Gambrielle’s lips spread into an adorable smile as she threw her thumb over her shoulder, “We could be buddies if you want and sit together on the bus? Maybe discuss it in more detail over lunch?” she asked, as a hopeful gleam entered her eyes.
“Are you asking me out?” After everything I had just said? Now it was my turn to look like an idiot.
Her brown eyes slowly fell. There was a little hesitation when she spoke again. “Yes?”
Sixteen
Gambrielle
“I shouldn’t have to say this, but after what happened at our last outing in Charlotte I feel it is my responsibility as your teacher and friend,” Miss Maroon’s cheeks heated up as she stumbled over her statement, “to um, to tell you that it is a health hazard and safety risk to have sex with another patient in a department store. I know some of you have urges an-and needs—but nothing good can come from a poor grandmother seeing your bare gluteus maximus plastered against the glass entry of a JCPenny’s. Right Mr. Park?” Her eyes shot to Reyes, who was beaming with such pride. “Right, Mr. Park?”
The bus went over a speed bump, but that didn’t stop Reyes Sun Park from rising to his feet and placing his hand on his heart. “Thank you, Miss Maroon for that fine commentary.” He cooed. “I’d also like to thank my co-star, Varla English, for taking care of me during that dark time. The window was cold, but her pussy kept me warm!”
The entire bus broke out in applause.
Turning to my right, I opened my mouth to say something to Varla who was way ahead of me. “Back to December had just been released and I was emotional.” She explained. Oh Varla…Why?
Mouth still wide open, I shook my head as she continued on, the elaborate tale turning stranger as the seconds passed. “We went to Chinese before and…you know the chopsticks they give you for your meal?”
I blinked, dumbfounded. Chopsticks?
“Well, he um,” She bit her lip to suppress a giggle, “he wanted to do some kinky shit with them, and one thing led to another—and don’t you dare judge me, Gambrielle Evans!” Her eyes flew over my shoulder, to the gorgeous man sketching behind me. “I haven’t said a thing about your Laces infatuation.”
Jesus…did he hear that?
I stole a quick glance over my shoulder as the bus merged onto the highway. Laces had his head propped against the window, immersed in the sketch he was drawing of a hand. He looked like a runway model—ripped jeans, white tee, red and black long sleeved flannel shirt tightly secured around his waist. Most men couldn’t pull off the high-fashion grunge look, but he did it effortlessly. And the black hair, God…I licked my dry lips and quickly turned back to Varla, who was now grinning like she knew a secret. Patting the seat beside her, she stated, “It’s time for girl talk.”
I flushed. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“Oh, I can think of plenty.” Varla chirped, pulling me into her seat. She wasted no time getting down to the nitty gritty. “Who made the first move?”
Hmm…
“Me?”
Varla’s eyes popped out like a cartoon character. “No!” She all but shouted, and then calmly added, “Don’t give him that power so early in the game!”
“What power?”
“Exactly! He doesn’t have any because he made the first move!” Varla said with a finality in her voice that made me shiver. She had worn a short fluffy skirt with ruffles and a loose black tank. I thought it did a great job of complimenting her bright blue pixie cut. She reached for my hand, “If he wants sex you make sure he goes down for dinner first. He needs to stir the pot before adding any more ingredients. Capeesh?”
I rubbed my temples. “Oh my God…”
“Don’t oh my God me, I’m giving you a basic rundown of what you deserve.” She held her head up high, the butterfly clips in her blue hair twinkling against the morning sun. It was only then that I realized how out of place I felt sitting next to her in my school-girl esque uniform. “They are men first and psych patient’s second—remember that. It’ll keep you from feeling bad when he starts begging.”
And that was pretty much what the ride to Baylor consisted of: Sex Etiquette 101, taught by Hawthorne’s very own Varla English. Ten minutes before we arrived at the mall, I slipped back beside Laces and flashed an awkward smile when he looked up at me with a daunting gaze. “Sorry, Varla wanted to chat. You know how she gets.” I whispered.
His eyes—dear Jesus—they stripped my soul with one look. He tucked his pencil behind his ear and reached forward—caressing the side of my cheek as though I were the most fragile object in the world—and whispered “I don’t beg Stray, but you will.”
My breath hitched in my lungs.
His smooth finger slowly trailed over my lips, tracing each groove and indention and committing it to memory. It was a strange feeling, the fleeting comfort of his touch and the peace that it offered; at first it was electric and warm, and then when he pulled away my selfish body erupted into chaos, demanding more of what I still didn’t understand.
Dear God…
The bus came to an abrupt stop a minute later and Nurse Kline jumped to her feet so fast… “Who did it?” She demanded. Her eyes scanned the rows. “You might as well admit to it now and take your punishment like a man—or woman. These trips are supposed to be learning experiences, not red carpet opportunities to feed your fucked-up egos! Who did it? Now! I want a name!” I’d never seen Nurse Kline so worked-up. She stormed down the aisle and stopped in front of Thorne—who looked a little turned on and nervous at the same time. Grabbing a fistful of his black shirt, she pulled his muscular body to his feet and hissed, “You’re looking awfully nice today, Walsh!”
“It wasn’t me!” He snapped back, giving just as much as he was receiving.
She tightened her grip on his shirt and he shoved her away. Pointing a sharp white-tip nail at him she shouted, “Oh you better pray like hell it wasn’t! When we reach Baylor I’m getting off of this cheesewagon and marching to the first photographer I see, and if he says Thorne Walsh tipped him off, you will be mine asshole.”
“Jesus Kline!” Reyes shouted, gaping at her. Her narrow eyes shot to the row in front of Varla where Reyes sat—back straight, poised as ever. Brave soul… “No one called. You’re being paranoid, are you sure you aren’t having a psychotic break?”
Her lips drew into a thin line and she shook her head—her eyes wild like an untamed beast. “Do not address me so informally, Park.”
Reyes held up his hands, surrendering.
“Someone called and I’m going to find out who, and when I do…” Her voice drifted off, a dark promise of what was to come still hovering in the air when she sat back down.
When we arrived at Baylor five minutes later a pack of photographers was ready and waiting for us at the entrance. The parking lot was bare and from what I could see the inside of the mall was a ghost town.
We parked in a row reserved for handicap customers and when the driver killed the engine fifteen or so photographers raced toward the bus, cameras and microphones poised and at the ready.