I hate that she knows me so well. I also hate that my clit is pulsing. I don’t know Morse code, but I think my clit is beating out an SOS right now. Never in my entire life have I contemplated running to the bathroom at school to take the edge off, but right now it sounds blissful, necessary even.
Victoria: Eloise Downing! Are you…? Where are your hands, young lady? You’re in the library!
Eloise: I love it when you get all exclamation point-y on me.
I’m deflecting, from this warm buzz in my chest, from the heat scorching my panties, from Dad’s voice in the back of my mind cautioning me against even talking to Ares, but I can’t help it.
Victoria: Nice try, Ellie-Rae. Tell me what’s going on. Is he sitting watching you “study”? That’s so fucking hot.
Eloise: Thankfully not. I can barely get my head straight with him not staring at me. He’s coming back in an hour, and I told him he can ask me five questions.
Victoria: That’s it? No blow jobs in the biographies section? No sex in statistics? No fingering in French?
Victoria: I think I’m done.
I’m struggling not to laugh. Two girls walk past shooting daggers in my direction as they leave. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m suddenly the rowdy girl in the library, or because Ares took notice of me, but either way, I don’t like the new attention.
My hand drifts to my face, making sure my hair is hanging over my scar, my heart rate skips up a notch or two, and my palms start to sweat. I don’t like to be noticed, I don’t like to be looked at, and I certainly don’t want everyone to see hotshot Ares hanging out with the deformed girl.
It has to be a joke. There’s no universe in which someone who looks… well, quite frankly, likethat, could ever willingly want to even hang out with someone like me. No matter how real it feels, he has to have an ulterior motive. Maybe he wants something from me. Maybe it’s some stupid twisted bet. Maybe I’ll find my lady balls and come right out and ask him.
Oof. The thought alone gives me palpitations.
Maybe not.
I’m twisting my shirt in shaking hands when my phone lights up again.
Victoria: Get out of your head.
I don’t know how she got to know me quite so fast, or so well, but she’s spot on, every single time.
Victoria: There’s nothing I know more than bullshitting hockey players. Baby-daddy was the bullshittiest of them all. And that boy doesn’t give me bullshit vibes. I have an excellent bullshit detector.
Victoria: Did I say bullshit enough in that last message?
Victoria: Bullshit.
I smile again at the messages as they appear on my screen. My heartrate’s starting to slow, and my hands are no longer trembling like someone asked me to diffuse a bomb.
Victoria: You don’t have to go anywhere with him, or do anything you’re not comfortable with. You don’t even need to leave the library. Relax.
I roll my eyes. We both know that telling someone to relax has a poor success rate. My leg jitters under the table. What kind of questions will he want to ask me? Will he even come back? Not leaving the library sounds like a good plan. This is my safe space, it’s quiet, and it has books. What’s not to love?
I stare at the pages of my book. There’s no point. Nothing will sink into my brain. In hindsight, I should have talked to him first and then studied, but it’s not that easy to figure things out in the moment, especially when he’sright thereand he’sstaring.
Not least of all because I wanted to spin him around in his chair and mount him where he sat. I don’t even know who I am right now. Getting lost in my own thoughts, tormenting myself, anxiety warring with hope. I don’t know why I want him to like me, to want me, but I do. It’s certainly not for street cred. I couldn’t care less about being with the popular kids.
“You look flushed, Eloise. Are you okay?” His voice is right next to me. I jump as his words kiss my skin, sending shivers through my body.
He sweeps my hair behind my ear, the gesture becoming familiar, and places the back of his hand onto my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
His eyes skim my face. “Are you okay?” The crease between his brows is adorable. He’s close enough that I can see the wrinkles on his forehead and at the edges of his eyes as he stares at me with delicious chocolate brown concern.
I need to sigh, to let out a swoony ginormous freakin’ sigh at how cute this all is, but I swallow it down. I’m also resisting the urge to fan myself or blurt out that I’m hyper-aroused because I’ve spent the last hour thinking about his face buried in my girl bits.
I shift in my seat, and the movement isn’t lost on him because the corner of his mouth twitches. “Are you okay,tesoro?”
Someone shushes us yet again, and Ares glares around me, probably at whoever did it. We can’t talk here. Panic at the thought of being kicked out of the library, or worse, banned from using the space entirely, takes over. I sweep my stuff into my book bag, stand, and grab Ares’s hand, and pull him away from the seating area.
