Thank you so much for the tremendous response to the prologue! I hope you enjoy this second installment.
Right Where You Want Me
Chapter One
One would think that—as a sophomore—I would have stopped having trouble with my locker. If only I were so lucky. Of course, mine is the singular locker that sticks in the entire hallway. I pull at the handle halfheartedly as I watch my best (only) friend Trish glide up to me. When I first met her, I couldn't believe that, with her trendy clothes and confident air, she was willing to be friends with me.
And then she opened her mouth.
Trish is a Grade A bitch, but I love her anyway.
"Let me guess—your locker won't open, and you're about to claim it's stuck. I hate to break it to you, Ally, but you're just weak."
"Well, if that's the case, I'd like to see you open it," I huff.
She does. With great flair and ease.
I glare at her, before changing my tune to a hopeful smile. "Want to switch lockers?"
Trish snorts. "You wish."
I sigh, and go about my morning school routine. With me, I take the folders and books I'll need for my next three classes, knowing Trish won't be able to open my locker for me again until lunch. In addition, I grab my pencil case and songbook—the one item that never leaves my presence—and close my devilish locker.
Then, I bid my friend farewell, and face my doom—first period health class.
Is it just me or did ominous music just start playing?
-A&A-
There's an upside and a downside to always being early to class.
Upside: first dibs on seat choice.
Downside: watching every other student trickle in and sit anywhere but next to me.
From my vantage point one row back, two seats deep, I can see Mr. Lewis gearing up for another day of embarrassing us all. I'm fairly certain he enjoys it. Sometimes, I swear I can see the twinkle in his eye get brighter with every displeased groan and deep blush from the pained health class populace.
Students continue to collapse into desk chairs as if standing is a chore too exhausting to withstand a moment longer. I glance at the clock and see that there's about a minute until the late bell gongs merrily. Resisting a sigh, I brace myself for the obnoxious noise and impending headache with closed eyes. But instead of hearing the loud blare of the bell, I hear Mr. Lewis greeting someone.
"You must be our new student. Austin, right?" My eyes snap open. "Welcome to Marino High, kid. Take a seat anywhere."
What was he doing in a sophomore health class? My wide orbs take in the new boy for the second time. He's just as tousled and attractive as the last time I saw him, and he's headed directly for me. Dear god.
Breathe, Ally. In and out. You can do this.
He slides into the desk next to me, and gives me a nod of acknowledgment. "Hey," he says. "I'm Austin."
A tanned hand extends toward me casually. I'm sure I look like a deer in the headlights, all wide eyes and gaping mouth, but somehow I manage to mutter my name and shake his hand limply before turning to face the board.
New kid doesn't take the hint.
"So, health class, huh? At my old school, they just called it Sex Ed. I can't believe I have to take it over again just because the name is different. It was bad enough the first time, you know?"
This poor, clueless boy doesn't understand that talking to me is social suicide. I should inform him somehow, right?
"Did you know that there are over twelve different kinds of birth control not including abstinence? That tally includes three different types of pills, various implanted devices, two assortments of condoms, and sterilization," I blurt. My cheeks immediately burn with humiliation, and my eyes dart, panic-stricken, around the room before landing on one of Austin's many tattoos.
It's of a dolphin.
Oh. My. God.
I cannot believe I just word-vomited about safe sex! I've most certainly informed him of my social leprosy now.
A moment passes.
"You're mad cute," he says suddenly, grinning. "Do me."
I stare at him blankly.
"Safely, of course," Austin adds with a wink.
I blink slowly and turn to face the blackboard once more. This time, however, my cheeks are flaming red. I drop my head to my desk in shame, and hope numbly that I'll die before I have to look in Austin's direction again.
No such luck.