xv. warmer

I wear my signature look on Monday, but better. Black leather skater skirt, black tube crop top (with sleeves, I couldn’t push it too much), fishnet leggings, and violet doc martens.

I might’ve gone overboard, but I did wear a big enough jacket to cover up and not give teachers a reason to not overlook the dress code anymore.
That and I had to hide from all the men in my house when I was leaving for school so they don’t make it a whole spectacle. It has been a success. I can only hope Kellan still keeps his distance if he spots me today.

Getting out of my car in the parking lot at school, I could’ve sworn I felt eyes and heard whispers. A lot of them. The weekend had ended on a good note. So good that it didn’t occur to me that there would be a chance that most of my schoolmates would have seen and heard what happened with Reese and Calvin. And that it also had to do with me. At one point, I even forgot about the entire thing.

I keep my head up, though, and don’t lean too much toward the whispers in case they’re talking trash. Typically that’s what gossip does.

Entering my second class makes it easier to breathe because I spot Gina sitting at our table right away. Her smile widens the closer I get.
She does a motion like she’s opening her shirt even though she’s wearing a loose purple crop top and black ripped high-waisted pants. “Flash me, baby.”

I choke, glancing at the front of the class and letting out a delirious laugh when I don’t see our teacher at his desk. I untie the belt of my thin trench coat and hold it open for her, doing a slow shimmy. She mimics my movements and cheers until we’re a ball of laughter.

“I could not get through this class without you,” I say, practically stumbling onto my stool, across from her.

She waves me off. “Oh, I know.”

“Did you give out any invitations yet?”

Gina shrugs then reach up to bury her hands in her afro. She had her hair done over the weekend, so now she has purple tips. She gives it a fluff, then adjusts the bun on top. “A few. I’m probably just giving out like ten today, I don’t know.”

I nod and reach for the spare textbook sitting on the table. I forgot to get mine from my locker and hoped I didn’t have to turn around more than halfway here. Gina would’ve let me use hers anyway.

She clears her throat but I don’t think anything of it before she speaks. “You talk to Jamison?”

I glance down at my chest and narrow my eyes at the spot where my heart is when I feel a tightening there at that name. *Get yourself together, thing.* I shake my head, glancing at her for a moment. I stare without seeing at the textbook pages as I flip through it.

“Not yet,” I tell her. “Haven’t seen him. But maybe after class or lunch.” *Or tomorrow.*

“Maybe you could pull him into the hall right now.”

My gaze snaps up to her but her attention is on the door.

So I look over at the door, and there he is. Looking gorgeous as he does, holding the straps of his bag on his back and unleashing that smile that can swoon and seriously damage hundreds.

Hundreds of cells in my body if it doesn’t work on anyone else—and I’m sure it does.

“Ahh…” He must hear me because he looks right at me then even though the sound is close to a whisper than anything.

My words die with that look. And the smile. The smile is still there. And my skies it’s doing damage because my insides are on fire.

“Damn, Kira breathe,” Gina says, literally snapping me out of it.

The sound and her fingers in front of my face bring me back and I have to steady myself on the stool with how fast I turn to her.

“I-I-” I breathe as deeply and subtly as I can without giving away that I’m stupid enough to stop breathing because a guy looked at me. *Looked at me*. There’s never been anything more pitiful and no one else in the class needs to know. But he isn’t just *some* guy.

Gina’s gaping at me as I try to pull myself together.

“I think I’ll,” another deep breath, “do it at lunch or-” *when I die.*

“Oh, you’ve got it so bad,” she says, but now with an expression that makes me want to off her.

I put off talking to Reese longer than expected. I could’ve done it as he was packing up to leave class, or pulled him aside from the group he ended up with in the hall after that. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it and I don’t know why.

I’d written him my first invitation ever the night before, after contemplating for over ten minutes whether I should. I’d had too much fun writing his name and an impersonal invitation with doodles of hearts and maybe even some butterflies and caterpillars because I know he likes them- for decoration purposes of course.

That’s my motivation. I have a few actually. But I had to go to the bathroom first to make sure I wouldn’t throw up if I do this.

“You are so nervous,” Gina says as we’re on our way to lunch. I glare at her, but she stares at me in genuine bemusement. “It’s just crazy. You are coco for this guy, it’s absolutely mental.”

“Can you stop,” I shove her away, “pointing it out? My insides don’t feel right.” The last statement comes out in a mutter I’m not sure she hears.

“Look, he’s right there,” Gina says, smacking my arm and pointing.

I snatch her hand back. “You don’t point,” I hiss. “You’re the one who taught me not to point!”

She laughs in my face. “This is amazing.”

With a huff, I scope the area. Sure enough, he’s standing by his open locker, a cheerleader next to him, playing with the end of her high ponytail in a way that means only one thing.

Sometimes I wish the guy didn’t have such an extended circle because who even is she!

“You gonna go give him his invitation or what?” Gina places herself in my line of sight but not directly in front of me so I can still watch the altercation through the moving students.

“I’ll meet you in the caf,” I say.

She responds, dragging out a, “Sure.” Her smile is so wide in my periphery that it probably would scare me if I face it head-on.

I weave through the crowd without too much difficulty and am standing next to them in less than a minute.

“Hi!” My voice is too high, too chirpy, and I realize what’s happening when I feel how wide my smile is. That’s not good.

*What am I doing?*

Just like that, panic starts to brew beneath my skin. I swallow when Reese looks over his shoulder and pauses. It’s a flicker of hesitancy and his eyes run down my body in one sweeping glance before he turns his back on me again.

A wave of déjà vu slaps me and it’s so vivid and brings back so many toxic emotions that I take a small step back, readying to take another and get the heck away.

Then I remember I’m here for something important. This isn’t just about me or the invitation.

“Are you here to learn or shoot porn?” a snarky voice says.

It’s almost comical how I have to look down at her. *Little human*. I smile because the shallow part of me will not take her seriously when she’s down there.

“Today, I’m mostly here to give out invites so you could say either.”

She perks up at this. Her back straightens and she lifts her hands to her hips, unknowingly pushing up her cleavage exposed by the deep V of her cheer uniform. Her big brown eyes almost match the one’s I’ve seen on anime characters when their eyes sparkle. “Invites for what?”

“Too late now. If you were nicer to me five seconds ago I would’ve went home today and have a great time decorating yours.”

The light in her eyes dim and her pouty red lips turn down in a little frown. “Whatever.” She makes a show of flipping her ponytail over her shoulder and rolling her eyes away from me and back to Reese. “See you in the cafeteria, Reese.”

I turn to Reese again the same time he gives her a nod and closes his locker. When he faces me, his lips are pursed but it doesn’t hide his smile. I bite my lip as he looks down, pressing his thumb over his mouth as if he’s trying to wipe the expression off.

“What’s up?” His tone is easy—no indication that he’s irritated by my presence, in fact, he lets out a low chuckle. I feel the vibration in my soul.

“I-” Someone bumps into me, a little forcefully might I add. I would say something about it if I hadn’t tripped into the lean wall with blond hair two feet in front of me.

He jerks back against the lockers when I crash into him. “Woah.” He doesn’t catch me per se, I fall into him before his hands react fast enough to grab my sides and steady me.

My hands press between us. Against his chest.

*He definitely bench presses.*

My fingers involuntarily curl into his firm body. *Wow…*

“Sorry!” I step back the second I find my footing so air can pass between us again.

“You’re good,” he says. His lips twitch like he wants to say more but doesn’t.

Still, I clasp my hands behind my back as if I’d attacked him involuntarily before. I end up dropping them when the movement pins my jacket to my sides and Reese’s eyes start wandering again.

Heat boils in my face and neck and I resist to insecure action of pulling my jacket around me. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s just him. Reese Jamison doesn’t look at me for more than a glance. Lately, he’s been prolonging those glances. Enough to snatch the breath from my lungs—I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s his plan; to kill me.

“Nice boots.”

My response is blinking several times because I had not been expecting that. Then smiling, I glance down at them and say, “Thanks. They were a gift.” *And he didn’t ask. Great.*

The next set of words come rushing out of me. “I’m wasting your time, so I’ll make this quick.” His eyes are on my face now and it makes me want him to go back to looking at my bod- boots. “First, I want to thank you for what you did.” My words come out hesitant and slow, not because I’m not sure but I have a few things I want to say and I have no clue where to start. “On Saturday,” I add but pause when he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” he says, his voice an octave deeper than I’m used to.

I nod as I swallow whatever’s lodged in my throat. “Yes... yeah, I do, because you keep doing things for me that you don’t need to and I appreciate it.” I don’t feel like bringing up specifics, especially not… *him*. “And I want to apologize, too.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he repeats, “Apologize…”

I exhale as I speak. “For kissing you.” My eyes move to his chest to make this easier. “It wasn’t right and we don’t know each other. I just wanted to apologize for that—it’s a long story, kind of, but I understand why you probably said what you said at the party and I should’ve done this from back then. It won’t happen again.” Something in me screams at the vow but it’s one I have to take.

The hallway is mostly clear now and I only know because there isn’t a lot of moving or noise anymore. It makes the situation worse because if he doesn’t know what to say after that then this whole thing will just get awkward real fast.

I reach into the pocket of my jacket where I put his invitation and hand it to him. “You’re invited to Yvonne Heid’s eighteenth birth anniversary.”

He takes the card hesitantly. “What?”

When I meet his eyes it’s obvious he knows what I mean but I just said something stupid. “Sorry, I-”

“You’re apologizing.”

I press my lips together because in this instance he’s right. I have nothing to apologize for.

I watch him slip the card out of the purple envelope, his blond curls brushing his forehead. My nails dig into the side of my thighs and tangle in the fishnets when his lips curled up at the corners.

*Breathe. It’s really not that hard to breathe.*

“You, ah,” he starts, staring at the card he holds gingerly like it’s encrusted with real gold, “you said you decorate these yourself?”

My gaze drops to the card. With the detailed hearts and the butterflies and caterpillars. I look at his face again.

“No,” I lie.

He glances up at me beneath his long lashes and his eyes seem to tinkle. His tongue sweeps out across his bottom lip before he bites it and a hum sounds deep in his chest—ominous and giving away nothing of his thoughts.

I realize I didn’t follow up on that lie to make it legit. But he’s talking again. “My first invite to one of these.” He taps one edge of the card against his palm. Those hazel eyes are so intense that I can’t even attempt to look away.

“R-Really?” I say like an idiot. As if I haven’t been to every one of Von’s birthday parties and not see him there because I couldn’t stand him so the girls couldn’t stand him. Hence, he never got one.

And by his knowing grin, I’m making an ass of myself.

“Thank you, Kira.” His tone is almost reverent. Not like a measly party means that much to him so I choose to believe it’s because of my apology.