Page 93 of A Scandal in Homeroom
“Will I…” I tried to draw it out, hoping she might repeat herself. Instead, she stood there with her arms crossed around her middle, her tell-tale sign of vulnerability, looking at me expectantly.
“Yes, of course,” I said quickly.
Let’s face it, was there really anything she could ask me I wouldn’t do?
The magnificent smile that broke out across her face was worth it.
“So it’s settled. You’ll be my date for the Cotillion.”
Ah. That’s what she’d asked me. I’d just assumed it was a given. I was herboyfriend.
I really needed to stop putting mental rabbit ears around that word in my head.
“Do you have a tux? If not, I there are plenty of rental places in town.”
“A rental?” I said, with as much disgust as I could muster. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a rental. No, of course I have a custom-fitted tux. A Holmes man must be ready for any occasion. It’s upstairs in my closet.”
“It is? Can I see it? Now?”
She turned and bolted up the stairs before I could stop her. I followed her and saw that she found my room straight away. Maybe she’d done some snooping after all. By the time I joined her in my bedroom, she already had my closet open.
“What is it about boys’ rooms?” she muttered.
“I don’t know. What is it?”
“They smell like… like…”
“Sweat, soap, cologne and cum?” I suggested bluntly.
She turned to look at me. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. It all smelled fairly normal to me.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” she pointed out. “It’s just different.”
I didn’t say anything; instead, I watched her root through my closet until she found the garment bag she was looking for. She squealed with glee when she unzipped it, finding the jacket and pants of a traditional white tux.
“It’s white!”
“According to Croft, black makes me look too morbid,” I said. As I only ever wore black, I strongly disagreed. But Croft had been the one buying that day.
“It’s perfect. You’re going to look…you’re going to look so handsome. And you’re going to be with me.”
Her voice got soft then. I came up behind her and gently put my hands on her hips. “I will be the envy of every male in that room.”
“Will you put it on? I just want to see. What it will be like.”
It was just a white coat, I didn’t really see the point, but I could see no harm in humoring her. I took the bag from her hands and extracted the coat. I was about to throw it on when she stopped me.
“No,” she said. “I want you to do it right. Not just over a black t-shirt. Please?”
I sighed. “Very well.”
Sorting through some of the shirts in the back of the closet, I found one that was properly pressed. I pulled it out and handed it to her. “Hold this. I don’t want to get cracker crumbs on it.”
I pulled off my currently cracker-dusted T-shirt then reached to take the shirt from her.
Except she didn’t give it me. Instead, she was motionless. Staring at my chest like I had stared at her breasts the night of the fashion show. Like she’d never seen anything so riveting, which was ridiculous. There was absolutely nothing riveting about me.
