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Beth?
??s shoulders relax like she received a pardon from a death sentence. “Can I read it?”
Besides my teacher, no one’s asked to read my stuff before and I pause…long enough that Beth raises her eyebrows. If anyone’s going to read this, I’d prefer it to be her. Something tells me she’d understand. “Sure. ”
“Print it out for me. ” Beth plops on my bed and curls up around the pillows.
Her blue eyes survey me as she teases me with a slumberous look. My jeans get tight and I want to join her on the bed, badly, but I’ll show restraint even though she’s going to kill me in the process. “Plan on staying for a while?”
“Did you have other plans?”
No. “I’m going to sleep soon. We do have school tomorrow. ”
“I’ve shared a bed way smaller than this for the past two years. Trust me, I’m the queen of not touching if that’s what you’re concerned about. Go on, print it out. ”
“Not touching and sharing with who?”
Beth chuckles and shakes her head at the same time. “Jealous much? I think you were printing something out for me. ”
Just go with it, Ryan. Like other predators, Beth can smell fear. Without another word, I print out the pages and she snatches them from my hand. I stare at her. She stares at me. “I’m not going to read it with you watching me.
That’s weird. ”
“You’re in my room, Beth. You walked a half mile to get here. On a Wednesday. In the middle of the night. Uninvited. ” I should define for her what weird is.
“Do you want me to go?”
“No. ” I don’t. Somehow nothing has ever felt more right.
That evil smile slips onto her face. “Am I the first girl to be in your bed?”
Yes. I take a deep breath and return to the computer. I’ve dated girls. Been exclusive with a few and I’ve been respectful enough to proceed slowly to each base. There are some bases I have yet to reach. A girl in my bed being one of them. If she’s determined to be here, I’m determined to be okay with it and not let the nerves show. I guess my zombie found a girl he likes and wants to throttle at the same time.
“THIS IS GOOD, RYAN. ” Beth’s distant voice snaps me out of the story and my hands stop tapping on the keyboard.
“Thanks,” I say. Beth lies on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. Her cleavage is beautifully exposed. My eyes avert to the floor.
“No, really. It’s good. Like this could be in a bookstore good. I totally get this guy. ”
Yeah, so do I. “I finaled in a state writing competition. ” The words come out naturally, as if I normally tell the world this sort of thing.
Beth flips through the pages. “I can see why.
Whoever judged the winner must have been on meth not to choose you. ”
I glance around the room, waiting for the lightning to hit. Did she pay me a compliment?
“The winner hasn’t been announced. There’s another round of competition in a couple of weeks. ”
“Oh,” she says. “Then I’m sure you’ll win. ”
My stomach hollows out as I turn off my computer. Yeah, I’m writing the short story, but I still haven’t signed up for the competition.
How can I? I’ve got games that day and Dad…
My thoughts trail off. I’m bowing out of a competition—an event I could win. Would the rush of winning the writing competition be the same as winning a baseball game or a dare?
Guess I’ll never know.
