Tuesday, September 8
8am
You are my hero.
I slip in the desk beside Ethan just as the bell rings.
“You gave my brother a black eye,” he whispers. At first I think he's mad, but then he holds up his knuckle, and I bump mine against his. “You are my hero.”
“Is it bad?” I ask, biting my lip.
Ok, I realize that maybe I overreacted just a little bit, but I've got pride. I'm not about to apologize to him.
“Yeah,” he laughs. “But he totally deserved it.”
Finally his eyes drift behind me, and I look back. Bob, my 6'7, 320 pound security guard, is standing behind me. He's very intimidating. He's so bad ass that he has a tattoo of a dragon with flames coming out of its mouth on his bald head. I know he's here to protect me, but I'm kind of scared of him at the same time. Maybe it's the fact that he could snap my 5'1”, not quite 100 pound body in half with one hand.
“This is Bob.”
Ethan nods in Bob's direction, but Bob doesn't acknowledge him. He's mysterious like that.
“I need your help, Ethan.”
“With what?” He asks, still looking at Bob.
“I want to fit in.” I say.
Ethan's eyes focus on me, and he laughs. “You're kidding right?” I glare at him, and he stops laughing. “Well, Scarlett, you are a rock star, and I'm pretty sure once people get over the initial shock of you, you will be the most popular girl in school.”
I roll my eyes. “I don't want to be popular. I've seen Mean Girls, and being popular sounds rather torturous. Besides, I'm kind of a band geek. You know, I am a musician. I'm more than just a pretty face who sings.”
“Trust me, I know.”
I finally notice the teacher in the front talking. I've been back here talking to Ethan for almost 10 minutes, and neither of us have gotten in trouble. I want to scream. This is exactly what I was talking about, special treatment because I'm a rock star. I don't want it! Well, I sort of do, but not really! I need to prove to myself that I can do this on my own. I want to be able to get in trouble just like every other kid. I want to get detention.
I pay attention through the rest of class, and try not to fall asleep. I'm wondering why they would have a History class at 8am. C'mon, at least give people time to wake up before you start with the boring crap.
Bob walks behind Ethan and me as we walk to algebra. I'm thinking how much I hate my morning lineup of classes. Math makes my brain hurt.
As we sit in class, I try hard to figure out what the hell the teacher is talking about, but by the end of class all the numbers are running together. I rub the temples of my head, trying to make the headache go away.
“I can help you with math,” Ethan offers.
“Really?” I'm actually really excited that he offers.
“Yeah. Come over tonight.”
I laugh. “You sure Mr. Snarky won't mind?”
He shakes his head. “Please, he's probably scared of you after you gave him that black eye. Finally, a girl tougher than my bad ass stepbrother.”
“Ok. I'll see you at...” I cut off, asking him what time.
“Seven,” he confirms.
11:00 am
Damn conscience.
When I walk into Study Hall, I take my seat and ignore Stephan Montgomery. Well, I do take a quick peek at his eye and see that it is in fact black. I can see that I decked him pretty good, and for this, I feel bad... Even though he totally deserved it.
I feel a tap on my back, and turn around in my seat. “What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth. He smiles at me, and I hate how my heart reacts to him. One smile, and I'm putty in his (very sexy) hands.
“Tonight, you and me.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and once again, I curse the butterflies in my stomach.
“Can't, I'm busy.”
“I meant after you're finished doing math with my extremely nerdy stepbrother.”
Does he know everything? Like, seriously. Ethan and me planned this less than an hour ago. How does he already know?
“You know, I really don't like you.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Blondie.”
“Do you want your left eye to match your right one?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes at me. “If you weren't a girl, I would have punched you back.”
“So you're sexist too?” I laugh, and then focus my eyes on the front of the class, trying to ignore the extremely annoying guy behind me. Stephan taps me again.
“Please, will you hang out with me tonight?” He is sincere as he asks.
Dammit, why do his lips have to be so sexy? And his smoldering green eyes are freaking distracting. I say, “No,” but I'm nodding my head yes.
He smiles. “See you tonight, Blondie.”
During class, I actually pull out my math book. I'm trying to make sense of everything, but honestly, I can't even focus. I'm thinking about the boy behind me with a black eye. I'm fairly certain he is the type of guy Monica warned me to “not fall in love with”. Not that I'm in love with him. I don't even like him. I don't know why I can't seem to tell him no. It shouldn't be this hard.
And dammit, if I didn't get a conscience. I couldn't help but feel guilty about giving him a black eye. It was a little extreme. All he did was update my Twitter. It wouldn't have even been a big deal if I was a normal teenager. But I'm not. And it's my career he's messing with.
I fought with myself through class, and finally, when the bell rings I turn towards him.
“I'm sorry that I punched you.” There. That wasn't so hard.
“I'm sure you will find some way to make it up to me,” he says, winking at me. “Maybe tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “And just like that, I want to punch you again.” I turn to walk away.
“Come on, Scarlett,” he says, stopping me from walking out the door. “It's called joking. It's my way of trying to flirt with you. And I'm sorry that I updated your Twitter.”
“Apology accepted. And wow, you called me Scarlett.”
“Do you prefer Blondie?”
I shake my head, and bite my lip to keep from smiling. “No way. I'll see you tonight, Stephan.”
6:55 pm
Wear something HOT.
I retouch my makeup, and change my outfit before heading next door. I tell myself it's not for Stephan, but I know better. He sent me a tweet earlier that said “Wear something hot”. I don't reply, but I decide to wear something hot anyway.
Monica labeled everything in my closet for almost any occasion I could come across. I pick the one that says, “For when you want to kiss ass, turn heads, and take names.” I put the short, tight, red dress on, and smile at my reflection. I put on a pair of four inch black heels with it, and I have to admit, I look good.
“Hope this is hot enough, Stephan,” I say to my reflection before heading out.
I decide to use the sidewalk to go next door, because walking in heels, in the sand doesn't seem like such a good idea. Before I get up to the house, I hear somebody come up behind me.
“Damn.” I turn around to face Stephan. He's staring at me, with his mouth slightly hanging open, and then he sighs. “I thought you'd wait to look hot until after your little math date with my brother.”
“One, it's not a math date, it's tutoring. If I don't do this, I will fail and be forced to repeat my senior year for the rest of eternity. Two, you and I are going out right after, and I didn't want to change clothes. And three, you're welcome to come. I hear your brother is quite a math genius, and well, you and genius don't fit in the same sentence. I'm sure you could use the help too.”
“Are you going to insult me all night?”
I nod my head. “Probably.”
“Good. It turns me on.” He smiles. “Have fun with my brother.”
“I will.”
“And don't tell Ethan it's not a date. He doesn't know that...”
7:05 pm
Tutoring
Ethan is waiting for me in his room, but I can't stop thinking about Stephan.
“Wow,” Ethan says, motioning towards my outfit. “You look beautiful.”
My heart warms at his comment. He called me beautiful, where his evil stepbrother called me hot. He's sweet. Stephan is a jerk. Why must I have warm, fuzzy feelings for the wrong guy?
“So you're going out with my stepbrother tonight.” It wasn't a question.
“Yeah...” I bite my lip. “I kind of feel bad about the whole black eye thing.”
He nods. “Well, just be careful with him. He tends to get in a lot of trouble.”
“It's sweet that you're trying to be all protective, but trust me when I say I can handle an 18 year old wannabe bad boy.”
“I'm not saying you can't handle him. I'm sure you can, Scarlett. I'm just saying... he might be bad for your good girl image.”
I laugh. I'm far from being a good girl, but he's right, in Hollywood I am considered a good girl. I don't have any DUI's, there are no sex tapes of me, I didn't get pregnant before turning 18, and I haven't posed for Playboy, but I'm definitely not what I would consider good.
“What kind of trouble are we talking about?” I ask. “I gave him a black eye yesterday, and that was just because he updated my Twitter. I think I can handle myself.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“Then what do you mean, Ethan?”
“Nothing...” He sighs, and opens his math book. “Let's just study, ok?”
8:15 pm
You can't look hot and be comfortable.
One hour later we are done studying, and I have a major stress headache. I don't feel like I've learned anything new. I'm also pretty sure that math is my kryptonite. Stephan is waiting for me downstairs.
“You probably should have worn more comfortable shoes, Blondie,” Stephan tells me, looking at my four inch stilettos.
“You told me to dress hot. You can't look hot and be comfortable,” I say, shaking my head. Boys.
“You'd look hot in anything...” he pauses, then adds, “or nothing. I'm ok with that option as well. Feel free to take your clothes off.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, perv, if this is how it's going to be tonight, I will just go home.”
“No, no,” he says. “I'll be good. I promise.”
“Just remember – you will never see me naked. EVER.”
His green eyes once again have me hypnotized. “One day soon, I will prove you wrong. And when I do, I am going to remind you of this very conversation.”
Yeah, it just got hot again.
I look at his car, and can't help but smile. He's driving a 1971 Dodge Challenger. It's black, and I love it. “Seriously, your car is amazing.”
“You like classic cars?” he asks.
“Um, yes! I love them. I'm actually thinking of getting a '69 Boss 429 from my friend Alec. It is candy apple red, and it is beautiful. He fixed it up last year, and it's been sitting in his garage with his other cars. I told him a car like that deserves to be driven.”
“I think you should get it.”
“I think I will.” Stephan opens up the car door for me, and I'm in shock. I look up at him. “You are the only guy who has ever opened the door for me, besides my limo driver.” I get inside. “I'm pretty sure this gives you a ton of extra awesome points.”
“Wow. So you've only been out with jerks.” He shuts my door, and walks around the car. I'm smiling the whole time. He starts the car, and the engine roars to life. The whole car rumbles as it idles in his driveway.
“This is what I love about old cars,” I say. “My Sesto Elemento is so smooth, and sleek, but this... This car is how a sports car should be. I love how I can feel the vibration of the engine.”
I'm seriously turned on by his car.
“A girl who can play the guitar, drives a Lamborghini, and likes classic cars,” he sighs happily. “Where have you been all my life?”
I laugh. “So where are you taking me?”
“It's a surprise,” he says, then takes off squealing his tires. The car jerks as he shifts. It is very different from what I'm used to, but I like it. It makes riding more intense.
“Well, do I at least get to drive your car at some point?” I ask, hopeful.
“Only if I can drive yours.”
“Which one?” I ask.
“You have more than one?” he looks surprised for half a second. “You know, I keep forgetting you're like a millionaire rock star.”
“I'm going to take that as a compliment.”
“So, the car you're thinking of buying,” he starts, “I think you should get it. It would be a great investment. Plus, after tonight, you'll probably want it.”
He turns onto a gravel road that looks like it leads to nowhere. We go down for about 2 miles, then he turns right into a house. It's a small house, but we drive past it and drive for another 5 minutes. I see a sign that says “Jepsen Race Track”. We pull up to a small race track. There are about 20 cars parked around it.
“Racing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh this isn't where we race,” he smiles. “This is where we practice.”
8:44 pm
Where the hell is Paul Walker?
As we get out of the car, I'm pretty much wondering what he means by they just practice here. It's actually a pretty nice track. And does he race? Or does he just like watching? I'm also wondering if I can get in on the action.
We walk up to a set of bleachers, a few people are sitting there already.
“Stephan!” I hear the group yell.
He grabs my hand, and pulls me behind him. “Hey guys!” He knuckle bumps a few of the guys.
“What happened to your eye?” One of them asks as we get closer.
I step out from behind him. “That was me, actually.”
I wait for them to recognize me, and for them to freak out. I am expecting them to ask for my autograph. But something amazing happens: they don't know me.
“Who is this hottie, and where have you been hiding her?” One of the guys ask, looking me up and down. I'm suddenly wishing I would have wore more clothing.
“This is Scarlett,” he says. “And she's mine, so stay away.”
His words should scare me. I really don't like possessive guys, because I am a girl who can take care of myself. But with Stephan, it's kind of hot that he's telling his friends to stay away from me.
“Anybody who can stand up to Stephan is cool in my book,” a girl holds her hand out to me, and I accept her handshake. “I'm Britney, but my friends call me Brit.”
Britney is about two inches taller than me, even with my four inch heels on. She has chocolate brown eyes, blonde hair, and curves in all the right places.
“Nice to meet you, Brit. You can call me Scar,” it's what my friends in grade school used to call me, and I really don't want these people to recognize me.
“You look so familiar,” another girl says. “Have you ever gone to west side?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I'm from... not around here.”
“Hmm... I'm sure I'll figure it out,” she smiled. “I'm Ginny.”
Ginny's hair is red, but you can tell it's not natural. It almost looks orange. But bad hair color aside, she's just as beautiful as Britney.
Stephan puts his arm around me. “Hey, will you be ok up here by yourself for a few?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think I will.”
Him and a few of the guys walk down the bleachers. I wonder if I'm going to get to see Stephan race, and if I'm going to get a chance.
“So, are you Stephan's girlfriend?” Britney asks me.
I shake my head. “No way. Are you forgetting that I gave him a black eye?”
Britney and Ginny both laugh. “Please, with Stephan, it probably made him want you more. He's kinky like that.”
“So, do you race?” I ask them, changing the subject off me and Stephan.
“No!” they say in unison.
“It's the guys thing. We just come to support them, and get drunk,” Ginny clarifies. “But mostly to get drunk.”
Music starts blaring out of the speakers lined around the track. It's my song. I look at a big booth by the track, and see Stephan sitting inside. He leans close to the microphone, and is looking at me. “Scarlett for my Scarlett!”
I give him a look that says I'm going to kill you, and he winks.
“Oh my gosh! I love this song!” Ginny says, and then she starts singing along (very badly, I might add. Seriously, I think my ears are bleeding).
Britney rolls her eyes. “It's overplayed. It kills me. Listen to her, she probably can't even sing in real life. She probably slept her way to the top.”
Now I'm pissed. I'm about to smart off, and blow my cover when I hear Stephan's voice. “She's actually really talented,” I hear him say. “Scar, I'm about to race.”
“Can I drive?” I ask.
“You should have brought your car.”
I laugh. “Maybe when I get my Boss. I'm not driving my Lam...” I cough, remembering Ginny and Brit behind me. “Um, never mind. Stephan, you know why I can't bring my car.”
“Well, you aren't driving my car.”
“Can I at least ride with you?” I ask, fluttering my eyelashes at him.
He nods, and I follow him back to his car. Once we're in, I watch him as he pulls his car onto the track. I love his facial expressions, and how they suddenly got very serious the second we pull out onto the track.
“Just so you know,” he says, turning to me, “you can only ride during practice. The actual race is too dangerous.”
This kind of makes me mad. I am stubborn, and hate being told what I can and can't do. “I'm pretty sure I'd be ok. Besides, I'm going to get that car, and I'm going to race myself.”
He shakes his head. “Where I race is no place for you.”
“Well, where do you race?”
“I'll show you. Friday night. I'll pick you up at 11,” he says.
“11 at night?” I confirm.
“Yes,” he nods. “The races usually start around midnight on the west side.”
“West side?” I ask.
He laughs, and then takes off. I lean my head against the back of the seat as he circles around the track. We are the only ones on the track right now, but soon, another car pulls on. We pull up beside them. The guy in the next car nods at Stephan and I want to laugh. What is this? The Fast and the Furious?
A brunette girl that I didn't see before steps out onto the track. She's wearing a pair of skinny jeans, and a tank top. She's kind of hot, in a Kim Kardashian kind of way. And then I realize, this is just like The Fast and the Furious. Now, where the hell is Paul Walker?
She has a flag in her hand. She counts, and waves the flag. Both cars whiz by her, and I'm not thinking about her anymore. I'm sitting with my head against the neck rest watching the track. Stephan cuts right around the first curve, and we are drifting. At first, I think about screaming, but then I realize that I've never had this much fun. It's a total adrenaline rush.
I glance down at Stephan's speedometer. He's currently going 80 MPH, drifting around a curve. I wonder just how fast he has drove this car.
The other guy is ahead of us, but as we go around the second curve, Stephan pulls ahead. We do a few more laps, and Stephan manages to stay ahead... barely. But we win, and I'm pretty sure I'm screaming.
“That was awesome!”