The Lance Temptation Part 9

"Could happen to anyone," Jeannie interrupted, her voice shrill. I hadn't noticed her standing there, puffing out her chest like she'd accomplished some tremendous feat. She put her hand on Marc's arm. "We better hurry. We'll be late."

She pulled him down the rest of the stairs.

His head was still turned toward me, and his eyes hadn't left mine. The sadness there pinched my heart.

People say you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone. For the first time, I understood exactly what they meant. I s.h.i.+vered and switched gears.

Where was Lance? I'd hardly seen him all day, and I needed to be with him - I needed the distraction.

"Hey, seen Lance?" I asked a bunch of soph.o.m.ore guys hurrying down the stairs past me.

"In the bathroom," one called back.

On the second floor, I wandered to the boys' bathroom and pretended to study my notebook. Thankfully, Lance came out after a few seconds.

"Hey, Cecily." He walked right over. "Haven't seen you much today."

"I know. Want to study together at the library tonight?"

"Got a better idea," he countered. "Why don't we study at Pete's? He's working and won't be home till late."

"Yeah, right. Like my mom's going to let me go there," I answered. A small fluttering of excitement began in my chest. He wanted to go Pete's? With me?

He did like me. All the worry for nothing.

"Who says your mom has to know? Get yourself to the library. I'll take it from there." He started walking the opposite direction. "Bell's gonna ring. Talk to me after school."

Then he was gone.

Wouldn't you know I had Bible as Literature next? We were studying the Book of Proverbs - the book full of pithy statements about character and honesty. What perfect timing. Here I planned to go to a guy's empty apartment the same day I'm at school memorizing verses about integrity. There was a s.h.i.+ft inside me as if something had peeled away. I was surprised to realize I didn't feel guilty. My thoughts honed in on Lance. If I couldn't have Marc or Farah or any other friends, I was going to have him.

Oh yes, I was going to have Lance.

Chapter Eight.

Around dinnertime, I went into the kitchen looking for Mom. She was standing over a pot on the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand.

"Oh good," she said, seeing me. "I wanted to talk to you. Is Farah all right? I know she was in school today. I saw Mrs. Sander, and Jeannie had mentioned it. They didn't know she was missing, though, and I certainly didn't enlighten them."

"She's fine," I said, not wanting to talk about Farah.

"Well, where on earth was she?"

"I've no idea."

Mom dropped the spoon into a boiling pot of tomato sauce. Two red droplets splashed up on her s.h.i.+rt. "Did something happen between you two?"

"No," I answered. "Everything's cool."

"Does Farah have any idea what her disappearance caused?"

"Mom, I don't know. She's not talking. And I don't want to talk about it either." I said it in my I'm-not-going-to-say-anymore voice. Mom was familiar enough with my tone to know I wouldn't budge.

She stared at me for what seemed a full minute. I started to squirm under her laser look. "All right, Emili, but I think it's strange. I figured you girls would be gabbing about it all day. The main thing is she's back now and is safe. Although, she surely has some kind of explanation for the grief she caused. But if you don't want to talk about it, we won't."

I decided to change the subject. "Can I go to the library tonight to study?"

"Who with?"

"I want to study for a couple hours. Maybe you can drive me. Is it okay?" I still didn't want to think of myself as a liar, so I hedged Mom's question. Besides, technically, I was going alone.

"By yourself, huh? Hmm, I guess Farah is on the outs. Okay, I'll take you. What time did you want to be there?"

"I thought I'd go around six-thirty."

Lance and I had it all worked out. I'd be there at six-thirty, and he'd come at six forty-five. Then we'd walk to Pete's apartment. It wasn't far, and it'd be dark. It was the perfect plan.

Before leaving, I put on my best maroon sweater. People always told me it complimented my eyes, and I agreed. There were a couple of loose threads snagged out a bit in the back, but I figured no one - meaning Lance - would notice. I pulled on my newest pair of jeans. They weren't new but they still fit snugly, showing off what few curves I had. Then I yanked on my short black boots with the tapered heel.

I carefully dabbed on a bit of my latest perfume, which I'd called Cozy Delight. It had a chocolate and cinnamon scent. I'd almost put in some drops of orange, but was worried they wouldn't mix well. I'd temporarily given up on my woodsy scent.

I applied a bit of make-up, using what Farah had given me. The last time she'd told me to put make-up on - right before the football game - was the first time Lance and I had kissed. My hand paused with the make-up brush half-way to my eyelid.

Why didn't Farah want to tell me where she'd been yesterday? What secret could she be keeping? Did it have anything to do with whatever she'd hidden in her purse? Was it so horrid? I considered myself a good listener; she could tell me.

I shook my head. Tonight couldn't be about Farah. I had bigger, exciting things to delight in.

I was going to spend the evening with one of the hottest guys in school, and he'd picked me. I couldn't help but smile. Before, when Marc was my boyfriend, I'd felt happy, like I'd semi-arrived. He was nice and I liked him. But over and over, I had to ignore Farah's constant criticism of him, and it was hard to ignore Farah for long. She wore a person down. I had to admit Marc's charm faded against her incessant jabs.

I checked myself in the mirror, ran a brush through my hair until it glistened, and then rubbed at a bit of smeared lipstick on my upper lip. Maybe I wasn't as plain Jane as I'd always thought. A guy like Lance wouldn't latch himself onto someone ugly. Would he? Guys like him went for the beauties. I frowned and sighed - I wasn't and never would be a beauty. It didn't take x-ray vision to recognize that. But Lance was interested just the same. He wanted me, and it made my heart soar. I'd made the A-list. And not because of my brains and grades this time. Sticking by Farah finally had brought me some huge fringe benefits - exactly as I'd hoped way back when.

I blanched. Those thoughts made me sound like a shallow twit. Did Lance only go for shallow twits? And even more important, did the possibility that he did bother me enough to stop barreling down the path I was on?

I shuddered. I thought too much. Plain and simple. There was no need to a.n.a.lyze everything.

I continued touching up my make-up.

The air was brittle when my mom dropped me off. Winter had definitely arrived. I hugged my jacket close and took the library stairs two at a time. My backpack clunked against my back with every step. There wasn't much in it, but I could hardly come to study empty-handed. I stepped inside the lobby area and stayed in position facing the door. According to the huge subway clock on the wall, Lance would arrive in ten minutes. I leaned against a wide Greek-like column and started to count down the time. Ten minutes was too long.

In less than two, he sauntered in. He had on a puffy black parka and a huge grin. "There you are, right on time," he greeted me. "Ready to go?"

I nodded and we pushed back outside into the biting air. Pete's apartment was a good four blocks from the library. My ears were ice chips by the time we got there, but I refused to put on my hood. Some girls are adorable in hoods. I look like a stuffed chicken - it was not a nice look.

"I'll get this unlocked," Lance said. He pulled a key ring out of his pocket. It clanked against the door as he unlocked it. "We're in," he said and flipped on the lamp.

The same plaid loveseat sagged against the main wall. The same table and chairs. Same TV, kitchen, same everything. I rolled my eyes. Had I expected a renovation?

"Go ahead and sit down." Lance motioned towards the loveseat. "I'll crank the heat up. The furnace in this building is from the Dark Ages, but it still works pretty good."

I deposited my backpack on the floor and sat down.

"You leaving your coat on?" he asked.

My insides trembled. What'd happened to my bravado? What was I doing here? I had no experience for this. Farah would be totally cool, funny, and charming. I, on the other hand, was a scared dud.

"It's cold." My words came out like spitb.a.l.l.s.

"Won't take long to heat up. The place is small."

He walked over, standing before me. He'd taken off his coat and his shoulders bulged. I couldn't take my eyes away. No one would ever guess he was sixteen, not with a build like his.

He sat down close and pressed his leg against mine. "You smell like cinnamon."

"Like it?"

He nuzzled my neck. "What do you think?"

"I'm thinking yes."

"What do you want to study?" he asked. I jerked back in surprise, and he burst into laughter. "That's what I thought."

He rubbed my back, sending tremors through me. This was going too fast. I attempted to scoot away a bit, but with his weight against me, moving was difficult. Instead, I started talking. "Where's your brother? Does he know we're here?"

He leaned in and kissed me. "I made sure he's at work, remember? Relax, Cis, we have over an hour till he comes home. Sure you don't want to take your coat off?"

"I'm good," I answered. I tried to loosen up, reclining into the sofa. I made myself take deep even breaths.

He squeezed my shoulder. "Better." He bent in for another kiss, light and sweet.

"I saw Farah was back. I bet you were relieved, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Where was she? Did she say?"

I wiggled back upright. "No," I answered. "The whole thing kind of makes me mad, so let's not talk about it."

"Why mad?"

"Issues."

"You're happy though, right?"

"I guess. Yeah, I'm glad she's okay."

"Is she in trouble? I mean, does Princ.i.p.al Ramos know she skipped? She was skipping, right? Pete didn't know anything about it, and I know he was worried. Why didn't she tell you where she was?"

Well, wasn't he Mr. Chatty all of a sudden. My nostrils flared. I was beginning to feel like my whole life revolved around Farah and her comings and goings.

"I don't want to talk about her."

Lance's hand whispered over my cheek. "She's okay, right? Nothing wrong?"

"How come you always want to talk about her?"

He flinched. "She's your best friend, isn't she? I thought if anyone would know what's going on, it'd be you."

"Yeah, a person would think..."

"And you truly don't know? I thought girls chattered non-stop about everything."

"She's not talking so I don't know any more than you." The words came out snippier than I intended.

He held up both his hands. "Okay, okay. We won't talk about her."

"Fine." The protective feeling for Farah was creeping back, and I did my best to shove it down. My whole body felt tight. I remembered something we used to do in P.E. to relax. We'd lie on gym mats tensing every muscle as tightly as we could, and then starting with our feet, we'd systematically release each one. By the end, we'd be nearly asleep on the gym floor. I wondered if it'd work now.

Lance settled back into the couch and patted his shoulder. "Lay here."

I leaned my head stiffly on his shoulder. I used to snuggle with my mom all the time when I was a kid. Her shoulder was soft and cus.h.i.+ony, completely different from Lance's. With his muscles, his was like resting on a steel plate. I squirmed and tried to get comfortable.

I could hear the hum of Pete's computer on the table. His microwave flashed twelve o'clock in blue and I wondered what time it actually was. I felt Lance move under me. He twisted and started kissing me again. Warm, tingly sensations moved from my shoulders to my legs. Lance smelled vaguely of the outdoors, and I latched onto him eagerly. My earlier annoyance evaporated into nothing.

His kisses grew hard. My body warmed and melted into his despite the cold air in the room. Whatever time we had wasn't enough.

Then my brain kicked into gear. What would Lance expect me to do? And what was I willing to do? I'd made a decision last year in Health I wasn't going to have s.e.x until I was married. But I'd made the promise when I didn't have a boyfriend or see any chance of ever getting one. Had I meant it?

The tingling sensations stopped. I didn't want to have s.e.x with Lance. It'd be going too far. I hardly knew him, and deep inside I knew I wasn't ready. Maybe I did mean the promise I'd made. Everyone in Health had been urged to think carefully about what we'd do, how far we'd go. The official Bates stance is we must "respect ourselves and keep ourselves safe," which makes sense no matter what. At the time, I didn't hesitate to make the promise to myself.

What if Lance expected more right here and now? I stiffened. He stopped and put his head up. "What's wrong?"

"Um, nothing, it's..."

He laughed softly. "Well, Farah did say..."

Farah? Honestly? We were back to her? I gave him no chance to finish. I untangled myself, stood up and faced him, hands on my hips.

"You guys have been talking about me?" Deep down inside, I wondered if I was glad for an excuse to stop our physical slide. My body was scaring me, and I didn't trust myself anymore.

"Sometimes." He studied my face. "We don't sit around and talk about you all the time. Maybe once or twice."