"Well anyways," I continue through their bickering, totally warming up to my topic. "We talked a lot. He has a sister who he's real protective of, and one that died when she was young. Her name was his first tattoo." Everyone has gotten quiet as they listen to me recounting details. "So we went to the aquarium, and sat for a long time in from of the Jelly fish. It was real dark and peaceful. I mean, we didn't kiss or anything, but our legs were touching and it was still...electric, you know?"
"So then what?" Tasha whispers, probably because she doesn't want to spook me and have me clam up.
"So...then we left and he took me for ice cream. We stopped in River Hills, at that old 50's diner? Maddie, didn't you go there with Marshall once?" She nods. "Anyways we sat at a corner table even though there really weren't any other people there, and he orders this huge sundae. Like, extra
everything
, and I thought there was no way he could finish it."
"But he does."
I lay there looking at the ceiling and for once my friends are quiet.
Waiting.
"Yeah, he does. I mean, the guy is huge. Of course he's gonna finish it..." My voice trails off.
"Uh, just how
huge
is he, Molly?" Jenna cackles at her own perverted question.
I roll my eyes and say, "I wouldn't know."
"Well
that's
disappointing..."
"Okay, so what I really want to know is...do you think he'll ask you to Fall Formal? I mean, it's like next month." Jenna says, leaning over me again. You know what, until this very moment I hadn't considered Fall Formal - haven't thought about the dance and if he would invite me... Because if he
likes
me, wouldn't he maybe
want
to go? I can't help it, I'm a girl. We think about these things. Even though I know it's not his thing and he's never gone to a dance before (nor can I picture him at one, to be honest). In any case, a small seed of doubt plants and sprouts itself in my mind, wishing that Jenna hadn't brought it up, mostly.
On the other hand
... I feel like I'm kind of past all of this and just want to move on: go to college and be done with the whole high school scene.
"So what happened when he brought you home?" Maddie wants to know, changing the subject.
"Well,
you know
...." I can't stop the blush creeping up my neck.
"Was it any good? Did he stick his tongue down your throat?"
"Ugh, yeah, it was so good my toes were actually curling in my shoes - but then freaking Matthew came barging outside and ruined the whole moment."
"What?!" there is a collective burst of outrage from my friends and Jenna huffs, "You have got to be kidding me! Ugh, why is he such a jerkoff?"
"Is he here?" Tasha wants to know, rising from the bed. She's always had a major crush on him; In fact, when we were younger she would only want to come over if Matthew was home. If he wasn't, she wouldn't even want to bother coming over and I would go to her house. How messed up is that? "Do you think he's in his room?"
"No stalker, sit down and get a grip. He has a game today - he probably left before the sun came up. His sole reason for coming home was to torture me and my date. It was so awful. I wanted to punch him between the eyes. Seriously, he came out on to the porch and started calling Weston all these names and embarrassing the shit out of me."
"I'm sorry Molly, but Matthew is
so
damn hot..." Tasha pouts, flopping back down onto the bed.
"Yup, can't argue with that one." Maddie agrees.
"Actually, I can argue with that," I say with a snort. "I'll be lucky if Weston calls me. Matthew acted like he was committing a federal crime by putting his hands on me. I mean, he grabbed him by the shirt collar for god's sake, and the worst part is my parents were inside the whole time and did nothing to stop him."
"Wait, wait - hold up. Go back to the part about the shirt collar... Weston wore a
dress
shirt? I think I'm going to pass out. Yup, I'm passing out," Jenna says, fanning herself with her hands then rolling on the bed until she's on top of me. We're all laughing hysterically. "Oh girl, he must really like you."
"Yup," I say, rolling my eyes and giggling. "Nothing says love like a polo shirt."
WESTON
"I kind of just want someone who's going to like me for the total asshole that I already am. It's less work." - heard in the locker room.
If you would have told me a week ago I would be sitting in study hall anxiously watching the doorway for a girl to walk through it, I would have laughed my ass off and probably told you to shut the fuck up. But the jokes on me because here I sit, covertly in the far corner, brim of my ball cap almost covering my eyes and willing Molly to walk through the door of the library.
Watching like a freaking sap.
I look up at the round clock hanging on the wall, and curse because she technically only has a few more minutes to get here - two more minutes actually, until the bell rings - or I can write her off as having gone somewhere else for study hall.
A calculus book sits open in front of me and my right leg impatiently bounces up and down of its own free will - and I watch the door like it's my job. The thought crosses my mind that I should have texted her, telling her to meet me here - but I haven't gotten ahold of her since our date Saturday, and don't want to seem too eager.
Desperate.
The bell finally rings, and, disappointed that Molly hasn't shown up I finally force myself to look down at my textbook. After staring at the same page for who knows how long, the words and numbers on the page still aren't making sense, and none of them are registering in my brain. I stare unblinking and trancelike down at the open pages, unable to stop thinking about my date this past weekend. Unable to stop thinking about Molly - who has been consuming my thoughts - and if my dad knew he would personally serve my ass up on a silver platter and never let me see her again.
I know at least mom was secretly excited for me; she was waiting up for me in the kitchen Saturday night to hear the details of my date with Molly. Actually, when I came in to the house she scared the shit out of me sitting there in the dark on a barstool at the counter.
I might have even screamed a little.
I've actually never seen mom that way before - my guess is that she holds a lot of it in because of my dad not wanting me to be serious about anything other than school and hockey, but really, she was pretty damn excited. I felt like a girl the way she fussed over me, helping me get ready and insisting that I get my shaggy hair trimmed earlier in the day - which of course, I did. And yeah, it was really fucking irritating - but I let her fuss anyways, because in a way I felt guilty - I know mom's love that shit and before this weekend she's never had the opportunity.
I'll just keep telling myself all the effort was for my mom and sister, and not for Molly.
And speaking of Kendall... she had gotten freakishly excited too, singing that annoying ass song "Weston and Molly sitting in the tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G..." over and over before I bolted from the house.
Unable to concentrate I lean back and take off my cap, running my fingers through the hair that's no longer there. I keep forgetting how short it is. Damn.
I raise my eyes as I set the hat down on my head, brim to the back, I swallow hard as Molly walks into the room. She's stopped at the circulation desk, leaning over on her elbows across the counter with a slip of paper extended towards Mrs. Stalworth, the dumpy old librarian who takes it and grins.
As they continue quietly chatting I'm checking her out...
O
bviously
.
Even in casual school clothes, she makes my breath hitch and I reach up to flip my hat back around so no one catches the expression in my eyes, which I'm assuming is akin to adoration. Let's just get something straight right now: Weston McGrath doesn't get caught checking chicks out - ever.
And just so we're clear, he also doesn't do girlfriends.
But hell, why is she so much goddamn cuter than I remember?
Molly leans against the counter, still oblivious to the fact that I'm watching her from the corner of the room. It's the first glimpse I've had of her since Saturday, and the sight of her gets my blood flowing - especially in those tight blue jeans, which hug her ass like a second skin.
She straightens to a stand, and my eyes rake hungrily over the navy blue and white stripped tank top that's pulled tightly across her breasts (
nice
), over which she's wearing an unbuttoned gray cardigan. A thin brown leather belt is wrapped around her waist and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail with the cutest fucking white bow in it.
Now how in the hell am I going to concentrate?
Finally she turns and scans the room looking for a place to sit. I sit at attention, my posture a little straighter, and silently will Molly to notice me in the back of the room. Shit, why did I have to sit back here? Oh that's right, because I'm a
fucking idiot
.
Patiently I wait.
I'm rewarded when our eyes meet and she takes those first tentative steps towards me - then falters. Biting on her lower lip she is obviously measuring whether or not to approach me, and I mentally chastise myself for not having texted her after our date. It was a great date - so great I was hard for two days afterwards
- but let's be honest: this isn't going anywhere. Despite that, I feel like a world class jackass and I wouldn't blame her if she sat somewhere else, even though I know she won't.
Because Molly Wakefield is classier than that and I doubt she tolerates bullshit. In fact, I would kind of expect her to waltz over and bitch me out for not calling.
Weaving her way through the tables that have been staggered around the room, I think she is going to come over to my table.
But then she shocks the crap out of me.
In a library full of people, instead of choosing to sit with me she parks it at a table with some random emo chick wearing all black that I've never seen before. Her chair is facing me and she shoots me a smile that even from here I can tell is forced, despite my lack of a sensitivity gene, before pulling it out and plopping down. Molly then lobs her black backpack onto the tables' surface in front of her and I watch as she unzips it, takes out a notebook then a calculator.
Fine, ignore me. See if I give two shits
I glance at the clock. Forty minutes left in the period. I can handle that.
Only...
I keep stealing glances at Molly who has her head bent, the ends of her ponytail flirting with her collarbone. The little bow pinned in her hair is a nice contrast to the tight fit of her shirt, and my eyes wander to the bare skin above her neckline.
Staring at her neck reminds me of how fantastic she smells - how her smooth skin tasted against my tongue - and I shift in my seat, the memories making me hard. In the damn library of all places. Watching her sit there completely ignoring me like I'm not even in the room is bringing out all of my narcissistic tendencies, and now all I want is her attention.
I really am a fucker.
Yup, that's right - my resolve lasted all of five minutes.
"Look up, Molly,"
I quietly chant to myself. "
Look up
."
And then on cue, as if she can hear me, she does.
MOLLY
He's got my attention - now what's he going to
do
with it?
I watch as Weston stares me down and to say I'm totally confused right now is an understatement. For two whole days I waited for him to contact me - they felt like a freaking eternity. I carried my phone around pitifully,
literally
in my hand, because I didn't want to miss that 'ping' of a text alert or a phone call, hoping it would be him and being let down and disappointed each time it wasn't.
Not only that - I lay in bed pathetically both nights until my eyes drooped, waiting for my phone to light up in the dark. Every new friend request on Facebook could have been him but wasn't.
Waiting. Sucked.
All I keep thinking is
"Gee Molly, you let him stick his tongue down your throat for crying out loud
."
But you know what
else
sucks? The fact that I don't know who to be more pissed off at: him for blowing me off or me, or me for letting it affect me so much.
I
really
had thought...
Ugh
, crap - you
know
what I thought...
Why do guys have to ruin everything with their melodramatic bull crap? I mean seriously. It's not like I wanted to skip down the halls with him holding hands - but a text or something would have been nice. A simple 'thanks for the date' would not have been too much to ask and would have taken him all of what, ten seconds?
Can I also point out that guys have the nerve to call
girls
dramatic when they're just as bad? I know exactly what Weston McGrath is thinking in that fat head of his - he's worried I'm going to unleash my inner stalker and fall madly in love with him when he doesn't have time for it. Which reminds me; I once innocently asked this guy Dave to a baseball game, and instead of just telling me no like a normal human being, he said he wasn't looking for a relationship. Um, so yeah, there's your proof that guys are just as bad as girls.
And for the record: I'm not saying I wouldn't fall in love with Weston... because I'm already halfway there.
I'm guess I'm disappointed it was just that one date.
The one date that ruined me for everyone else.
How annoying.
WESTON
I don't know how to fix this.
Molly is still watching me from her table a few rows over, an impassive expression if I've ever seen one. She raises an eyebrow, silently daring me to make a move.
I hesitate.
Then - in what some might consider a dick move - I push the chair opposite me out with the toe of my boot, sliding it away from the table in a silent invitation.
A plea, in my own twisted way, for her to come sit with me.