Page 49 of Fighting the Forbidden

Molly

After the weekend I had, school seems rather mundane. Every day, the panic of looming graduation and the unknown of what comes next either has me wanting to stay in high school forever or hurry the hell up and get it over with so I can move on to the next chapter of my life.

Whatever that might be.

Well, after our talk the other night, I have hope my future includes Griff.

Hayden and I meet in the bustling cafeteria for lunch on Monday. I haven’t had a chance to catch up with her since the party. I should be a better friend and ask how things went after I left. But I can’t seem to shut off the annoyance simmering at the back of my mind. She never bothered texting to see if I was okay. We’ve been friends for so long, she should know I wouldn’t bail early without a valid reason.

“Hey, girrrl!” Hayden trills. She tosses her lunch bag on the table and pulls out the chair across from me. Early afternoon sunlight streams through the large panes of glass lining the far side of the cafeteria. A beam of light catches Hayden’s long golden hair, casting a halo around her head, making her look a lot more angelic than I know she is. She flashes a grin so blinding, it momentarily obliterates the negative thoughts crowding my mind.

“Where’ve you been all morning?” I ask.

“I came in late. But don’t worry, I’ve got some stories for you.” She leans across the table. “You missed a lot the other night. Why’d you leave so early, anyway?”

I shrug, not in the mood to discuss it here and now. Not when she’s bubbling over with excitement, and we’re surrounded by every junior and senior in our high school.

“What’d I miss?” My voice lacks enthusiasm. My mind’s already wandering back to snuggling on the couch with Griff. Heat races over my cheeks. God, the way his warm breath coasted over my skin…the unrestrained desire in his eyes…the hoarseness of his voice. He wants me to be the one to tell him when I’m…ready. My skin tingles all over as I consider the possibilities.

I push the memory aside and try to focus on my best friend.

“Wade and I talked.” She wiggles her eyebrows, indicating they did a lot more than talk. Wow. I bet Wesley was annoyed his little brother got some and he didn’t.

“I thought you were just friends, and he was too ‘studious’ for you?” I tease, throwing back some words I’m pretty sure she uttered as recently as last week.

“He’s not that bad.” She shakes her head. “And he’s a quick learner on other subjects. If you know what I mean.”

I roll my eyes. “I think the table knows what you mean.”

She giggles and uncaps her Coke. Brown, fizzy liquid foams, and bubbles over the sides. I toss a napkin at her and shift my notebook to the side.

Hayden and Wade, huh? Numbness snakes through my stomach. I’ll be perfectly happy never being in the same room with Wade’s brother again. “Be careful. Wesley’s a creep,” I blurt out.

She stops mopping up the spilled soda and stares at me, her bubbly attitude deflating like a two-week-old birthday balloon. “What are you talking about?”

Damn. I wasn’t planning to talk about this at school. I quickly glance around but no one seems to be paying attention. No one’s even looking at us over here at our corner table by the windows.

I suck in a deep breath and brace myself. Why am I embarrassed? I didn’t do anything wrong. I certainly didn’t encourage Wesley’s gross behavior.

“Come on, Molly. Spill,” Hayden insists.

“Nothing.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, trying to hang onto my dignity with my fingertips. “Wesley said some gross stuff at the party.”

“He was drunk.”

Sure, that explains it. I barely hold back another eyeroll. I lean toward her and motion for her to do the same. “He got grabby with me.” Heat explodes over my cheeks. “And point-blank asked me to suck his dick.” The last part comes out as a forceful whisper.

Hayden bursts out laughing.

My embarrassment quickly shifts into anger. “It’s not funny.”

Hayden blinks, her expression unreadable for a moment. “Come on, Molly. Seriously? Wesley? Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret things? He’s always been so nice. And he’s crazy about you.”

He’s crazy all right. Crazy disgusting.

My heart sinks at her reaction. Like it’s no big deal. Or I’m overreacting. Frustration and hurt churn together in my chest. “Maybe it was the alcohol,” I concede, even though I don’t believe that for one second. “But he made me super uncomfortable.”

“He’s flirty. I’m sure he didn’t really mean he wanted you to blow him.”

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