Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (16 page)

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked in a husky tone.

Looking over her shoulder, she answered, “Yeah. It was fun. Glad my little chat with Travis did the trick.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Noah, I’ve wanted to fuck you for a long time now, but
she
was always in the way.”

“You started the rumor about Tweet?”

“When I saw you sitting all by yourself, looking so sad and incredibly hot, I wanted to make you happy. I asked Travis what was wrong with you, and as always, it had something to do with
her.
I mentioned to Travis that maybe, possibly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was screwing around. You’re so hung up on her for some reason and from what I’ve seen, she doesn’t give a shit about you.”

Without saying another word, Brittani got up, grabbed her clothes off the floor, and headed into the bathroom.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I removed the condom, tossing it into the trashcan, and then got dressed. The disconnect that came with each thrust was a welcome relief that I thought I’d be able to sustain for at least the rest of the night. Instead, I was flooded with the same pain and emptiness that I’d been living through except it had intensified. I didn’t think it was possible to ache for Tweet more than I already did, but my stomach bottomed out and my lungs were barely working.

Don’t think of her.

I focused on the door, willing my legs to move forward, but I couldn’t stop the rush of thoughts. With Tweet, it would have been mind-blowing instead of mind-numbing. We would have taken our time discovering each other’s body. I would have kissed her slowly and gradually undressed her. Then afterward, I would have held her, making sure she knew without a doubt how much I loved her.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped my mind back to the bedroom. I was out the door, down the stairs, and in my car in record time. I didn’t even bother looking for Travis. I’m sure he had his hands full of someone. I dropped my head on the back of the car seat and sat in the driveway. I figured unless someone offered to drive me home I was spending the night in my car waiting to sober up.

I tried not seeing her, not talking to her, and not thinking about her, and it all failed. Not even being inside another girl got Tweet out of my system. That night I realized more than any other time that I was fucked in more ways than one.

Four months, two weeks, five days, thirteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and eight seconds—that’s how long I had been Tweet-less. It was hard avoiding her during the summer, but avoiding her at school was almost impossible. By the end of the first day into my senior year, I had already tracked down her classes and where her locker was located. I was tired of being miserable and lonely. Senior year was a big deal and I wanted to share it with my best friend. This was one of those times in life that I would just have to suck it up. I needed her back in any way, shape, or form she would allow.

Two weeks had passed and I still hadn’t talked to Tweet about renewing our friendship. I was scared that she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me at this point and not quite sure how to approach her.

I had been assigned my first chemistry project of the year. I was sitting at a table in the back of the school library, my head and concentration buried in research, when a large two-headed shadow with big hair crept across the page of the book. I lifted my gaze to see Stacy and Kim, the two canyon mouths who told Tweet about me and Beth last year. They stood, staring down at me with a strange look.

I didn’t know either one of them very well even though we had always attended school together. In the classes we shared, they spent the entire time talking and smacking gum. They simultaneously slid the two chairs out that were across from me and sat, uninvited.

Stacy propped her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. Thick dark eyebrows squished together while her bottom lip poked out, turned down in a frown. Kim’s cocked head shook slowly, causing her blond ponytail to swish back and forth, as an audible
tsk
echoed in the quiet library. My gaze shifted, trading stares across the table between the two until Stacy finally broke the weirdness.

“We are so shocked,” she said in a loud whisper.

“Totally,” Kim chimed in.

Leaning in closer, Stacey continued, “It’s just so unbelievable.”

“Like the Easter bunny,” Kim agreed, nodding her now straightened head.

My leg bounced under the table as my fingers clenched the edges of my book. Letting out a deep sigh, I narrowed my eyes and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They looked at each other and then back at me with pity in their eyes.

Stacy sat back in her chair. “The fact that Amanda and Brad Johnson are
allegedly,
” she raised her hands, crooking her fingers into air quotes, “an item now.”

“Mmmhmm,” Kim added.

Stacey shot a quick glance at Kim. “Brad is so hot.”

“Scorching.” Kim panted, her head tilted back with eyes closed.

I had no idea if what these two were saying was true or just stupid high school girl gossip. Brad was a teammate of mine and a total Smurffucker. I didn’t doubt that he had been on the prowl for Tweet. Since freshmen year,
other than baseball, collecting girls had been his main extracurricular activity. It was only a matter of time until he worked his way through the entire female population at school and made his move on Tweet. The part that seemed unbelievable was that Tweet would give him the time of day. She was frustrating and infuriating at times, but Tweet wasn’t stupid. She would see right through his Smurffuckery ways.

“What makes the two of you think they’re together?” I asked.

They exchanged knowing glances before turning back toward me.

“Well, we
allegedly
may have been on our way to cheerleading tryouts and saw Amanda and Brad standing at her locker,” Kim stated.

“And we
allegedly
might have overheard Brad ask Amanda to Jeremy Pratt’s party,” Stacy continued.

No question half a brain was being shared between these two.

“Just because he asked doesn’t mean she said yes.” I pointed out.

“No. No it doesn’t, but
allegedly
we followed them out to her car and they were standing really,
really
close to each other.” Kim leaned forward with each
really
.

My blood went from a simmer to a full boil with the mention of Tweet being close to the Smurffucker. I didn’t know what Stacy and Kim’s game was, but I wasn’t going to let them spread rumors about Tweet.

“Why did you follow them?” I asked.

“Um… cause Brad’s hot,” Stacy said sarcastically.

Giggles poured out of them.

Kim stopped in mid laugh and gasped. “Oh my god! I wonder if they’ll be going to the prom.”

“Isn’t that a year away?” My tone was condescending.

Two sets of eyes bugged out at me.

“You have to start planning early,” Stacy informed.

Kim turned to Stacy. “My color this year is going to be periwinkle.”

“With your skin tone that color will be gorgeous. You’re gonna be a big bucket of awesomesauce.” Stacy squealed.

I slammed my book shut, tossing it onto the pile I had collected, and then shoved my notes into my backpack. Both girls jolted at the noise, but never stopped talking. My stride was purposeful as I headed out of the library, leaving Tweedledee and Tweedledum in their own little world.

My need to protect Tweet replaced any nerves I had about approaching her. She may not have been my girl, technically, but I’d be damned if that Smurffucker was going to be a part of her life.

It took me the rest of the afternoon to figure out exactly what to say to Tweet. I had to talk to her tonight. I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Stacy and Kim were telling me the truth. They were both known troublemakers. But to be on the safe side, I needed to set Tweet straight on the Smurffucker.

I rounded the side of the house where Tweet’s room was located. I waited until it was dark, so I could see the light on in her window, making sure she was there. I didn’t want her parents to see me. It was obvious to both sets of parents that something had drastically changed between me and Tweet. I had overheard Mrs. Kelly asking my mom on a few occasions if I had confided in her or my dad about what was wrong. Of course, my mom was as puzzled as Tweet’s mom.

I loved Mrs. Kelly like a mother, but she scared me sometimes. When Tweet and I were eight years old, we nicknamed her mom
The Interrogator
. Tweet was great at dodging questions, having perfected the art of the non-answer at an early age. I sucked at it. The Interrogator knew my weakness. The first time I fell victim to her ruthless strategies was when I let Tweet talk me into riding our bikes from her house to mine.
I’ve never been able to say no to her. The training wheels had just been removed from Tweet’s bike and Mrs. Kelly told her several times she could ride only a couple of houses away.

Tweet and her bike took a huge spill that day as she came around the corner onto my street. She was terrified her mom would find out and take her bike away. After cleaning her bummed-up knee and having dinner at my house, I helped her home. No one seemed to notice her limping. Since nothing was said, Tweet and I thought we were in the clear.

Two days later when I walked into the Kelly’s kitchen, the smell of potatoes frying hit me. It was late afternoon, Mrs. Kelly was making homemade French fries, and it wasn’t even the weekend. I was invited to sit down at the table. A plate of fries, a bottle of Heinz ketchup, and a large Mountain Dew were placed in front of me. I knew I was a goner. Somewhere between the first golden fry and licking the last grains of salt off my lips, I had given The Interrogator all the information she was looking for.

I drew in a shaky breath and stretched my neck from side-to-side. Lifting my hand to her window, I hesitated for a few seconds while the butterflies in my stomach landed. I tapped once and waited. It felt as if I stood there for a lifetime. I tapped again, harder. I was just about to turn around and leave when I saw her silhouette fill the window. As the window slid up so did the corners of my mouth until both were as high as they could go. The most exquisite shade of teal peered down at me, accompanied by a dazzling smile. I hadn’t been allowed to get lost in those eyes in such a long time and it was intoxicating.

“Hey, Tweet,” I said in a raspy voice.

I missed the feel and sound of her nickname passing over my lips.

“Hey,” she whispered.

We were locked in place, eyes frozen on the other.

“Can we talk?”

Can I just stare at you forever?

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

“Not here, at our spot,” I said.

A sparkle flashed across her eyes as her head quickly bobbed up and down in agreement. She disappeared inside her room for a few seconds. I was so excited I almost flew into her window and wrapped my arms around her. I waited, shifting from one foot to the other as adrenaline pumped through me. Once back, she swung one leg at a time over the windowsill. The sight of her cute round ass easing out the window had me temporarily spellbound. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts before stepping forward to help her.

As she slid down, her shirt moved up her body exposing her stomach. I placed my hands on either side of her, right above the curve of her waist. My breath stopped and my dick twitched the second my hands felt skin. When she was firmly on the ground, I stepped back, needing to put some distance between us. We walked in silence the entire way to our spot. Tweet seemed to be more on edge. I figured it was because we hadn’t been alone in a long time. My nerves reappeared the closer we got to the park.

When we arrived, I extended my hand and helped Tweet climb up on the end of the table. I stood, leaning back on the edge next to her with my legs crossed at the ankles and my arms covering my chest. Tweet didn’t face me, but I caught several flashes of teal as she glanced at me before I aimed my focus at a spot on the ground. I had all the points I wanted to cover mapped out in my head earlier today, but now I was struggling to remember even one of them. Finally, I decided simple and obvious would be the best opener.

Clearing my throat, I asked, “How have things been going?”

“Pretty good. How are things going with you?”

“Okay. Coach thinks we have a pretty good chance at the championship this year.”

“Really? That’s fantastic.” She sounded annoyed.

“Yeah. We’ll probably make the playoffs at least.” She caught me smiling as I stole a quick glance. “How are your classes so far?”

“Good. How about yours?” She huffed.

Why is she getting pissed off?

“Good,” I answered.

“Noah, why did you ask me here tonight?” Her voice was low and hesitant.

My eyes stayed glued to the ground as I whispered, “I miss you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

For the first time in four months, two weeks, five days, seventeen hours, thirty-two minutes, and eleven seconds—my throat opened, my lungs expanded, oxygen swirled through my body, and I could breathe.