Page 7 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“Who’s Steven?” she asks with a playful wink. “You know, De Lorenzo, I only use these guys to fill my lonely days until you finally decide that you’ll have me.”

Oh, here we go again. She does this almost every day. I know she’s just teasing, but she puts in proper effort to get a reaction out of me. I’m not sure if she wants discomfort or for me to flirt back, but she gets neither and that only makes her try harder. It doesn’t matter what I say, she’ll keep pushing.

“Now, when are you going to make an honest woman out of me?”

“Probably never.”

“I can’t wait to have your babies, though.”

“It’s going to be a very long wait, about a lifetime or so. But...you can just screw the rest of the football team while you’re trying to pass the time.”

She stops walking and shoves my shoulder hard. “Go to hell, De Lorenzo! How dare you?”

I’m about to apologize because I just crossed a line there. She can take a joke, but that one was a low blow. “Bella, I?”

“Save it. You really offended me. You, of all people, know that I am a woman who prides herself on diversity.” She tosses her hair back in that airhead kind of way. “I’m steadily working my way through the lacrosse team as well.”

Shock causes my laughter to come out louder than I expected, and everyone in the hallway turns to look at us. “You almost had me there.”

“I’d like to haveyou...naked on my bed. What do you say?”

“Uh...negatory. I’m not particularly interested in your brand of crazy.”

“So, that’s a soft yes?”

“It’s an absolute no.”

She takes a step closer and places her hand on my chest. If she keeps her distance, I can generally brush off her advances without much effort. But when she gets all up in my personal space like this, my breath hitches and my heart starts galloping, thumping manically beneath her hand. It happens immediately every time she touches me, so I think she’s under the impression that my resting heart rate is two thousand, seven hundred, and eighty-six beats per minute.

I’m always a little anxious around anything with an X-chromosome. I’m not a ladies’ man because I just don’t know how to talk to females. Beneath this calm, cool exterior gallops the heart of a closet dork. I haven’t come out yet, but I have a sinking feeling that people may suspect. I get nervous around most girls, but whenthisgirl gets close to me, it’s more than nervousness. It’s exhilarating.

There’s a sweetness that lingers in the air when she’s around. I don’t know what perfume she wears, but the fragrance is a mixture of toffee with a smidge of vanilla. She’s captivating, which is why so many guys fall prey to her. It’s that sweet smell that draws me in and then her glossy lips entrap me, but it’s those amber eyes—and I do mean her eyes this time, sparkling like little gems as she looks up at me—that’s what keeps me hooked. During these moments, I forget that I’m supposed to stay away from her.

Her hand lightly brushes over my chest, and I catch a flash of her silver tongue ring as she runs it over her full lips. My body stiffens, and she smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“It hurts my heart when you reject me so harshly.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“There go my dreams of us growing old together.” Her hand slides lower down my stomach and I grab it before she reaches the waistband of my jeans.

“Why do you enjoy messing with me so much?”

“Because just talking to you is more satisfying than some of the encounters I’ve had in the backseats of minivans.”

“You need to get a better hobby.” I nod my head toward the open door behind me. “Well, this has been fun, but I gotta get to class.”

She winks at me. “Same time tomorrow, De Lorenzo?”

“Yep. See you around, Bella.”

I wait to see if today will be one of those days when she blows me a kiss. Those days are a rarity. Without warning, she’ll press two fingers to those fleshy lips and toss a kiss in my direction. I find myself longing for them because those are the only days that her eyes carry any kind of emotion. They flicker with just a smidge of light, and I see a hint of genuine happiness. Today is not one of those days because she simply turns and walks away.

I walk into class, and I zone out about five minutes in, not focusing on anything. Seeing my mom crying this morning constantly plays on my mind. I know why she was crying; I just don’t know what to do to make it easier for her. Time flies and I can’t account for most of the day. I’m still distracted when I head out onto the football field for practice.

I get through the drills just fine, but once we start playing, I get tackled one too many times for Coach Callahan not to notice. He keeps yelling at me to get my head in the game. Scott is constantly reminding me what the play is. I just can’t get it together. I have never been happier to hear that final whistle blow, and I’m the first one to walk off the field. Sweaty and huffing, we head to the locker rooms.

“You were sloppy out there today, Dyl,” Scott says as he pulls off his helmet, his tousled brown hair falling over his forehead.

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