See Me After Class(78)

“Kelvin Thimble caressed my breast last night,” Keeks says, eyes still scrolling through her phone, acting as if the information she just delivered isn’t mind-blowing to me and Stella.

“What?” Stella asks, setting her phone down.

“Uh, we’re going to need a lot more information than that. Like, where were you, what were you doing, were you naked, or was it above clothes?”

Keeks looks up from her phone and glances between the two of us. “Is this one of those gentlelady showdowns where we speak of one’s sexual prowess and conquests?”

“Yes,” Stella and I say at the same time.

“Ah, I see.” She sets her phone down, folds her hands together and says, “Kelvin and I participated in a sexual rendezvous last night, masqueraded as dining in his motor vehicle for an experiment. Given that we both lacked sexual partners in our teenage years, we were never granted the chance to act with promiscuity in Lovers Lane. Feasting on burgers from the burger king himself, Kelvin asked point-blank if he could hold my breast. Given the variables of the night, I conjectured there was no night like tonight for Kelvin Thimble to, in street terms, cop a feel. With ketchup-coated hands, he reached out and pressed his palm to my breast.”

Oh, dear God.

“How was it?” Stella asks.

Keeks adjusts her glasses again, clears her throat, and says, “An inner carnal beast erupted from the bowels of my soul, and before I could figure out where it originated from, my tongue was haphazardly licking Kelvin’s mouth while his ketchup-covered hand clutched at my hair.”

Too much detail . . . way too much detail.

“I tapped into my reptile brain. Arousal spiked, milkshake was scattered over Kelvin’s lap, and I used it as lubricant for—”

“I think I’m good with the rest,” I say, cutting her off. “Really, I can imagine where this went.”

“I can’t,” Stella says. “What did the milkshake lubricate?”

If she says vagina, I’m going to die.

“The coarse wool of my skirt over the corduroy of his dress slacks.”

My nostrils flare, and I beg the high heavens to please help me not make a grossed-out face.

“Well, that’s . . . an interesting mesh of fabrics,” Stella says.

“The milkshake assisted with the velocity of friction.”

Just then, the door to the teachers’ lounge opens and Kelvin walks in, Arlo close behind him. I haven’t spoken to Arlo since Sunday, even when passing each other in the hallway. Apparently, now that he’s no longer pawing after me, there’s no need for interaction.

“H-hi, Keiko,” Kelvin says nervously with a giant smile. He gives her a short wave.

“Kelvin, pleased to see you. Were you able to remove the milkshake from your corduroys successfully?”

“Indeed. They are quite clean.”

“Wonderful. I was just conversing—”

“About Greer’s date with Walker Rockwell,” Stella cuts in, shooting Keeks a warning look, and for the first time since I’ve known the girl, she understands the social cue. No need to embarrass poor Kelvin Thimble. No, we can just throw me under the bus in front of Arlo instead.

In their defense, they’ve no idea anything has been happening between me and Arlo.

“Who’s Walker Rockwell?” Kelvin asks as he shifts closer to Keiko.

Arlo walks to the fridge and answers for everyone, “The starting catcher for the Chicago Bobbies.”

“Oh.” Kelvin looks over his shoulder. “I d-don’t follow sports much. Bobbies is baseball, right?”

“Yes,” Stella says. “And he’s dreamy, Kelvin. They’re going out Saturday night after his day game. Want to see a picture?”

“Oh, sure,” Kelvin says, leaning over.

Stella flashes him the screen just as I hear Arlo crack a soda open behind us. I keep my eyes on Kelvin, not wanting to give Arlo any reason to think that I care he’s in the room.

“I’ve seen his face around Chicago. H-he was on a billboard near a comic book store I frequent.”

“Dark Night Comics?” Keeks asks.

“Indeed. Do you frequent there?”

“On the occasion.”

“Maybe we can go this Friday.”

“I’d enjoy that. Maybe we can share another milkshake.”

“Just don’t spill it,” Stella mutters, and I kick her shin under the table.

“T-too bad your date is Saturday night. We could have gone on a double date,” Kelvin says.

“Well, you can always change your date to Saturday,” Stella suggests, and I kick her under the table again. This time, she glares at me.

“You know, I think Walker would probably just like a one-on-one at first. Double date later.”

“If there is a later,” Arlo mumbles, walking by.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

“It means, he might not like you. Focus on the first date, then the second.”

“Hey, of course he’s going to like her,” Stella says in my defense. “Greer is a catch. Just because you find her repulsive, doesn’t mean other men will.”

“Thanks,” I sigh.

“We’ll see,” Arlo says, pushing through the door and leaving.