Audrey's Choice

Chapter 3

The iron edges of the seatbelt dug into my back as Stanley Preston pushed me against the leather seats of his state-of-the-art Lexus.

The sun splayed against the silver buckle and spit fragments of light over our tousling figures.

All the windows were locked completely tight and the dark-tinted glass captured the heat and blasted it directly toward us.

Stanley and I were blissfully unaware.

His lips on mine were demanding, impatient. I tried to ignore the painful ache forming in the small of my back as he tugged at the zipper of my pants.

He abandoned his clumsy attempts several times for the more pleasurable pursuit of feeling up my chest.

“Baby, you are so fine,” he breathed, his large nose smashed against mine. “So, so fine.”

fineI pressed my small hands against his face. “Thank you.”

He smiled and his eyes filmed over with an emotion that I knew all too well. Words were unnecessary as we hungrily caressed.

I finally managed to get the zipper down and unbuttoned my pants while Stanley continued to handle me with increasingly frantic movements.

Before any more articles of clothing could be tossed aside, my cell phone vibrated.

I groaned. I’d finally managed to ignore the jabbing of the seatbelt but the trembling of my cell amplified the pain.

“Don’t… answer it.”

The buzzing, however, was relentless. Though Stanley seemed quite content to ignore it, I finally managed to push him off so that I could answer.

I pressed ACCEPT and smacked the screen against my face. “What?”

“Um, Au-Audrey?”

I recognized the feeble voice immediately.

There goes the mood.

There goes the mood.I straightened and pulled up my zipper with one hand while I balanced the phone against my cheek and shoulder with the other.

“What do you want, Clark?”

“I don’t mean to bother,” he said with all the confidence of a limp noodle, “but we have that essay piece for Mrs. Thornton. It’s due tomorrow and you said we could get it done today.”

When I didn’t immediately hang up the phone, Stanley tried to distract me with wet kisses to my shoulder. Annoyed, I pushed him away and scooted to the other side of the backseat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Stanley cursed and ran a hand down his closely shaved head.

I glanced apologetically at him and hissed into the phone speakers. “Now is really not a good time, Clark.”

“Oh, no problem,” he stuttered. “That’s fine. I can just do it myself and put your name on it.” I sighed. I would honestly rather any other task than writing an essay with Clark Fisher.

His offer to skirt the assignment and simply ride on the coattails of his hard work was tempting, especially in light of Stanley’s interest.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t that kind of girl. I earned my grades. Period.

“No, I’m coming. Where are you?” I pulled up my bra straps, which had slid down sometime between making out in the front seat and crawling to the back.

“I’m in the library.” Clark’s nervousness was evident as he assured me. “I really don’t mind doing all the work. I know you’re busy with all the clubs you’re in and stuff.”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged into my T-shirt. “Clark, I’m going to be there in five minutes. Okay?”

“Sure. Again, I’m sorry, Audrey.”

“Stop apologizing, Clark. It’s annoying.”

“Sorry. I mean…” he coughed. “I’ll – I’ll just hang up now.”

I nodded and stuffed my phone in my pocket. The rustling of fabric against the leather seat was especially loud in the rushing silence.

Stanley ran a hand over his handsome face and I inwardly cursed Clark Fisher’s atrocious timing.

Stanley Preston was the most sought after second year at the junior college. He was six-foot-three inches of pure chocolate muscle.

His body was lean and strong. His reputation with the ladies was timeless and his popularity was unmerited. We’d been flirting on and off for a long time.

I’d mastered the delicate art of playing hard to get while leaving hints of my interest, but Stanley had gotten me to doubt myself. He knew how to play the game too.

It had taken a bit more elbow grease to get his attention, especially with all the girls constantly throwing themselves at him.

And who could blame them?

In addition to his toe-curling good looks and huge muscles, Stanley Preston was the son of Bernard Preston, a business genius.

The younger Preston was known to lavish gifts on his girlfriends because anybody associated with Stanley had to look their best.

I’d worked my butt off to get an in with him. It physically hurt me to throw out nearly three months of excessive primping, a little

Facebook stalking, and hooking up with his two best friends.

“Stanley, I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Whatever.” Stanley sniffed and leaned against the car door handle like a sulking child.

I leaned over to kiss him good and proper in case he thought about replacing me with someone else while I was gone.

“Later?” I arched an eyebrow.

He grinned that innocent grin that had convinced countless girls to drop their drawers. Despite the appeal in his eyes, I managed to straighten and grabbed the door lock.

“Clark?” Stanley mused. “That’s the kid you call Farm Boy, right? The one that’s hopelessly in love with you?”

“Yup,” I winked. “Don’t worry, there’s no competition.”

Stanley snorted. “Of course not.” I laughed and exited the car.

The afternoon sunlight was surprisingly bright now that I was out from behind the protection of the tinted windows.

I slipped my sunshades on my face to guard me from the rays. The short distance from the parking lot to the library loomed like a road that stretched on forever.

I knew it was my own sense of rebellion at work because reality was far less dramatic.

The buildings at Saint Joseph’s Junior College were relatively close together. Their stately size loomed before me, giant backdrops against the gorgeous sky.

Birds twittered as they soared and made their homes on the rooftops of the various halls. My feet crushed the green grass that sprouted like tufts of silky hair.

As I walked, my mind slowly made the trek from more base instincts to the contents of Mrs. Thornton’s assignment.

Clark had managed to pull me from what could have been a very enjoyable afternoon. The least I could do was make the essay a smashing success.

Our English homework revolved around compare and contrast essays. I could write in my sleep. The tricky part was working with someone else’s opinions.

I could be a little aggressive when dealing with personalities like Clark’s. Hopefully, I didn’t send him running and crying to the bathroom before our essay was complete.

I mounted the steps to the second story with relative ease, greeting my acquaintances on the way.

When I finally crested the landing, I strolled confidently to the cubbyholes at the front of the room.

Quickly shrugging out of my knapsack, I collected my pen and notebook before stashing the bag in a row near the middle and stepping deeper into the library.

My search for Clark Fisher did not take long. He was relatively easy to spot. But not in a good way.

Clark had the most outdated bowl cut this side of the Americas. His shaggy, golden hair splayed across his forehead, nearly touching his dark eyebrows.

His eyes were a dull grey that couldn’t quite decide if they wanted to put energy into becoming a definitive shade of blue.

His nose was long and thin and his lips even thinner and pink. So pink. He was tall and lanky with limbs that extended from his shoulders and didn’t know when to stop.

Clark was clearly still in his awkward stage.

Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t even blend in to hide the imperfections. Belize was a melting pot of cultures but those of the pale skinned variety were vastly outnumbered by those of us with darker tones. His height and his race naturally drew attention.

Poor Clark never could catch a break.

I plopped onto the hard, wooden chair across from him and folded my hands on top of my books.

“Hello, Clark.” I said.

It was no secret that Clark Fisher had had a crush on me since primary school. Unfortunately, I did not, and would never, like Clark

Fisher in such a way.

“Audrey!”

His eyes lit up and struggled to shift to a more engaging color. They brightened and then faded away to the lifeless grey that I was accustomed to.

“I hope you weren’t doing anything too important,” he said.

“Oh, not really.” I lied through my teeth.

“Great. That makes me feel so much better. I was really freaking out about that.” “Try to calm down, dude.” I said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s all good.” “Perfect.” He grinned.

When Clark Fisher smiled, he was almost kind of appealing. Almost. Like barely scraping the surface.

While I stared at him, he stared right back at me. The moment turned awkward quickly. “Alright,” I ducked my head and opened my notebook. “Let’s get started.”