Falling for Romeo (9 page)

“I’ll teach Jennifer how to kiss any time. Give her my number,” somebody said.

“Stand in line, fat brain,” another put in.

Alex shook his head. “She’s mine, dudes. No, I’m serious. She’s virgin territory. I like that.”

“You have Amanda.”

“You mean he’s
had
Amanda.” The guys ribbed each other.

“So?” Alex flung a towel over his shoulder. “This chick has wicked lips for a first-timer.”

“That still blows me away.” One guy shook his sweaty head. “Who’d have guessed the diva had never been kissed.”

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The muscles in John’s stomach clenched. He loitered at his locker, trying to catch as much of the conversation he could, but this news shocked him.
Jenn,
never been kissed?
His insides roiled with disappointment.

Alex had kissed her.

Strapping white towels around their waists, the boys headed for the showers.

Steam fogged the open-area room. Towels were tossed on hooks just outside the wide opening and the boys filed in, still laughing and talking. John stole the shower next to Alex’s. The two looked at each other and nodded before sticking their heads under streams of hot water.

“You hitting on Jennifer now?” John reached for soap.

Alex lifted his right arm and sudsed his armpit.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Playing along with Alex was harder than playing Romeo. John’s jaw was rock hard, but he faked a smile. “I thought you and Amanda were it.” Alex leaned his head back under the water then shook out his hair like a dog. “Hey, the more the merrier, you know?”

“Don’t lie about it, man.” One of Alex’s friends stood in the next half-stall over. “You didn’t go all the way. She’s still a
virgin.
”

“Not for long.” Alex laughed, rubbing his slick chest with both hands. “She was hot for me. And I can make her hot again.”

Anger bubbled like a volcano ready to blow inside of John. He thought he hit his limit last night when he saw the windows of Alex’s red truck dense with the fog of lust.

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He’d almost sent his fist through one.

Up until junior high school, John knew everything about Jennifer, including the kind of boys she liked. But then that was another girl, and he wasn’t even sure if any part of her still lived inside of this Jennifer anymore. It didn’t matter. Something inside of him despised Alex for having done something with Jennifer that he had foolishly hoped to do.

Kissing her on stage didn’t count.

Whatever happened in that truck, Jennifer had concurred, and the very idea churned John’s gut with disappointment. And regret. He twisted off the water and rubbed his hands hard down his face. Then he reached for his towel.

Jennifer had only five minutes to get to English. She had to find Rachel. Weaving in and around sauntering students ignorant of the short time between bells, she spotted Rachel in the crowded hall. Her head was thrown back in a laugh and her dark, ruler-straight hair fell dramatically down her back. She was surrounded by guys, none of which was Alex, thankfully. Because it was Alex Jennifer needed to talk about.

The boys opened the tight circle for her and Jennifer slipped in with a smile. “Hey.” She was greeted with respectful nods, a couple of “Hey’s”, and a pat to her arm. Maybe she was just imagining it, but they all looked as if they were happy for her. Like she just won the lotto.

“We’ll catch you later, Rache,” Todd said before k

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leaving. When he shrugged away, the other boys followed.

Rachel turned, flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and started the walk to her next class with Jennifer. “So,” she said, waiting.

“So.” Jennifer began. Memories of the night before cast a dreamy haze over her brain. “It was great.”

“Yeah, Alex is pretty hot.”

“He told me I was—” Jennifer looked around before leaning into Rachel, lowering her voice, “he told me I was fine.”

“So you’re okay with it all now, right? You feel like you can deliver?”

Jennifer nodded. “I wonder if Alex will call me. He’s kinda cute.”

“Whoa.” Rachel stopped, put a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “Wait a minute. You’ve never said one word about Alex before.”

“Because we hadn’t kissed each other before.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, hon. Way wrong.” Rachel tugged Jennifer to a corner of the hall as bodies rushed by. The bell shrilled in their ears but Rachel ignored it, her face tight to Jennifer’s. “Nothing happened last night, did it? I mean, you just kissed, right?”

“Yes.”

Rachel relaxed. “Good. For a second you had me worried.”

“Why?”

“You sounded like you
like
Alex.”

“I do like Alex.”

“But not
that
way.”

“Why not
that
way? I mean, we kissed last night.

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It was—”

“Jenn.” Rachel squared her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “It was FWB, nothing more. He’s, like, dating Amanda Flanders.”

Jennifer’s heart took a pinch. “You’re right. I’ve seen them together.”

Rachel flipped her hair back again and started off to class. “Making out is a sport to most guys, nothing more—just for the fun of it.”

Any lingering sense of power and euphoria Jennifer had from the night before was squashed under the truthful weight of Rachel’s words. Rachel was right; she’d sat around and discussed this very topic before, only it had never affected her directly so she hadn’t given it much thought. Until now.

Too disappointed to say anything more, she covered disillusionment with a fake smile. But she was wounded inside. What did she expect? It was a tutoring lesson, nothing more.

“Have you and Alex…ever?” she asked.

“A long time ago. It was nothing. Hey, I’ll see you after class. Sanderson already hates my guts. Now I’ll have to talk him out of another tardy.” Rachel half-jogged the other direction, her dark hair flying behind her.

Emptiness was everywhere, in the hollow hall, inside Jennifer’s chest. She thought what happened between her and Alex was important, tutoring lesson or not. Kissing was intimate. Kissing should be special. Now she felt stupid.

She glanced at her watch, it was fifteen minutes slow. She was fifteen minutes late. For once she didn’t k 0

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want to correct the hands on the dial of her watch, as if just looking at them could take everything back.

You couldn’t sneak unnoticed into a class like Ms.

Tingey’s. She stood at the front of the room, in the middle of discussing
Pride and Prejudice
. As usual, she had a lively discussion going; hands were up, voices raised. A smile was across her face.

Jennifer slid in. She shot Ms. Tingey an apologetic shrug and crossed to her desk on the opposite side of the room. Of course, she had to pass directly in front of John.

Ms. Tingey didn’t give out tardies unless you were an obvious idiot who made no effort to be on time.

Jennifer reached into her backpack for her copy of the book. Her eyes were on Ms. Tingey, but she saw John out of the corner of her eye, slightly turned her direction.

I have nothing to be ashamed of she told herself, but wondered why meeting his gaze proved difficult.

She dug for a pen and stuck it between her teeth, primly crossing her legs before smiling at the few faces waiting for her notice.

To prove it, she chanced a look at John. Normally, his opal eyes danced with playfulness and confidence.

Today they were stormy, locked on hers from across the room.

With one blink, she looked back at Ms.Tingey, ignoring him. But the pleasant trembling his look caused inside of her stomach remained.

“Let’s connect the chapter we just read to our lives.

Anybody?”

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A guy in the front row slumped forward in his desk. “I don’t connect with it at all.”

“Isn’t that the chapter where Kitten runs off and gets hooked up?” Freddy leaned back in a stretch.

“Her name’s Lydia,” Jessica sneered from behind him. “But don’t get hung up on details.” The class erupted in laughter—until John spoke out, slapping the room with silence. “I think it’s interesting that Lydia is so anxious to experience life that she’s willing to run off with some low-life all because he’s got a title and big biceps.”

Miss Tingey added, “Excellent observation.”

“Well,” Jennifer’s blood began to simmer. “I think it’s really sad that her family, her sisters, her
friends
overshadowed her so that she felt like she had to make a name for herself.”

“Oh, she made a name for herself,” John piped with a bite of sarcasm.

Freddy laughed. “Yeah—skank.”

A little laughter trickled in the room, but the steam building sucked it away in a fast breath.

“Well.” Jennifer tucked her hair behind her ears and re-crossed her legs. “I’ve finished the rest of the book, and it seems to me that obviously Lydia thought there’d be more to the relationship. It’s the guy who used her.”

“My point exactly,” John said. “Why should someone with no experience in something trust someone they don’t know anything about?”

“That wasn’t your point,” Jennifer snapped. “Your point was you think it’s wrong for any girl to go with someone you think is not socially acceptable. Lydia was being led by her heart.”

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“She’d have been better off being led by her head.”

“Like guys always think with their heads?”

“I know I don’t.” Freddy added and the boys let out clipped laughs before dropping into silence again.

“Lydia was being selfish,” John continued as if Freddy hadn’t said anything. “She shamed her family and her
friends”

“Her
friends
had no right to be ashamed of her. She was doing what she had to do.”

“That’s bull.”

“Oh, wait, you’re right,” Jennifer replied sharply.

“She didn’t have to do it. She
wanted
to.”

“Okay.” Miss Tingey rubbed her hands together.

“Let’s change the discussion. Let’s get into Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s relationship.”

Jessica raised her hand and Miss Tingey looked noticeably relaxed that the girl was contributing. “They both love each other but are,” she lifted her fingers and made the sign of quotations, “‘too proud’ to admit it.” It infuriated Jennifer that John looked ready to fight.

Fine, let’s go a few more rounds.

“Well, actually,” John said first, “at this point in the story—sorry, Ms. Tingey, but I’ve finished the book, too. At this point, Mr. Darcy has already asked her to marry him.

It’s Elizabeth who’s got the pride issue.”

“If Mr. Darcy didn’t act so egotistical at the beginning of the story,” Jennifer shot at him, “treating her like she’s some hangnail on his finger, then there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I thought you said you finished the story,” John shot back. “Mr. Darcy ends up saving her and her family’s

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reputation.”

“I know that. But thanks for spoiling the ending for everyone who hasn’t finished.”

“Okay.” This time Miss Tingey was more firm. “I think we all agree Mr. Darcy turns out to be the classic romantic literary hero.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Why is it always the guys in these books come out as heroes?” The girls voiced their agreement, but the boys began teased them.

“In Jane Austin’s time,” John started, his voice loud enough to quiet the teasing, “showing a strong woman as a leading character was progressive.” He looked right at Miss Tingey with that air of cool confidence that caused everyone else to devotedly agree. Then he faced the class. “But we all know that chicks dig it when guys save the day.”

John’s palm met Freddy’s in a slap of approval.

The guys in the laughed out in agreement. Most of the girls blushed and smiled at the comment, knowing that whatever John said,
was
. Except Jennifer. She glared at him and muttered, “Somebody has a Superman complex.”

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Eight

Chip and Principal Ackerman thought it was a great idea if the cast had a contest. Whoever sold the most tickets to the play got a day off of school with an excused absence. At her locker, Jennifer changed books for class. She noticed a disruption down the hall by John’s locker. It was a joke that they were even having this contest.

Every one knew John would win.

She slammed her locker shut and started to walk toward the bubble surrounding him. He’d been such a jerk in Tingey’s class; she only wished she could make him look like an idiot in front these worshipping lemmings.

His electric smile blasted through the wiggling bodies in the crowd. Her heart skipped whether she wanted it to her not. His dark hair was ruffled and messy, like he’d just come in from the wind, and his eyes were set ablaze against the white tee shirt he wore.

“I didn’t get your name,” he said, leaning down so he could talk to a petite girl in the group. He wrote something in his ticket book, smiled that brilliant smile, and handed the girl a ticket. “Here. Thanks, Gretchen.

See you at the show.”

Gretchen and her friends squeezed out of the crowd, glowing like they’d just gotten autographs from Johnny Depp.

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“How many do you want, Chris?” John slapped palms with a guy everybody called “Runt.” Runt was over six feet but didn’t play basketball because he was gangly and as uncoordinated as a giraffe on drugs. His face looked like it had been caught in a waffle iron. No one knew how Chris Sorenson had gotten the scars, but the hideous markings left him with few friends.

Long before John became
John
, he was kind to Runt. Jennifer remembered seeing Chris at the Michaels’