Page 10 of Grease Monkey
Teddy bristles as she looks between us, the corner of her lip turning up at the side. I shift uncomfortably as she stares at me, silently judging me like she had to everyone when she was still at my high school. I hadn’t realized it washer, the old Queen B, when I had first seen them together, her back facing me, preventing me from seeing her face. How would Teddy be with someone like her?They are polar opposites.
“I—I better go,” I whisper, glancing at Teddy from the corner of my eye. His shoulders are tense, his hands fisted by his sides, and I want to reach out, touch his arm and tell him… tell him what exactly? If I were ever given a chance to get to know him properly, it wouldn’t take much to see that he’s so much more than his job and monetary status. Which is stupid. This is my first non-mocking conversation—conversationused loosely—with him. But something in my stomach is telling me that I’d like Teddy on a deeper level, trousers around ankles and fucking into some hook-up’s mouth aside.
Just my neighbor.
I spin and dart toward the end of the path when I hear him call after me. “Ana, wait.”
I pause.Ana, the shortened version of my name has never sounded so good in this new gravel-infused tone I hadn’t heard until now. I look back, and his coy smirk beforeBrittanyinterrupted is back. He taps his fingers to the side of his nose. I blink, confused. He stalks closer, his long legs eating up the distance until hisscent, a blend of mint and coconut—an odd combination for a guy—washes over me, and I want to press into his shirt and breathe in deep. His fingers brush along my nose, and I try so damn hard to suppress the shudder that wants to course through my body at his touch. God, how I want him to keep touching me.
“You have dirt… right here.”
Brittany laughs, and my hand flies to my nose. I need to move. Turning sharply, I almost reach the end of the house when I hear his voice again. “See you around, Ana Banana.”
I glance over my shoulder, and he winks, his eyebrow quirking ever-so slightly as his mouth twitches. I frown and shake our interaction and his disgustingly handsome face from my head as I run back to my house, throwing open the front door and barreling up the stairs.
“Morgana? Did you get it?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
Oh, shoot—the casserole dish.
“No one was home,” I lie and bang my bedroom door closed. Leaning against the wood, I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the heels of my hands into them. I’m flooded with the look of Teddy’s blissed-out face, the strong hold he had on Brittany, and for the second time today, I wished it was me.
Chapter Four
Morgana
My window seat is calling out to me, beckoning like a siren, but with what happened this afternoon, the past three months of quietly enjoying my vantage point feels like crossing a line. My feet don’t agree, though, as they carry me across the room, passing my bed where I grab my phone and tucking themselves under my butt on autopilot. I clutch my phone to my chest and tentatively peek down toward his yard, a gust of air escaping my lips at seeing the pink SUV now gone. I’d heard voices raised and arguing when my back was pressed against my door, but the double-glazed window muffled any defining words. Ishouldfeel bad that their argument was most likely because I’d been there. After all, Teddy had defended me when Brittany said those things—the slice of pain the word “neighbor”evoked ignored—but I can’t summon the guilt or regret.
Brittany O’Malley is an entitled, over-privileged, mean girl who hasn’t changed much since leaving school a couple of years ago. She still thinks she can get what she wants with the click of her fingers, just like everyone else in our small slice of Old Greenwich. Nature versus nurture screwed with Skip and me; we never bought into the elitist rubbish, and now he’s free to follow his dreams, leaving me behind to keep pretending to be someone I’m not, just to fit in with everyone around me.
That is why I’m fascinated with Teddy. He doesn’t seem the type to care about what others think or expect from him. Though, I can’t help thinking that may be an act. The way he tensed when Brittany said “slumming it”wasn’t a reaction of someone who doesn’t care.
Pressing my forehead to the window, I let the cold glass chill my overheated skin and watch Teddy bring his Mustang out to his driveway. His long arms are extended, hands hidden slightly by the edges of the white covering, and his back is flat as he slowly pushes his car to the middle of the driveway. A laugh boils as he dashes to the driver’s side, throwing open the door before diving inside to pull up the hand brake. The car jolts to a stop, and he reappears, dusting his hands and panting.
I must be an idiot, a glutton for punishment, and I wish I could get over this infatuation. This stupid spell he’s had me under for the last three months. My schoolgirl crush has been soaring daily, going way past the stratospheric level and into the mesosphere—thick and breathless—where all the meteors that threaten the survival of Earth roam around. And the meteor that threatens my existence burning hot around me, ready to cause devastation in an instant, has dimples whenever he smiles.
You just caught him with his dick in someone else’s mouth. He thinks of you as just a neighbor. All those times he’s asked you out… a joke, a game, a wind-up because he enjoys making you squirm.
But I can’t stop thinking about it. I need to speak to someone; the only person I know who can talk me down and make me see sense. Steeling myself for what’s to come, I pull up my text thread and start typing out the events from earlier to the one person, since my brother, who I can tell most of my secrets to.
Morgana:I saw his dick.
Shay:Dick? Whose dick?
I huff a laugh. I knew I wouldn’t be waiting long for a reply.My fingers hover above the keypad for a beat.
Morgana:If I tell you, you promise not to make fun of me?
Shay:When do I ever do that?
Morgana:…
Shay:Okay, fine, I promise. Spill. Whose dick did you see? And can I see it too?
This is why I love Shay.
Shay Sylvester, the only child ofthe Sylvesters—socialites with more money and connections than an A-list celeb—is my best friend. Displaying all the stereotypical traits of being an only child, she is needy, hates sharing, and is one hundred percent a brat, but she is also the annoying non-bio sister I never knew I needed. More importantly, my mom despises her. She claims she’s a bad influence—true—gets us both into trouble—also true—but that doesn’t stop her from sucking up to Shay’s extremely well-off and well-connected parents whenever she can.
Morgana:I sort of, maybe, watched Teddy getting a BJ.
