the door, and suddenly Pen’s talking Greek because I don’t get a word after my gaze locks on his tall frame, his messy hair, his cut jaw. The casual way he drops his books on the desk, then looks toward the back of the classroom.
My breath sticks in my throat when his attention lands on me and his eyes warm.
Morning, he mouths.
God, strike me down if that’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Hey, I mouth back.
The teacher starts, and as Tyler turns toward the front of the room, I face palm. Hey? That’s the best I can do?
Wait. This is Tyler we’re talking about. I don’t need to try to impress him.
Except I want to. Fuck my stupid heart, but I want him to think I’m the coolest girl he’s ever met.
He knows you’re not cool. You walked into his pool house, yelled at him, started crying, and he still kissed you.
I bite my lip as I stare at the back of his head through the rest of class.
“You think Gatsby applies universally?” Pen gripes at the end.
“It’s about the rise and fall of the American dream,” I respond, distracted. “It’s more relevant now than it was in Fitzgerald’s time. Today, the super-rich are people like Gatsby, new money from tech and finance, but there’s more inequality than ever.”
“East or West, who the fuck cares? This place is full of eggheads.”
“Pen,” I say, unable to keep it in any longer, “Tyler kissed me last night.”
“And it was so good you didn’t call me immediately and instead lay in bed, staring out the window at the pool house, while you rubbed one out, like Gatsby looking at his damned green light?”
I cock my head at her as we head out of class. “Oddly poetic.”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she says as we pull up next to our lockers.
I flick the lock and jerk the door open. “I didn’t stare out the window at the pool house while I got myself off, but I did leave the curtains open.”
Her laugh has me shaking my head.
After leaving Tyler with Brandon last night, I tried to rehearse, to do homework, to play with Sophie while Haley worked in the kitchen and my dad watched his favorite home reno show, but eventually I gave it up and dragged my ass upstairs.
And yes, I made myself come thinking of Tyler. It’s hard not to. The guy’s a walking orgasm.
It’s not even about sex, which a few weeks ago I couldn’t have cared less about but suddenly feels more important than final exams, world peace, and what’s for breakfast put together.
It’s the feeling that every second we’re in the same room and I can’t touch him, can’t feel the warmth of his body, can’t smell his sunshine and cedar scent is a waste.
Being closer to Tyler isn’t something I “want.” Every part of my body insists that it’s necessary if I’m going to keep breathing.
I know it’s stupid and high school, but I can’t let go of it.
But even if some part of him does want me, he’s not impulsive like I am. He holds the world at a distance, and after learning how his dad treated him, I understand why he has trouble trusting.
And there’s a more immediate problem. If my dad finds out, he’ll lose his shit, but he won’t take it out on me.
He’ll take it out on Tyler.
Which means he can’t find out.
“Well, if you want to know for sure what’s in his head…” Pen points at a sign hanging in the hall.
I laugh. “Prom is a four-letter word, Pen, and it’s this weekend, and we’re juniors.”
“Tyler’s not. Get him to take you. Just the thing to take the edge off exams looming a few weeks away, where boyfriends and boy toys alike come to frolic under guise of darkness.”
I turn to follow Pen’s gaze and see a familiar outline at his locker with Brandon. Pen slams her locker and walks toward him. I trot after her, cursing.
“Hey, Tyler!” Pen calls.
He turns, his attention landing briefly on her before flicking to me. “Hey.”
His gaze travels down my body and back up again, and I want to squeeze my thighs together. I soak in the sight of him, his messy dark hair, the strong shoulders under his jacket, the loosened tie at his neck.
Playing it cool, take two.
Except I don’t want to.
I want to tell him I shaved my legs last night.
I want to cup my hands around his ear and whisper the rumor