Zander
Chapter fourteen
Iwoke up extra early this morning, excited to see Sierra.
We’re going to have one-on-one time together without any interference from the jerk-offs at school.
Finally, I can get a chance to get to know her.
I just can’t get behind why everyone treats her the way they do.
What I’ve seen doesn’t correlate to the story Wesley’s telling us.
There has to be something more to it that he’s leaving out, or he’s simply picking on her for no reason.
You know, the classic case of a boy likes a girl, but she rejects him, so he retaliates.
Colt tried to convince me so many times last night to leave it be, and just do the assignment with her, but by no means try to get to know her.
He’s afraid with us being new here, going against the status quo will alienate us from our classmates.
It’s already hard being the new guys, but add on that it’s our senior year and I can understand kinda why he feels the way he does.
Where Colt has this underlying need to be accepted, I couldn’t care less. Call it trauma from being a foster kid.
I take extra time styling my hair and dressing in some dark black skinny jeans with my favorite NFL jersey, The Packers, before sliding on my matching green Converse just as a rumbling crack of thunder booms. God, don’t let that be a sign of something bad.
If Colt thinks praying to the gods for a storm will keep me from trudging out into the rain to see Sierra, he’s sorely mistaken. I head out of my room, making sure to grab my book bag from where it sits on the floor in front of my dresser and head down the stairs.
The house is quiet, so Colt and Brax must still be in bed.
They could sleep through a marching band playing.
Not me. The sound of a pen dropping could wake me up.
The smell of bacon and coffee assaults my nose when I land on the last step, tempting me to follow it.
Like the children did to the song in that movie about the three witch sisters and the virgin.
Dad and John love to watch it on repeat.
I mean nothing changes, so I don’t get how they can watch it over and over.
Stepping into the kitchen, I stop dead in my tracks.
Dad and John are standing in front of the stove, kissing each other passionately.
I’m glad they’re so in love, but seeing your parent making out with someone is fucking gross.
Clearing my throat, I let them know I’m here, cause I sure as fuck don’t want them to go any further.
I’m instantly assaulted by visions of one of them bending over the table while the other rails him from behind.
Great job idiot, now I’m not going to be able to eat at the kitchen table without thinking of that.
“Sorry, Zander, good morning. You’re up early for a Saturday,” my father says through muffled laughter as he releases John’s lips. His arms still firmly wrapped around his waist. Scratch that, they’re now cupping his ass.
“Yeah, I got to meet my literature partner at a coffee shop. We’re going to work on our project and try to get somewhat of a head start.
Today was the only time she had free because she watches her sister while her aunt’s working.
” The knowing look my dad gives me makes me curious.
Almost like he knows something from the little information I gave him. Something I don’t know.
He lets go of John and walks over to the rainy day fund jar, as he likes to call it, and pulls out some money.
He straightens out the bills and counts them, keeping some before placing the rest back in the jar.
“Here, get the two of you some coffee and lunch. I’m sure you’ll be at it for a while if her schedule’s that limited.
” He hands me the money, giving me a tender smile as I take it from him.
“It’s pouring out there, so drive safely, and just send me a text when you get there.
” He moves back to the stove, helping John cook.
“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to head on out.” Walking to the garage door, I hear Dad call out again.
“Remember to text me, Zander.”
“I will.” He’ll kill me if I forget. Well, not literally, but I’ll wish he had.
Getting in the car, I place my bag in the passenger seat before clicking the remote for the garage door. Backing out, I immediately have to hit the wipers. It’s raining so hard you’d think we were in a monsoon.
It takes me longer than what the GPS told me last night when I checked due to the weather.
My goal was to make it there before her, have a perfect table staked out in the corner so we could have privacy, and have our pastries and coffee waiting.
But at the rate everyone is driving today, I’ll be lucky to make it at all.
When I pull up in front of the coffee shop, there's a spot being vacated right out front.
Hell yeah. Coming to a stop, I put on my turn signal and wait for the bright orange VW Bug to pull out.
I quickly pull in once it's gone, noting the pissed-off grandma throwing her finger up at me.
Sorry, but I was here first and I have a girl to meet.
I grip the steering wheel and take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Why the fuck am I so nervous? It’s not as if we’ve never spoken to each other before, met each other in person, or been close to each other. Finally psyching myself up, I run inside, trying not to get soaked.
Stepping in the door, I shake my head, flinging water off of me onto the two blonde girls sitting at the table closest to me, making them squeal.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” I hear them shout, “What the hell!” and turn toward them.
They immediately stop and start giggling, batting their lashes with heat in their eyes.
The old me would have latched onto it and rode it out, eventually ending up in bed with one or both of them, then ditching them without a second thought.
“Oh, it’s okay. You can make it up by joining us,” the bustier blonde says, leaning forward on her arms, squeezing them up against her tits, causing them to burst over the top of her shirt.
“Thank you, ladies, but I’m meeting someone.
” Their smiles morph into pouts as I turn and head to the counter to order.
On my way, I spy a booth that I want and rush toward it instead, laying my book bag on the table and my soaked jacket on the back of one of the chairs.
Claiming it as mine. Taking a moment, I quickly message Dad to let him know I arrived safely so he wouldn’t worry.
Looking around the coffee shop frantically, I sigh with a little bit of relief when I don’t see her, but when I check my watch, I see it’s ten and begin to worry.
She doesn’t strike me as the type to be late.
Making my way to the counter, I go ahead and order two coffees, a blueberry muffin, and a maple frosted doughnut.
Hoping one of my favorites will be hers as well.
Then I wait. The two blondes keep staring, but I ignore them, much to their dismay. I wait and wait and nothing. I’d call her but I don’t have her number, something I’m going to work hard to fix today. Well, if she shows up.
My hope sinks with each ticking minute. Sitting at the table, I spin the cup in my hand, trying to keep my focus off the door, fighting hard not to look desperate for her to show.
I’m about to call it a day when I see it’s twenty-five minutes past, and she’s still not here. I was a fucking fool. Maybe I should’ve believed what Wes said about her. Maybe there’s some merit to it.
Standing, I take my jacket off the back of the chair and go to put it on when the jingling of the bell on the door draws my attention to a very soaked and frantic Sierra stepping inside. She’s drenched and my cock hardens, pressing against the coarse fabric of my jeans.
She looks like a fucking wet dream.
She practically runs over to me. “I’m so sorry. I overslept, then I missed the bus and had to walk all the way here, then halfway a gust of wind caught my umbrella and blew it away,” she rushes out in one breath.
“Oh my god, Sierra, you’re soaked. Here, sit down and I’ll get you a fresh cup of coffee to warm you up.
” I don’t give her a chance to respond after pulling out the chair before taking off to the counter, glancing over my shoulder to see her taking off her jacket.
She’s in some tight black jeans and a tie-dyed, baggy t-shirt.
Her hair is partially soaked, the hood on her jacket managing to keep some of it dry.
She pulls something from her wrist and immediately has her hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun.
“Can I help you?” the barista at the counter asks, pulling my attention away from Sierra.
“Yeah, can I get two large Caramel Macchiatos, hot, please?” I keep peeking over my shoulder, making sure Sierra hasn’t tried to run, and my dick throbs in my pants at the vision of her.
Fuck, I’ve never been drawn to a girl like I am to her.
You’d think she’s some kind of Siren or Succubus, but they’re just stories and myths.
I watch as Sierra takes a seat, pulling her notebook and pen from her bag, and begins to furiously scribble notes. Little does she know I have a surprise up my sleeve and an idea to take our project in a whole other direction.
“Here ya go, two Caramel Macchiatos. Have a fantastic day.” I give her a smile before taking the coffees from the counter and head over to the table, sitting one down in front of Sierra.
Originally, I had sat on the other side of the table, but wanting to be close to her, I move the chair with the bag to the end of the table and pull up a dry chair right beside her.
“So I’ve got some ideas. They may seem a little out there, but they’re original, and I can guarantee no one else will be doing a project like ours.” I blurt out, anxious about what she'll think.