*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
“Penny! It’s almost seven thirty! Are you awake?” Rubbing my face into the pillow, I groaned. Why did she have to yell so loud? Mom bellowed up the stairs again, becoming a broken record. My feet hit the floor and my hand twisted the door knob, yanking it open.
“I’m up!” SLAM! Mom’s feet left the bottom of the staircase. I swiped my fingers over my eyes to move away the last fragments of sleep. School. How dreadful.
I desperately didn’t want to school, despite all the good this semester. My teachers loved me. My grades were better than ever before. But there was one sure reason why I didn’t want to go: him. Trust me. Take one look into his gorgeous ocean blue eyes and you’ll understand. He’s like the male Aphrodite.
My hands fumbled to put on whatever clothes I could find, as long as it wasn’t pink, the patterns didn’t clash, and it wasn’t my funeral dress. Anything worked today. As long as I made it through the day in one, sane, content piece.
“PENNY!” Mom’s voice almost shook the walls of our apartment. I opened up the door again and I felt the fire inside my throat.
“WHAT? I’m almost ready!” I yelled without another glance down. She started lecturing me about my tone, my tardiness, and my duties after school. It was all the same. I don’t know why she had to remind me to pick up Jameson from daycare. This was probably the five hundredth time I have had to do so.
Shutting my door behind me, I bounced down the stairs to see my frazzled mother. Her hair was tossed in every direction, her eyes had “large black designer handbags” under them as she called them, and her attire for the day was the same as Monday: black blazer, white shirt, and black skirt.
“It’s about damn time,” she chirped and put a hand to my back, ushering me to the door. I pushed the hair behind my ear, pulling at a small knot at the base of my head.
“Don’t forget–”
“–I know,” I told her before she could even say it. “Pick up Jameson by four and come straight home.” Mom smirked to me and planted a kiss on my cheek.
“Love you,” she said before shutting the door behind me. A school bus honked at the edge of the street. The driver, Mr. Axel, waved to me. Here’s to a bearable Wednesday.
***
“What I’m saying is there’s no way that Michelle was at the party and at school, you know what I mean? She couldn’t be the one.” My best friend, Olivia, proposed her fourth theory for all of the mess at school today. I nodded along, even though I knew exactly what had happened. Even if I didn’t want to tell anyone.
“Yeah, totally,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could. But my voice came out flatter than the Midwest.
Everywhere around us, people weaved in and out of the hallway, going to their lockers and prospective classrooms. Then I saw him. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t do it. Don’t. Aw, dammit.
His ocean blue eyes looked over to me. My own eyes widened and I turned away, looking at Olivia, who looked like she had just seen a ghost. The smile grew on her face before she spoke.
“Did you and…” she trailed off and waited. I nodded, glancing back over my shoulder to still see the male Aphrodite checking me out. His friends were all laughing about something that happened at the homecoming game, but he seemed to be only interested in one thing: me.
Olivia squealed and I held my finger over her lip as soon as she did. She stopped and pushed my hand down, grabbing my shoulder.
“You’re telling me that you hooked up with Nicholas Tumbleweed and you didn’t think to tell me? I am a little hurt,” Olivia said with sarcasm twisted into every syllable she spoke. She, too, looked over to Nicholas, but he was engrossed in football gossip now. Maybe he’d avoid me just like I wanted to avoid him. Hopefully.
RIIIIIING! Students rushed around in the hallway, hurrying to nearby classrooms. Olivia shrugged, backing up towards the language wing.
“See you in chem!” Before I could mutter anything back to her, she was gone. Damn. I felt someone’s hand grab my wrist, tugging me into an empty English classroom.
“What the–” I started, before I made eye contact with the male Aphrodite, the boy who couldn’t keep his eyes off of me: Nicholas. “It’s you.” The matter of fact tone in my voice came off too strong. Nicholas’ energy dwindled.
“I didn’t hear from you at all after last night. I wanted to see how you were,” he said, still gently holding onto my wrist. His dimples appeared after he spoke to me. I squirmed out of his grasp and crossed my arms.
“I’m fine. I’m a little late for class,” I started for the door, but he jumped in front of me and held up his hands. I was trapped.
“It wasn’t nothing,” he spat out, scanning my face for my reaction. For a moment, everything felt as stiff as stone. It wasn’t nothing. I gulped and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
“It wasn’t nothing?” I asked. He stepped closer and grabbed both my hands. His warm palms felt nice against my freezing fingers. Then they looped in between mine and squeezed. This felt nice.
“It wasn’t nothing. Do you believe me?” He asked. I couldn’t speak. My stomach was a mess and my mind was racing. I could feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body. It wasn’t nothing. Maybe he was just trying to avoid me telling other people falsehoods. Was he telling the truth?
“I don’t know,” I whispered and looked down to my shoes. “It was just one kiss.” His head fell and I heard a sigh that made my heartbreak as it left his body.
“Was it really?” His hand cupped my cheek and lifted my chin up. Here I was, standing with the male Aphrodite, the boy that literally every person in school agreed was attractive. What was I supposed to do? He was the only guy I’d ever actually done anything with. And it was a bloody accident that it even happened in the first place.
Both of us didn’t say anything, but I saw his eyes flicker to my lips. Part of me wanted him to and part of me didn’t. I was so confused. This was too much.
“Let’s get out of here,” I clutched his hand tighter and looked up to him finally. He bit his lip, nodding to me.
“Where do you want to go?” He asked me. My mind thought of one place in particular.
“Frick Park,” I said and led the way to the door. He didn’t question me. The coast was clear.
We jogged through the hallway towards the giant blue double doors, hand in hand. Blinded by the bright sunlight shining down that morning, we descended the stairs to the student parking lot. We opened the doors of his black 2005 Chevy Malibu. The engine hummed, kicking to a start. Then we sped off.
