Chapter 18
Eighteen
Brandon
Devin and Tanisha are sitting on the other side of the breakfast bar picking at something boring like bran flakes. Other than saying good morning, they've pretty much ignored me, which is fine by me. If I'm going to be honest they probably stopped trying because I answer them in monosyllables.
I wolfed down my egg white, spinach, and turkey sausage omelet ten minutes ago.
The half a whole wheat English muffin sits in my plate like a friendless orphan.
Deja hasn't come down yet. She's not late yet, but she's not going to have a lot of time to eat.
She's probably tired from last night. I find myself smiling and tamp it down.
No point giving the Thompsons a reason to engage.
I have nothing to do while I wait but think.
Holy shit, last night was incredible. It's not like I've never had a blow job before, but the way she looked up at me with her cock in her mouth, the sensation of her hot, tight mouth, was better than anything I've ever felt.
I guess it's true what they say about it being different when you really like someone.
I can't even tell you why I like her so much.
She is gorgeous and sexy of course. And smart and athletic.
But there are a ton of girls at Briarwood like that.
I mean of all the people to feel this way about it's a girl who used to bully me?
I don't really care though. The past is the past. In the present I spend way too much time thinking about her and counting down till I see her again.
I don't know what I'm thinking. I should be so happy, but there’s doubt gnawing at the back of my mind. Do I mean anything to her, or is it just sex?
Sex is great, right? I mean why does it matter how she feels as long as we're fooling around.
She let me shoot in her mouth. What more do I want?
I want to fuck her, obviously, but that's not what's bothering me.
The truth is that I like Deja a lot, but does she like me back? Or am I just convenient?
Trying to distract myself, I unlock my phone and start scrolling.
On Mello's social media there are a bunch of pictures from homecoming.
There's a group shot of him, me, and Von with our dates that I like.
My date, Lisa, is standing in front of me.
She's petite, barely coming up to my chest, with light, reddish skin, and hazel eyes that look huge in her baby face.
I flip to another picture with just the two of us cheesing it up in front of one of the photo backdrops.
Her curly, light brown hair is a little messy and her dimples are flashing.
She looks so excited to be there, it makes me grin.
"She's cute," Devin says, over my shoulder, making me almost jump out of my skin. I hadn't noticed Tanisha leave or him get up but he must have been passing behind me on his way to the sink. "Was that your date?"
"Um, yeah," I say, putting the phone down on the counter. He actually cranes his neck so he can still see it.
"Is she Hispanic or Black?"
"She's Black," I say, finding the question kind of weird.
"She's a freshman?"
"Yeah. At Marshall."
“You must have met her when she was in middle school, then,"
"Grade school," I respond, without thinking. She used to follow me and Mello around like our shadow. She's his little sister, but over time I've come to see her as mine too.
"Nice," he says, smiling. "They're really fun at that age."
Fun? Does he mean…? No way. He can't be standing there rinsing the dishes like everything's normal after implying a girl that young is....
No, he's not that weird is he? I mean it's kind of strange to hear a grown up say teens are fun when they usually complain how moody and difficult we are.
He definitely hasn't given me the benefit of the doubt.
Whatever. I shake my head and check the time.
Deja will have to skip breakfast if she doesn't get down here soon.
Her omelet is cold anyway. I grab the bullet blender and start prepping a smoothie without thinking about it too hard.
She likes Greek yogurt, berries and mango, if I remember correctly.
Maybe I'll add a little protein powder or spinach.
Devin glances at me in mild curiosity as I get the ingredients out and toss them in.
Might as well make myself useful while I wait.
Deja hates being late, but she has to eat, right?
Deja slips into the study room around 11:35.
I've been here for a while, books spread out on the table, trying to match my scrawled notes with the chapter I'm supposed to be reviewing.
As an athlete you always have to keep your grades up, but I never had any trouble doing it at Marshall.
Here I'm studying all the time and still just barely keeping my head above water.
Deja closes the door and gives the spread a weird look.
Did she not realize I use the study rooms to study?
She's wearing yoga pants and an oversized jacket.
I wonder if she knows how hot she looks in that outfit.
Anyone else I probably wouldn't even notice them, but the shape of her legs and the graceful way she moves are hard to look away from.
I motion for her to sit in the chair nearest the door and reposition my chair to face hers.
"What's up?" she asks, crossing her legs at the ankles. "My friends are starting to give me weird looks."
"Why?"
"I keep missing lunch and not telling them why."
"Almost like they don't have lives of their own," I drawl. She shakes her head, a faint smile on her lips.
"They're my friends, Brandon. Friends are supposed to want to know what's going on with each other. Anyway, why am I here?"
"I, ah, wanted to talk about last night." I try to keep my voice steady, but I'm sure she can hear the slight wobble.
"What about last night? You're not trying to get a repeat in the freaking library, are you?"
"No," I say. "Is that a possibility? Cause I'm pretty sure nobody would see us."
Deja sighs. "I, um, no. What did you really want to talk about?"
I spent the last few hours thinking about what to say to her, but now my brain is a jumble. How does anyone get into a relationship if it feels this scary to put yourself out there. My heart feels like it's going to explode.
"Did you have fun last night?"
"What do you think?" she asks. The words are flirty, but her tone is uncertain, almost shy.
"I think you liked it. You were really wet." She looks down, picking at the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. "Are you embarrassed?"
"No!" She's still not looking at me, though. I feel my confidence increase. This is Deja Marcus acting like this.
"I'm going to guess you don't get like that with every guy you meet."
She frowns at me, her expression alternating between irritation and suspicion.
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not trying to say anything," I respond, unprepared for the hostility in her tone. It doesn't surprise me, but it's a little disappointing.
"I want to ask you what this is?"
"Huh?"
"Between us, Deja," I say. "What is this?"
"This is a DTR, isn't it? I did not have this on my bingo card for today."
"Come on, Deja."
"Okay. Situationship."
"I don’t think that’s an answer. That’s like defining a relationship as undefined."
She shrugs.
"What are you hoping to get out of this conversation, Brandon?" she asks.
"That night when I spanked you, you were scared and crying.
I thought I'd blown up any chance with you.
Then I realized you were as turned on as I was.
I thought we connected. So I asked if I could kiss you.
The next day when you warned Mackenzie off, I figured if you didn't like me, you must at least have felt possessive.
"Last night was amazing, but after you went inside, I started to wonder what you really thought about everything. You used to hate me, and just because I can make you feel good…I want to be more than just a human vibrator to you.”
I look at her, hoping she'll give me the answer I need. I'm not sure what to make of her expression.
"You said you thought you blew your chance with me by spanking me. Does that mean you liked me already?"
"I don't know why," I chuckle. "You were so mean to me, but you were so clever with the insults. And you stood up to me despite being such an itty-bitty thing."
"I'm five-seven.” Right. Still inches shorter than me.
"So anyway, yeah, I liked you and after the night I made the video I needed you to be my girl, but everything was so fucked up."
"Why didn't you just ask me out?"
"Would you have said yes?"
She shakes her head. She would have said no in the most humiliating way possible. And not just because I was being obnoxious, but also because she knew without asking her parents would never let us date while we were living in the same house together.
"I need to think, Brandon. I know what you want me to say, but you are right about things being fucked up. You tied me up and recorded us. I’ve been nervous this whole time you’d show that video to someone.”
“Cause I’m beneath you?"
“No, dumbass. You know as well as I do what people think about a girl who gets caught on a sex tape."
“I would never show it to anyone,” I say, scooting my chair closer so I can pick up her hands and squeeze her fingers. “I don’t want to share you. If anyone else ever saw you like that I’d have to rip out their eyeballs."
“Wow. That’s intense. Here I thought I was just convenient pussy."
It’s so close to what I thought I was to her, I find myself nodding.
I guess it could still be true for her—she hasn’t said otherwise.
I don’t know how I’d deal with that. I want her for real.
I’ve never wanted anyone even half as much as I want her.
I want to walk through Briarwood with her on my arm and do cheesy stuff like take her to prom.
And of course, I want to find out exactly how much pain she can take and what turns her on the most.