. . . move. Leave. Get in my car and drive away. But I didn’t think my shaky hands could steer effectively. And for some reason, my stupid brain couldn’t stop thinking about Hendrix and the way he’d argued, pleaded with me to let him help.
I didn’t want his help. I didn’t need it . . . and yet I found myself slipping into the auditorium through a side door and scanning the blank, indifferent faces. They were so calm—bored even. Didn’t they know my heart was about to burst out of my rib cage?
As I climbed, I checked each row for those broad shoulders, that messy hair, those sometimes cruel eyes that seemed to see me better than anyone else ever had.
“Miss Mead,” Mr. Monroe hissed, a reproachful look in his bespectacled eyes. He was easily the hottest teacher at Fulton, but he was also the meanest. He had his hands clasped in front of him, one of several teachers standing throughout the auditorium to keep an eye on the students. “Take a seat. The headmistress is speaking.”
“Sorry, sir. I’m looking for another student. I’ve just come from the office with an urgent message for him.” The lie rolled off my tongue so easily even I was impressed, especially considering the tempest raging inside me.
He eyed me suspiciously for a moment, but I didn’t falter. I was student body president, a top student, liked and respected by students and staff. I never got in trouble. Finally, he nodded. “Make it quick.”
We’d drawn the attention of several students nearby, their curious gazes looking for any distraction from the boring speeches below.
My eyes finally locked with Hendrix’s. He was sitting a few rows from the top, three empty seats and two juniors between him and the stairs. I kept eye contact, unable to break it if I wanted to, letting the desperation enter my gaze. He frowned and shifted forward in his seat.
I climbed farther up, watching him, begging him with my eyes.
When he got to his feet and shuffled past the other students, my heart kicked up a notch, even as some of the pressure around it eased.
I met him at the end of his row, gestured with a tip of my head for him to follow me, and kept climbing. His feet brushed against the carpet close behind mine, and the back of my neck tingled from his scrutinizing gaze.
Dear Miss Donna Mead,
Thank you for your application . . .
My steps faltered, and Hendrix’s hand shot out to grip my upper arm, holding tightly. He released me as soon as I was steady, and I picked up my pace.
At the top of the stairs, he followed me inside the projector room and shut the door behind us.
I stood facing the dark room, finally allowing my chest to heave, my face to fall. This room had a professional digital projector for screenings of films the visual arts students made, as well as several bulky lights and a control panel for school plays and performances. An assembly didn’t require any of those bells and whistles though, so the space was empty and silent. A few people definitely would have seen us slip in, but I was sure none of the teachers had—one of them would’ve come through that door by now to demand what we were doing.
“Donna.” His voice was low, cautious, but curious. “What are we doing in here?”
We receive a large volume of applications each year, and as such are unable to offer a spot to most applicants . . .
I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a steadying breath that didn’t steady me at all, then turned to place my hands on his chest.
“I’m taking you up on your offer,” I whispered, hoping he mistook my heavy breathing for arousal and not the clawing panic inside me.
The smooth muscle under my palms stiffened as he narrowed his eyes. Just touching him, being close enough to smell that heady male scent with a hint of cinnamon, was already making me feel more grounded. But why wasn’t he touching me back? I needed him to touch me.
“What offer?” His voice had gone low too.
“The one you made by the pool that day, when you demanded I stop going to Davey’s and asked if I went because I wanted to get laid.” I slid my hands up and over his shoulders, pressing my breasts against his front.
“If I remember correctly, that was around the time you told me to get lost.” He