I flashed a glare. Excuse me?
I shoved him in the chest, pushing him back.
I’m not serving you.
I’m not sitting at your table.
You can go and screw up your life without a care.
And also…
“You gave that sleazebag my underwear,” I said.
You son of a bitch.
A grin teased the corners of his mouth, but he simply turned back to me, holding back his smile.
“But then you didn’t need them, right?” I taunted, calming my voice. “Still have my pink ones from after Homecoming? Have you used them a lot, or did you just lube up with your own tears over the years?”
He crouched down and got in my face with his eyes on fire. “What makes you think there weren’t lots of hot, wet panties over the years?”
Spinning around, he left, and I burned a hole in his back as he disappeared into the house.
Believe me, Will Grayson. I know exactly where you’ve been.
Emory
Nine Years Ago
“They have mac and cheese, burgers, turkey tetrazzini,” Erika Fane told some girl ahead of me in line, “and chicken pot pie today, but I’d recommend the chicken sandwiches. They’re good and spicy.”
No. They aren’t. The freshmen were the only ones who still hadn’t realized where those cramps in the middle of fifth period were coming from.
The other blonde who looked like she could be her sister—except Erika Fane didn’t have a sister—just stood there, not looking over the selections that Fane listed off.
“It all sounds fine,” she replied. “Whatever you recommend.”
Fane grabbed the chicken sandwich wrapped in foil and brought it to her. The other girl held out both hands, feeling for the item.
I narrowed my eyes, watching her. Slowly, and keeping her eyes focused ahead, she took the item and set it on her tray herself, albeit a little clumsy.
Like she couldn’t see.
Realization dawned. This was Winter Ashby. Bitchy Arion Ashby’s kid sister.
She was blind, I’d heard.
Well, hopefully, she was nicer than her sister. When did she start here? I rarely ate lunch and we weren’t in the same classes, so I hadn’t seen her before.
They moved down the line, but not before an attack of conscience hit me and I plucked the chicken sandwich off her tray, quietly replacing it with a burger without her or Fane noticing. She wouldn’t know who to thank, but that was okay.
I grabbed a burger and a banana before reaching over and taking a bottle of water, adding it to my tray.
An arm came around me and took my necktie, threading it through long, beautiful fingers, veins bulging through the back of his hand.
“Nice tie,” he whispered close to my ear.
My heart leapt, and I stopped breathing for a moment.
His breath tickled my hair. “Thank you for wearing it.”
I couldn’t turn around and look at him because I was sure my face was ten shades of red. He’d put his tie on me after the movies when he’d dropped me at home, and I wasn’t going to wear it, but…
He’d taken another bad day and made it good. I liked wearing something that reminded me of it.
He dipped down, slipping his hand around my waist and breathing into my neck.
“Emmy…”
Heat covered my body, hearing him say it just like he’d said it when I straddled him in the theater.
“Please,” I begged, throwing off his hand, “just…go back to your table.” I looked over to their regular seats, seeing Damon watching us while pretty girls loitered around. “Lots there to keep your attention.”
“That’s not what I want,” he taunted, squeezing my waist again.
I moved down the line, looking around to see if anyone else was watching us.
“Don’t worry,” he said letting me go and adding a brownie and chocolate milk to my tray. “All they see is me fucking with you. They’d never suspect—”
“That you were serious?”
He grinned to himself and dumped a bag of pretzels and some French fries on my tray. “No, that you like me.”
He reached around my other side, his cheek on mine as he reached for a pudding and fruit cup.
He blanketed my back, pressing into me, and my heart beat so fast. I turned my head, feeling his lips close to mine.
“Please, just…” Go sit down.
But the words were lost, and I didn’t finish the sentence. Sweat cooled my neck, and I finally clenched my tray, getting a hold of myself.
“Just go sit down,” I snapped and then blinked, seeing all the shit on my tray. “And stop putting all this food on here! You’re not eating with me.”
“It’s for you,” he told me, taking out his wallet. “You’re pale. All of that’s kosher, right?”
I growled, starting to put the food back, but he grabbed my tray and handed the cashier the money.
“I’m going to need my tie back,” he said. “Tonight.”
“I can’t,” I told him.
“You will.” He took his change and handed me the tray. “I’ll pick you up at the end of your block at eleven.”
“I can’t,” I said, louder this time.
But he came in closer, looking down at me. “And then I’m taking you to my house. Just us. I want to have a Mission: Impossible marathon with you tonight.”
A Mission: Impos…? I snorted, despite myself, and quickly looked away, trying to hide my smile. God, he was an idiot.
I wanted to go, though.
I stood there, shaking my head absently. “I can’t,” I mouthed.
Martin would find out.
My grandmother would need me.
We had school tomorrow.
I’d let things happen he’d only make me regret.
But he came in, taking his tie around my neck and rubbing it between his fingers. “You come to me,” he said, “or I’ll come to you.”
• • •
I got an A on that Lolita study packet. Over a week late, and I still got an A. And the best part was, I didn’t even turn it in. I was tempted to.
I just couldn’t do it, though. Every educational success I would’ve had after would’ve been marred. The rest of my life would’ve been over.
A fraud. A cheat. A lousy example to my children.
All because I faked one English assignment. That was how neurotic I was.
Unfortunately, the long arm of Will Grayson stretched all the way into the teacher’s gradebook and changed my zero to a hundred percent, despite the missing assignment.
Not very inconspicuous. I would’ve been fine with a ninety-eight. Safe with a ninety-two, even.
I’d inform Mr. Townsend tomorrow that the grade was wrong.
If I didn’t forget.
I walked across the empty locker room and opened the shower curtain, stepping in and hanging my towel on the hook. Turning on the water, I dipped my already wet head under the spray, my skin breaking out in goosebumps at the feel of the hot water.
It was only four thirty in the afternoon. I still had hours before I was supposed to meet Will, and even though I’d spent the rest of the day—and my private time sneaking into the pool for a workout afterward—trying to tell myself I wouldn’t care when eleven rolled around, and I’d left him waiting at the end of my block, it hurt inside a little at the idea of blowing him off.