Prey Page 7

  “Put it on me.” She hands me the necklace, turns and lifts her dark hair, showing me the soft tight white skin of her neck. The sight arouses me. I ease on the necklace, and she turns back toward me. Her hand slides down my body and I shiver. Her mouth ignites me. She slips off her robe and pulls me on top of her, wearing only my necklace until we're finished.

  Ryan

  I've always slept by myself, never shared mattress space with anyone. I sleep hard at first, but when I wake up, the room is dark and I don't know where I am. I panic. Then I remember. I'm at Lori's. I drank too much, but not enough to get sick. Already learned that lesson.

  I touch the place beside me in the bed, but Lori isn't there. I hear a noise from outside the bedroom, find my jeans on the floor and tug them on. I come out into a brightly lit room and squint, a headache exploding my brain. “Lori?”

  “In here,” she answers.

  I go to the kitchen and she's down cleaning the floor with a sponge. Weird!

  “What are you doing?” I look at the stove's digital clock and read 3:00 a.m. “Did you spill something?”

  She stands up. “No. I have trouble sleeping.”

  “So you're cleaning?” Weirder!

  She drops the sponge in the sink and comes to me, loops her arms around me. “A lifelong problem. Don't think about it. When I wake up and can't go back to sleep, I just get up instead of lying in the dark. Tonight, I decided to clean. See? No damage from our party for two.”

  The place is spotless. “I would have helped.”

  “You were sound asleep.” She nuzzles my neck. “You're pretty cute when you're asleep.”

  I hear that tone in her voice that says, “Let's get it on,” but right now, my head hurts and I'm not in the mood for another round of burning up her sheets. “Let's just go get some sleep,” I say.

  She pulls back, a pout on her mouth. Under the overhead light, I notice the lines around her colorless lips and at the corners of her eyes. The last girl I was this close to was Janey Smythe, at an eighth-grade dance. She didn't have any lines on her face, just clear smooth skin, luscious enough to lick. Fortunately I didn't.

  I back away from Lori, yawn and stretch. “I'll be in the bedroom.” I say it in a way that doesn't offer her an invitation. All I want is to go to bed and get some sleep.

  “I'll be in later,” she says, her voice cool.

  “Whatever,” I say, and leave her standing alone in the kitchen.

  •••

  “You look rough,” Dad tells me a few nights later over dinner.

  “Been staying up late, studying,” I mumble. In truth, I hustled home this afternoon after three nights at Lori's, threw in a load of wash and made the place look as if I'd been living here.

  “Those teachers shouldn't work you so hard.”

  No work involved, I think. “You warned me that high school wasn't a cakewalk.” In dealing with parents, it's a good idea to feed them back the lines they've used on you.

  “That's true, especially if a student has his sights on college.”

  “Like I do,” I say. I haven't thought about college or homework or anything except Lori for months. The only reason I'm keeping up is because she helps me with my assignments. I almost blew a test before Christmas, but my other work was good enough to help me skate by.

  “Where'd you get the iPod and new clothes?”

  Dad's question comes out of left field. Adrenaline pumps, turning my brain to mush. “What?”

  “I saw the stuff stacked on your bed. Just wondering where it came from.”

  Stupid! In my hurry to get other things done, I left Lori's gifts lying out in the open. “Gifts from my friends,” I say.

  “Pretty generous friends.”

  “The iPod is Joel's old one. He got a new one for Christmas.” My brain finally wakes up. “Honey gave me the shirts.”

  “All of them?”

  “What can I say?” I shrug, bury my face in my dinner plate.

  “But you don't like this girl.”

  “I like her. Just not for a girlfriend.” Dad's staring hard at me. I try not to squirm.

  “You do like girls, don't you, son?”

  My jaw drops and I look to see if he's ribbing me. He isn't. “Are you asking me if I'm gay?”

  His expression is somber. “You're secretive. You don't seem to have your friends around much these days. I've spoken with Honey's mother and she said you never come over anymore. At Christmas, your aunt Debbie and I talked too.”

  “And for this you think I'm gay?” If he only knew how far from gay I am!

  Dad's face gets red. “Look, I'm not condemning you. If you're gay—”

  His broad-mindedness is laughable. I've heard him make jokes about gays. He wouldn't be so tolerant if I really were gay, no matter what he's saying now. And to think of him and Aunt Debbie sitting around her kitchen table discussing my sex life makes me crazy.

  “How would you know what I do, where I go? You're always gone.”

  “I know what's going on in my own home, Ryan. Just because I'm not here a lot doesn't mean I don't keep tabs on you.”

  This causes my stomach to knot. What does he really know? “How? Reports from the housekeeper and cook? The lawn people?”

  “Certainly Mrs. Gomez tells me that her workload is lighter than normal. And I can see that you hardly touch the food in the freezer. The neighbors talk to me too. You come and go a lot.”

  “You spy on me?” Now I'm shaking. Darn glad I've password-protected my computer.

  “Don't make this about me,” he says. “I'm your father and it's my responsibility to make sure you're safe, that you have a home, food—all the things you need.”

  “I need a car.”

  He waves me off. “You're not ready for a car. Not until I know what's going on with you.”

  “Nothing's going on with me. I'm just trying to get through high school. I have friends and I have a life.”

  He looks tired, and I see that he's trying to control his temper. “I care about you, son. I'm a single father who's doing the best I can. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. There's only one of me to parent you.”

  “So now it's my dead mother's fault?”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  We never talk about Mom and I don't want to now, but I was hoping to make him tell me what he knows and who the nosey neighbors are who are reporting to him. “I just don't like being spied on.” My head hurts and my eyes burn. I push back from the table, scraping the chair across the floor, leaving a black mark on the tile. “I'm going to my room.”

  “We should talk this out.”

  “Why? I already know what you think of me.” If I were reading a story in English class and my teacher asked me to give an example of irony, this would be the perfect one. I'm sleeping with one of my teachers and my father is asking if I'm gay. For a moment, I want to spew out the truth: I'm banging a gorgeous woman who wants me all the time. Who can't get enough of me!

  “Come back here. I'm just trying to have a conversation with you. Make some connections and know you better.”

  I turn at the door. “Well, for the record, trust me when I tell you, I'm not gay.”

  I take the stairs to my room, two at a time.

  Honey

  I go up for a shot just as the halftime buzzer goes off, and the girl guarding me elbows me so hard in the side of the head, I see stars. The referee calls foul and while our opponents' coach argues the call, I try to shake off the pain. Mathers yells, “You all right, Fowler? Can you take the shots?”

  I'm our best scorer from the foul line, so I tell him I can do it. We're down by two, so if I make the shots, we'll go into the locker room tied. I miss one, then get one, and we all head for the showers. On my way off the court, I look up at the half-filled bleachers to where my friends are sitting. Jess and Joel wave; so do Taylor and her new boyfriend, Wade. I stop short because Ryan is sitting up there too. And he's not with a girl.

  I'm shock
ed because our season is half over and this is the first game he's made. He used to make all of them. He gives me a thumbs-up and I nod. All right! I have no idea why he's gracing us with his presence, but my heart beats faster because of it. Back on the court, I play my best. We win by five points, and I'm high scorer. Who says love can't inspire performance?

  I rush through my shower and hurry out to where my friends are waiting. My pulse is racing, and I tell myself that Ryan won't be there. But he is.

  “Great game!” Jess says. She and Taylor hug me. Joel and Wade add their praise too.

  Ryan says, “Way to go.”

  “You noticed.”

  “Couldn't help noticing. You took it to them.”

  I give him a long look, wanting to forgive him for abandoning me, but not quite able to.

  “We're heading out for food,” Joel says. “Want to come, • Goddess of the Rim?”

  Normally I'd say no, because who wants to hang around two happy face-sucking couples? Not me. But Ryan jumps in with “I'm in. Come on, Honey?”

  “I'm in,” I tell him.

  “I have my dad's pimp-mobile. His old Caddy,” Wade clarifies. “So there's plenty of room.”

  We head out the door of the gym and Ryan falls into step beside me. I ask, “Where have you been keeping yourself ? I've missed seeing you at our games.”

  “Around. Busy with nothing in particular. No good excuse for missing your games. I'm sorry.”

  His apology sounds sincere, so I shrug. “Tonight was our best game this season, so at least you saw a good one.”

  “You were hitting baskets. Pretty good for a freshman.”

  His grin infects me and I feel myself softening. “Coach doesn't have a choice. He has to use me. Lost too many seniors last June.”

  “Don't sell yourself short. You played good.”

  My heart swells because praise from Ryan counts ten times more to me than praise from any other person on Planet Earth.

  He asks, “How's Cory doing?”

  “Mom and Dad are sending him to a special school now. He's on campus five days a week and home on weekends.”

  “But he's just a kid. Only nine.”

  “He's ten, Ryan,” I say softly. “Last November. You missed his party.”

  “I did?”

  “I invited you. You didn't come.”

  Ryan goes quiet and when he finally speaks, he says, “Sorry. I'm saying that a lot tonight, aren't I? But I really am sorry.”

  “Cory asked for you. About a million times.” A little fib, but I see that it hits home.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I distracted him, same as I always do when his mind gets into a rut. Until he got over missing you.”

  Ryan says, “Maybe I can come over on a weekend. When he's home.”

  “Maybe.”

  I think he's just saying that, and he won't really show up. I feel sad. The distance between us feels like an ocean. By now we're at Wade's car, so Jess, Joel, Ryan and I cram into the backseat. Wade turns on the radio and the others talk above the noise. But Ryan and I sit silent, our bodies shoved together, no warmth in the contact between us. No warmth at all.

  Ryan

  I'm still pissed when I tell Lori about my conversation with Dad. “Gay! He thinks I'm gay because I don't talk about girls or date anyone.”

  We're half dressed, wrapped in a blanket on her sofa. “Want me to write you a note telling him you aren't?” she asks.

  I pull away, see that she's joking and settle back again. “He wouldn't believe it. He thinks I'm just a stupid kid.”

  “You're no kid,” she says, kissing my neck and sending a shiver up my back. In some ways, I can't get enough of her. In other ways, I miss my old life, hanging with my friends, going to basketball games, nothing more on my mind than dating some hot chick like Patti Warner in my lit class.

  “My friends are riding me too,” I say.

  “How so?”

  “They keep wanting me to be more like the Ryan they used to know.”

  I want to tell her that I feel as if I've been cut in half and belong to two universes—half to the high school universe, half to hers. She and I used to talk more. I could pour out all my feelings to her and she'd soothe me, make me feel as if my thoughts and ideas mattered. Not so much these days.

  She pats my bare leg. “Forget them. You don't need them. We have each other. Aren't I enough for you?”

  I wish I had the guts to tell her I'm afraid of being totally cut off from all the other things that mattered in my life until she came along. I'm afraid to even mention going to the girls' basketball game on Friday night, then out for burgers and a movie. I do tell her, “You don't play basketball. I miss going to the games.”

  “We can go to the games.”

  “We can't sit together.”

  “Sure we can. We just can't hold hands.” She playfully tugs my ear and blows into it.

  I pull aside. “I'm serious. People are starting to wonder about me and why I never show up for school events. They keep riding me about keeping secrets from them.”

  “They're self-centered, Ryan. They want you to be at their beck and call. Don't give in to them.”

  I could remind her that the two of us sure keep secrets from each other. She hates her family, can hardly speak about her dad without going into a blue funk. Makes me realize that mine might not be so bad. I don't know what her dad did to her—she won't say—but somehow her mother is involved and Lori hates her, too.

  Lori can be warm and sexy. She can also be cold and possessive. I don't get her, and when she goes in that dark direction, I want to go back to my other world, where things aren't as confusing and complicated.

  “I'm just saying that I could spend a little more time with my friends. Make them back off with all their questions. ‘Why don't you hang with us? Why aren't you around more? Why don't you come to games, or over to my house, or have us over for movies and video games?’ ” I repeat the list of questions I hear most often.

  “And what do you want?”

  Her eyes have turned all wary and I know I'm on thin ice, but I suck it up and say, “Maybe we should back off a little. Just until I can get back into my groove with my friends so they'll stop hounding me.”

  She straightens and stares hard at me. “Why are they so important to you? Can they give you what I can?”

  “No, of course not.” This isn't going as well as I'd hoped. “My dad's got neighbors spying on me, and what if someone sees us together?” I know one of her worst fears is that we'll get caught.

  “We're careful.”

  “Sure, but it only takes slipping up one time.”

  “But we're not going to slip up. We have each other. Damn your friends.” She stands abruptly, taking the blanket, leaving me naked.

  “Hey!” I grab at the blanket. “I'm cold.”

  “Me too, Ryan,” she says. “You make my insides cold when you talk about dumping me.”

  “I never said that.”

  “It's what you mean. You think I can't read between the lines? You want to prove to your dad you're not gay. You want to prove to your friends that you're the same guy you used to be. And how do you do that? Why, by bringing home pretty little girls for them to inspect and then declare you ‘normal.’ You'd rather be with those empty-headed little teen twits than with me.”

  “I never—”

  “We belong together. You and me—together. Lori and Ryan. Forever. I've given you everything, every inch of my body. All of my heart. And now you want to throw me away?” She starts to cry and I sit stupefied, my brain spinning, unable to follow her logic.

  “I love you,” she says. “I thought you loved me.”

  It makes me feel squirmy whenever she uses the “l” word, and she's been saying it more and more lately.

  “You do love me, don't you, Ryan? Tell me you love me.”

  Her face looks blotchy and I don't want her to freak out. I leap up and grab her and hold her again
st me so she's locked in my arms and can't move. Just the way I've seen Honey do to Cory when he gets out of control. “Hey, calm down. You're always my number one. Of course I love you. How can you think I don't?”

  The blanket feels warm and soft on my skin, but I'm still cold. I feel her body relax and soon she stops crying.

  “I don't know what I'd do without you,” she says. Her voice is husky and raw-sounding. “I just love you so much.”

  “Me too,” I say, staring over her head and out the window at the tops of trees and open blue sky.

  “Come to bed with me,” she says.

  And because I don't know what else to do, I go.

  Lori

  I'm awake again at three in the morning. I reach across the bed for Ryan, but he's not there. He hasn't spent a night with me for a couple of weeks, and I miss him. His father isn't traveling as much, so he's been pinned in place at his house. No more sneaking out after midnight, then back in before five the way he used to. I miss parking and waiting at the end of his street, my heart pounding with anticipation until I'd see him coming down the sidewalk, dressed all in black. He'd get into my car and after a quick hug we'd hurry back to my place for a few hours together.

  Now I'm alone.

  I know that a night is only several hours long, but it always seems longer when I'm alone in the dark. I send Ryan an e-mail telling him how much I miss him and what I'd be doing to him if he were here. Cyberspace is a poor substitute for flesh and blood. Only a few more hours before I see him in class. This comforts me. Be patient.

  He's restless. I see that. He's chafing against the rules we must obey. I can't change it. Not yet, anyhow, but someday…

  I don't want us to get caught. It will ruin everything and take him away from me. The powers that be will throw me to the wolves. They'll come after me as if I were raw meat. And they'll surround Ryan like a pack of animals protecting their own from a bird of prey. I know what they'll think of me, what they'll call me, do to me. I don't care. Ryan's worth it. He still intrigues me, makes me want him even after all these months. I can't lose him. I can't.