This choice: Encourage him to pick Chelsea • Go Back...Chapter #67The Enemy of My Girlfriend Is My ... by: Seuzz   So Caleb is thinking of stealing the body and life of Chelsea Cooper, the captain of the cheerleader squad.
There could be very cool, even if you'd have a hard time hanging out with him afterward, for your girlfriend hates Chelsea, and is plotting to displace her as head cheerleader. But maybe Caleb, as Chelsea, could help cool off that rivalry. It would sure make the life of Seth Javits easier if Cindy wasn't constantly exploding about what a bitch Chelsea is.
"Yeah, I think I can get her for you," you tell Caleb after mulling it over.
"Who? Chelsea?" He sits up. "You can?"
"Sure." You pull out your cell phone and thumb through your texts, looking for the one that Chelsea sent Seth. "She wants to meet up with me anyway," you explain. "It's how come Cindy's so mad at me. She found Chelsea's text on my phone."
"Your phone." Caleb snickers. "I don't care who you look like these days, it's funny hearing you say that."
You give him a dirty look, and return to tapping out a reply to Chelsea, telling her you'd like to meet her this afternoon at the city library.
Her answer comes not twenty seconds after you hit "send." So great! See you in ten! A string of happy emojis and hearts follows.
* * * * *
That leaves Caleb scrambling to run home to fetch the necessary mask materials. Luckily, Chelsea's "ten" turns out to be closer to "fifty." Unfortunately, Caleb gets caught helping his mom and texts to say he doesn't know when he can get back.
So you're stuck in the library alone when Chelsea texts to say that she's arrived, and to ask where you are. back south wing, you reply, and you lope out to find her. She's coming up the ramp that connects the periodical section to the library proper when you emerge from the stacks, and she does a double take at you and dimples in reply to your curt wave. "Back south wing," she titters. "You're talking like it's an ocean liner or something!"
You don't think ocean liners have wings—back or forward, south or north, or any other kind—but you don't correct her. You hold out your arm to ... shake her hand? Help her with her bag? You're not sure. But she grabs the opening, and dives in to give you a quick, hard embrace. "We don't get to hang out hardly like this anymore!" she exclaims. "Remember back in tenth grade, before we were all, you know, involved with each other?" She turns a blinding smile up into your face. "We used to just hang out, and we could all have friendly hugs without it being a problem?"
Yes, you remember the time Gordon got in your—in Seth's face—and described VERY LOUDLY exactly how many of Seth's bones he (Gordon) would break if he (Seth) ever touched his (Gordon's) girlfriend ever again, even on accident. "That was really great," you admit as you put your hand awkwardly on her back. "I wish we could all be friends."
"So true." Chelsea pulls herself closer to you. "Cindy's so pretty," she says in a tone that is very sweet but a trifle metallic. "She's so smart, too. Not like me, I'm such a ditz! I don't see why she acts so jealous of me."
You freeze, and mumble something. "What's that?" Chelsea asks.
"Nothing. Um. My stuff's way back in there." You wave into the stacks.
"You're hiding out!" Chelsea giggles. "We are, I mean. It's like a secret rendezvous."
"Yeah." You gulp. Despite yourself, you feel your cock stiffening. "Something like that."
"It's okay, Seth." Chelsea, one arm still around your waist, pulls you toward the stacks even as she leans her hip against yours. ""I know. It would be kind of, yeah, awkward if Cindy heard about this. I assume you didn't tell her we'd be getting together like this?"
"Nuh uh. So, uh, what did you want to meet up with me about?"
"Does it have to be about something? I just wanted someone to talk to. You know. A friendly, um—"
You've come out the other side of the stacks, into a little corner where there's two low armchairs. Your stuff sits in one of them, and Caleb's abandoned book bag sits in the other. Chelsea is looking between them.
"Oh, I think you can move that stuff to the floor," you tell her, pointing at Caleb's chair. "A guy was here," you further improvise. "But he had to run someplace, asked me to watch his stuff while he was gone."
Chelsea doesn't have to be told twice, and pushes Caleb's bag to the floor as she plops herself into the chair. Her eyes shine as you settle more stiffly into the other chair. She turns in her seat, pulling her legs up under her, so that she blaze her baby blues directly into your face. "So tomorrow's a big day for you," she says.
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. You mean the trials." You stiffen all over, and it's not all from the tension of trying to delay her, for the perfume of her hair is suddenly all about you. "It's gonna be a mess."
"You'll do great," she says. "You're the best player on the team."
"Steve is," you correct her.
"Steve's just tall, that gives him an advantage. Even Gordon used to say that, and he and Steve were best friends. But you're good, Seth."
The compliment embarrasses you. "How is Gordon these days? I don't ever see him since, uh—"
Chelsea frowns and sighs and shuts her eyes and shakes her head; you marvel at how elaborate she makes it all look.
"I don't know," she says. "He just went from cuckoo to coconuts, you know. Steve and I—" She seems to catch herself, sighs again, then snorts. "Back when we were still talking. Anyway, we were all thinking that maybe his dad finally went too far and broke his brain. You know what a jerk Gordon's father is, right?" You reply with a small shrug. Seth has heard rumors that Gordon's dad, who's a cop, is even more terrifying than his son.
"Well, I can't help it," she continues, "whatever it is, but I don't think Gordon cares. He just wants to smoke dope and get high these days. And giggle." Her frown deepens, but her eyes show puzzlement. "It's so weird. It's like he's just so ... so gosh-darn happy to be off the squad and away from his dad and—" She bites her lip. "And broken up with me."
For a moment her gaze goes very distant and very wet. It is still wet when she turns her attention directly onto you.
"It's been really lonely for me, Seth," she says in a much smaller voice, "since I broke up with him. For awhile Steve and Jason and I tried keeping the old group going. And—" She hiccups. "And I told Steve that we should, like, get more involved with you and Cindy. You'd fit right in with us. Would have. I never did get why Steve and Gordon didn't, you know, let you have a key to the loft."
Probably, you think, because you pitched a raging fit when they suggested it. That's what Kendra Saunders told you at the start of the semester, and she said she heard it directly from Steve.
"Anyway," she sighs. "Steve and Jason had a falling out, and then Steve—" Her face puckers up all over. "Well, he said he didn't want me hanging out up there with him any more because—" Her complexion curdles beneath her makeup. "Because, he said, he didn't want people gossiping about us and getting the wrong idea. Which I suppose," she hisses, "was him trying to be a gentleman and saying that he didn't want people thinking I was his whore!"
She catches herself again, and trembles all over. You fight the urge to clamber backward up the wall and onto the ceiling to get away from her, because it looks like she's about to have some kind of breakdown.
And she does, though it's a lot quieter than the explosion you feared was about to engulf her.
"So I was saying earlier that I'm just so starved for a friendly face," she says in a voice that cracks. She sniffs hard, and dabs back tears with the her fingertips. "Because I don't have Gordon anymore, or Steve, and Jason's off doing— I don't know what he's—"
"You've got lots of friends, Chelsea," you gabble back at her. "Kendra and Gloria and Maria, and you're super popu—"
"I mean guy friends, Seth!" She hiccups again, and now the tears are streaming hard down her face. "Do you know how much I miss having a guy to— To hold me? Or even just to touch me? Oh God!" She covers her face with her hands. "Just having one who smiles at me like a friend! I miss it so—!"
That's the moment that Caleb chooses to swing around the corner of a bookshelf; and it's the moment that Chelsea drops her hands and catches sight of him. Instantly her expression turns haggard. "Yes?" she snarls at him. "You want something?"
"Uh, this is the guy who was here earlier," you stammer.
"Well, come get your shit and get out!" Chelsea kicks Caleb's bag at his ankles.
"Chelsea!" you exclaim. "You don't have to—"
"Fuck it, man," Caleb says, and in two long strides he is looming over Chelsea. "I don't got time to waste." He slams his open palm against her forehead, and you've just time to see a flash of silver before Chelsea, her face a mask of surprise, goes slack. Her eyes cross and close, and her head lolls to the side.
"Dude," you groan. "She was coming on to me. Hard."
"Don't flatter yourself," he retorts.
"Seriously. She was totally—"
"Well, we'll find out soon enough." Caleb crouches in front of her, his hand on her knee, and stares up into her face. "Even if she was, though, don't expect me to."
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later. "She was totally coming on to me, wasn't she?" you ask Caleb.
He gives you a look. "You've got worse problems than that, dude." You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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