Jamie Myers
Even though he was clearly reluctant about it, Scar eventually shook my hand to seal our proposed deal. “Your hands feel great,” I couldn’t help but comment with an anything-but-comforting grin. His eyes flickered to mine and for the first time, I was able to see the true color of them. Depending on how you looked at it, Scar's eyes looked either green or blue, but now that I was standing just a few inches away from him, staring into his entrancing eyes, I realized they were a definite pale green with specs of dark blue floating amidst the iridescent color.
As if sensing the awkward tension, his gaze drifted to the floor. “Can you stop?” he snapped, rather rudely.
“Stop what?”
Before Scar could respond, the morning bell sounded above us, echoing throughout the halls in two second intervals. Almost immediately, students began to file through the hallways as they searched for their first class of the day. Scar released a silent sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in blatant frustration. “Whatever, man.” Without even saying a simple goodbye, he brushed past me and quickly became another face in the crowd.
I decided to not dwell over the situation any longer, and dug into my pocket for my box of blunts. As I played with the box in my fingers, I squeezed my way through the crowd of students until I pushed past the main doors, immersing myself into the cool, early November air, and collapsed onto the nearest bench situated just in front of the parking lot. I stretched my body along the length of the bench and stared up at the clear blue sky. A pleased smile curved my lips as I pulled out my lighter and lit a blunt, sticking it into my mouth and taking a long drag.
Suddenly, a figure loomed over me, blocking my view of the sky and casting a darkness over me. “You should be learning, you know,” the figure noted with a playful smile.
I sat up abruptly and greeted Max with an equally friendly smile. “Learning what, exactly?” Raising a provocative brow at him, I reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to eye level.
Max's deep brown eyes twinkled with amusement and his cute round nose crinkled as he thought about the answer to my question. “I don't know ... Covalent bonds, maybe?”
Max was cute in a brotherly way. He had the big, brown, doe eyes and kissable pink lips to classify him as a pretty boy. His voice was higher than most boys our age, he had a small build, and he was nice for the most part. He had always been bullied for these traits and I took him under my wing to protect him. I agreed that I'd fight off his bullies and somewhere along the road, we became friends with benefits. Our relationship was mostly one sided, though, because Max had blooming feelings for me that I obviously didn't reciprocate.
I combed my fingers through his soft, loose, black hair. “Covalent bonds, hmm?” I leaned in closer to him so that our lips were merely centimeters apart. “How about we make a covalent bond right now?”
“Not on school grounds, Jamie,” he denied, but despite his refusal, his cheeks flushed with color.
I brushed my lips against his, breathing lustfully. “I need my daily fix, Maxxie.” Moving towards his neck, I began to trail kisses down his Adam's apple, occasionally sucking on his skin, which would be sure to leave a hickey later.
Max's hands grabbed onto my long hair as he threw his head back and let out a slight moan. “Why is it that when I want to hook up, you never want to, but when you want to hook up, I bow down instantly?” he asked in between moans.
I pulled away for a brief second and smiled at him. “Because you're my bitch.” I dove into the crook of his neck again while simultaneously dragging my hands down the length of his arms.
“Jamie,” he breathed out in a bare whisper. “Someone's going to see us and you'll get detention again.”
I couldn't help the arrogant smirk making its way onto my face. “You know me well enough to know that I don't care about that.”
“Yeah, well, I do!” he exclaimed, making several attempts to wiggle out of my grasp, but I was much stronger than him. “I'd love to do some butt stuff with you, but I don't want to get a bad reputation. My parents would kill me if I got detention, especially if you’re the reason.”
“Your parents love me.”
“My parents hate you,” he refuted immediately.
“Shut up and kiss me.” I pressed my lips to his and as soon as I did, he melted into me. His shoulders relaxed and his lips grew soft enough to let me invade his mouth with my tongue. I interlaced my fingers with his and pressed him down on the bench, straddling him with one knee rubbing against his crotch. He let out a series of moans into my mouth as we continued to kiss each other and worked our way into each other's pants.
▪▪▪
After fooling around with Max for hours on end, the last bell of the day rang and I scrambled towards the front doors in a rush to catch up with Scar before he left for the day. I elbowed my way past a plethora of people before I actually arrived at his locker, which I took the liberty of memorizing. Dragging a leg up and folding my arms against my chest, I studied the people who passed by as I waited for Scar to show up. People seemed to be paying more attention to me than usual, probably due to the news about the kissing booth. It wasn’t exactly how I had imagined my ascent to popularity would be, but it was a close second.
I fixed my posture once I caught a glimpse of Francesca, in all her glory, strutting down the hallway with her long, dark locks falling over her shoulders in seemingly perfect waves. Her rosy lips were stretched into a satisfied grin as she took step after step, knowing that all eyes were on her. Her olive skin glowed under the harsh lights; she was one of those people who looked amazing in any kind of lighting. She was drop-dead gorgeous, which was probably why Scar liked her so much. After all, she was seriously lacking in the personality area.
Her eyes caught my stare and as soon as they did, she flashed me a flirty smile, although I doubted she was actually trying to make a move on me. “Hey, I’ve seen you before. You–you’re that guy from the kissing booth, right? The one that kissed Scar?” she mused, still upholding the seductive tone in her voice. I concluded that her voice was just naturally sexy.
“Why is it any of your business?” I asked with a lifted brow. “Didn’t you break it off with him?”
“Yeah,” Francesca replied with a slight scoff. “Thank God I dodged that bullet. Should’ve known he was gay.”
My eyes narrowed into thin slits as I studied her. What left my mouth next was probably uncalled for, but I liked to pride myself on being an asshole every once in a while. “So, you never stopped to think that you were the one who made him realize it?”
She gave me a long glare and flared her nostrils. “Of course not.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she let out a disapproving huff before she sauntered off, sashaying her way through the hallway.
Pressing myself against Scar's locker once again, I continued to watch the ongoing sea of people filter through the narrow hallways as I thought about how, exactly, I was going to manage to get Francesca and Scar back together. I didn’t usually spend my time doing things that were near impossible such as this, but life seemed to be quite boring and uninteresting lately. Watching a football jock pine after a girl that clearly didn’t want him was entertainment enough.
“Is this going to be a thing now?” Scar's voice announced from the other end of the hallway as he approached me, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You're gonna follow me wherever I go?”
My brows shot up. “Actually, Patterson, I wasn’t following you. I was simply waiting for you at your locker.”
He adjusted the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder and shook his head in disbelief, scoffing under his breath. “Same difference, still creepy.” He opened his mouth to add something else, but the words escaped his mouth when his thick eyebrows rose to their highest point and his gaze narrowed on my shirt. “Dude, is that jizz on your shirt?”
“Huh?” A dumbfounded look cast over my face as I glanced down at the black fabric, only to see a stain of what must have been remains of Max's load from earlier. “Oh.”
Scar's face paled. “You know what? I don't even want to know,” he said before I could defend myself. “I need to stop by my house before the carnival, so why don’t you come with me?”
“Come with you?" I questioned, feeling slightly suggestive today.
“Yeah, so you can teach me your little tricks,” he said, clearly letting the suggestion go over his head. He fished out his car keys from his back pocket and twirled them around his finger before he began to walk towards the nearest exit, picking up his pace with every step that led him to the main parking lot, leaving me to trail behind helplessly. The wind kicked up as soon as we exited the building, brushing my long hair back and making Scar's shirt cling against his tight, defined torso. I tried to fight a smile at the thought of seeing Scar shirtless. That would be a breathtaking sight, I was absolutely sure of it. He didn't say a word to me as we crossed the parking lot and walked to his orange Jeep, and he continued to be silent throughout most of the drive to his house.
So I was genuinely surprised when his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter and he attempted to make small talk. “Who’s the guy?”
I shifted my attention away from the window to him. “What?”
He pursed his lips and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, contemplating what to say. “The boy who, you know’d, on your shirt,” he said, and then quickly added, “unless you did that to yourself and just couldn’t aim.”
I found myself laughing uncontrollably at his remark. Clutching my stomach and taking in a few deep breaths, I attempted to calm myself down. “And so what if it was someone else? Are you getting jealous on me, Patterson?”
His nose crinkled in disgust. “God, no. I'm just curious.”
“Curious, you say?” I questioned in which Scar responded by nudging my shoulder, hard. Laughing the pain off, I actually decided to ease his curiosity. “If you must know, yes, it was another guy. He’s nobody, really.”
Scar continued to press the issue. “Well, obviously not if you guys are so, um, intimate.”
“Intimate?” I questioned, holding in a laugh. “You should know better than anyone how friends with benefits work.”
He glanced over to me, eyes shining with inquiry. “And how would I know that?”
I shrugged. “I don't know, maybe because you've slept with more people than you can count on one hand, what, with your little open-relationship deal? Your girlfriend’s been getting around town. I assumed you’d be doing the same … football jock like yourself.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he returned his eyes to the road, sighing. “Right.”
I shot him a lopsided grin, anyway. It was comforting to see how easily he was affected by my smart remarks. “But why all the personal questions? I didn't think you cared about my sex life, you know, since you’re straight and all.”
“I don't,” he spat. “I'm just trying to make conversation.”
I laughed at that. “I didn’t think that you actually wanted to have a conversation with me.”
Scar gave me a sideways glance, and then he shrugged. “Okay, then.” He turned on the radio, instantly drowning out any chance at conversation with the sound of Lil’ Wayne’s rapping. Sighing, I sunk back into my seat and stared absentmindedly out the window, resting my chin in the palm of my hand.
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