Ella's Twisted Senior Year (12 page)

“So what?” Ethan says, his voice hushed because he’s just a couple of inches away from me now. His fingertips graze my cheek. “High school will be over soon. You’ll start your cupcake business and I’ll branch off my T-shirt business and we’ll be in charge of our own lives. High school won’t matter anymore.”

The very idea of what he’s saying warms me to the core. He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “We can make this work out.”

Both of our phones buzz at the same time. Curious, we reach for them. A number I don’t recognize has texted both of us, along with dozens of other numbers in one massive group message.

“Are you fucking serious?” Ethan says through clenched teeth.

The photo message is another poorly photo shopped stab at me. This time it’s a shot of a porn star in between several guys, doing terrifying things to each other. My face is pasted over the girl’s face and the caption reads:
Look at all the boyfriends I’ve stolen!

Tears fill my eyes, completely shattering my mental self-image of being stronger than all of this. I’m not strong enough to take this on with grace.

I turn my phone toward Ethan even though he has the same message on his own screen. “This is why it won’ work,” I say, blinking back tears. “We have to end this.”

“Ella,” Ethan says, reaching for me. I shake my head.

“Maybe one day it’ll be different, but not now.”

Ethan wipes a tear from my cheek and I step away, marching back out into the open because I know it’ll help me keep a straight face if there’s a chance of having an audience. “Bye, Ethan.”

Ella does this not-so-subtle thing of ignoring me for the next two days. April is now her ride to and from school and she’s gone in the morning before I’m even out of bed. The rec room is like a sealed fortress, the door always closed, the girl of my dreams always on the other side.

Without any of the same classes, I never see Ella unless I go seeking her out, which I don’t. If she wants time away from me, I’m not going to be the pushy desperate fool, trying to win her back. I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of crap from Kennedy and it’s not cool.

But my willpower to avoid her in the hallways doesn’t work on the rest of my longing. I still think about her constantly, memories of her lips and her smile consuming my every waking moment. I’m not even sure how I managed to fill out the online application to the University of Texas last night. Every single blank made me want to write her name.

Name: Ella

Address: Ella

High school: Ella

Although UT has always been my choice school due to their close proximity to home and cheaper tuition than some fancy overpriced university, I spent three hours researching schools farther away last night. Maybe getting out of here after graduation is what I need. With my T-shirt business being so successful, I had spent most of junior year arguing with my parents to let me skip college and branch out on my own in business. They’d convinced me to at least try college, going for a business degree to help with my entrepreneurial goals. Now, attending college several states away from the girl who won’t talk to me sounds like it might be a great idea.

It’s not even ten o’clock yet as I lie in bed, staring at the spackle splotches on my ceiling. Tomorrow is another school day and I’m sure Ella will ditch me for April yet again. Just when stopping for donuts and coffee had become my favorite part of the day, now it’s a chore to swing by and have Ms. Kim ask where the girl went.

I punch the pillow to fluff it up and shove it back under my head. It doesn’t help. I can’t sleep. I can’t stand being away from her.

For one guilt-inducing moment I wonder if this is how Kennedy feels every night when she’s trying to fall asleep. I never meant to hurt her—definitely not as much as Ella’s avoidance hurts me—and now I actually feel bad for my ex. I have been ignoring all of her texts and calls, though they’re less frequent with each passing day. Of course, Kennedy
is
playing dirty, posting those photos of Ella online. She kind of deserves to get her calls ignored.

Luckily, no more crudely photo shopped photos have surfaced online, or elsewhere. For a while there, I was afraid she’d decorate every wall in the school with a print out of Ella as a tornado, but everything seems to have stopped. I bet that’s playing perfectly into Ella’s plan. If she ignores me, the taunting goes away.

I groan and roll onto my side. This is all my fault. If I had only talked to her that day at the pool, got to the bottom of Corey’s lies and made things right back then, maybe we’d be together now. I wouldn’t have a crazy ex and Ella wouldn’t have years of hatred built up against me.

I ponder over what might have been for half an hour and then I climb out of bed. She feels farther away now that she’s in the next room over than when she lived next door. I just need to see her, even if she tells me to pound sand.

The glow of the TV slips out from underneath her door, dancing shadows and lights flickering on the hallway carpet. I knock on the door and stand back as my heart begins to race.

The door opens a few inches and part of Ella’s face appears. She looks right at me then opens the door wider. Brown hair falls around her shoulders, seeming a few inches longer than it used to be. Have I really not seen her in that long? Or does it just look different because it’s silky straight and not wavy like usual?

“Hey,” I say, sounding as sheepish as I feel.

She pulls the door open wider and leans against the doorframe. She’s wearing dark purple pajama shorts that leave little to the imagination and a matching tank top. The silky fabric makes my fingers itch to touch it, to touch
her
and have her in my arms.

“New PJs?” I ask.

She glances down. “April’s mom bought two dozen cupcakes from me for her kid’s birthday party. I probably should be saving for more baking supplies but—” she shrugs. “I got pajamas instead. It’s hard sleeping in the same old shirt every night.”

I nod, trying not look like some kind of horn dog. “It looks good on you.”
Real good.

She makes this little half shrug gesture and I can tell she wants this conversation over. But I’m a selfish asshole and I’m not going away that easily. “I’m glad you’re still baking,” I say. “You should bake here. I miss your cupcakes.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “You haven’t had one of my cupcakes lately. They’re a lot better than when I was in junior high. Back then I just followed the instructions on the box.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Well what do you do differently now? How else would you make cupcakes?”

She tilts her head as if she’s trying to figure out if I really am this stupid. “I don’t
use
a box now. I bake from scratch.”

“Ah, okay I knew that.” I nod, but it’s probably not very convincing. “I definitely know what ‘from scratch’ means.”

This wins me a grin from the girl of my dreams. “What do you want, dork?”

“I wanted to see your pretty face since you’ve been ignoring me.”

Her eyes squint a little. “I’m not ignoring you. You know the deal, Ethan. We can’t be together.”

I take a step forward. “Why?”

She swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. “Because Kennedy’s wrath isn’t worth it.”

“Forget her,” I say, inching a little closer. My toes curl into the carpet. I’m wearing flannel pajama pants and that’s all. Ella’s eyes slip down to my abs and I keep them tightened, hoping the show of masculinity wins her over. But she’s not as shallow as I might hope because she presses her lips together. “Maybe after high school,” she says.

“Why not now? I’m going crazy without your company.” I poke out my bottom lip. “Driving to school alone sucks.”

She cocks her leg out to the side. “You have no idea what it’s like being called a
slut-nado
, Ethan. It’s not exactly my favorite moment of high school. We can’t do this.”

“I’m so sorry about that. I can’t imagine how shitty that is, but you can’t let her get to you. Then she wins.”

Ella tosses her hands in the air, palms up. “So she wins. Oh well.”

I bend at the knees. “But we could be soul mates, Ella. And you’re throwing us away instead of giving us a chance.”

“Soul mates? That’s kind of a big thing to say.”

“I mean it.”

She huffs. “Ethan . . . we spent four years hating each other. It’ll be easy to go back to that. Let’s just go back to that.”

“Why are you pushing me away? It can’t just be because of Kennedy.” I take a chance and slide my arm around her waist, the silky fabric of her shirt feeling just as good as I’d imagined. She doesn’t push me away so I link my arms around her back and press my forehead to hers. “If you really feel nothing for me then I’ll go. But it seems like you care about me too, and you’re just giving up at the first sign of trouble.” I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of her floral perfume. “I lost you once, I can’t lose you again.”

She sighs and leans into me, tucking her head against my neck, her hands pressed against my bare chest.

My breath hitches and I hold her close, happy beyond words that she’s finally in my arms.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says, her lips grazing against my neck. I shiver and she looks up, her eyes sparkling from the glow of the television. Her lips stretch into this coy smile that makes my heart race.

“But I know what I want to do right this second,” she whispers, sliding her hands up my neck.

“What’s that?”

“Let me show you.” She takes my face in her soft hands and pulls it toward her, kissing me exactly the way that drives me crazy.

My body responds to Ethan like we’re two magnets with the same polarity. I pull him into my room and close the door behind us. Ethan turns and wraps himself around me, kissing me until my back is against the door and I couldn’t run away even if I wanted to. We make out like we’ve won Olympic medals in the sport of kissing each other.

I pull away, gasping for another breath. “Want to take this to the couch?” I whisper. He makes some kind of grunt of approval and his hands slide down my legs, lifting me into the air. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tightly as he carries me over to the couch, which is officially my favorite place in the house. It’s where all of our best make outs happen.

Ethan turns until his calves touch the couch and then he sits, with me straddling his lap. I dig my hands into his hair, pushing the black waves away from his face.

“Don’t give me that smirk,” I say, pressing my fingers over his lips. “Just because I’m sitting in your lap doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

He squeezes my butt and gives me this dirty look. “Kind of seems like I won.”

They say it takes fewer muscles to smile instead of frown and right now every muscle in my face isn’t strong enough to keep my smile away. I roll my eyes. “Fine, maybe we both won.”

He pitches forward and places an open-mouthed kiss on the nape of my neck. Like magic, my body responds by melting all over the place. “I thought you didn’t want to be with me,” he says, giving me this cocky grin before going in for another kiss.

“I said maybe after high school.”

He frowns. “I don’t want to go back to being enemies, Ella. I don’t even want to be friends. I want to be
us
.” The sincerity in his eyes nearly cripples me. “I want to be together. I’ll even go to prom with you if you want.”

“Whoa, that’s—that’s a big idea.” I focus on playing with his hair so I don’t have to meet his eyes. “I don’t think we’d make it out of there alive if we went to prom together. Kennedy would shiv me with her high heels.”

He blows out a puff of air. “Maybe she’ll be over it by then. If we’re lucky, she’ll have a new boyfriend and will have forgotten all about us.”

“Maybe,” I say, letting my fingers trail down his bare chest. My touch leaves a path of chills on his dark skin. It doesn’t seem like the right time to tell him that prom isn’t really my thing. I’d rather just make out and forget about all of the things that suck, starting with prom and ending with photo shopped pictures of me in embarrassing situations.

My fingers reach the waistband of his flannel pants and Ethan takes in a sharp breath of air. His eyes close and I slide my hands back up, not ready to take anything to that level just yet. I kiss him slowly, enjoying every second of being with this boy, no matter how many pieces of our lives don’t exactly fit together. He manages to taste like cinnamon even when he’s not chewing gum and I am positively certain that the fresh scent of a boy straight from the shower is the greatest smell on earth.

Ethan’s hands slide up my sides, his fingers slipping under my camisole top. My breath hitches as his fingers rise slowly, meticulously, closer to my breasts.

Every nerve in my body is on fire and I can feel, with a little bashfulness on my part, exactly how turned on Ethan is right now. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Our lips are together, our bodies so, so close. His hands around my ribcage and mine wrapped around his neck.

“I don’t think I want to take this further,” I whisper, my cheeks burning so much that I bury my face in his shoulder, not wanting to look up and giveaway how pathetically unexperienced I am. “I’m sorry.”

His hands slide back down and settle over my hips, on top of my shorts. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispers into my ear. “This is all up to you. I won’t push for more than you want.”

I swallow and sink into his embrace, letting my face rest on his collarbone. “Thanks.”

Ethan lets out a slow breath and laces his fingers together, stretching them out and popping his knuckles behind my back. “Shall we watch something stupid on TV to cool these raging hormones?” He asks it in a terrible British accent and I laugh. The tension in the air evaporates and I slide off him, sitting in the corner of the couch but keeping my legs across his lap and my arm around his shoulders. We fit together perfectly in this position.

Ethan finds something on TV and we settle into a comfortable silence. The pieces of our lives may be scattered all over the place—college choices, popular friends, and ex-girlfriends—but none of that matters when we’re here in the rec room. Here, we fit together like the two kids we used to be. He is the yin to my yang, and all of those other silly cliché phrases to describe the one who gets you as much as you get them.

My heart ricochets around in my chest when Ethan strokes my hair and I revel in the smell of his body wash. We don’t have everything figured out yet, and there are still some dragons to slay on the journey of becoming an official couple, but this night—this night might just be perfect.

I close my eyes and fall into a comfortable sleep, the sound of Ethan’s heartbeat my lullaby.