Trespassing

Ava's POV

We sat on the outside bleachers talking—pretending to talk, sorry. We were trying not to make it obvious that we were watching the boys work out. The Lacrosse team was out on the field doing suicides. It was Monday and I was feeling sleep deprived—strange, since I slept perfectly well through Saturday and Sunday nights. Friday night had been different though... I slept after... after I saw him looking up at me, after feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, after hearing his lulling voice. I didn't sleep for long though. Marcy called me at eight in the morning, I swear I wanted to shoot her. I wasn't the only person she woke up—I could still see Thomas shooting up, his hair a mess of tangles, his eyes wide and worried, I honestly thought he was going to throw himself out my bedroom window. He left after getting his clothes on, just like he promised he would. No one knew he'd been there in the first place, only me and him and we weren't going to tell. I didn't have time to say anything to him I'd been in the midst of talking with Marcy trying to understand why that nut-job was calling me so early on a Saturday.

The news she gave me was the reason for my mental tiredness. Marcy called saying that Giselle's line—Lovet–was looking for new models for the upcoming fashion show—it was one month from now. I was mortified when I listened to the information and I was right to be, because when I descended the stairs that morning, Mom, greeted me with the same thing. I controlled myself the best way I could. I thought about ripping all the designer dresses, for one. That seemed to help my nerves.

This was my biggest nightmare ever—Giselle was Thomas' Mother. Even after I kept everything in the dark it still wasn't enough, it was like karma enjoyed kicking me when I was already down—at the bottom of the well. How was I going to get out of this one? I had no idea. There was an audition for me. Was Giselle going to be there? I knew my Mother wouldn't, she never went because I got nervous when she did—actually I didn't, I made it up so she would stop controlling every single thing. I could just do everything the wrong way when I went in, but that would have a major downside in my daily life. Mom would never speak another word to me if the words 'your daughter was terrible' reached her ears... it was a hard choice.

"You know what's a shame?" Valerie's up-beat voice crawled its way into my brain making me snap into reality. Me, Brenda and Kelly looked to her, who was displaying her normal-naughty smirk. "That he's not on the team."

"Matthews?" Kelly frowned, her poor thin voice going up a few notches—we cringed but said nothing.

"No, dimwit," Valerie rolled her bronze eyes, taking Kelly's chin moving her face a little to the left.

Me and Brenda did the same on our own. I held a breath for uncounted seconds.

"Harrington," Kelly giggled. I hadn't even noticed he was there—so close. A part of me wished I still didn't know he was at the bottom of the bleachers. "He could crawl into my bedroom anytime." I stiffened—they couldn't know anything, I knew that. And if I had to worry about someone in this group it wasn't Kelly. Poor thing, she made you say 'oh honey' at every turn, so innocent and gullible—a complete air-head.

"He has eyes, Kells—besides, you already lucked out with Christian, but dreaming never hurt anyone." Brenda knocked her strawberry-blond hair aside; her pearly teeth grinned down in a cat-like fashion as she gobbled Thomas' sight with her eyes. It made me sick. "Thomas likes thin, not plump."

The only thing left was for Brenda to flat-out say she was calling Kelly fat—and I wondered if Brenda had eyes. Because Kelly was not fat, not incredible skinny, but definitely not fat. Brenda was a mean-girl, worse than Valerie in some aspects—though Valerie took the cake when it came to being manipulative. Just the other day, she fooled a new teacher into raising her grade. Valerie made him think she had pictures of him with a student—I don't even know how she found out he was having an affair.

"You two can give it a rest, girls. There's only one person here who Thomas' would go for—" She did her best not to nibble on her carefully painted lip, eyes drifting to me. "Right Ava?" There it was, the false rumor.

"We never had sex." I informed with a tight smile, my cheeks gained some color as the hard feel of Trip's chest came to mind. "We really didn't, okay? I'm still a virgin." On all levels. "I don't know why that thing got started."

"Because my sweet-pea, Thomas only does it with models—you're a model. Plus, you have to admit that first day was strange. What were you doing locked up in a classroom for such a long time?" Valerie wasn't the only who inched closer to get a confession.

I felt myself shimmer out of existence as I strove to make up another lie, maybe a half-one?

"I said we never had sex, I didn't say I didn't know him. We do know each other... from a fashion show that happened a month ago or so. I was attending and he was... doing what he does." Fishing for new models? Heck, I could be making up a complete lie about Trip, I didn't know if he attended fashion shows or not, but it was the only viable thing I came up with.

"So, what—you two just talked inside that room?" Brenda's manicured nails beat one after another, repeatedly, on the wooden surface. She was looking doubtful, a little sneer hiding behind those deep-lime eyes of hers.

"Yes,"

"I didn't think he was capable of talking. I thought he jumped foreplay and went straight for the main-course." I arched a brow feeling stupid. "The main-course being intercourse."

Valerie laughed, Kelly let out a few soft giggles—my teeth gritted, my hand itched to curl up like those weird bugs did when you touched them. Brenda wasn't touching me, but she was touching a subject I didn't like and talking about Thomas like she knew him. For all I knew she had never talked to him. I admit I did the same thing—when I met him I judged him, I was guilty. Now I knew better and hated that she was doing it—like she had any moral to talk.

"Loosen up, I'm joking, I'm joking." She said calming down seeing as my only reaction was a faint smile—one I was pulling off by magic.

"Yeah, Brenda's just messing around, Ava. If you say nothing happened between you two, we believe you." Valerie aided me, not Trip. No one corrected Brenda on her assumption.

"He's smart, you know…" I found myself muttering—staring at his back. Why did he have to be sitting a few benches down from us?

"Of course he is. Everyone here is smart." Valerie rubbed a hand on my arm. "Look, Christian just scored." She pointed to a guy out in the field. He bared the number 7 on the back of his blue and yellow jersey—the colors of the school.

Kelly looked up from her phone to cheer a quick "you're number one!" throwing her arms up when number 7 took off his helmet looking to us—to Kelly. I couldn't see his face from this far but I already knew what Christian looked like. Brown hair—gelled back, always. I think it was his trademark—relatively tall—though I think I was one inch or two taller—his physic wasn't what I'd call overdeveloped like a weight lifter, it was pretty good, his body wasn't too broad. We could hear the coach's whistle, as he called them back for more practice shots—Christian paused. His eyes weren't at our level, though. He was looking elsewhere, somewhere lower on the bleachers… to where Thomas and Finn were.

"Do you think the testosterone is going to break out now?"

"Who knows? It's been weeks since it happened. I'm always waiting for Chris to say something about it, but he never does. It's like it never happened."

"Tell that to Ernie's nose." Brenda hooted. "I swear I can hear him breathing wrong when we sit together in chemistry."

They were all talking about some big thing, apparently. How come I didn't know what it was?

"What are you talking about?" I asked at last.

They looked between each other with blank looks—until…

"That's right, you weren't here then." Valerie perked. "A couple of weeks ago, Thomas got into a fight with Christian and Ernie. They're both on the lacrosse team—" I knew they were on the team; I'd been introduced to them on my second day. "Thomas knocked Chris aside because he was picking on Matthews," she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I still think he shouldn't have done it—Christian was only teaching him a lesson." A lesson? I hadn't spoken to Finn a lot, nothing really important. I didn't know him on the inside, but looking to him… he wasn't a jock. And from some things I'd seen, like at the movies, he was friendly. "Ernie got in the way—"

"He punched Thomas straight in the eye—"

Valerie cleared her throat with distaste cutting Brenda's words.

"Excuse me, I was telling the story?" She spoke like a total queen-bee. Brenda smiled shortly. The animosity coming from her right then was heavy. "Ernie punched Thomas' eye," I remembered seeing his eye—swollen, the olive skin around it dark, bruised… "Harrington punched right back, only it wasn't an eye. He broke Ernie's nose."

So that's how he'd gotten the black eye. I knew he got it defending Finn from someone, I just didn't know where it happened or why.

"Did he get into trouble?"

"No, he ran out of school. Ernie too, he went to the hospital though. He was too embarrassed to stick around." Embarrassed? If my nose was broken—no matter what the cause—I'd just cry my eyes out. I wouldn't care about anything else. "Since it's been so long we're thinking they just let it go. No payback, no revenge."

Why did I think Brenda looked disappointed because of that? What a sick person.

"Hey, Ava," I glanced to Kelly who finally put her high-tech phone away. "Look who's looking." She nudged my arm, I followed her dark eyes.

What I felt was a pure explosion of chemicals—my heart was bouncing and skipping just like sodium did when dropped into water, the heat grew and left my body at a quick pace.

Thomas was directing more than his sizzling blues at me—he was walking up the benches, walking to where we were—I was. Crap. We never talked to each other on school grounds, not since that epic first day after English class. What was he doing? Killing me, was the only answer.

"Can we talk?" Four pair of eyes stared back at him. Mine had to be the only ones popping with worry, anxiety and—longing? I hoped that last one didn't seem too visible. "In private," he added when Brenda whipped her hair aside, that worked as a trigger for him to remember three other girls were with me.

"Okay," I breathed getting up to follow him to wherever.

"Don't be late for geography." The way Valerie said it made it sound dirty, sexy and edgy all rolled up into one.

I cringed plastering my eyes on Thomas' back.

On our way down the bleachers he grabbed his book bag slinging it over a narrow shoulder—I froze in my tracks wondering where we were going. I hoped he wasn't planning on skipping and taking me with him.

"Where are we going?" I asked when Finn remained on the bleachers reading through what looked like Paradise Lost—did he actually plan on reading the whole thing? Well I guess we all should do it, but I just couldn't find the time…

"Just a place," he called over his shoulder. "Ever been on the terrace?"

"This school has a terrace?" My deadpanned-voice made him snicker mildly.

"I'll take that as a 'no'." I rolled my eyes catching up to him. I was tired of gazing at his back. "You're welcome, by the way." My face crinkled with confusion. "For saving you from the three witches, you're welcome."

"Oh, that." He did get me out of there, but at what expanse? I think all the convincing I'd done about how we had never slept together went down the drain after this… "Kelly's not so bad, I actually feel sorry for her." I muttered scowling as a guy gave me an up-and-down check-up. "Everyone's going to think we're doing it." I whispered as we climbed an unfamiliar old marble stairway.

"They already think that." Thomas half-shrugged, nodding to his left where an open hallway stretched on leading up to a short stairway, with only five or six steps, illuminated by sunlight. "Why worry?"

"Because… I don't want them to think I'm… sleeping with you. I don't want people to think I'm a slut." I said it with a mournful tone that made him halt. We had reached the bottom of the cement stairs leading into the terrace.

"You're saying I only sleep with sluts?"

"No," wasn't it true? I didn't understand girls or guys who had one-night stands. I wasn't judging but… I didn't get it. There wasn't any appeal in it—not for me. I could never sleep with a person who didn't harbor feelings for me, strong ones and vice-versa. "You only sleep with models, right?"

Thomas was silent for two of my heartbeats. I watched as the handsome cut features morphed into a harder, cooler expression.

"Right," he mumbled going up the steps. "You're a model and that's why everyone assumes we're having sex." That was correct. "But we both know it's not true, why do you care what other people think? They're idiots, complete and utter gossip-addicts that have nothing else to do. Let them have their fun, just because they make something up doesn't mean it's real, it isn't." Thomas was right on many levels, I shouldn't be bothered, I shouldn't let myself care. They were fake rumors.

The terrace was the size of a small patio; plantations adorned it occasionally, green plants sprouted along with some very beautiful flowers. I didn't know anything about gardening but this was quite beautiful. Three stone benches existed along the terrace's perimeter, near the railings.

"Nice, huh?" I glanced from the pinkish flowers to Thomas.

I nodded.

"Why doesn't anyone come up here?"

"Because lacrosse practice is out on the field, not up here?" I blushed knowing what he was implying—I and the three witches hadn't been the only girls there, there were others. "I thought you didn't like jocks—after going out with Corbin and all." What... oh.

"Cole, his name was—oh, forget it. It doesn't even matter." I shook my head faintly. "I wasn't—wait. What were you doing there?" I crossed my arms.

Trip's backpack fell beside a cement bench, then he sat down, propping his feet on the rail looking at the view.

"Nothin'," he slurred stretching his arms above his head. I could see the biceps materialize more profoundly as the shirt tightened around him.

I had to find something else to talk about, a distraction, a change of subject. My brain rolled like a Russian roulette—ding.

"Brenda is a complete bitch." I caught him off guard by the statement. I wasn't expecting to say something of the sorts, but Thomas' muscles popping into view... I panicked. It was either drool over him like a demented fan or evade.

Thomas gave a look-over at my face before leaning his head backward, eyes closing. A soft spring wind rushed around us.

"I thought that was Valerie?"

I tapped my foot just before sitting down trying not to look at his shoulders—or anything that belonged to him and would set me on fire. To stir clear from nasty thoughts, I began a rant:

"Valerie is more manipulative then bitchy, she's the It girl. At least she has style and doesn't sound like a full-on slut when she opens her mouth. It's like no one ever taught Brenda to keep her mouth shut unless there's nothing moderately nice to say—she's evil. I don't like her. At all."

The blue-eyed Adonis beside me shifted, eyes cracking with sheer amusement.

"Just to be clear, how many sluts have you talked to?"

Cheeks heated, I closed my half-parted lips.

"Can you take me seriously?"

Thomas' hazel hair got ruffled by another windy blow. Some strands dangled in front of his shinning orbs.

"I don't get why we're discussing people who mean nothing to me—no one in this school matters, except maybe for you and Finn."

"Oh, I'm so flattered to make that exclusive list."

"You better be, it's not often someone wins a spot." I laughed when his shoulder bumped mine—it was like a private joke between us. "So, why's Brenda a bitch?"

"She badmouths a lot of people." Including him, but why add to his hate-list?

Trip's arm laid over the back of the bench, "You mean like every other popular girl in high school?" He... had a point. Part of me hated that, another part welcomed this—our conversations and all the moments we spent together. I was just me, we talked about real things. I didn't fake around him, I didn't need to. With him... I saw more and more spots of the real-Ava.

"She talks to Kelly like she's a moron—I know, don't give me that look. Her grades are low even here, but she's just... innocent. She doesn't retaliate against Brenda, I don't know why! It ticks me off, I wanted to put a sock in Brenda's mouth or—" I couldn't say more because Thomas' face showed up right in front of mine. The thump in my chest got faster...

Trip's POV

Ava's doe-eyes glistened from the sunlight hitting us from above. I felt the heat waves raining down on my back and shoulders. It was hotter up here. What's running through her mind? I wondered.

When I gained control of my body I noticed I was wetting my lips—her eyes were tracing my tongue to the slowest detail. I smirked—at least in my head. Why wasn't I making a smartass comment? I would, later, but now I had to make something clear to her.

"Hum, are you going for the title defender-of-the-weak-and-oppressed?" I tipped my head back. "I don't think you want to try that. Not here, not in any high school for that matter."

"Why not? Didn't you do it when you punched Ernie for Finn?" Ah, yeah, but she didn't need to follow my footsteps—she couldn't. She would become an outcast. Something told me she wasn't alright with that, her Mom wouldn't like it.

"Yeah, but I don't want—need to fit in. You do, remember?" Ava gave me a sullen expression. I felt the need to brush my fingers over her cheeks to take some tension away from that heart-face. "If you really feel bad... how about talking to Kelly? Confront her with the situation. If she's alright with being treated the way you say Brenda treats her, then it's her problem and it will prove what we already know." Her eyebrows arched instinctively. "She's not very bright."

"Thomas," she scolded.

"You said it yourself." She dropped it.

"I don't like injustices." I heard her say as I leaned into my seat. "Why would she be okay with being treated that way?" She frowned at me.

"Because she thinks it's what she deserves." I shrugged. "I don't know." I really didn't, and saying I cared would be a lie. I only cared about one thing. Ava. It was all I thought about, when I was in class, out of it, at home, walking around aimlessly in the streets of New York—it was her face, her brown hair, her chocolate eyes—her voice.

I glimpsed at her hair quickly. It was in a ponytail, one made of wavy strands all held together by a circle. My hand twitched—I couldn't... could I? Oh, I could. She would yell—slap me, but I could. My fingers were itching at the thought—until it wasn't just a thought anymore.

"What are you doing?" She squeaked. I felt her breath graze my collarbone. I had to lean that close to reach her ponytail, this was the closest we'd ever been.

I stared as the hair fell down to her shoulders. I marveled the soft glinting waves with awe, awe turned into a tiny smug smirk.

"Told you it was sexier," I jumped when my fingers got slapped. "Really?"

"Really. Why do you have to touch things that are perfectly well the way they are?" I shoved the scrunchy into my jean's pocket right before her hand lunged for it.

"It's much better now." I argued. "I don't understand what you have against your natural hair, but its way more beautiful when it's straight and down—" My gasp could have been for either surprise or sudden ripples of pleasure. Her fingers weren't brushing up my thigh, there was still the inside of my pocket keeping our skins apart—but I imagined what it felt like.

Ava slid closer, shoving her hand deeper into my jeans. I breathed laboriously when her breasts bumped my chest. Was she even aware of what... her hand pressed up to my abs. The same feeling from Friday hurled back at me and when I glanced forward, her eyes were right there. I had to back up some to see them wholly.

"Hum... comfy?" I put out there as innocently as I could.

Her eyes lost that innocent glint they always gained around me, becoming sharp razors.

"Did you plan this?" Her index finger was jabbed into my chest. I winced, not from physical pain, but from moral.

"Plan what? For you to shove your hand down my pocket? Yeah, I did. Because it's so comfortable for me." Maybe, just maybe—and I wasn't admitting to it—it was a little nice having her on my lap... with her hand so close to my thigh and my body's love bone. I don't think she knew—

"Is... is that... your?" Well, she sure knew now. All the stuttering was enough for me to understand. I nodded with a pinkish color on my cheeks—I hoped it was only a pink coloring, 'cause they were burning like hell on a hot summer day. "Eww," she flung herself away from me—but I had to rush after Ava, so I could steady her before she met the railing, and free fell onto the ground way, way below us.

"You're suicidal, that's gotta be it..." I heaved, trailing off when I felt her arms like stronghold iron chains around me, her fingers curving over my shoulders, trapping them. I swear her nails seemed to come out like a cat's when you threatened to drop it into water. "It's not like you never touched one befo—"

"Of course I didn't you jackass! I'm a virgin!" Those two exclamations stroke me on many levels. Was she really a model? Models weren't like this… they weren't this secret-Ava only I seemed to know about. They were manipulative. They knew what they wanted and knew what they had to do to get it. Ava was just so... sinless. She never smoke weed, she never had sex... no, she wasn't like all the others I knew. All the others I had to sleep with.

"I didn't think you were..." I moved us back a step, then another—falling onto the bench. She was still wrapped around me afraid the floor would give away. "This conversation isn't going where I wanted it to go, not at all." I sighed, relaxing my shoulders when she showed no intent in letting go. "I wanted to thank you for what you did, the other night?" I let it linger. The nails finally eased off my skin—it felt good, no one liked to have little knifes digging into their flesh. "I know you took a risk, because of your parents and all..." I didn't do many 'thank yous' or apologies for that matter, this was one of my finest yet.

"You... already did this." I had? "Thanked me, I mean." Her hands slid lower, to my shoulder blades—I felt myself being drawn into her gravity pull like the other night when our hands twined and we fell asleep. She might not remember—but I did—when that blasted friend of hers called and we woke up... they were still locked together.

"I know, I didn't forget. I just wanted you to know I'm sorry for showing up out of the blue in the middle of the night." Ava's brown hair fell away when her head tipped upwards to stare into my eyes.

"I think we're past that." Her arms fell from my body—cold shook me to my core. It was weird since I was blazing in the God-forsaken shirt that made up our uniforms. "Just don't do it again," I nodded sliding to the side, giving her, her space. "Trip?" She called clearing her throat. "I need to ask something... it's really important to me."

"Don't tell me it's the damn scrunchy—"

"No—though, I'd like to have it back, but it's something really huge. I need to know if you can help me." Ava was being dead-serious making any vestiges of my playful demeanor vanish into thin air.

"I'm listening." I propped my head onto a fist.

Ava arranged her tighter shirt, buttoning a button that must have popped in all the commotion.

"You know the audition your Mother's line is putting together for the new spring collection?" My heart stiffened a beat. Was she going to ask me for a place in it? I felt an awful sensation crawling around my esophagus when I thought about Ava being considered by my Mom—what would happen if she did… What Ava would find out about me, made me want to puke.

"If you're asking me to get you in—"

"No," she hastened to stop me. "I don't want you to get me in—I want you to get me out." I died for the complete amount of five seconds—that was how long Ava allowed me to be blown away by her strange request. "My Mom sent my portfolio to your Mother's agency and they selected me for Thursday's audition." She tucked some hair behind her ear looking lost. "I... I can't go there—if I do go and get chosen my life is over. I don't want the job, I don't want to get it—I don't want there to be a remote chance of me getting it."

"Why don't you show and just screw it up?"

"I wish I could… My Mom knows how good I am, she would know something was up. If she dreamed that I had sabotaged my chance of modeling for such a huge line she'd make my life fire and brimstone." More than it already seemed to be? Heck, it was possible. One thing I learned about Mothers: they always surprised you, even when you thought there was nothing more they could do to you—bam.

"I see your point," I did, and I could feel how much she hated being a model. Why did she do it? It seemed to be a really big sacrifice just to keep her parents happy and off her back. There had to be more, something she wasn't telling me. Knowing Ava she wouldn't bring it up until she felt ready, or ever. "But what do you want me to do about it? You said it yourself, you were chosen already."

"But if my portfolio goes missing they won't let me audition. It's not like they memorize every single girl they accept." She was right about that, no portfolio in my Mother's hands or in her assistant's, no audition. "I'll just tell my Mother they wouldn't let me in, when she talks to someone from Lovet it will be too late. The auditions will be closed. I'd be in the clear."

"I'll take a wild guess on this one," I started softly, emerging from my thoughts. "You want me to make it disappear?"

Her eyes were shiny with little tidbits of hope.

"I wanted to know if you could try."

I would do it right now if I could. I wanted to run all the way home or to my Mother's fashion headquarters and burn Ava's portfolio, not only for her sake, but for mine too. I liked her, around Ava it was easier than with anyone else, life didn't feel so jaded like it had since two years ago. If Ava got chosen she'd learn about it... about what I had to do. I didn't want anyone to ever know—least of all her.

"I'll try—" Sometimes I wanted to sledgehammer that bell. It broke the complete thankful gaze she'd been giving me. "I want something in return, though."

She froze picking up her bag, "What...?"

"Wear your hair down."

Ava rolled her eyes. I dared a smirk.

"Fine, I'll wear my stupid hair down."

I held up the black hair thingy, "You don't mind if I hold on to this, do you? Just to make sure you keep your word." She shrugged after giving me a half-glare. "Great!" I was about to follow her down the stairs when my eye caught a pink-purple mixed flower.

"Hey—" She yelped when I grasped her arm from behind. "Are you trying to make me trip?"

"Not that I've been keeping tabs or anything, but I think I've stopped you from falling more times than I helped you fall." She knew it was true I didn't need her words, to know it. Slowly, I held out something else. Ava was hesitant glancing from the plucked flower to me. "I saw you staring at them earlier."

"Is there anything you don't see?" She exhaled deeply. I shook my head tilting the flower closer to her. "Is this allowed? It's school property aren't you damaging the scenery or something stupid like that?"

"Who's going to notice one flower missing from that immense flower bed? Even if they did notice it, what were they going to do? Throw you in jail? Please, if they did that then there wouldn't be any room for the real criminals." Bambi made a fleeting appearance as she grabbed the purplish flower twirling it between her fingers.

I had to stop her from auditioning, she definitely couldn't find out about me. Ava would never look at me again—not like she did sometimes, like I was... worth it, worth her time. If she knew the truth she would never want to face me again.