Diamonds, Loose (Ryden)

Part 4

The next day, we're sitting around, talking shit over lunch.

"No, no," Gabe speaks over everyone, holding up a hand to try and silence the voices. "Seriously, okay, I got a good one. Bilvy, you need to shut up."

"Sorry," William smirks, tilting his head towards Gabe across the table. "Do go on."

"I have never... done anything with a girl in a car."

Pete, Jon, Spence and myself all smile, laugh a little, and reach out for our cans, bringing them up for a collective swig. We're playing the I Have Never game to pass the time, and it's really not as fun when the drink's non-alcoholic. The soda we're using is this cheap shit that the vending machines stock, renowned for its disgusting taste; anyone who can prove they can down a whole can is immediately crowned King of Bishop Gorman.

"Really?" Pete directs to Gabe, looking smug. "Never?"

"Does it surprise you that I have some standards? Dude, a car."

"Oh, okay," Jon chimes in, "so you're saying if Jessica Alba walked in right here, right now, and proclaimed, 'Gabriel Saporta, please take me now with your Spanish appendage in the backseat of your car,' you'd say no? Because of your standards?"

Wrinkling his nose, Gabe replies, "Well, Jessica Alba wouldn't convince me otherwise."

"Man." Pete shakes his head. "How are you not gay?"

"I'm just saying, she's so... generic."

"You have a fucking Megan Fox poster on your wall and you're preaching about generic, oh my g—"

"Hey guys!" Jac interrupts, materialising out of nowhere, and the conversation wisely stops. I'm beginning to lose interest, I'll admit that, but today she does look pretty good standing beside my seat, the make-up toned down and not so obvious but still enough to make me automatically double-take. "Ry," she addresses me, and her voice is lowered, accompanied by sultry eyes. She doesn't say anything else, I feel like I should be catching onto something but I'm coming up blank.

"Jac," I reply robotically, and she rolls her eyes, grabs my blazer and yanks me out of my seat.

"Come on," she mutters, a little like she's pissed off but not, but different, and it only really clicks when she drags me into the nearest empty classroom and shuts the door behind us, flashing me a wicked grin and pulling me into a kiss. Several kisses. Oh. "God, feel like I haven't been alone with you in forever," she mumbles, lips to my neck, and I don't say anything because I hadn't noticed.

"Jac, someone's gonna walk in any time," I grit out, but she ignores me. She's all over me, teeth and lips and tongue and hands everywhere so I can't keep track, and I let her, trying not to be too stiff, too unresponsive. I don't know how much time passes, but it passes in a tense haze of avoidance and indiscretions, of trying. By the time she's got me pushed up against a teacher's desk, hard edge digging into the small of my back as my hands fly out and scatter papers and knock things over in a bid to try and stabilise myself, I feel lost, and it's almost a relief when I'm proved right.

The door's a creaky one, and the sound it makes when an unknown someone enters the room, light footsteps, cuts through the air and overrides Jac's harsh little breaths against my neck. Her hand is creeping inside my school shirt, and all I can see is her. She pauses, breath stopping, and I crane my neck to look over her shoulder, in the direction of the door.

"Brendon," I gasp out, knees buckling a little, and he's standing in the door looking mortified. Jac makes a small, unamused grumbly noise and giggles quietly, pressing her face into my neck. I stutter out something unidentifiable, which is good because it was probably complete bullshit anyway; I'm somehow feeling like I need to explain myself, and I don't know where that's come from.