Eighth period comes and I have a study hall. As I enter the cafeteria, I examine the students already seated in the wide rectangular room. No Henry. I’m relieved. The only per
iod I have with him is lunch and that makes it easier to get through the day in one piece.
I plop down at a table in the back as Mr. Warner, the tenth grade biology teacher waltzes in. He stops in the front of the room, sets down a book and pulls down his cardigan sweater. “Sit wherever,” he announces. “You can talk quietly amongst yourselves if you want.”
Soft chatter echoes throughout the cafeteria and I opt out of being friendly. Aside from Rosa and this kid named Jace who used to live next door to me, who I hadn’t talked to in years, and Henry, I don’t have very many friends. Not because I’m antisocial. I just enjoy my alone time.
I approach Mr. Warner as he sits down and picks up the latest Stephen King novel and adjusts his gold wire spectacles. “Um, Mr. Warner?”
He doesn’t look up. He’s fully absorbed in whatever horrific world Mr. King has created for that particular novel. “Uh huh.”
I twiddle my thumbs. “Could I go to the library?”
I’ve always spent my study halls in the library. I like using the computers. Mainly for pointless stuff like surfing Forever 21’s sale page or popping in a burned cd and listening to music while I work on some homework assignment. Lately, I’ve been on a Kings of Leon fix. Closer and True Love Way are on repeat at all times.
Mr. Warner waves his hand as his eyes widen. “Sure. Sure. Go ahead.”
He must be reading a really good part.
The quiet in the deserted hallway consumes me as I scale the first narrow set of stairs. Usually there are a few stragglers who linger at their lockers trying to get out of their last class of the day.
The rubber soles of my Converse tennis shoes echo against the tile after climbing the second set of stairs. I’m worried the squeaking sound my shoes make is too loud, so I take small, quiet steps on my way to the third and final staircase.
Then I’m caught off guard when a pair of strong arms circle my waist and guide me into the boy’s bathroom. “What the?”
Henry pushes me into the wall and spins around quickly, locking the door with his long wooden hall pass. I’m breathing hard. So elated and overwhelmed that I place my hands above me on the cloudy teal walls.
Henry moves behind me, wrapping one arm around my waist and the other around my chest. He pulls me close, gripping at the bottom of my t-shirt with his fingers. The warmth from his body sends me reeling, mixed with insanity and pleasure. True Religion cologne lingers on his clothing and the enticing scent invades my nostrils.
I ache when I can’t see him. Feel him. Smell him. When I finally do get to see him, there’s a joyous eruption inside of my heart that’s more boisterous than a volcano. I swallow hard. His nose is on the nape of my neck and my whole body goes limp. I’m play-doh. Useless. He can bend me, move me and do whatever he wants because I know my body won’t function on its own.
He breathes into my hair and his warm breath down my back brings on fresh goose bumps. “I had to see you,” he whispers. Such a soft, seductive, and at the same time, emotional whisper that makes my legs tremble.
And I’m gone. So far gone that I’m certain I can’t distinguish fantasy from reality.
I spin around and try to fight him off. I push against him, but he’s stronger than me. He lifts me up by my waist and backs me up into the wall. My voice has been caught in my throat since he first surprised me, but I finally find it and choke out, “Henry this isn’t safe. We’ll get caught. A teacher might walk in on us or something.”
Trying to refuse him is painful when every part of me inside is screaming for him.
He places his forehead against mine and I’m over-heated, like an engine about to spontaneously combust. He twirls a piece of my ash-blond hair between his fingertips and exhales, “I don’t care, Riley. I don’t care.”
He pushes against me harder and traces the curve of my neck with his kisses. I gasp, choking on my own breaths, wedged in between his arms, the wall, and the sink in the boys bathroom. Seconds later, his lips cover mine. I’m sucked into his passionate embrace and I run my fingers wildly through his hair. I’m drowning in his kisses, trembling beneath his touch, and every time his fingertips glide over my exposed skin I feel like I’m scorching—baking all day in the intense summer sunlight.
As our kissing progresses, I don’t care that our tryst seems raunchy and wrong. I don’t care that I’m at school, in the boys’ bathroom. I don’t care that to most people this would seem cheap, dirty, and despicable. The only thing I can think about while he kisses me deeper, harder, faster, is that Henry Garner is the plague and the only thing I want him to do is infect me.
Chapter 9
Love - a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker.
As I lie in bed that night I can’t help but wonder if Henry will still come over, tonight. Probably not, but I can still hope, right? I smile when I think of a moment earlier when he kissed me before leaving the boys bathroom. A powerful, loving kiss that even after our interlude made my knees buckle.
“I’ll call you later,” he shouted over his shoulder as he made his exit.
But he hasn’t and the blank screen on my cell phone is driving me crazy.
I grab my laptop off of my nightstand. I open it, log into Facebook, and skim my wall. I freeze and my breathing stops. Henry Garner is tagged at Callie Banfield’s house at 8:30 pm.
I can’t stop staring at the tag. I’m furious. Jealous. Depressed. I close my laptop and kick it off my bed. I don’t care if it breaks. Damn you, Henry. Why did you have to steal my heart? Why can’t I forget about you? Why can’t you choose me and not her? Why do you think you’re so special that you get to have both?