It was tempting to follow her, to push her up against the locker and kiss her. Instead, I turned and headed in the other direction.
“Hey, are we going drinking again tonight?” Declan asked, as he appeared at my side.
He was a functioning alcoholic at eighteen. His dad owned a fortune five hundred company in Manhattan, like my dad. Our families ran in the same circle, a privileged and pretentious circle, where only the elite of the elite were given an invitation. I wanted out of the circle, and for a time, I had gotten out, but I was pulled back in. Declan enjoyed the benefits that came with being in the circle. He was self-absorbed and partied too much, but he was also only eighteen. Sowing his wild oats before he took over for his father, because that was how it worked in our circle…the son followed in their father’s footsteps…always. He didn’t wait for me to answer his first question before he threw out another one. “What was up with picking that chick yesterday?” He lifted his hands to his head. “The one with all that hair.”
One of the reasons we’d never really be friends was because, when it came to chicks, he was like a little kid with a new toy, he wanted his own, but he wanted yours too. I downplayed my interest when I said, “Just keeping things interesting.”
He studied me for a second before he asked, “You tap that?” I fisted my hands. I wasn’t surprised I’d tripped his competitive nature, but I fucking didn’t like that I put Cedar on his radar. “She’s kind of hot. Odd, but hot.”
Before I rammed one of my fists in his face, I changed the subject. “You finally tap Layla?” I knew he had, but there was nothing that Declan liked more than talking about his conquests.
“Fuck, yeah I did. She does this thing, clenching her hips while she’s riding your cock and her tits. Fuck man, the way they bounce around…” He grabbed his junk. “She told me I could fuck her in the ass.” He adjusted his cock. “I might just have to marry the girl.”
The bell rang saving me from having to answer.
Later in the day, I walked into independent study. Cedar was in my class. She had another notebook opened as she chewed on the tip of her pencil. The class had separated into cliques, likes with likes, but not Cedar. She sat in the front row by herself. When I entered the room, eyes turned to me. Sarah pulled out a chair in invitation; the smile that curved her red painted lips suggested the invite wasn’t just for the seat. I took the spot behind Cedar. She didn’t notice me, too distracted with what she was working on. I heard the whispers, the talk, and then I heard the snickering. I knew it was Sarah, feeling slighted, she tried to turn the focus from her by directing attention elsewhere. And that elsewhere was Cedar.
“Why don’t you just cut it?” Sarah shouted then laughed, when her friends giggled.
Cedar didn’t acknowledge her. Sarah wasn’t having that. She stood, walked across the room, running her finger along my desk, giving me that invitation again, before she stopped in front of Cedar.
“Hello!” she said, her focus going to Cedar’s notebook. “What’s this?” she asked and snatched it from her desk. Cedar’s head snapped up.
“What is that? A shoe?” Sarah held it up. “She thinks that we would wear the shit she does.”
Cedar said nothing. I couldn’t see her face. I thought the silence was because she was upset. The idea of it had my hands fisting. She then stood and, effortlessly, took her notebook back. Sarah stopped laughing, her eyes narrowed. Before she could make a biting comment, Cedar said, “I’m not designing for people like you.”
She sat back down, her pencil moving over the page. Sarah dropped her hands on Cedar’s desk; the action went completely unnoticed by her. I lifted my hand to cover my smile because my Cedar had a bite.
“What does that mean? People like me.”
Cedar stopped sketching, lifted her head and looked Sarah right in the eyes. “Unimaginative sheep who only wear what everyone else is wearing.”
Sarah gasped. Cedar added, “Go be outraged elsewhere. You’re blocking my light.”
I saw the look and was prepared to intervene when Sarah reached for Cedar’s notebook again, but just that fast, Cedar grabbed her wrist tightly, by the wince of pain that moved across Sarah’s face. Cedar’s voice dropped, low enough that I leaned in to hear her. “I let it go the first time. You don’t get a second.”
She dropped Sarah’s arm and went back to sketching. Sarah’s face was bright red, her eyes a little bright. Her focus shifted to me, and I couldn’t help it when I said, “That didn’t go the way you were hoping, did it?”
It was only then that Cedar turned, her green eyes landing on me. Then she smiled. Not grinned, but smiled. The sight hit me right in the chest and pulled a matching one from me. Her eyes drifted to my lips, her tongue appeared, the tip running across her bottom lip. I didn’t think she even knew she did it, but fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Neither of us saw, as Sarah ran from the room.
Chapter Three
Cedar
The craft store was having a sale. I bought my body weight in colored glass and rhinestones, even bought a soldering gun and iron, so I could try to fashion my own accents for the shoe I was designing. I had several bags that were a bit cumbersome, but I managed.
I was distracted as I walked down Main Street, my thoughts turning to Brock. For three years, he had avoided me, so what changed? He had been right behind me in study hall, and I’d been there first. I couldn’t lie I liked it, but I didn’t understand it. He’d witnessed the scene with Sarah. I didn’t usually let people get to me, but when confronted with blatant douchiness... Hearing Brock taunting her that her plan hadn’t worked, it made me smile, knowing he saw through her bullshit, too. A part of the boy I knew was still in there.
One of the bags was slipping, so I stopped at the bench for the bus to get a better handle on my packages.
“You want a ride?” My head jerked up, hearing the familiar voice. Brock was leaning over the passenger seat, those gray eyes smiling at me.
I didn’t answer him, just stared, because Brock was offering me a ride. He drove. I mean, I did, too, but I’d never driven with him. Well, not when he was legal.
When the silence dragged out for a few seconds, he grinned, my eyes moving to his mouth when he said, “Cedar?” He climbed from the car. My eyes followed him as he walked around the back of it, watched as he stepped up onto the curb, my head tilting back, as he came to stand at my side. He was tall. Those gray eyes looked greener. His lips tipped up on the one side.
“Let me drive you home.” He didn’t wait for a response, taking some of the bags and putting them on the back seat. He then reached for the passenger door and pulled it open. Brock then waited.