Chapter Twenty Five

It was exactly as I thought. Josiah's house was central station in the morning, if it had been transported to the Bermuda Triangle. Tía was the hapless conductor and seemed on the verge of a meltdown, but she made it through. Moms won't ever get the credit they deserve. I was proud of myself for having taken that 3AM shower to make her life easier.

Thinking ahead wasn't something I often did. Though, the bathroom session as a whole was one of my longest and most painful. It took forever to dig that shard of glass out of my back. It involved tweezers and hopping up on a bathroom vanity butt-naked. I won't say anything more than that.

Since I was on a roll, I thought about where I'd live if Mom kicked me out. I asked Tía if she could tell me anything about my father—her brother. My mistake. Her body went rigid and a plate slipped out of her hands, shattering on the kitchen floor, taking bacon off the menu for everyone. A half minute later, when her mind returned to our world, she squeaked, "Ask Theresa, it isn't my place."

In disbelief, I turned to Josiah, who shrugged. I didn't expect him to have answers, but I wanted him to agree that his mother's reaction was crazy. He told me to follow him, like nothing happened. He led me to the basement to lend me clothes, though bequeath would've been more accurate. He couldn't fit the shirt anymore and the jeans weren't his, so he didn't want them back.

I thought about asking if he wanted me to save them for Marco to wear in a couple years, but I couldn't pose the question without sounding tactless. I felt bad though. It was a cute outfit that went perfectly with my new red 'nerd alert' glasses. It was blue skinny jeans, all buttons and no pockets, with a red and white striped, fitted, long-sleeved shirt.

I looked like a Latino Where's Waldo. It was a good thing I didn't have my phone. I wouldn't have been able to resist taking a picture in their cluttered living room.

Josiah drove me to school in some souped up, flat-back coupe that had too many changed out parts to be given a particular make or model. He called it his sleeper car—a fast car dressed down to look like a junker or in his case, dressed up to function. He showed off how he could make it sound really loud whenever he wanted. I couldn't believe that was the feature he was trying to sell me on.

I pretended to be impressed to keep bonding with him. I smiled and nodded as he talked at me about carburetors, cool air intake systems and swore up and down that spoilers were for suckers. Spoilers were those metal bars on the back of sports cars that didn't hold bikes. I couldn't agree more, but if he wouldn't have explained that, I'd have guessed they were among the gadgets from Speed Racer that dispensed tacks or oil slick.

"Man, Pamela will beat any car with a spoiler," he said. Pamela was driving us to school, apparently. "It's a beacon for bad drivers. As soon as I see one, I roll up with the old sleeper because they don't know the first thing about cars. Easy money."

He massaged his fingertips with his thumb and blew a chef's kiss at me. I resisted commenting on the logic, watching the road as we turned into the parking lot instead. It was already full of cars, but we still had a few minutes until the final bell.

Josiah let me out near the auditorium entrance. I raced up the three sets of steps to get inside. He couldn't have chosen a better spot. While I preferred the gym entrance at the end of the day back when I had a car, this one was closest to my locker. I bobbed and weaved through the crowded hallways, keeping my eyes fixed on the mostly cream tiles. Every so often there was a red one, a call out to our school color.

My routine wasn't meant to stop anyone from talking to me. The only two people who did that, wanted nothing to do with me. It was more about slipping by unnoticed, so no one had a reason to talk about me. Thursdays were often light on topics and Mad-Eye Rudy made excellent filler material.

This time, keeping my head down was a mistake. I would've went straight to first period had I seen him waiting beside my locker. Now, it was too late. He'd already spotted me and he knew I had seen him. I couldn't deal with Juice Williams right then. I hadn't told Faith that I'd come out to Mom yet, so if she saw us talking, it could end our friendship forever. She was the shoot-first, ask questions never type. She couldn't tell you a time when she'd been wrong.

It usually worked out fine. I didn't care if I had to apologize since she never held grudges. This time was different, it wasn't about her forgiving me. She hated Juice for how he tormented me, tolerating him was for my sake. Between lumping him in with Blake and her threat to step away before he could break my heart, I was deathly afraid she'd out him if she ever saw us together. I'd forgive her for that, even though she'd never apologize, but she'd honestly believe she had done me a favor and that, I could never forgive.

I looked up and Juice was standing merely inches away.  I had failed at turning invisible and unlike how I had told myself, Juice waiting beside my locker hadn't been a coincidence. It hadn't been something I'd made a big deal out of nothing about. Mr. Always-smells-like-maple-pancakes wanted something.

The final bell rang.

I turned away from him and my locker, sprinting to class empty handed.

#####

I panted heavily from where I sat on the cover of a porcelain bowl with my knees pulled up to my chest. I narrowly escaped Juice Williams by running into the bathroom as he turned the corner, into my line of sight. I hoped he didn't see me, only time would tell.

As it stood, I successfully avoided him for the first four periods. It was easy when I was on the lookout for him. He attracted attention whenever he walked the halls. The same places I'd slip by unnoticed, he'd constantly get held up. If it wasn't for the looks he gave me, I'd have been convinced he'd lost interest. None of that matters anymore.

Fifth period, I had photography with him. That was our shared destination when we locked eyes briefly from opposite ends of the hall. It was a classroom day, book learning. There was no way I could avoid him there, not without Saylor's help. That ship had sailed. I hadn't seen him in the halls, so he definitely wasn't at school. A giant like him had no chance of avoiding these eyes for two bells, let alone five.

I hadn't seen Faith either, but I gave her the benefit of doubt. She could've been avoiding me or spying on Juice, patiently hiding out, desperate to unwittingly nuke our friendship into oblivion. I was on my own. I had two choices, cut class altogether or show up late and hope neither of the two guaranteed empty chairs were within arm's reach of Juice.

The second bell rang. I was officially tardy.

Look, an opportunity to use math in real life! The seats left empty are always in the front row, so what are the odds? I thought in Saylor's 'holy-shit-I-have-a-boner-for-math' voice, five rows, twenty students, four columns, two missing. The voice of a valley girl manifested to patronize me (Oh no, not again). Oh my God, Mad-Eye are you serious right now? It's like, basic probability.

Wait, I thought to myself to her, so as long as Juice isn't sitting in the second row. He can't.

She clicked her tongue and continued. You still don't get it, do you? Stifled laughter. You are like so cute right now and you like don't even know it! She screamed in excitement. I blushed. The valley girl voice and I thought in unison. Fuck math. I don't gotta crunch numbers to know Juice is gonna be camping them seats.

Probability one-hundred. Wrong again math, I thought as I hopped off the toilet. The valley girl voice was the reason I was barely passing Algebra II. Saylor was the reason I wasn't failing. I slid the lock, pushed the stall door open and froze.

Juice was leaning back against the sink directly across from the stall I was coming out of. He had taken off the purple hoodie he was wearing earlier. All he had on was this red, sleeveless dry-fit shirt that was so tight to his skin that it could've been body paint. I could see every muscle in his torso. They could've been used as the mold for Spartan armor. His arms were crossed right under his pecs in such a way that showed off his biceps without blocking his abs.

None of this looked unintentional. My heart raced. My face felt incredibly hot. I was burning up. I opened my arms and started to walk toward him as if the only possible reason he could've been standing there was to scoop me up and have his way with me. He chuckled silently as he stuck his hand out in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

"That was a one-time thing. You know, 'cause I owed you," Juice said.

He pushed off the sink and took a step closer, striking his knuckles across each other as if slowly striking a match. Up and down, those finger joints glided across one another like a mallet across a glockenspiel. I could hear the music, it was all I could focus on.

"But I'd owe you again, if you let my boy off on his little Britney moment," he said.

Until, that.

I could've said I had too much respect for both Juice and myself to take him up on his offer to help Blake, but I'd have been lying. I didn't, I had nowhere near enough and I never would. Besides, I never planned on reporting Blake, so as far as I was concerned, I was consenting to my own happiness. I had a right to be happy, especially after yesterday.

My eyes widened. I smiled and nodded giddily as I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck to pull him in closer. Juice pushed me back into the stall and latched the door behind us. I closed my eyes as he pressed his plump lips against mine.

I moaned as soon as he slipped his tongue in my mouth. It just happened. He shushed me, then pressed my body up against a sidewall of the stall. I let my hands wander along his torso, feeling out the curves and valleys between each of his abs. His body was amazing. I couldn't keep my hands off him. He kept one hand on the side of my face, just how I liked it, while the other wandered much lower than either of mine dared.

We wrestled tongues and mine constantly had his on the ropes. Either I was finally better than him at something other than soccer or he was letting me win. He tasted amazing, like spearmint mixed with his own brand of spring water. I couldn't get enough of it or him.

I was overwhelmed. He must've felt something that surprised him because he switched hands, taking his dominant one off my face. My breathing grew heavier. His tongue beat back all my progress due to outside interference. I didn't mind. I surrendered completely. I'd fought valiantly before losing control. Juice seemed none the wiser.

He grabbed my pants at the zipper or where it should've been and flicked the button free with his thumb. Dexterity like a magic trick. I was impressed and horrified, but the joke was on him.

He still had two more to go.

I reached out and grabbed his wrist. I shook my head as I pushed him away. I wasn't a prude, but he could never find out that I came on myself.

"It's fine. I won't tell," I whispered.

He drew his head back, the human popup message that should've kept me from deleting my hard-drive. I nodded, grudgingly. I appreciated he wasn't in a hurry to leave. It let me believe this wasn't entirely for Blake.

While I was sure he didn't say 'Blake, I got you, I'll just jerk him off in the bathroom', I knew a thing or two about denying who I was.

Jerome opened the door and left out, but I stayed for awhile. I understood we couldn't go back to photography at the same time. While I waited, I wrestled with post-orgasm remorse, wondering if holding out would've made him want me more. I didn't regret making things easy for him, but I told myself I'd try harder next time.

I left the bathroom and walked right by photography, all the way out of the school. I couldn't go back. I had a huge wet spot on my jeans. The most common assumption wouldn't be anywhere near as embarrassing as the truth, but I didn't want to deal with either.

Also, Mom should've left for work, so I could get my phone and supplies for my next couch surfing adventure.