Chapter 15 – Clover
Chapter Fifteen
Clover
I know I should have told my friends what happened in the studio days ago.
Now, a whole week later, it feels much too late to bring it up.
It’s not like I have any proof. And what exactly could I tell the dean or headmaster that wouldn’t sound like some kooky story that a weird horny teenager made up.
For the past week I’ve woken up with a racing heart, just remembering his hands down my pants.
I always have to change my underwear when I wake up.
I hate how sticky and gross it feels and how ashamed I feel about what happens when I wake up.
I didn’t really know girls could have wet dreams until the first night it happened — the night he pinned my body against his and I thought he was going to…
I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to admit it.
He was definitely the same guy from the party and then he found me in the dance studio and he was just so close to… I don’t even want to think about it.
I must have had way too much to drink the night of the party, because I didn’t remember the strong scent of his body until he grabbed me again in the studio. He smells familiar.
It’s my last day to work on the Ethics project with Thomas and it’s also the stupid rowing team’s last day in our dance studio, so we can finally start to take rehearsal seriously and get ready for our show at the end of the fall trimester.
I don’t want to meet up with him like this.
I’ve barely slept and for some reason, I feel super self-conscious at how grungy I am during these meetings with Thomas.
He always shows up with freshly washed hair slicked back and his long sleeves rolled up so I can see the tattoos on his forearm.
He even keeps his annoying comments to himself more and more these days.
I still can’t forget what he did to me in the dining hall and how he helped Kit Barclay make a fool of me, but I’m not done with the rowing team yet.
I still have potential plans and pranks.
My parents’ channel didn’t win pranksters of the year award for nothing.
I definitely have some skills from our skits that I could put to use.
I’ve never seen Thomas acting so strangely before.
If I didn’t know any better, I would say that he seemed nervous.
He’s Thomas Bainbridge, he’s never nervous, so that can’t be the case.
I’ve never met a white boy who would step to me like that without getting all red.
I’ve never met a white boy who pissed me off as much as Thomas Bainbridge.
Today, he looks like he missed his fresh shower and like he hasn’t slept.
I watched him paint his nails black throughout most of ethics class out of boredom, so I doubt he absorbed much of the lecture to help us with the last day of our project.
Either way, Thomas’ personal problems have nothing to do with me, so hopefully he can get it together for this project.
“So. We have to come up with our conclusion.”
“Don’t care,” he grunts.
Okay. So it’s going to be like that?
“Thomas. What the hell? We have to finish this.”
“I said I don’t care. Finish it if you want.”
Has he lost his mind? I’m not going to sit here finishing Thomas’ homework so his grades can benefit from my hard ass work. He has to have lost his damn mind.
“Um… That’s not happening.”
He shrugs. “Why not? You care so much.”
You know what? That’s it. I take my phone and smack Thomas’ annoyingly large shoulder. Hard.
“Ouch. What was that for?!”
“For being a lazy ass. What’s with the gross hair, what’s with the nail polish and the emo ass attitude?”
Thomas scowls and then the faintest smirk crosses his face. He catches himself and that annoying scowl returns. He’s clearly never had a black parent tell him to fix his damned face.
“Gross hair?”
That was his takeaway from everything I just said.
“You normally shower before our meetings.”
I like how he smells out of the shower, but I’m not going to tell his ass that. His funk has a weirdly familiar smell but I can’t place it. I prefer the showers.
“Do I?”
“Yes,” I snap.
I squirm uncomfortably as I remember the scent of his peach shampoo. I guess the only way to keep his hair luscious must be using the girly scents. Still, it smells nice, unlike the sweat or grease or whatever’s going on with Thomas.
“Oh. I didn’t today.”
“I can tell.”
Thomas raises his arm over his head and shoves his disgusting armpit in my face.
“THOMAS!” I scream as I gag.
He laughs hysterically and moves it away. “Okay. That was a real gag. I must reek”
I shove his arm hard and he just keeps laughing. Ugh, he’s so annoying. I shove his arm again and he playfully swats back at me. I grab my notebook from our shared table and swat him back.
“Ouch!”
I hit him again.
“Are we fighting now?”
“Yes.”
I hit him on the shoulders again and the arm as he laughs, and maneuvers wildly to stick his armpit in my face again. Oh hell no, I’m not taking in another whiff of his gross sweaty armpits and whatever stench he has trapped in that hoodie of his.
“Thomas, no!”
“Careful, Clover, we’re in a library…”
I don’t want to get caught acting like a fool, but I don’t want my nose buried in Thomas’ gross armpit again.
I jump out of my seat and try to hit him again, but Thomas just leaps out of his seat and chases me across the room.
I run backwards until my back slams into the white board.
Thomas stumbles over and trips, falling straight into me so he pushes me even harder against the white board.
“Ow!”
He braces himself with his hands and stumbles to his feet, his arms still sticking me out and pinning me against the white board.
His chest heaves as he gasps for breath and my breathing matches his after a few moments.
Thomas takes a step forward and I press my back against the wall as if I can sink into the white board and get the hardness pressing into my back to transport me to another world where Thomas Bainbridge isn’t leaning over me and he isn’t looking at me like… that.
Our eyes meet and I want to say his name, but he just leans forward, letting his messy hair fall over both our faces, and he kisses me.
He grabs my face after his lips touch mine and moves his hips closer to mine.
His lips. Oh my God. His lips are so soft.
I’m kissing Thomas Bainbridge. I don’t touch him as he kisses me.
I just let him tease my lips apart and kiss me hard until he pulls away.
He doesn’t stop breathing heavily. My heart jumps into my throat.
He wants more. He wants way more.
But why? Why the fuck did Thomas Bainbridge kiss me and why am I just standing here letting him? I press my palms out against his chest, my body freezing as his firm muscles resist my hardest push. He doesn’t budge an inch.
“Thomas,” I whisper.
We can’t attract any attention now. We just can’t.
“I know,” he murmurs. “I should shut the lights off.”
“No…”
But he leans forward and shuts off the lights in our private study room. They only stay off for ten minutes to avoid situations like this. This school has had enough sex scandals to fill a satanic Bible. Thomas’ hands drop to my waist and he just whispers my name as the lights turn off.
“Clover…”
* * *