Coercion (7 page)

Her dark thoughts reminded her Michael hadn’t once looked at her since that day in the parking lot. For what felt like the millionth time, she questioned why it mattered to her who he dated. The point was it wasn’t her. Still, she couldn’t help but want to know about him. Even secondhand news helped her feel somewhat close to him.

As if someone could sense her thoughts, Valerie heard Tom Courpel, one of her classmates, sit in the chair next to Breeze. “Hey, you and Mike going to Amy Hambert’s lake house tonight?” he asked her. “We got a keg.”

“I can’t speak for Mike, but I’ll be there.” Valerie could hear the eyelash bat in Breeze’s response. “I’m flying solo.”

“Really?” Tom matched her tone. “And here I thought you two were practically joined at the hip.”

“That was last year. Now Michael’s his own man. And I’m my own woman. You know what I mean?”

“I think I do.” Tom’s voice took on a husky quality. “Maybe you can tell me more about it later.”

“Maybe I will,” Breeze chirped.

Dr. Cantarella walked in the classroom, pulling the door shut behind him, and Valerie let out a sigh of both relief and disappointment. Then almost immediately the door swung back open and Michael Vartanian stepped inside, snacking on sunflower seeds. A black bandanna hung from his front jeans’ pocket and he had a pencil tucked behind his ear. Valerie’s eyes immediately widened, and her gaze dropped to her textbook again as her legs quaked.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Valerie heard Breeze drawl under her breath.

Dr. Cantarella clasped his hands. “Well, well, if it isn’t Michael Vartanian.” The name was a trumpet of its own. “So good of you to grace us with your presence today.” He flipped open his roll book. “That makes it—what? The first time in two weeks?”

“Let’s not get carried away, Cantarella.” Michael slid in the last available seat in the front row. “I was here last Wednesday.”

“You are correct.” Dr. Cantarella nodded as he studied his book. “Nevertheless, I was getting used to writing a zero for your attendance. You’re making me break my streak.”

“Pity.” Michael leaned back in his chair and spit a sunflower seed over his shoulder on the floor as if to say,
Teach me. I dare you
.

Dr. Cantarella finished taking attendance and began the day’s lesson. Valerie usually loved history and found her instructor interesting, but that day she couldn’t concentrate on a word he said. Her gaze remained riveted on Michael, and she watched his back muscles flex beneath his pale blue t-shirt and the dirt on his boots dry and fall to dust on the floor. She silently willed him to look at her, to acknowledge her, what happened.

But Michael didn’t turn around, and when the class was over, he bolted from the room, leaving a pile of sunflower seed shells where his boot heels once tapped. He didn’t even pause to wait for or speak to Breeze, but the blonde didn’t seem fazed by his actions. Valerie watched her leave, touching Tom Courpel’s elbow and leaning in close to him to have a conversation likely not appropriate for others’ ears.

Valerie remained at her desk until a few students arrived for the next class. It was her daily ritual to help keep her humiliation and surprise under control. She felt sick with confusion as she wondered how long the heartbreaking routine would continue.

* * * *

“I snagged you a souvenir off the bulletin board.” Rooney slapped a pamphlet against Michael’s chest as they entered the bustling cafeteria of Farley Student Union, which was blasting a rock ’n roll station from the overhead speakers.

Michael snorted as he skimmed the words
US Army
written at the top. “Nice try.” He attempted to stuff the brochure back in Rooney’s grasp.

“Jeez, talk about gratitude, man.” Rooney dodged Michael’s attempts, raising his hands and placing them both on the back his neck. “See if I ever get you a gift again.”

Michael let out a puff of air and flipped through the pamphlet. “Sorry, there’s just no way in hell you’re getting me to join any military branch with you, Admiral. I’m already suffering in this dump.” He gestured around the cafeteria at the cauldrons of chicken noodle soup, the rows of neatly wrapped hotdogs and the series of vending machines.

“You never know, man. It could be interesting.”

“You’re saying that because you’ve got life all sewn up with a job in your dad’s office after graduation, even with your bullshit liberal arts degree.” Michael crumpled the pamphlet and buried it deep in the pocket of his jacket as he headed toward the nearest cooler of soda. “And you’re stoned.”

Rooney lifted his shoulders and raised his hands like a human scale. “What can I say? Toking gives me a real passion for learning.”

“It’s a wonder your professors don’t give you shit.”

“You know me, man. Give me a few eyedrops and I look as bright eyed as any altar boy.” Rooney pointed to the ceiling corner, where a speaker blasted
Helter Skelter
. “Hey, you know what I’ve noticed? The Beatles cover practically every aspect of a relationship. You know? Like, I like you, you like me, I’m breaking up with you, you’re breaking up with me, I’m
thinking
of breaking up with you and so on. It’s the whole spectrum, man. So I figure that’s why everyone loves the Beatles.”

“Brilliant, Holmes.” Michael shook his head as he pulled a Dr. Pepper from the cooler and let the door fall shut.

“More scorn, I see. It’s okay, I get it.” Rooney poked at several bags of chips on display, producing crunching sounds from inside the packaging. “I guess I can’t expect everyone to be a great thinker like myself. Besides, you probably don’t want to think about the Beatles and their relationships when your own is so
Outer L
imits
.”

“I’m not in a relationship. Breeze and I are just...keeping things loose.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s a good thing you two worked out that Karl Seegan mess. I couldn’t handle the awkward lunches with you guys anymore.”

“Yeah, we did it for you.” Michael followed Rooney to a wire rack of candy. “We hated making you so uncomfortable.”

“No need to be sarcastic.” Rooney stopped skimming the rows of chocolate bars and turned to face Michael. “Look, I like Breeze, but you know I’d back you up if you wanted to see someone else. Don’t you ever want to? What happened to that chick Breeze griped about when she caught you checking her out?”

“I check out girls every day.”

“Yeah, I know, but this was a real long time ago, and it only stands out because I remember Breeze wouldn’t shut up about her being an ‘ex-buffalo butt.’”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Girls have no concept of what fat is.”

“True. So what was that about?”

Michael threw up his hands. “Nothing. Just Breeze overreacting. A shock, right?”

“Yeah, good thing she’s cute and can get away with being a psycho.”

Michael arched an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. “You think Breeze’s cute?”

Rooney rolled his eyes, his pale, freckled face turning pink. “Give me a break. You know what I meant by that. Or what I didn’t mean.” His attention turned to a candy’s bright orange packaging. “Reese’s! All right!”

“God bless the easily distracted.”

“
God
bless?” Rooney echoed. “Are you finally a believer now?”

“Sorry, my dad’s the preacher, not me.”

“So crazy, man. I can’t believe your peaceful, God-fearing pop wanted to kick you out of the house if you didn’t go to college or get a real job,” Rooney mused. “On top of that, you don’t even have to work now since you gave your dad a sob story about how you need to devote all your time to your studies. Just think! If you weren’t so lazy, you wouldn’t be living the high life right now.”

“Are you through?”

“Not quite. Speaking of your dad, I want to see him in action. One Sunday morning we should do some ’shrooms and go to his services. I bet we’ll have all kinds of epiphanies.”

“I’m having one right now,” Michael said mildly, “and it’s that you’re an idiot.”

“I guess.” Rooney turned back to the candy. “You know what would make my life about a million times better? If these peanut butter cups were giant, like pies.”

“Not everything can be perfect.”

“Thanks, Kettle. By the way, my name’s Pot and you’re black.”

Michael clapped his friend on the back. “Funny. I’m out of here.”

“You’re leaving?” Rooney’s eyebrows darted upward in surprise. “I thought we were eating here then hanging out.”

“No, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Michael set his soda and his money on the counter, and the sullen cafeteria employee wordlessly rang up his order.

“Tomorrow?” Rooney joined him at the counter, plucking a rope of beef jerky from a container like it was a flower. “But I thought we were heading to that party at the lake tonight.”

“Fine, maybe I’ll catch you there,” Michael said as the cashier dropped his change in his outstretched hand.

“No way, it’s an hour drive. I don’t want to go by myself.”

“Then go someplace else.”

“Yeah, but where are
you
going?” Rooney called as Michael grabbed his soda and made his way to the door. “What are these secret plans of yours?” He laughed. “Are you just too embarrassed to say you’re going to go romance Breeze properly so she doesn’t sleep with anyone else?”

Michael saluted his friend with his middle finger as he pushed open the cafeteria’s glass door and headed to his truck.

* * * *

“And what are you up to tonight, beautiful?” Shannon’s giggly voice trickled through the receiver of the turquoise blue telephone resting on one of the living room end tables.

Valerie cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she talked and completed her nightly routine of two hundred sit-ups. “Not a whole lot,” she confessed, her breathing heavy. “Just me and a good book.”

“And you wonder why guys aren’t asking you out. It’s because you’d rather snuggle up with a ratty old novel on a Friday night instead of some guy whose mission is to pleasure you endlessly.”

Valerie’s face flamed as her mind wandered back to that afternoon spent against the Volvo with Michael’s hand between her thighs. She swallowed a tiny whimper at the thought and lost count of her exercises.

“Valerie, hello!” Shannon’s voice broke through her reverie. “Silence isn’t going to cut it here. You were supposed to say, ‘No, I want a guy, not a stupid book.’”

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“You better not be reading while you’re on the phone with me. I hate it when you do that. Now say you’ll join us tonight. Rick and I are already at the bowling alley. Oh!” Shannon gasped, interrupting herself. “I have a great idea. You should call Daniel Travato and invite him out with us.”

Valerie lay back on the carpet as her abdominal muscles ached, burned and begged for mercy. “I’m not going to call Daniel and ask him out.”

“Oh, Val, please. Try to think more progressively. It’s the seventies, and in case you haven’t heard, girls can call boys now.”

“No, I’m not asking him to go someplace with me at the last minute. That’s rude.”

“I suppose you’re right. One phone call from you would have the poor guy running off to the bathroom to change his pants.” Shannon snickered. “How impolite of you to be so titillating.”

“Shannon...”

“Fine, I guess you’re right. You shouldn’t give someone false hopes.”

“No.” Valerie’s mind drifted back to Michael. “You really shouldn’t.”

“You know where we’ll be if you decide to come out.”

“Right.” Valerie nodded, even though she knew Shannon couldn’t see her. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She placed the receiver in its cradle and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the frustrated feelings building inside her. She knew exactly why she was sitting home alone on a Friday night, and the reason embarrassed her. Her hope embarrassed her.

Even though she reminded herself daily that Michael had forgotten all about her, she was desperate to know why. He’d barely spoken to her prior to this year, and suddenly, his fingers had been deep inside her. She could still imagine his thumb on her clit.

She shook her head and slowly sat up, curling her knees to her chin and letting out a watery sigh. Since she’d been old enough to know what sex was, she’d taken precautions to ensure when she finally experienced it, it would be everything she’d hoped. She didn’t go out with boys who didn’t interest her, she read magazine articles on what men looked for in women and she’d devoured the steamiest passages in romance novels. But despite that, she was still alone with a broken heart, her defenses proved useless. Her first sexual encounter was indeed becoming everything she was afraid it would.

A knock sounded at the front door, and Valerie’s heart leaped as she scrambled to her feet. What if somehow her hopes had materialized and the visitor was Michael Vartanian, full of apologies and good intentions? What if he’d undergone a difficult month plagued with personal problems leading to his silence, and now he was ready to make it up to her? She gave herself a quick once-over in the hall mirror before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

Daniel Travato stood on the stoop, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Hey!”

“Hi.” The grin that had been on her face melted into a weak, polite smile as she inwardly chided herself for thinking one night would be different from all the others preceding it.

Daniel waved a laminated textbook. “Thanks again for lending me this.”

Valerie accepted the book from him and held it close to her body, the cover cool in her bare arms. “I don’t know why you needed it, being in all those advanced courses.”

“When you’re tutoring people in college algebra, you’ve got to know what you’re talking about.” Daniel buried his hands in his front pockets. “I’m surprised you’re home tonight.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I just thought you’d be out, doing something fun and exciting on a Friday night. But I’m sure you’ve got something interesting going on in—”

“Why aren’t you out, painting the town red?” She didn’t need to hear his rambling, assumed interpretation of her evening, full of imagined activities she only wished she was doing.

“I’m still looking for something fun and exciting to do.” His gaze fixed on her as a blush colored his cheeks.