s eye and hear his beautiful laughter in my ear . . . remembering how perfectly his lips fit with mine . . .
“Kaley?” Mrs. Taylor’s voice ripples through my sweet reverie.
“Yes?” I reply.
“I would like to think you were deep in thought about our discussion, but since we’re talking about the tragedy of Frankenstein, your goofy smile says otherwise.”
About thirty heads turn in my direction, and I’m reminded of why I prefer sitting in the front of class. Even Tommy is looking my way, and I feel a flush of heat.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Must’ve been a good prom,” says Mrs. Taylor, smiling. “I’m happy for you, but it’s imperative you pay attention to this section—it will be on your final. In fact, why don’t you read the next paragraph.”
“Um, sure,” I say panicked. I have no idea what page we’re even on.
The bell rings, saving the day, and I blow a grateful breath from my lungs. I snatch my things and rush out the door.
Tommy soon falls into stride with me. “Can we talk?”
I stop in the middle of the hall, causing a minor traffic jam, and turn to face him. “Really? Now you want to talk?”
“Well, we couldn’t talk in class.”
I scoff. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t realize you were such a dedicated scholar. Besides, you haven’t exactly called me.” Not that I wanted him to.
He sheepishly draws up his shoulders. “I know, I’m sorry. Derek said Emily told you what happened, and I wanted to explain myself in person.”
“What’s to explain?” I say coolly. “You slept with Avery, who hasn’t? I think I’ve pretty much got the gist.”
His body tightens. “You don’t.”
“Fine,” I say, turning away. “We’ll talk later.”
“When?” he calls through the crowd.
“Later!” I holler over my shoulder.
WHEN THE LUNCH bells rings, the thought of the cafeteria nauseates me. I think about the tension between Emily and me and the disapproving glares I’ll receive from Derek—and I definitely don’t feel like dealing with another snide comment from Avery, or sharing another awkward moment with Tommy. So instead, I decide to catch up on some homework in the library. I find a table in the back, hidden by a large book shelf, and settle into some homework.
I SUCCESSFULLY DODGE my friends for the remainder of the day, and I’m actually thankful my mom is picking me up so I don’t have to deal with Emily. I stop at my locker after the final bell to grab the books I need for tonight’s homework. I’m almost in the clear when Tommy leans against the locker next to mine.
Damn it.
“Hey,” he says in a gentle tone.
I avoid his gaze. “Hey.” My voice is even.
“Why weren’t you at lunch?”
“I was busy.”
“Come on, Kay. Talk to me.”
I turn to him, unleashing a rancorous stare. “I don’t have anything to say to you, so if you have something to say to me, you’d better hurry because my mom’s picking me up.”
He takes a deep breath, and his drooping posture somehow infuriates me more. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I was so mad after you left, so I went to a party down the hall. I got really wasted and—”
“Yeah, I know what happened,” I say, cutting him off. “What do you want from me?”
His ears flush red. “I want you to forgive me.”
An edgy laugh bursts out of me. “Are you insane?” I can’t believe his narcissism. He wants me to get over it in less than twenty-four hours? If he knew where I spent Saturday night, there’s no way he’d even speak to me. Part of me wishes I could tell him. Just end this now.
He springs forward, his voice escalating. “I was drunk. You left. I barely even remember it!” Traffic slows around us as people start to congregate.
I look him hard in the eye. “That’s too bad,” I say, my voice low and level, “because you would’ve remembered it with me.”
He kicks the locker below mine, and I flinch. “What the fuck, Kaley?” His voice reverberates through the hallway. “You left! I made a fucking mistake! You chose to leave!”
My body shakes with anger. “And you chose to sleep with a whore! So deal with it!” My voice is vicious—I barely recognize it.
A group of students come to a complete stop to watch the spectacle, and I turn my wrath on them. “Walk away!” I shout. They begin to disperse, but too slow for my liking.
I turn back to Tommy and deepen my tone. “So this is my fault? I chose to leave, and you barely remember it, so I’m just supposed to get over it and act like nothing happened, right?” I shake my head in disgust and spit my next words out like venom. “You know, it’s really pathetic what happens to a boy when he’s lived his entire life on a pedestal.”
His lips curl, and he swings his fist into my locker door, slamming it shut. I recoil, trying to step away, but back into the wall of lockers.
He glares at me, inches from my face. “That’s bullshit, Kaley!”
“Bradford!” Elijah’s voice roars through the hall. He pushes past the ring of onlookers and grabs Tommy with force. “Let’s take a walk.” He yanks him by the collar and drags him down the hallway with authority.
“What the hell, Slate?” Tommy cries out, trying to break loose. Elijah releases him just before opening the door to the office and pushes him inside.
What. Just. Happened.
The size of the crowd has now tripled, loud murmurs filling the hall. Spectators look my way as they whisper to each other. I want to run the hell out of here, but I’m incapacitated. My feet are glued to the floor, my brain struggling to keep up with my racing thoughts. My phone buzzes against me, and I robotically pull it from my bag. I tear my gaze from the office door and read a text from my mom saying she’s waiting out front. Crap. I desperately want to talk to Elijah, but I know there is no way it’s going to happen. I force my shaky legs down the hall, my eyes skirting the captious stares from other students.
My mom’s car is near the curb, and I summon the best smile I can manage.
“You look pretty today,” she says as I slide in next to her. “Everything okay?” she asks when she gets a closer look at my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My clammy hands struggle to buckle my seatbelt. “I just have a lot of homework . . . and I’m not really in the mood to talk.” The last part is true at least. Silence permeates the car as she drives off campus and after a minute and a half, guilt convicts me. “Sorry, Mom. I’m willing to talk. I’m not trying to punish you; it was just a horrible day at school.”
“How come? Is everything okay between you and Tommy?”
“Um, not really,” I admit.