The Psychology of Rebellion

OOC Date: June 11-30
IC Date: June 11

4th hour: Psychology


Emmanu Emma Maier
Period 4

It didn't matter how many times she wrote the same heading. School was school. And the same memory of this past Wednesday kept haunting her. The visit to the doctor, the somehow normal irregularity, and ever since, the topic seemed to arise more and more. Couldn't she escape it?

Opportunity to go out was all around her, parties abound and friendship links so long they could tie her in a choking bundle, so why, then, had she opted to stay hidden behind the door of a classroom, face shoved in a book, hand fervently scribbling along the pages of a notebook in a hasty attempt to take her mind off of the omnipresent topic. Often playfully ridiculed by her friends (there was more than one)? Emma peeked up at this thought with narrowed eyes, extending her fingers in counting; then she gave up and started to work again because she was more disoriented from not getting work done properly rather than a hangover like every other high school student was, she made lightly the conventional view of a teenager. She'd never felt the burn of alcohol on her throat and sink into the pit of her stomach to bubble and warm her for the rest of the night. Even now, as she was consumed by the raging rapids of her looming sexuality confrontation, she lacked the filling satisfaction she'd once gotten from putting a project to rest, feeling at ease because that was one task finished. The accomplishment seemed empty now.

With a dry swallow, though it was hard to pass the lump lodged in her throat, she lifted her focus from her work to cast her eyes out the open window by which her desk stood onto the fields, crossing her legs uncomfortably, laying her book down. Even the campus was more vivacious and full of life: something she desperately wished she could grasp. Where, she wondered, was the high in just…doing? Not thinking? The thought of letting herself go made her shudder, but whether it was out of fear or yearning was unbeknownst to her. In a blatant attempt to hinder herself, she snapped the pen shut, tossing it aside, but taunted her, lying there. Although she hated to touch the very idea, her fingers got singed every time she tried from the burning fury, she was ashamed with herself. Emma evaded the topic as much as she could, not wanting to reveal the masquerade of sureness she knew she'd put up over the years. But Jesus, even her own mother had made and outburst about her behavior. Unintentionally, of course, but "Good God, Emma, every parent wants to see their kids veer from the rules once in a while. You're a damn teenager, that's the normal thing to do!" was bound to fester in a person's mind for a while. Did that mean she was abnormal? Did that mean her parents disapproved? Had she not been doing the right thing, staying on track and wanting to pursue a good college and whatnot?

Now it seemed there was nothing to do but work, escape the world which offered no sort of comfort and yet no sort of discomfiture. Emma found refuge in whatever relationships she had (not to say she was a violent and bitchy recluse, because she did have friends with whom she was very intimate), the work she succeeded in, and the goals she knew she was setting up for herself. But damn it, she wasn't living in the future. She was living now, here, not then. "Then" could come later. She was working for "then", but she wasn't living in the "now". She'd never be seventeen again, and she wondered: would she look back on these years and see them as wasted opportunities? Open doors that she purposefully refused to enter? All to save her grades? They didn't seem like promising prospects. How could she be so close to graduating and never even kissed a single person?

Her drama teacher hadn't been of much help lately, either. "Acting is about feeling, finding something to draw on," he drawled, all but bellowing as she stood on the stage before him, "not thinking about what someone might be feeling. Your character is Blanche, you shouldn't be playing her, you're a child. Have you ever felt threatened? Afraid to be hurt? Crushed? Raped?" She'd felt her throat seize up, and all she could have done was shake her head. He'd gone on, "Ever fucked anyone?"

The question caught her breath in her chest, and she could barely choke out, "I don't think that has anything to do with…" Because how could she confess something like her obvious virginity?

The teacher had cut her off, saying, "It has everything to do with it! Try to experience life. Try to do something. And fail. See how you feel then. You gotta learn how to feel. You have to figure that shit out for yourself."

Emma's blood had boiled and she'd nearly screamed at the top of her lungs, but then the late bell rang, and she'd scurried off the stage and to her next class.

So that's what she planned on doing. What she needed to do. Learn out to feel.

But right now, sitting in Psychology? That needed to come first.

If there was anything that Adam couldn’t teach someone, it was how to experience life. Course, it could just as easily be said that Adam himself merely dismissed the majority of it, casting it off with a grin and a little witty commentary to cover the indifference he seemed to carry for most things. It was, most in his family would whisper behind closed doors, a side effect of privilege. There were few that dwelled in the silver lining that was not victim to at least one of the seven sins, and if someone were to target Adams, it would likely be sloth. At least to some degree.

Stepping into the classroom was not a tremendous act of willpower, though with the temptation of summer resting on the proverbial horizon, Adam does send a slightly bitter gaze toward the open window before his attention found itself sucked back into the conversation at hand. The rumored relationship with a girl more than familiar with the rumor circuit. Ashley Kerrington.

“I did not cheat with Ashley.” The words feel…odd, coming from him. Even Adams expression shifts at the sound of his voice, and for a moment he finds himself feeling like a gossiping girl. Is this what they do all day? “We were just talkin. That’s it.”

The boy at Adam’s side, a upcoming senior known as Chad, merely sent Adam an even more girlish gaze of disbelief before taking his seat. Adam took one as well, conveniently behind the daydreaming Emma. If nothing more the girl was perfectly positioned to help defend him, if only she could be suckered back into the present time.

Adam made his move with a quick reach forward to grip her chair and pull it to tilt it back, bringing the girl back with the seat and closer to himself. “Aint that right Em? I’m not a cheat! Tell’em.”

Irony didn't run deep through her veins, but this was one of those instances where she could directly relate to a idea like that, daydreaming in psychology. Obviously her brain hadn't come to terms with the strenuous work it'd be putting itself through so it had decided to take a hiatus, however short-lived and rather futile, and she was only brought back to today-ville, rather than tomorrowland, when her position shifted involuntarily. Her body was jolted in a momentarily lapse of shock, and she braced herself by gripping the desk before realizing someone behind her was pulling at her chair.

He knew her name? Emma, befuddled to a point where she was somewhat speechless, had her mouth ajar slightly as she tried to conjure up something to say. Eyes glued to him, she drew a blank. Swallowing, she kept a steady gaze on him, transfixed, almost. Her face flushed with heat, suddenly feeling undue pressure to come up with a witty quip or retort that would blow him out of the water. Whatever ignited this requirement was purely self-made, but somehow it took precedent over making a realistic and logical answer like "I don't even know you."

Instead, she replied, "I don't know what you're talking about." She was seldom up to date with the latest gossip. Sometimes she was even mentioned in the same sentence with the phrase "lives under a rock." So his comment confused her as most pop culture would.

“You’re improv sucks.” Despite his words, Adam allowed them with a wink and a smile before he allowed the girls chair to be lowered to all fours slowly. “the correct answer would have been ‘not at all’.” Still, Adam didn’t seem the type to hold a grudge, especially to unknowing girls stricken with the misfortune to be seated within reaches distance of his conversation.

Of course, Emma’s inability to back someone she doesn’t even know merely gives Chad more fuel to fan his fire with. The other jock points and promptly laughs at the fail of Adams conversational spar. Chad 1/Adam 0.

Still, despite the lack of involvement in the social circuit of Seaside High, Adam at least saw fit to better explain the reason behind Emma’s sudden and slightly forced involvement. “My girlfriend dumped me for talking to another girl.” See. Basic. Simple. Slightly fueled by fem-nazi domination over the gossip scene. “So the proper thing would have been to defend me. Since you blew that…I’m going to sit here and stew in my shame.” Again, the fact they didn’t know one another seems absent if not irrelevant to the jock. After all, she’d been in his class all year. She’d watched him hammer psychology into the ground with poorly executed explanations of..stuff. Truth be known he’d not so much as passed the first chapter. Psychology was better dealt with by people that had some realistic grasp of the real world. That would not be Adam. “You owe me a social save.”

The more he spoke, the less he could think of. Any sort of explanation or answer seemed to float away. What was it about him that made her seize up, that put a paralysis on her speech? Her hamstrings tightened and she pulled her legs closer together, though they were crossed, so soon they began to ache. She stared at him blankly, though it was clear in her eyes that something was brewing inside. There wasn't a transparent void. She was thinking, wondering about him, maybe even with a little bit of arrogance. Who was this guy?

Improv sucked? For the theater fanatic, it was a low blow. But she tried not to take it to heart: what did he know about improv? Then, just like that, he began to tell her the entire background story. Her eyes never faltered, unwavering, and she seldom blinked. Beginning to think on it, she pondered: who would ever dump someone who looked like that? So he talked to a girl, he was talking to her right now. "Clearly your ex is too sensitive," she scoffed. Her recovery didn't seem to help her much. He continued on, and she felt her shoulders rise tensely with an inhale.

What in God's name could she say to that…? But he was smiling. Well, not smiling. Smirking. Wryly. Which was better than frowning. Or even worse, being too serious and actually burning holes in her skin from a glare. Eyebrows pulling together gently in confusion, she echoed, "Social save?", her voice forever meek and low-toned. Oh, what was his name again…Adam. Adam something…Adam Blaney? Blake. Adam Blake. Adam Blake, the lacrosse player. Her stomach tied in ginger knots.

Only then did she realize how she must've looked to him. Formidable, tangled, distressed, even. Shaking her head, she assured him, "I'm not upset." Nothing to be upset by. Letting go of the breath she came to see she'd been holding, she carded a hand through her hair to get the unruly strands out of her eyes. Adam seemed a little concerned, even, the way his expression had changed so quickly and so drastically. Perhaps concerned wasn't the right word…wary, maybe?

Giving up her inner vocabulary bout, she let her eyes flicker in the direction she'd seen his go, catching sight of a blonde far away, taking in the size of the room. She hadn't seen that girl with him, but maybe she was just unobservant. It was very likely something as obvious as a couple in school would pass her by. Adam spoke again, and she could only tell the truth.

A tiny smile crept up her face. "Bathing suits?" she replied with a meager shake of her head. "Yeah right. And I'm not really into skipping school. Besides, I don't have a car, and I don't have friends who have cars." The last "who have cars" was only tacked on so he didn't pull the pity card on her. That snagged her curiosity. "What about you?" she countered, pivoting in her seat to get a clearer view of his face. "Doesn't a guy like you have better places to be?"

Adams hum is dry and almost directed inward as he listens to the girl. Having seen Emma glance toward the glaring blond in the corner, Adams eyes shifted once again toward the angry looks, though spotting them, feeling their heat, his attention quickly diverts itself back on the girl across from him, and upon the sudden need to fidget with the pen in his hand. Adam wasn’t one to suffer gracefully through the wrath of an angry female. If anything, he wasn’t too proud to turn tail and run.

“Yeah well, I guess that’s a good enough reason.” He caught himself agreeing toward the girl, though for a moment there appears to be more to his comment. He licked his lips, he even parted them, though after a few breaths it seemed as though the thought was gone. That or, the thought was dropped. Giving it up, he moved on, forcing a faint smile back to his lips before he turned his eyes on the window, toward the playing fields outside, and onward still toward the shallow outline of the ocean in the not-so-near distance. Despite being so far away, the oceans sent carried on the breeze readily enough, reminding him of the fact that he had trapped himself indoors by choice.

He wasn’t always a fan of himself. Especially when his choices put him in the line of fire like they had today.

“I thought about it.” He admits a few seconds later. His eyes return to the pen as he opens his text book, moving to begin with slow, lazy marks along the inside binder. He’s already filled in almost every ‘O’ of the main page, why not continue to terrorize the schools property? “But, I don’t always make the best choices. I figures this way, I’m less likely to end up in trouble before summer even gets a chance to start. I’d rather ot be on punishment for the first three weeks of vacation, ya know?” Not that Adam thought the girl had any idea about being on punishment. She didn’t seem the type. If anything she seemed like the very type that his grandmother would adore.

But wait! “What’s so wrong with bathing suits?” It was a delayed response, but only then had Adam’s brain managed to fire back to the present. “You’re not fat. You’re just..white.” So said the naturally dark, half Italian boy across from her.

For a while he was silent. Not a whole lot seemed to be on his mind, but the wheels were definitely turning. Once again following his gaze, she saw the dimly lit horizon of the tide lines, sweeping out as if taking their final curtain call, but then rushing back up for an encore. Trust her to make a theater metaphor, but it was the way she viewed the world. "All the world's a stage," or so said great mister William Shakespeare. So far, that wasn't really proving to be very true. Either that, or she hadn't made her grand debut. She was the meager understudy (perhaps even ensemble) sitting in the wings, too shy to come out and sing her aria.

Finally, a voice came from the pensive figure she was looking at. "Got it," she affirmed under her breath, watching as he vandalized his book. The teacher up front was starting to mumble something about starting class momentarily, but she was far too intrigued in Adam. "I guess that's what happens, hmm." At least he assumed right: she wasn't all too familiar with the monarchy that was parental crack-down. Then he jumped at a past comment and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.

"I just…don't like them," she stammered in a bit of discomfiture, starting to turn back to face her desk, wanting to just sink into the familiarity of her psychology book. No! That absolutely couldn't happen. She needed to get out. Do something. Something she was afraid of. Come on, Em her mind encouraged forcefully. Do something.

Emma turned back to him. "Is getting in trouble the only thing keeping you in your seat?"

Thank the gods she didn’t use the theater metaphor aloud. It saved Adam the embarrassment of staring at her blankly as he tried to grasp the meaning. All the culture and classical aspects of his upbringing had often been lost to his game boy and, as time progressed, his cellphone. Ahh, the wonderful world of texting. Even now, the occasional buzz from his backpack made the presence of a phone known, and allowed those around him the insight to the fact that someone was very insistent on his attention. Luckily, Emma had managed this far to keep him interested. Course, her reaction also managed to catch him off guard.

She turned away, and he stared at the back of her head in a mixture of confusion and, admittedly, mild emotional insult. Thankfully she couldn’t see the expression the back of her head got, but seeing her turn back, he was quick to allow it to slip away with the soft sound of his mothers chiding ringing in the back of his head.

“Hmm?” Her question caught him off guard a second time. Emma 2/Adam 0. Today had not been his day! “Oh uhm..yeah I guess so.” His shoulders shrugged, his expression tensed thoughtfully, and his mind raced through the worried he’d had this morning. “Yeah, I guess. My friends make really bad choices. I have really shitty impulse control. It’s a bad recipe when you include peer pressure at the side.” He shrugged a second time before training his green eyes on the girl. “Why?” Inquiring minds want to know.

Sometimes there was that sensation that eyes were on you. In some way, there's that uncanny knowledge or inkling of being watched, and all of the above were gross understatements to the way Emma was feeling. The moment she turned back to him it was alleviated, but she couldn't help but keep a keen gaze on him, trying not to be to penetrating, but he fascinated her. All of a sudden they were holding a conversation? It was the last week of high school, and she was actually being decent with the so-thought boulder-head she'd thought she'd been sitting in front of all this time.

It intrigued her that he was aware that his friends made shitty choices, but confused her as to why he chose today to resist the peer pressure he had been talking about not a moment earlier, and instead settle for the will power that it had to have taken to stay in his seat. His answer, to say the least, perplexed her. "But what if you knew no one would find out? Would you do it then?" she pressed.

He countered with his own question, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. "Just curious."

Sometimes the eyes really are all on you. It was a small fact that Adam had lived with all his life, and while Emma herself was a well carried face in the schools drama department, there was something a bit more judgmental when eyes were resting on your next move. His expression faltered, but for a moment, as Emma delivered her nonchalant dismissal, his eyes widening and a small laugh breaking his silence.

He wasn’t shocked though. That much was evident. “Well, this is high school..I dunno how to do anything without everyone knowing.” It was an honest enough answer, shared with a look of self-pity that etched deeply into his lips. “But I guess if I was absolutely sure no one else would find out, I might.” If he didn’t wimp out. The fortunate aspect of his social wimpiness was that Adam needed peer-pressure to make bonehead choices.

For a moment longer Adam was silent. He watched her carefully, though for a moment his eyes left her own to send a glance toward a teacher who had long given up with running class and a group of girls who had finally taken to texting rather than actually speaking aloud. Oh well, back to the moment. “What about you, Emma? Would you, if no one would find out?” It’s a curious question. It’s a question intriguing enough that Adam moved toward against his desk, creeping closer, as though it were to be some epic secret.

Conceding to his rather valid point, Emma nodded, allowing a freer smile accompanied by a soft chuckle. "That's true." Although she couldn't help but wonder if she would want everyone in school to know. Being one of those kids that everyone knew about and yet they still retained their own personal mysteries, they seemed way more interesting than bland, know-it-all students like her. Lightly chewing on the inside of her cheek briefly, she pondered what that transformation would be like, and what it would take. It sounded like a path she wanted to follow.

But one step at a time; she brought herself back to the present moment. Something changed in his expression the second she did, but it faded just as she blinked. Part of her wanted to know what was eating at him, but she thought against it just as quickly as the thought had occurred to her. Once again, she wasn't sure how to answer his question. Her own endeavors and relentless thoughts were getting in the way of a clear judgment.

So she said, "Yeah. Yeah, I think I would." Only after she said it did she realize how true her answer was. "As a matter of fact, I'd do it even faster if everyone was watching."

Well, that certainly seemed to catch Adam by surprise. His eyes were drawn wide by her answer, his lips caught in a light, almost arrogant gape before he merely…nodded. “Today is not my day to be on top of things.” Any chance to buy a blush off the obvious poor selection of his words was overlooked instead to count down his obvious fails of the day.

1) He came to school instead of going to the beach.
2) He let a group of blond mini-bimbos kick him around all morning.
3) His flirting skills have clearly left for Rome without him.
4) And then there is the best one yet. A drama geek is braver than he is!
Yup Adam. You might be a pussy.

After a moment of stewing in his own awkward silence his grin returns, along with a narrowing of his eyes toward the hall. “Okay Drama.” This was war. A war he’d already conceded to losing, but if nothing more it could prove enjoyable watching himself flail socially. “Let’s go. Unlike you’re other friends,” because clearly they were friends now, “I have a car. I don’t exactly know what bad things we can actually find to do, but you’re supposed to be creative. I’m sure we can wing it.” And just like that, he moved to lift his bag, reaching into the pouch to fish his cell out.

Clearly there was still a problem. The day wasn’t nearly done, and they were trapped in class. That’s where Chad came in. Being trapped on scholastic probation left *him* at school all day. A text goes out, and while it was obvious that texting was not one of Adams strengths he did muddle through a message before pressing send. “Now we wait. Can’t back out now.”

Although she didn't know what he meant by the first sentence, the second and third were clear as a bell. The whites of her eyes expanded to the majority of her incredulous expression as a certain kind of fear crept into her veins and made her heart thump wildly. Was he serious? Did he really dare her to just…leave school? That'd been the staged, determined Emma talking earlier, now she felt like retreating to her coy, soft-spoken self that everyone saw. But this was no time to be meek. If she was so desperate to change, this was the moment.

Damning all the odds that countered otherwise, Emma swallowed and choked, "Okay." Her eyebrows contorted. 'Drama'? Did he really call her 'Drama'? "Whatever you say, Jock," she retorted smartly, a delicate smirk just beginning to curl one end of her lips. "Bad things?" she echoed, that uncertainty returning. What sort of bad things could they do…?

Now they wait. Turning back to stare into the meaningless pages of her book, she shut it decisively. Holy shit. She was actually about to cut school. What did he expect them to do, just waltz right out the front doors? Weren't there security guards? Or would being seniors cut them some slack? Even then, she couldn't keep her blood pressure down. The scandal, the finally breaking of the rules! It was…kind of exhilarating. And lame. Considering she was getting so scared and excited over something that some kids did every day.

"Don't worry. I didn't intend to."

A chuckle was all he could offer the girl. A chuckle and a slow, curious arch of his brows before he allowed his eyes to roll toward the speakers over head with an almost expectant thump of his fingers against the desk.


Overhead, with an almost sudden intensity, the fire alarm struck the silence with all the ferocity of a head-on collision. Even Adam, who had been expecting /something/ to happen, was shocked into a small twitch and jump of surprise before his grin crept slowly into place. Cue the arrogant, cocky, and once more self-confident teen that so many students knew.

He leaned down at that, along with the rest of the class, to pull his bag to his shoulder and turn to offer a quick nod toward the door. “See there Drama. I spent a favor on you. I expect to be properly entertained for my sacrifice. I have no way of knowing what Chad’s going to expect in return.”

Turning on his heels he waited for the girl to join before reaching to usher her out of the classroom with the rest of the herd. So much easier to slip away if you stick to the crowd.

Nearly leaping out of her skin and the abrupt and harsh sound of the fire alarm, Emma gripped the sides of her desk without thinking for a moment. Then there was that vivacious and yet cocky voice in her ear that caught her attention, and she pitched over to sling her back over her shoulder, psychology book be damned. She hated these things, everyone always trampled each other to get outside into the freedom: freedom that meant texting, chatting, and overall being delinquent teens. Scowling at her own decision, she stuck as close as she could to Adam without physically touching him. Something about this felt so wrong, and yet the deceit felt incredibly fitting.

Staying on her toes to keep up with him, Emma finally jut in, "Who's Chad?" And what in the hell did he mean by 'entertained'? Who was this kid? Twisting her mouth, hardly trusting him yet, she followed on his heels like an obedient dog, awaiting instructions from her master. Soon, she nixed the idea altogether and took up the lead, wanting to drill through the crowd in her own way. If she was going to skip school, might as well have fun with it.

Shit, she could get suspended for this. She might get expelled for this. And no doubt she'd be in enormous trouble with her parents. Hadn't she said just a few minutes earlier she'd do it with everyone watching? Suddenly the confidence that had vomited those words up had slunk back down into the pit of her stomach.

Adam seemed to expect something out of the girl, though for the moment he didn’t appear to be interested in explaining. Instead, as they made their way out of the room and down the hall with the girl, he seemed more interested in watching her spring to life. She’d said she would do it with everyone watching, and apparently she’d meant it.

Picking his steps up a bit, Adam hurried around the cluster of blonds to follow his ‘new friend’, all the while curiously watching her. He’d not seen that coming, despite her warnings about her new found guts. What he did see coming were the hisses and pinches from the gaggles of girls, who with a sigh received a pause and a slightly haughty bow before he turned on his heels to catch up with Emma.

“You are determined to end the year with a punch huh?” It was really all he could think to say at the moment. There was no hiding the look of fascinated confusion on his features, though he wasn’t distracted enough for forget the goal. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a set of keys before, with the pressing of a button, the soft beep of a horn, followed by the blinking of lights from the parking lot signaling their destined goal. To reach the black jeep near the front of the lot. “Can’t say I’m not impressed, Drama. I figured you'd have chickened out. I stand corrected.” And he also seemed to stand proud for the girl. It was impressive, the way she dove in head first. One didn’t see that too often.

His voice cut into her focus, but she supposed she could forgive this one infraction. The more she thought about it, she knew, the less likely it was to happen. Her heart was thrumming against her chest. Turning to talk over her shoulder, she said with that very determination he mentioned, "Well…why not do something you're afraid of, you know? Take some risks." Although normally she was quite contradictory to this idea, today every sense of fear seemed to be blocked. Soon they had broken from the factions gathering about the school who were happily conjoined to their extra appendages (called cell phones) or their chattering little groups. Her stomach twirled with sickly delight.

A beaming smile was sent toward Adam when he actually said something nice….was it nearly a compliment? "And I gotta hand it to you, Jock," she replied, a hand on the passenger side of the car door handle, "I didn't think you'd really be supportive. Considering this is the first civilized conversation we've held all year." Jerking her eyebrows up, she pulled open the door and gestured to the driver's side for him.

"Let's get out of here, Jock. Before they see us."

Adam could only smile as he watched her from across the jeep, his hands reaching to pop open the driver side door before he turns to send her a small, slightly curious glance. It was the quirking of her browns perhaps that got him. “What? I’m not a snob.” He teased lightly, settling into his seat before turning the key. The firing of the engine punctuated his words with ease, as did the wink he sent her yet again. Clearly he communicates through body language. It was easier, sometimes, to not say a word. Then again he was never good at that.

“I’m not so sure the teachers care if we leave.” The confession came like a wave, washing over his expression as well as he sent a quick glance toward three very exhausted looking teachers. The staff looked more interested in sucking down a nicotine fix than counting students. Even a few others had trailed away from the class and were, as the couple backed out of Adams parking space, making their way toward their own cars. He didn’t find that shocking either. “So where we headed? It’s your first taste of rebellion, you get to pick the destination. That and, you kinda drug me out of class. I’m merely a hostage at this point. I can hardly be expected to pick my holding place.” Flashing a quick grin toward her, he hit the gas, trolling slowly out of the parking lot before turning toward town. “One rule. I can’t go to jail this week. My dad would kill me. We have a dinner party tomorrow night.” He did appear, luckily, to be joking.

Grinning at his jibes, she shook her head with a subtle roll of her eyes. The second she heard the purr of the satisfied engine, her heart matched the pace. Who would have thought that she'd be cutting school? If her parents found out about this, no doubt she'd be quarantined in her room until college. For some reason, taking that risk sounded very tempting and almost irresistible. Keeping her splitting smile under control, Emma sent him a look when he injected another idea.

"Doesn't matter," she sighed, following his gaze to the heat-drained teachers. "Cutting school is cutting school. Let's roll, Jock." Just about ready to lean over and floor the gas pedal herself, she carded a hand through her hair, the heat already getting to her. His question penetrated through the cloud of warmth around her as she tied up her hair and she replied, after a moment of pensive silence, "Well, where else do you go on a hot-ass day?" Truth was, she had no idea. Somewhere you'd never go on a normal day, she told herself. Their previous conversation in the classroom made her smirk. "Unless you have something against being in a crowd with me, there's always the beach?"

Continued at Here

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