The Lance Temptation Part 3

"Honestly, Emili, you're such a party-p.o.o.per. We were having a great time."

I stopped and glared at her. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes wide. "Just saying," she said.

We got home and went inside. No one was in the living room. "Mom, we're back," I called. I didn't see her, but I knew she'd hear me. I shoved Farah down the hall into my bedroom.

Farah plopped on the bed. "Pete is absolutely better than I ever dreamed. We were having such a great time until you..."

"I know," I said sharply. "I'm the p.o.o.p who ruined your evening." I sat down on the bed. "Did you..."

Farah peered at me and rolled her eyes. "It's rude to kiss and tell. But Pete's not a total fool. He knows he's older than me and it wouldn't be smart."

Why did I get the feeling she was reciting a line instead of telling the truth?

She gazed off into s.p.a.ce. "But oh, the preliminaries."

"Preliminaries? Are you kidding me? That's what you're calling them?"

"Oh grow up," she said. "You're so busy judging every single thing in this universe you can't enjoy anything."

I sat there, silent.

"Well, it's true Emili," she continued. "I've been trying for months to get you to shake it off and have some fun in life." She leaned back on her elbows. "Why do I even bother?"

"I wouldn't know."

She sat up and tugged on my sleeve. "But you have to admit, it was fun wasn't it? I know you like Lance."

Her face radiated playful eagerness, and I couldn't help smiling. "I don't want to like him. I have a boyfriend."

"Yes, yes, I know. The perfect and proper Marc Rounder."

I closed my eyes and inhaled. "Marc's nice; even you have to admit it."

"I never said he wasn't nice. He's just not, well, interesting. He's boring, Emili. I've said it a million times, and it's true."

"Maybe a little, but not as bad as you make it out to be. He's nice and doesn't deserve to be treated this way."

"Good grief, Emili, can't you have any fun at all?"

I grabbed the over-sized stuffed bear off my pillow and hugged it. "The thing is, Farah, I've always wanted a guy like Lance - steamy and popular, and oh, he's gorgeous, isn't he? I never dreamed I'd actually have a chance with him. I can't help it, I like him. He makes me feel... uh, I can't put it into words."

"Then why not just go with it?"

I put my cheek on the bear's soft fur.

Farah scooted closer. "Were you making out while I was with Pete?"

I walked to the desk, pushed her suitcase aside, and began tinkering with my jewelry box. "We kissed. I wouldn't call it making out."

"Well, I would." She laughed. "I think you make a delightful couple."

I swirled around. "We're not a couple. I'm already a couple with Marc. And I need to talk to him."

"Of course you do." Farah stood and pulled off her skirt and top, dropping them in a heap on the floor. Then she kicked off her shoes and crawled into my bed, closing her eyes.

For once, I didn't straighten up her mess. I simply climbed into my sweats and shoved her over. There wasn't room for the both of us, but I squeezed in. I laid there for a long time with my eyes wide open before falling asleep.

The next morning, I didn't wake up until ten-fifteen. I stretched my arms over my head. How could I have slept so long? I figured I'd be awake all night stewing.

I glanced at Farah who was still asleep. Her mouth was slightly open, and I could hear her deep breathing. She was an inch away from snoring. I wriggled out of bed and pulled on my slippers. Then I retrieved my phone from my purse and with a stomach full of dread, turned it on.

Six texts from Marc.

Oh, please don't let him know.

I opened the first text. Hey Emili, I'm missing you. Did you come to the game? No one I know texts with full-out spelling except Marc. I shook my head in amus.e.m.e.nt. Farah called Marc perfect, and maybe he was. It did carry a certain charm.

I read through the next five messages. He told me he'd gone to the game after all. There was no mention of seeing me leave. My breath gushed out with relief.

I felt like sleaze. I knew I'd have to break up with him because it was the right thing to do. But Marc liked me, and this wasn't going to be easy. One thing was for sure - I had to get to him before he heard it from someone else. And big-mouth Jeannie was ever ready to pounce, especially if it was juicy news.

On Monday, I'd break up with him when we were face to face. I owed him that much at least. I texted him saying I'd see him Monday. I knew he wouldn't question me. He'd just dive back into his homework.

Farah woke up at eleven and went home at noon. I wasn't sorry to see her go. In fact, I was relieved and I didn't hide it too well, either.

Well, add it to my sins.

On Monday morning, I was hopeful. No fall-out so far. Maybe I didn't need to break up with Marc.

I'd thought about it all day Sunday. I knew Lance was completely out of my league, so it couldn't go anywhere. Besides, Farah had practically forced me into his arms or him into mine. I wasn't sure which. He'd never have come after me if she wouldn't have paired off with Pete.

It could be like it never happened.

I walked into school looking for Marc. As always, he was leaning nonchalantly against the outer office wall waiting for me.

"Mmm, you smell nice. New perfume, right? What's this one?"

"Don't you remember? It's the rose and cinnamon blend."

"Whatever it is, it smells great. Hey, I missed you." He tugged lightly on my sleeve. "I missed our Friday night date, and I was busy studying the whole weekend."

"I missed you, too." I giggled, my spirits rising. I actually had missed him.

"You're in a good mood." He pushed me playfully on the back, guiding me to my locker. "Let's unload your stuff. How'd you do on the history a.s.signment?"

I paused. "Didn't quite finish it." I saw his look of disbelief. "Don't worry, I have study hall before cla.s.s, I'll get it done."

"I know." He gazed at me with pride. A sudden cramp knotted my stomach, and Lance's slow smile filled my mind. I shook my head. No, I'd stick with my new plan - Lance never happened and never could happen.

And then, there he was, right in front of me. He drifted over as if Marc was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, Cecily, how was your weekend?" His voice was soft and his eyes searched mine.

I nearly choked.

"Cecily?" Marc questioned. "She's Emili."

"My mistake," Lance said and chuckled. He slowly ran his finger down my arm, then turned and sauntered off. His touch left a burning trail and my eyes clung to his back as he walked away.

Marc stiffened and took a step back. I looked at him and cringed when I saw the confusion in his eyes.

"Emili? What gives?"

Chapter Four.

Marc grasped my elbow. "Why is he calling you Cecily? He acts like he knows you."

I ducked back inside my locker and started re-stacking my books.

"Emili, please answer."

I placed my algebra book on top of Great Expectations and squared the corners. I twisted around and gazed up at him.

"I don't know. Just being a weirdo I guess."

He craned his neck above the crowd to watch Lance move down the hallway.

"It's not important," I said. "Let's get to cla.s.s."

I swallowed past the block of guilt in my throat and closed my locker with a clang. Marc had leaned against the tile wall close by, his soft brown hair spilling over his left brow. He looked back at me with his intense bronze eyes, and I began to blink rapidly. Oh no, was I going to start crying?

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," I a.s.sured him and started walking. "Just tired."

He came after me. "You look like you're going to cry. Is there something going on? Something I should know?"

Marc. Marc. Please don't be so nice.

"Everything's fine," I repeated.

"Lance Jankins isn't bothering you, is he? I don't trust him."

I wiped at my eyes with my free hand. "He's not bothering me. Like I said, I'm just tired."

"Okay then, if you're sure. I'll see you later." He gave me one last puzzled look and left. I went into cla.s.s and sat stiffly on the edge of my chair. I was afraid if I so much as moved, I'd burst into tears. Everyone around me was talking and giggling and trying to copy each other's homework, but it faded into a noisy blur. I glanced down at my arm where Lance had touched me. It burned and I half expected to see the imprint of his trailing fingers. Lance wasn't a pa.s.sing fancy after all - not when a mere brush of his hand could make me almost faint with wanting him.

My new plan was garbage.

There I sat, insanely crazy over a guy who wouldn't even call me by my real name, and feeling like a criminal over a boyfriend who was a good, decent person.

I was a worm.

By ten o'clock, I began to worry. Farah hadn't come to school and she never missed cla.s.s. Between third and fourth period, I pretended to dig in my locker for books, but in reality I took out my phone and texted Farah. She didn't text back. Farah always answered a text no matter what time of day or night. I'd even known her to text right under Mrs. Binder's nose in Algebra like some kind of magician.

During lunch, I hid in the bathroom and called her. No answer. What was going on? I shoved my phone back in my pocket. Something wasn't right, and I couldn't think of one person to confide in.

I pulled my purse onto my shoulder when I heard someone come into the bathroom. I could tell it was Jeannie Sander when she hollered, "I'll only be a sec!" I flushed the toilet and walked out of the stall.

Jeannie was standing over the sink leaning close to the mirror. Her uniform blouse was easily one size too small and stretched tightly over her thick waist. She was studying her eyes. "What do you think I'd look like if they were blue?"

Since I was the only other person in the bathroom, I figured she was talking to me. "I don't know."

"You know they have contacts to change the color of your eyes. Some of the seniors use them. Have you seen Brittany? She looks downright creepy. Hers are yellow, and they turn her into some kind of ghost woman."

I started washing my hands. "Then why use them?"

"Boredom, I suppose."

I yanked off a paper towel.

She continued, "You know - boredom. It makes you do stupid things sometimes." Her eyes probed mine in the mirror.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. I threw the paper towel in the trash and headed for the door. I could feel her eyes still watching me.

"Where's Farah today?"

I turned back. "Out sick," I said, wondering if it was the truth.

"Too bad. I imagine you feel lost."

I frowned at her. "Why would I?"

"Come on, Emili, you two are like Siamese twins."

"No, we're not."