The Boy From Hot Ice

The school looked exactly the same. I don't know why I thought it would be different.
I recognized so many of the faces, still I didn't want to. These were faces I was instantly happy to forget, but they kept approaching me, manufactured smiles on their faces, greeting me, pretending thy were my friends. They never knew me. They never bothered themselves with knowing me. But now I was the rich girl, the girl America had watched become the newest heiress in the 18-and-up category. I was prettier now, too, thanks to the make-unders I had endured - no - enjoyed with Amanda. I was slimmer thanks to the cheerleader workouts, and for the first time in forever I was someone who was worth a second glance, and I knew it when I walked in those doors.
I think the best part of that first day, though, was when Allison and Charlotte approached me to see if I was planning on joining the basketball team. They seemed so eager to have me come along, and turning them down, telling them it didn't mean anything to me anymore, walking away from them in the middle of the conversation because I was just absolutely bored with them.
I knew who I was looking for. Everyone knew who I was looking for. And before I found him, I found HER. I found the girl he'd been sitting with the year before, and I wondered if they were together. And then I noticed she was wearing some other guy's letterman jacket. Well, at least he wasn't with her.
But apparently, he wasn't anywhere. He wasn't in any class, at lunch, outside afterward. He was just... not there. Had he left? No. There was no way.
I saw David Peck after school making out with Jenny Zelner by his car, so I decided the hell with it... I would approach him.
"Hey, is Jeremy here?" I asked him.
It took them both a moment to recognize who I was, and when they did, I noticed David's eyes up and down my body, checking out everything, and Jenny, who took just a moment longer to react, asked how I'd been.
Instead of answering and ignoring David's obvious advances, I simply asked my question again. "Is Jeremy here?"
"Holy shit, Patch," David said. "You look... different."
Jenny shot him a angry glance and I repeated my question for a third time.
"He's not here today," Jenny offered as David continued to stare. "I guess he played hooky."
I left them as soon as I'd gotten my answer and I headed home. I knew that I would see him the next day, so I decided I would just wait patiently until then.
Easier said than done, as it turns out.
I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even try sleeping. My mind was on Jeremy and Jeremy alone. I would try to focus on one thing, and then the image of his wink or his hand in mine or that strange little laugh of his would pop into my head and all focus would be lost. I had to see him the next day. I had to. Even if it was just to check on him and see how he'd been. Surely he harbored no ill intentions toward me, right?
I headed into school more determined than I'd been in a while, sure that I would find a way to corner him in class or find him during lunch. Finally, there he was in accounting class, just two rows ahead of me, looking so tall, so masculine, so much bigger than last time. He had certainly grown into his body, and well at that. I purposely wore his old leather jacket, hoping he would notice, along with a pair of hot pants and a fitted tee shirt I thought he'd like. But he didn't look twice at me. And when I waved, he simply turned away as if I wasn't there. You better believe this pissed me of, and as the day progressed, every time I saw him, he would duck into a classroom or the bathroom or somewhere I couldn't find him.
Finally at lunch, I noticed he sneaked into the hall, probably assuming I would try finding him. I followed him out there, tracing his steps behind him until I knew I was close enough to where he could hear me. "Jeremy!" I called. "Hey!"
His head almost turned back to see me, but he stopped himself. He picked up his pace as he headed further down the hall.
"Jeremy!"
Still, he walked, almost running at this point.
"Turn the fuck around and talk to me!" I yelled.
Finally he stopped and looked at me briefly, but then just as quickly he stepped into the men's room.
If he thought this would stop me, he was wrong. I followed him on in there, where I found him leaning against the sink with a pack of cigarettes in his hand.
"Smoke break, huh?" I asked. "Since when do you do this?"
"What the fuck, Liz?" he asked in surprise, quickly hiding the pack in his jacket pocket.
"You know, I remember a time when you wouldn't use that language around me," I told him. His eyes shot to the ground in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Well don't be!" I said as I approached him, looking him square in the eyes. "I'm not a kid, I'm not some dainty little flower whose innocence you must protect, and I'm certainly no prude!"
"Yeah, that's obvious," he chuckled emphatically. "You certainly proved that up in old Washington state, eh?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, come on! You couldn't keep your legs closed for two fucking months! You're gone barely the better part of a semester and already you're fucking someone else!"
"I wasn't fucking him! I told you that!"
"So you're gonna honestly tell me you didn't fuck that guy? Not once?"
"I - I mean, yeah... after you and I broke up," I said, sadly, hating that he was right about it.
"See?" he said, pulling the pack back out and lighting a cigarette.
I stepped right up to him, inches from his face, so close and inhaling so much secondary smoke I felt like a chimney. "You gonna tell me you didn't fuck while I was gone, too?"
He laughed, a laugh too deliberate, too purposeful, too long. "Of course I did. I fucked all over the place. I fucked Penny and Claire and Angela - "
"Stop!" I yelled, covering my ears and stomping my feet like the brat I was. "I didn't ask for details!"
"I fucked them," he said right in my face, his eyes, ever changing under the light as they stared into my soul.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.
"Why am I doing this to YOU?" he asked in a chuckle. "Excuse me, Patch, but I believe YOU'RE the one who fucked first. And you know what? I had every right to fuck whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted, okay? You're not my girl anymore!"
I wanted to cry, but I was too angry. "You're an asshole!" I shouted.
"You're a slut!"
"Dirty little shit!"
"Bitch!"
"Dick!"
"Cunt!"
"Motherfucking jerkoff!"
Suddenly he was gripping me, first with his lips, then with his hands, still holding his cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger. He grabbed my thighs and lifted me with ease, pulling me around and onto the sink, pushing back my jacket - his jacket - and unzipping my pants. I reached for his fly, quickly undoing the button, pulling back the zipper and reaching my hand inside to feel his girth, hard and strong in my hand. I pulled it out as he ripped my pants off. He lifted up my shirt and grabbed my breasts in his hands as he continued to kiss me furiously, and he flicked his cigarette into the sink next to us so that he could employ full use of both hands. He face traveled down the front of me, sucking on my hard nipples, the fingers of his left hand now pumping inside me. Lower he bent until he was kneeling, and he applied his lips to my vagina, spreading back my labia, jutting his tongue forward, making me tense and yet somehow relaxed at the same time. He stayed down there long enough to give me a proper dose of pure pleasure, than he rose, pulling my ass to the edge of the sink and roughly forcing himself inside me. I never thought I could enjoy this sort of roughness, but I did. In fact, enjoy doesn't quite cover it. He held my jaw in his hand as he pumped, fast, rough, sloppily into me, not using any special technique. But his eyes stayed open, glaring at me with what I may have normally considered to be hatred had he not had me in this position. He pulled me off the sink in his fury, and had me literally bent over backwards to give him pleasure. And when I saw the look on his face that he was going to finish, I pulled myself off and took him into my mouth, sucking just as roughly as we'd been fucking until he emptied his load into my mouth and I swallowed it with pleasure.
I looked up to him as I still knelt there, his hand behind my head holding a fist full of my hair. I didn't smile, and neither did he. In fact, neither of us said a word. I slowly rose from my position and began to dress and he did the same, occasionally casting a glance my way.
As we walked back into the hall, he looked over at me, his eyes pinning me against the wall as we stopped. "You still think I'm an asshole?" he asked.
I nodded. "You still think I'm a slut?"
He looked me up and down, then pressed me against the all with his face as he sank another passionate kiss into my mouth. "You're a dirty, dirty whore," he whispered with a smile "And I like it."