“Hungry much?”
I turn around and look at the back patio. Mateo is leaning against the chain-link fence that separates him from a hundred cars a second whizzing past on the freeway below. He looks like he hasn’t got a care in the world.
“You’re a creep, you know that?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“What do you want?”
“No thank you?”
“Thanks,” I mumble, then let out a long sigh. “Really, I mean it. Thanks. I was starving.”
“I can tell. So you wanna tell me what that little meltdown was in school today?”
I just stare at him through the glass. “Why are you here? Why are you doing all this shit?”
“Are you going to finish that science work soon?”
“What?” Nice, I think. Change the subject as soon as it comes back to you.
“Shannon,” he starts. “Don’t ask me what when you hear me just fine.”
“Yes,” I snap. “I’m going to finish that fucking science.”
“Good,” he says. “We’ll have class tomorrow at Gilbert. I’ve got a story to tell you. Make sure you’re there.”
And then he ends the call and walks off.
Chapter Nineteen
I enter Gilbert School at three-oh-five and make my way back to the class. There’s a few people in the office today, and one classroom towards the front with kids in there working quietly. When I get to room twenty-one, Mateo is sitting at the desk reading a book.
I rest my backpack against the leg of the desk and sit in the chair opposite him.
“You going to finally teach me something today? I’ve outlined seven chapters in that book already.”
He peers at me over the top of his book, which has the title Exoplanets and Alien Solar Systems on the cover.
“I’ve taught you a lot already. But I can understand why you’re missing the point.”
“Right. Don’t flatter yourself, Mateo. I knew how to fuck before you showed up.”
He puts his book down. “I have no doubt.”
My face goes red. I wonder if he heard Jason basically call me a slut last night.
“Do you know what an exoplanet is?”
“No,” I sneer.
“Hmm,” he says, “too bad. It’s pretty interesting.”
“You said you had a story,” I remind him. “Something about why you have take-out containers and food delivery bags.” I’ve already worked out that his parents probably owned an Italian restaurant and that’s why he can cook lasagna from scratch and has takeaway bags.
“Oh, that’s not the story,” he says, putting the book down. His hand goes to his belt and he starts unfastening it. It jingles a little and I just stare at him with an incredulous look.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I look over my shoulder at the open door. “I’m not fucking you here again. You can forget it. I’m not fucking you ever again, in fact. I’m done playing this sick game. I’m probably gonna date Danny Alexander,” I say, lifting my chin up in defiance. “He’s nice and he makes me laugh.”
“Is that all it takes, Shannon? To win you over? A laugh?” He pops the button on his jeans and drags his zipper down so slowly, I can almost hear each interlocking piece disengage. I watch the movement of his arm as he pulls out his cock and fists it, pumping up and down slowly.
“About a month ago I saw you walking to Bill’s. I followed you there, watched you eat a burger. Jose was nice to you, and that got me thinking. I know Jose. I know Jason, and Phil, and Mark at the arcade across from Anaheim. We all went to school together.”He’s still masturbating as he talks, but sorta halfheartedly.
“So I asked him about you after you left. Told me you were Jason’s sister-in-law, that he was back in town and living in those apartments across the way from my house.”
“You’re been spying on me. Got it.”
“You walked over there a lot,” he says, ignoring my comment. “So I had a lot of chances to follow you. I worked out where you lived, which window was yours on that patio facing the alley. And one night, I looked in and you were sleeping.”
“Creep,” I mutter. “You’re such a creep.”
“You guys never lock your patio door, did you know that?”
I get a sick feeling in my stomach.
“So one night I walked right in. Right into your bedroom. You were wearing a black tank top and just your underwear. Pink, they were,” he says, smiling at me.
My mouth is open in shock. “You were in my bedroom?”
“And holy fuck, Shannon, you were so goddamned hot. And you’d been drinking, I think. You were sleeping pretty good.”
I rack my brain, trying to figure out if I ever went home drunk in the last month. Maybe once, twice at the most. I haven’t been partying a lot since I don’t have many friends.
“So I started touching you.”
“What?”
He’s pumping his cock harder now and his breath is coming faster. He drags his white t-shirt up his stomach, exposing his abs to me.
“First, it was just a soft fingertip tracing the curve of your thigh. It made you shiver. And then you opened your legs and I did the same thing on the inside of your thigh.”
I catch a glimpse of his swollen head each time his fist slides down his shaft. His eyes are closed now. There’s voices in the hallway, and I have a brief moment of panic that we will get caught. That I will be blamed for letting him jerk off in front of me at school.
“I took my sweep a little higher each time, until finally I was fingering you through your pink panties. They were wet, Shannon. You were wet for me in your sleep.”
The voices in the hallway recede, but I am speechless at this point. I would not be able to talk, even if I wanted to interrupt him. And I don’t. Want to interrupt him, I mean. I want to hear every word.
“Very carefully I pulled your panties aside and began to play with you. You moaned in your sleep. Groaned, even. Like you wanted more. And you were so fucking wet, my fingers slipped right inside.”
I think I’m at that same level of wetness right now.
He stops talking, pumping his cock harder now. I strain to get a better look at what he’s doing. His legs are open, spread out under the table. Our legs are touching, in fact.
“And then I leaned down, pressed my lips to your pussy, and ate you out.”
He groans and pumps himself furiously for a few seconds before spilling his come all over his bare stomach.
“You came,” he says, after a few moments of rest. His eyes open and he looks straight at me. “You came in my mouth.”
I just stare back. Unable to talk. Unable to comprehend what he’s saying. “You’re a liar.”
He smiles. “But I’m a good one, right?”
“What?”
“You believed me. And you know why you believed me, Shannon?”
“That never happened?”
He scoffs. “Please, how drunk would you have to be for me to suck you off and never wake you up? Do you know why you believed me?”
“You’re a psycho,” I say, floored.
“Because you want to believe me.”