Until You (Fall Away, #1.5)(26)

“Yeah. You coming?” Ben asked, and I stopped breathing as I waited for her response.

Ben might try to ask her. Maybe he was gauging whether or not she was interested in someone else. I remembered he was interested in her freshman year, but he was put down pretty easily. Once he heard about the Stevie Stoddard rumor, the one I started about Tate losing her virginity to the grimiest kid in school, he didn’t mention her again. He was weak, and he was a follower.

But…girls loved him. Why? I have no idea. He seemed about as boring as a church movie night. He was nice, though. The guy you brought home to Mom.

“We’ll see,” Tate answered. “Have you booked a band, or is there a D.J.?”

“A band would be nice, but they tend to play one genre of music, so it’s hard to please everyone. We’ll have a D.J. I think that’s what everyone decided. He’ll keep the party going with a good mix: pop, country….”

Okay, lesson on Tate and music. If fans do anything less than carve the band’s name into their skin, then the band isn’t worth listening to. Any music that involves more than jumping around and banging your head is about as exciting as Kenny G to her.

Well, to me, too. That’s one area we could see eye to eye.

“Oh…. pop and country? Can’t go wrong there.” She tried to sound sincere, and for a bubblehead like Ben Jamison it probably worked, but I could smell the cover up.

Unable to hold back the snicker, I buried my face in my phone when she turned around to glare at me.

But when I didn’t look at her, she turned back around.

“So, you like pop and country?” she addressed Ben again, and I found myself tapping my pen in irritation.

Where the hell is Penley?

“Mostly country,” I heard Ben answer.

She just nodded at him, hopefully realizing that they didn’t have anything in common.

“You know,” she continued, “I heard we get to watch The Sixth Sense in here this semester. Have you seen it?”

“Oh, yeah. A long time ago, though. I didn’t get it. I’m not a big fan of those thriller-mystery type movies. I like comedies. Maybe she’ll let us watch Borat.”

“Hey, Jamison?” I interrupted, very much done listening to Tate trying to get in this guy’s pants. “If you like Bruce Willis, Unbreakable is a good one. You should give it a shot….you know, if you’re looking to change your mind about thrillers that is.”

There. Now Tate could get back to better things. Like shutting up.

Tate loved Bruce Willis. She liked action movies and thrillers.

And I wanted her to remember that I knew that shit about her.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Penley finally walked in. “In addition to the packet I am handing out, Trevor is giving you a template of a compass. Please write your name at the top, but leave the areas surrounding North, East, South, and West blank.”

The sound of shuffling papers filled the room, the assembly line of education hard at work. Papers and packets spilled down the rows as each student snatched one up like it was their ticket out of Dodge, and they all had somewhere to go.

“Okay.” Mrs. Penley clapped her hands together. “The packets I gave you are lists of films where important monologues occurred. As we’ve already started discussing monologues and their importance in Film and Literature…”

My mind fogged over, and I heard the noise of Penley’s voice but not the words. My eyes were trained on Tate’s back, and before I knew it, I was lost.

She had grabbed all of her hair and swept it up into a long ponytail, the wavy length cascading down her back like a waterfall, or a ….leash.

I clenched my fists.

Jesus.

I couldn’t see my dick, but I swear it swelled up to twice the size it normally did when I was horny.

Her army green Five Finger Death Punch T-shirt wasn’t too tight, but it draped slimly over her slender back and complimented her sun-kissed skin. I was nearly bleeding to kiss the patch of skin on her shoulder, at the curve of her neck where the collar rubbed.

That would be a good place for a little tattoo, I thought.

The hair, the outfit, it was the perfect blend of good girl and bad girl, of salvation and danger.

There was no point in lying to myself. As much as I hated her, I wanted a taste of her.

Angry sex is pretty good from what I hear.

“Go!” the teacher shouted, and I snapped my head up, blinking away the fantasy I’d gotten caught up in.

Oh, shit. Everyone rose from their seats and started walking around the room, carrying their papers and pens.

Was I supposed to get up? Dread gripped my heart as I glanced down at my jeans and then closed my eyes. Yeah, that’s not happening.

And—f*ck!—I couldn’t stop the damn images of Tate—in my car, in the janitor’s closet, in my bed…

There was no way I could stand up right now, so I took some deep breaths and tried thinking about boring shit, like British period pieces and Ferris wheels.

Luckily, Ivy Donner strode up and wrote her name on my paper under ‘East’ and then my name on her paper. Good thing, because I had no idea what we were supposed to be doing, and my blood was coursing like lava. I was pissed.

Tate was a good distraction from my father, but I didn’t need her arousing me so hard and fast that I couldn’t even walk out of the room in a fire drill without embarrassing myself.