Page 44 of Full Coverage (Boys of Fall)

“Randi—”

She whirled around, her eyes suddenly flashing. “I want to take you somewhere alone and let you do anything you want with me. I want to strip off my clothes and spread my legs for you. What the hell are you doing fighting me on this?”

He stared at her. With the level of the music and conversation in the place, he didn’t think anyone else had heard her, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away to check.

Miranda Doyle was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and she was demanding he take her somewhere and get naked. What the hellwashe doing?

She wet her lips. “Come on, Nolan. Let’s go have some fun.” She stepped closer. “At the high school newspaper office.”

Damn. He’d been thinking about that since she’d first said it to him weeks ago at Coach’s party. That office had been his haven. The idea of taking Randi there—andtakingRandi there—had stirred up some major fantasies.

He’d been the paper’s editor, reporter and publisher. He’d been a one-man show. Because he’d started the whole thing. There had been a school paper way back in the fifties, but it had died in the sixties when school officials shut it down when they realized that students with information were harder to control.

He’d started it back up under an administration that agreed with his assertion that students deserved to be informed about the things that affected them. But, as altruistic as that had sounded, Nolan couldn’t deny the feeling of power it gave him. He had decided what got lauded and what didn’t, what got attention and what didn’t, what facts people had. And which ones they didn’t. Sure, there was gossip. Yes, people talked. But because Nolan was a good guy, the smartest kid in school, a guy everyone liked, they trusted him and his word was final. Whatever appeared in theTitan Timeswas gospel.

He'd been powerful and they hadn’t even realized it. He knew things—people talked to him, told him details that sometimes astounded him, shared secrets—and he chose what got into print. He’d spilled some secrets. But he’d kept even more.

He’d been the king in that office. And the idea of spreading Randi out on that old desk and making her beg and scream and come…

“Okay, let’s go.”

The back door to the school was, indeed, still broken. A person had to know how to get in, it didn’t just swing open, but everyone knew.

He and Randi parked behind the trees about a block from the school. They ran, holding hands to the back door, and did the lift-twist-push-yank that got the thing open and slipped inside.

Nolan was nearly knocked over by the nostalgia of being in the hallways of Quinn High School again. It smelled the same. It looked the same. Itfeltthe same. Not caring about football had put him on the outer edge of the main group, maybe, but he’d had a lot of great times here.

They walked down the hallways, looking around, still holding hands. It was stupid, but Nolan took a second to absorb it all into his memory. He was holding hands with Miranda Doyle in the main hallway of the high school. It was a few years late, but the seventeen-year-old Nolan was pretty pumped about it.

No one was here this time of night. It wasn’t like there was full-time security or even a nighttime janitor. This was Quinn. So they took their time getting to the newspaper office. They stopped in front of their senior yearbook composite that hung with the others in the main hallway. Nolan instantly found Randi’s photo. She’d been gorgeous back then, but as he stole a glance at her, he realized she was more beautiful now. There was a confidence and contentment about her now that drew him. And he was proud that he’d grown into an adult who appreciated that stuff as much as long legs and great breasts. Because it was hard tonotappreciate her long legs and great breasts. It was a sign he’d evolved. That was a good thing.

But he still really wanted to get her naked in the newspaper office.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her down the hallway.

* * *

They stoppedoutside the guidance counselor’s office. There was a tiny room, that had actually been put in as a storage closet originally, that the counselor had let Nolan convert into an office for the paper. There were no windows, not even a window in the door, and it was barely big enough for the second-hand desk they’d shoved in there. But it had worked. He’d produced three hundred copies of the paper once a week from November of his freshman year until May of his senior year.

The counselor’s office was unlocked—because why wouldn’t it be? They pulled the door open to the newspaper’s den and Nolan reached for the light switch.

The overhead bulbs illuminated a completely new space.

The old wooden desk had been replaced with a modern style that was smaller and sleeker. The computer had been upgraded—thankfully—to a huge flat screen that left a lot more room on the desktop. There was still the typical clutter and the shelves were still there. There were even some of Nolan’s old books still on those shelves. There was a huge bulletin board covering one wall that held pinned-up articles from a variety of papers. Some of the articles were his from theSan Antonio Express-News. He was flattered. But the wall above the computer monitor was his favorite.

On the plain light tan paint were a multitude of inspirational quotes about writing, written in various handwritings with a rainbow of colored permanent marker.

Most writers regard the truth as their most valuable possession, and therefore are most economical in its use. ~ Mark Twain.

A blank piece of paper is God’s way of telling us how hard it is to be God. ~ Sidney Sheldon.

It is perfectly okay to write garbage—as long as you edit brilliantly. ~ C.J. Cherryh.

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. ~ Douglas Adams.

And so many others. Nolan felt…something he’d never felt in this room before. As if there were people who understood him, and shared his passion.

“This is amazing,” Randi said softly.

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