Page 15 of Life Lessons

“Come on you.” Musgrove appears and addresses her friend. “Let’s get you cleaned up for our double date tonight. I hope you’ve reserved some energy, you’re going to need it.” Musgrove winks at me and I grimace, any good feeling instantly gone. Nightingale drags herself to her feet, walking away without looking back, not that I expected her to. Right?

“Get your ass up, Jett!” Danny laughs through the loud speaker when I’m the only one left on the field. “We’re going out for a beer tonight. First rounds on me, you’ve earned it.”

“I barely did anything.” I cup my mouth to shout back at the glass umpire box he’s standing in. Sam joins his side, taking the microphone from his brother.

“Let’s be honest, Jett, you’re a bit of a prick most of the time.” I hold my middle finger up at him, knowing full well it’s the truth. “But, you came through for us when it mattered, let us thank you for that.” I want to say no, to be the boring old fart that wallows in his own misery, but what’s the use in that? Nightingale won’t be sitting around thinking of me, not that I want her to, but my point to myself is—my misery is one-sided and self-afflicted. Best to shake that shit off quickly. I stand with a shrug, Danny and Sam cheering through the speakers, so I bow. King of picking myself up for yet another drink, that’s me.

After what was a surprisingly good day, I’m not in the mood for a date and I don’t know how many times I have to tell Trix that. But then every time she asks me why, with her eyebrow raised questioningly, looking at me like she can already see the answer, I cave again. What the hell can I say to her? That I want to stay home, wearing the t-shirt I stole from my teacher and think about all the times his hands were on my bare skin today. Or the way his face looked carefree for the first time since I met him. And let’s not forget the fact that his deep, hearty laugh sent shivers down my spine.

When we were laying next to each other, even though it was only for a moment, our eyes were bright, our smiles matching, and we were just laughing like we were having the best time. I wanted to roll on my side, to stare at his body. He looked so young in the school’s physical education kit. But the way his muscles stretched the sweat coated white t-shirt, it was more than obvious he was all man. The sweat had started to make it see-through, and I was in prime proximity to ogle. But then he put his hand on my thigh and I froze. It was far enough down to be simply his way of tagging me, but it was higher than it should have been with one of his students. The reason for my flinching was the same reason I was wearing skinny jeans on the world’s hottest October day, while everyone else was in shorts and skirts. I knew he couldn’t feel the scars, but I knew they were there, and I was glad when we finally separated.

Hearing his real name, Jett, did weird things to my insides, too. Even though I have heard it before, it means more now. I have been thinking for weeks that I wanted to know more about him, stuff that you don’t know about your teacher, like his name and his age. I got half way there today and the whole time I was in the shower washing off the grime from such a great day, I couldn’t help but test out how his name sounds on my lips. I may have enjoyed that a bit too much, but my pussy was aching in a way it has never done before. Even a self made orgasm, thinking about his hand touching me, and whispering his name, had me on fire.

Getting out of the shower, I look at the clock and realise it won’t be long until Trixie will be here. I have repeatedly asked her where we are going, but she continues to refuse to tell me. Settling, instead, for picking out my outfit and telling me how to dress. When she was here earlier, going through my closet and getting stressed by the amount of black and baggy clothes, I couldn’t help but laugh. She sounded like my wardrobe was causing her a genuine level of anxiety. She kept muttering about how her clothes wouldn’t fit because my boobs and hips were bigger, and how she should have checked my clothes situation before the afternoon of the date. She also made a snide remark, barely under her breath like she thought, saying she expected me to at least have some female clothes, even if I don’t use them. I didn’t take her comments personally, I know they weren’t anything serious, just typical teenage girl stuff. And, to be honest, she is right. I probably should have some dressing up stuff here with me, I just never planned on needing it. If only she could see my wardrobe at home.

I sit on my bed, casually lounging, and I see the moment she finds something that will work because her face lights up as brightly as her hair. Now I’m sitting here in a towel, staring at the dress I purchased last week. The one I bought because I knew Tillie would love it. It’s nothing like what I am used to wearing now, I just hope it covers me in all the right places.

Trixie made me a getting ready list that she expects me to follow, it’s almost like she thought this was my first time dressing up. But then again, it was for Abbie Night. Whereas, Abigail Nightingale was a fucking pro, and I would need to pull on some of her experience today. I started after getting dry by curling my hair, and putting it into a messy lower chignon and allowed some of the curls to roam free and highlight my face. I even put on a full face of make-up, simply because it was on Trixie’s list and I can’t deny that girl anything. I also can’t rebut the way the make-up emphasises my big blue eyes, or makes my bright red lips seem plumper. I might even go as far as to say that my face looks sexy. Next comes the dress.

Pulling the dress over my head, I send a silent prayer out to whoever is listening, that the dress at least comes down to my knees, far enough to cover up the hideous scars that Mike says still aren’t healed enough to tattoo over. Once the dress is in place, I stare in the mirror and am honestly shocked by who I see staring back. The dress comes to my knees, and from my hips to my knees the black fabric is tight around my legs. The front of the dress is something else. It has straps that reveal a plunging deep V in the front, but not quite plunging enough that I have to tape the girls down. There’s a lace modesty panel that follows the edges of the V and then meets in the middle, so the plunge doesn’t go below mid-cleavage. The back, however, is a whole new kind of sexy. It isn’t so much a deep V plunge, it’s more of a scoop where the entire back of the dress is missing. This would look even better if I had finally decided on what tattoo I wanted to fill the large space in the middle of my shoulder blades and upper back. But you can see all the other little meaningful tattoos that I have splashed all over my skin.

This dress is the epitome of sexy and I feel amazing in it. But what I also love is that I feel like Abbie, not just Matilda’s twin. Don’t get me wrong, she would have loved it, but it’s more me now than old me. The electric blue in my hair is visible in the few strands I have allowed to fall to frame my face. Although the plunge, more at the back than the front, means that I can’t wear a bra. It’s my choice not to wear underwear either. Truth is, a dress like this needs a sexy black laced thong that doesn’t show off too much panty line, because the fabric really is that tight. But I don’t have any fancy pants, or sexy thongs. So I decide to risk going without.

When I started here at Willowmead, I had no intention of going on any dates or ever getting laid. I just wanted to keep my head down and graduate, but that all changed when I made a friend. At first I thought I would push Trixie away given how closed off and moody I am, but turns out, I didn’t need to worry. She likes the quiet version of me and is helping me come out of my shell more and more.

I hear a loud knock on the door and after having a last minute wobble, I decide to stick with my decision and forgo underwear. I grab my bag, throwing my money, phone, and keys into it before slipping my feet into the torture devices Trixie brought round earlier. Despite us not being the same clothes size, we are feet size, and when I said I was going to wear my biker boots with the dress, I’m sure she had a small stroke. Instead, she lent me some four inch black stilettos that I have no idea how to walk in. Even at my height of popularity I rarely wore heels, preferring my Converse, even then. As I start the short walk to the door, not only do my feet feel like they are dying, the lack of underwear begins to cause friction in my pussy. This is going to be a long night.

“Woah, check you out. You look hot, Abs,” Trixie smiles, her eyes practically bugging out of her head.

“Thank you. You look pretty amazing too,” I say, and of course, Trixie did an elaborate spin to prove it. I think when she was designing what to wear, her theme for the date was most certainly about how she could wear as few items of clothing as possible and show off as much skin.

Wearing a very short, flowy skirt that came to mid thigh, it’s a bright red colour that emphasises the pink strands she has in her hair, that she has allowed to flow freely. She’s also wearing a white crop top that looks more like a sports bra and covers the same amount of skin. Thank fuck she bothered with a bra or everything would be all over the place. She does look gorgeous, but also like, maybe she’s trying just a bit too hard. Obviously I wont say that to her, I would like to keep our friendship.

Sneaking out to the fence area I know is damaged, I’m pleased the date involves going off campus. In a dorm room it’s very hard to get away from your date, but when I have the whole town available, it’s easier. I certainly don’t waste any time getting through the fence, before putting it back together so nobody knows we have used it, I hope. There’s a reason we are sneaking out and it must be the curfew that Willowmead sets. We should be returning home by 10pm, if we were using the sign out method. The flashing headlights as we reach the other side indicates that our dates are ready for us.

Just like the true gentlemen they obviously are, they stay firmly in the car and don’t bother to get out and greet us. I curse internally and sigh because I already know I’m wasting a great dress on what I know will be a fuck up of an evening. I look over at Trix to say something along those lines and I can’t help but groan. She is clearly love blind because the look of excitement on her face is similar to that of a kid on Christmas morning. She’s actually bouncing on her feet, eager to get into the car.

Now that we are close enough, I can see what a nice car it actually is. Growing up with a father who collects cars like women collect shoes, I know instantly that they’re sitting in a Porsche 911 Carrera S-type. This is definitely a car for showing off. It’s one of the fastest, sleekest, most expensive supercars, but it’s versatile too and unlike most supercars there is a small bit of room in the back to seat two extra people. But that meant one of those assholes would need to get out and let us in because there’s no way I’m climbing in this dress and shoes.

Worrying about how to get in the damn car was the least of my worries. My heart is starting to race, my breathing becomes more erratic, and I’m starting to see spots in front of my eyes. I know this panic attack is bad enough for me to faint if I don’t get control of it, and soon. Yet, no matter how much I try to remember all the breathing techniques I have been shown, I just can’t and I’m freaking out. All I can see is the crash. We were in a car just like this one, and Tillie lost her life. Trix obviously hears my breathing and she repeatedly tells me to calm down. Obviously she doesn’t know anything about Tille, but I think she has worked out that I have some form of anxiety after a traumatic incident. I do actually manage to start breathing alongside her and it starts to calm me down.

“Are you okay? I didn’t think it was possible but you just got even whiter than you usually are.” That made me chuckle. She is always going on about how I need a tan and she didn’t think they made skin with my paleness.

“I’m okay. I just don’t like sports cars. They go too fast and cause accidents,” I explain, trying to keep my voice as unemotional as possible, but we both know she heard how my breath hitched at the word accident.

Luckily, despite the fact Trixie is the best gossip in school, second only to maybe Harley, she also knows when to keep quiet. She says that the minute we became friends, everything I say stays between us, and although I’ve not told her anything serious, she has been true to her word. She never presses me to talk, even when she knows I’m holding back or just not being honest.

Trixie is looking at me like she is trying to find the right thing to say, but then is interrupted. “Trixie, baby, come on and get in. Don’t want us to miss our reservation,” shouts Aaron Lux. I want to groan at the disgusting way he calls Trixie,baby, but I keep quiet. Trix knows I don’t like Aaron and I think she can do better, which I think is why I have ended up being dragged along to this ridiculous double date. She wants me to like him. She made excuses about it being for safety, amongst many other reasons, but I know she is seeking my approval. I just can’t like him, all I see is some meathead jock who plays on the school rugby team. He is so hamped up on something that he’s always shouting and hollering everywhere he goes. He’s also incredibly dull. Not to mention he’s failing every class he is in and some of them are special needs classes, but because his parents make sizable donations to the school, and his rugby talents win the school a lot of extra attention, people allow him to stay.

Trixie seems to think he’s the best thing since sliced bread, but I think it’s got more to do with him having biceps bigger than both her legs put together. And I haven’t been at school very long and I’ve even heard the rumours that he knows what he is doing in bed, even if he is only good for one round. Probably all the steroids affecting his performance.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Trixie says as she takes my hand and leads me to the driver’s side door. As we reach it Aaron practically falls out and I have to hide my smile. Little cars like this were not made for big guys like him. It’s a miracle he can fit in the sexy, sleek bucket seats.

As soon as he is out, he greets Trixie with a kiss that’s just a bit too much given her best friend is right next to her and there are people waiting. His hands grope her ass and I can see his tongue pistoning in and out of her mouth, which is at the exact moment I turn away. Trixie can definitely do a lot better than this meathead, but I agreed to keep an open mind, so that’s what I’m doing.

“Listen, baby, and make sure you hear me. If this car goes even one mile per hour over the speed limit, I will not have sex with you for a week. That includes blow jobs, too. Do I make myself clear?” she asks and I hear him groan loudly. I think the little pea in his brain is trying to decide what he enjoys more, Trixie or the car. But it is obvious on his face that the minute she clarified the inclusion, or rather exclusion of a blow job, the car became a distant memory. He promises her out right and it’s not until that moment he finally realises I have been standing here the whole time.

“Oh, new girl, so glad you could make it. I showed my cousin Nev a picture of you and he was keen to meet,” he says in an overly friendly way. I want to ask him how the hell he got my picture but that would not only freak me out, no doubt, but also drag this night on even just a few seconds longer than I would like. So I just smile and give Aaron a small wave. His cousin still hasn’t bothered to get out of the car or even partake in the conversation, which tells me exactly how this night is going to go. At least he doesn’t go to school with us, so ignoring him should be easy after tonight.

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