defiantly chemistry between us,” she presses her chest tighter against me.
“No, I really don’t think what is happening between us is sexual, more like trying to keep me a virgin and annoying the hell out of me in the process.” I peel her arms off me. Being this close to her makes me feel light-headed. I can’t think clearly.
“You have to at least act like there is chemistry if you want this to work,” she sighs twirling that strip of pink hair between her fingers. “And for your information Katie has looked back at us three times.”
I look over at Katie. She’s sitting with a group of girls. Our eyes lock for a moment before she looks away.
“Now grow a pair and fake some sexual chemistry or you can kiss goodbye to your little demented dream of having chemistry with her,” says Barbie. “Just trust me.” Barbie wraps her arms around my neck again. This time I let her. Chemistry I can do chemistry.
“Fine.”
I bury my face into her hair. It surrounds me; it smells like apples. Between the smell of her hair and the sweet smell of sugar that lingers on her skin, she reminds me of the local fair that comes once a year to Phenix City. The sweet smell in the air, filled with the excitement that flitters around with anticipation. Before I know it the bell rings signaling the end of the period, and my day dream about the fair. I watch Katie go out the door, not looking back.
“Let’s go.” I drop my legs out from under me sending Barbie back peddling to the floor. A jerk move, but she has me confused. She catches herself before landing. She stands up and glares at me. “What?” I ask innocently.
“Just fake it,” she snaps.
I slip my hand into the devil’s very tight back pocket. “Could your jeans get any tighter?” I complain.
“Oh yeah, ” She smiles at me, “Much tighter.”
I walk Barbie to her class despite the fact it is going to make me late to mine. “See you after class honey,” I say rolling my eyes.
“See you are learning.” She stands on her tip toes and kisses me on the cheek.
Chapter 8.
Gravity
Dylan is rambling about numbers, I pretend to listen, but really I am watching the football field. Byron Matthews had just made a tackle, and all the cheerleaders are fawning over him. How come it is okay for them to prance around this school in short skirts and midriff-bearing shirts and it is called showing school spirit. When I do it I am called a slut. I lean back drinking in the sun. It took some talking and heavy flirting to convince Dylan to come outside. I don’t think I could have spent another free period stuck in that stuffy old library; it reminds me of a place books go to die, with the musty smell of musty parchment and stale ink.
“Are you even paying attention?” Dylan asks.
“Sure, nine two, blah, blah, blah, the fifth power carry the one something, something, something.” I wave him off, he lets out one of his Barbie is driving me nuts sigh, just as Byron trots over to the bleacher. “Hey, Barbie how about me and you hooking up later,” he calls up making an obscene gesture with his hand and mouth.
“Sure,” I wink at him and blow a kiss in his direction. He smiles and jogs over to his meathead buddy where they exchange a series of handshakes and high fives.
“Why do you do that?” Dylan shuts the text book.
“Do what?” I ask innocently knowing damn well what he means.
“Oh I don’t know give it up to any guy who asks.”
I turn and look at him, his wrinkled plaid shirt that looks like he plucked off the floor, his messy hair falling in his eyes. What does he know? He is just like everyone else at this school; he already proved that with his comment. I pretend that what he says means nothing to me, that stab of pain I feel does not exist.
“Please, I am not going to give anything up to Byron.” I look him in the eyes.
“Then how come you just told him you would?” he asked confusion furrowing at his brows. I have the urge to massage
“No, I really don’t think what is happening between us is sexual, more like trying to keep me a virgin and annoying the hell out of me in the process.” I peel her arms off me. Being this close to her makes me feel light-headed. I can’t think clearly.
“You have to at least act like there is chemistry if you want this to work,” she sighs twirling that strip of pink hair between her fingers. “And for your information Katie has looked back at us three times.”
I look over at Katie. She’s sitting with a group of girls. Our eyes lock for a moment before she looks away.
“Now grow a pair and fake some sexual chemistry or you can kiss goodbye to your little demented dream of having chemistry with her,” says Barbie. “Just trust me.” Barbie wraps her arms around my neck again. This time I let her. Chemistry I can do chemistry.
“Fine.”
I bury my face into her hair. It surrounds me; it smells like apples. Between the smell of her hair and the sweet smell of sugar that lingers on her skin, she reminds me of the local fair that comes once a year to Phenix City. The sweet smell in the air, filled with the excitement that flitters around with anticipation. Before I know it the bell rings signaling the end of the period, and my day dream about the fair. I watch Katie go out the door, not looking back.
“Let’s go.” I drop my legs out from under me sending Barbie back peddling to the floor. A jerk move, but she has me confused. She catches herself before landing. She stands up and glares at me. “What?” I ask innocently.
“Just fake it,” she snaps.
I slip my hand into the devil’s very tight back pocket. “Could your jeans get any tighter?” I complain.
“Oh yeah, ” She smiles at me, “Much tighter.”
I walk Barbie to her class despite the fact it is going to make me late to mine. “See you after class honey,” I say rolling my eyes.
“See you are learning.” She stands on her tip toes and kisses me on the cheek.
Chapter 8.
Gravity
Dylan is rambling about numbers, I pretend to listen, but really I am watching the football field. Byron Matthews had just made a tackle, and all the cheerleaders are fawning over him. How come it is okay for them to prance around this school in short skirts and midriff-bearing shirts and it is called showing school spirit. When I do it I am called a slut. I lean back drinking in the sun. It took some talking and heavy flirting to convince Dylan to come outside. I don’t think I could have spent another free period stuck in that stuffy old library; it reminds me of a place books go to die, with the musty smell of musty parchment and stale ink.
“Are you even paying attention?” Dylan asks.
“Sure, nine two, blah, blah, blah, the fifth power carry the one something, something, something.” I wave him off, he lets out one of his Barbie is driving me nuts sigh, just as Byron trots over to the bleacher. “Hey, Barbie how about me and you hooking up later,” he calls up making an obscene gesture with his hand and mouth.
“Sure,” I wink at him and blow a kiss in his direction. He smiles and jogs over to his meathead buddy where they exchange a series of handshakes and high fives.
“Why do you do that?” Dylan shuts the text book.
“Do what?” I ask innocently knowing damn well what he means.
“Oh I don’t know give it up to any guy who asks.”
I turn and look at him, his wrinkled plaid shirt that looks like he plucked off the floor, his messy hair falling in his eyes. What does he know? He is just like everyone else at this school; he already proved that with his comment. I pretend that what he says means nothing to me, that stab of pain I feel does not exist.
“Please, I am not going to give anything up to Byron.” I look him in the eyes.
“Then how come you just told him you would?” he asked confusion furrowing at his brows. I have the urge to massage
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