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I bend closer anyway, intent on kissing her. A small noise escapes her and she digs her fingers in my shirt. I don’t know if she expects to hold me back or drag me in.
“Get to class!”
My head pops up. The French teacher—an ancient crone with a beak nose—lurks by her classroom door.
While I’m distracted, Gemma wriggles away, evading me by the skin of her teeth. I grab her upper arm before she can go far.
“Don’t fight it, baby. You’ll be mine by homecoming.”
Gemma shrugs me off and straightens her school blazer. “In your fucking dreams.”
The itch to have her lingers.
The guys snicker as she stomps off. Carter wolf whistles at her back.
“Damn, that ass is fine.” Carter bites his lip and thrusts his hips in her direction. “I just want to hold her still and drive my cock into her tight little pussy. Think she’s a screamer? She’s gotta be, right?”
I can’t stop the growl that rips out of me and before I know it, I have Carter by the collar against the locker where I just teased Gemma. Devlin’s hand on my shoulder pulls me back from the thick haze of jealousy crashing over me.
Carter stares back at me with wide eyes, his palms up.
“Chill, bro,” he says. “I’d give you first dibs.”
My stomach clenches. Carter’s always scooped up my sloppy seconds. While other guys complain about that shit, it’s never bothered him. Hell, once Marissa dated him for a while when we were on one of her self-imposed breaks.
It’s never gotten to me like it does right now. The thought of Carter touching Gemma, even after the other day when we cornered her in the parking lot, drives a spike of ice into my chest.
I don’t know what’s come over me or why.
Releasing Carter, I step back and run a hand through my hair. Devlin raises an eyebrow at me.
“You cool, man?”
“Yeah.” I force a chuckle. “Let’s get out of here. I feel like cutting next period.”
Bishop whoops and slaps me on the back. “Nice. I’ve got a sweet ass joint rolled. Let’s go hit that.”
This time my laugh feels genuine as I join my friends in mischief during the middle of school.
Ten
Gemma
The computer lab is comfortable. The dimmed lights and glowing computer displays are like a second home. On the wall Ms. Huang has enlarged prints from National Geographic, abstract digital art from students, and a corner for open sharing where students and teachers can post up images from their portfolio.
I consider the last of my image selec
tions for the ongoing project Ms. Huang assigned.
A few other students are in the lab, though they’re trickling out. I’m usually the only one that stays a while after school to work on my project.
Ms. Huang pauses behind me and bends over to study my choices over my shoulder.
“You have a great photojournalistic eye, Gemma,” she compliments.
“Thanks.”
A smile breaks out on my face and I bite down on my lip. I listen to my gut after going back and forth between a photo of an older man on a hiking trail and a landscape, selecting the picture of the man. Ms. Huang hums approvingly.
