Page 78 of A Scandal in Homeroom
“Thank you. For last night. For Beth and Janie, too. I needed to come clean to them, I just didn’t know how.”
He stepped closer, and, even though every instinct I had, well, every instinct but one, was to take a step back, I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. I felt his hand in my hair. Felt his other hand lifting my face so carefully even as he pulled back.
“I’m not fragile, Locke.”
“No, you’re not. You are incredibly brave.”
“That’s not really sexy,” I said, with a bit of my infamous pout.
He stepped closer again and pressed himself against me. He was hard and I had to admit it scared me, but it thrilled me, too.
“You want me?”
“Always. And I have absolutely no idea how to handle that.”
“Handle that or handleit?”
Again, his lips tilted up and that thrilled part of me became positively ecstatic. “I handleitjust fine. In fact, I want you to imagine just that. First, I’m going to watch you walk into your house. Then I’m going to go home and do what I wanted to do last night but managed to restrain myself. I’m going to go into the guest room. Slide naked in between the sheets that you slept on. Surround myself in the smell of your hair, your body. And then I’m going to touch myself and think about what it would be like if you were there with me. Actually watching me do it.”
I didn’t have any flippant comeback for that, and he knew it. So smug. Someday I would have the actual sexual confidence to put him in his place. For now, I was happy to be…seduced. Because that’s what he was doing. He was seducing me. Gently, slowly, so I didn’t feel rushed.
I did, however, feel safe. Very, very safe with him.
“You stole my T-shirt,” he said.
I nodded.
“You’ll wear it tonight and think of me.”
I nodded again.
He pressed his lips gently to mine, ran his tongue along my lower lip. Nibbled my upper lip. I felt him, I breathed him. I was all desire and no fear and when I wanted more, he backed away.
I blinked a few times before I realized he was actually stepping back. His hands no longer touching me.
“Locke,” I asked, feeling as if the ground was suddenly shifting beneath my feet. “Are you…are youteasingme?”
This time it wasn’t just a tilt of his lips, but instead he smiled fully, and it transformed his face.
“Always leave them wanting more,” he said. “At least that’s what I’ve been told. Now go before I change my mind.”
I did the fists on my hips, full-on lip-pout look, but he only laughed.
“Go.”
Then in the long tradition of girls throughout history, I tossed my hair over my shoulder, turned around and pretended he didn’t exist to me as I walked to my house.
I pretended through dinner. Through explaining the complicated pyramid that caused the accident. Through studying and watching some television. I pretended right up until I put his T-shirt on and slipped into bed.
Then I couldn’t pretend anymore.
I was thinking about Locke. I was thinking about kissing him and sex and desire. And it felt so good, so clean and healthy, I started to cry.
Maybe I wasn’t broken after all.
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