Where We Left Off: Chapter 20
The last day before school closes for winter break also ends up being Tate’s last day before he transfers. As soon as he told me that he was moving, he no longer let me keep up the pretence of not being with him at school, stealing me away to his table every lunch break and meeting up with me by the bleachers after the final bell, and I haven’t minded one bit.
Okay, no-one around him can believe that he would pick me to be his girlfriend, but Tate is way too cut for them to argue with him about it. Even Hudson has shut his mouth, although I seem to be bumping into him in every corridor that I walk down and he really gives me the creeps. If only he was the one transferring schools.
It snowed last night so there’s a sugar-icing dusting of it all across the sports ground, the grass blades sparkling with frost as I make my way across the yard to get to my next class. I spot the sophomores on the field doing their double Gym lesson so I stop to watch, knowing that Tate will be there. As it’s the last day of term classes are basically all frees, so the girls have evidently taken it upon themselves to “observe” like I am, dressed in their gym clothes but sat on the bleachers to watch the boys.
On the field the guys are kitted out in their football shorts and jerseys, and they’re currently split into two teams, huddling as they discuss their plans of attack. When they all stand back up, clapping their hands to pump each other up, I spot Tate on the farther side and I clutch my books tightly to my chest.
Wow. Even with that helmet on he looks to die for. And those shoulder pads? I want him to tackle me.
I push my glasses back up my flushed pink nose and start making my way to the door of the tech block when I hear a voice call out, “Hey!”
I turn my head, trying to squelch my smile as Tate comes bounding up the field, whipping off his helmet and heading in my direction. I step away from the door and walk tentatively towards the grass, stopping just as I breach the twinkling green border, brimming with both nerves and joy at Tate’s display of attention. As soon as I’m within reach he wraps his arms around the back of my skirt and heaves me up, his fingers cupping my behind. I let out a surprised but delighted oof as he squishes me to his chest and bounces me up and down in his solid tan arms.
He grins up at me before lowering his eyes to my mouth and he gives me a light but long kiss, his lips frozen but soft as silk.
I giggle as he pulls back and he tilts his head to look up at me, his hands slowly slipping into dangerous territory.
“Hey quarterback,” I tease and he gives me a cocky flash of perfect white teeth.
“Hey wife,” he says, and he presses a firm kiss into my neck.
I bite back my startled gasp and I dig my teeth into my lower lip. He’s never called me that before, but my body really, really likes it.
“I want you to stay back after school tonight, okay?” he asks, leaning back so that he can look into my eyes. “I’m staying out here with the team for the rest of the day, but I want you to meet me at the entryway after the bell so that I can give you your present.”
My heart clenches. “My present?” I ask, eyebrows pinching in wonder.
He bounces me up again and I try to ignore the friction that’s happening as the apex of my thighs meet the muscles beneath his jersey. “Yeah, your present. It’s almost Christmas baby,” he says, and then I realise, of course Tate makes a big deal about Christmas. My eyes fall to the chain just sticking up around his collar and I think of the pendant that is currently being nestled between his pecs. “You’ll meet me?” he urges, bringing my mind back from the gutter.
I nod adamantly and, with another grin, he clasps the back of my neck so that he can bring my lips back down to his, slipping his tongue inside of my mouth and making a flurry of sparks jolt down my belly. He groans quietly as he slides himself over and around me, drinking me up as his hands start squeezing me gently.
“Coleson! Over here, now!”
I pull back, startled, embarrassed, and a thousand brain cells lighter, and I watch as his coach starts marching our way. Tate fluidly sets me down and he runs the backs of his fingers over my flushed cheek.
I take a step backwards, not wanting to get him in more trouble, but he pulls me into him again so that he can kiss me a couple hundred more times.
I laugh and push at his chest, hastily back-stepping before his coach can give us both a last-day-of-term detention. Tate does the same, that knowing smile playing on his lips as he watches me pull the door open to head back inside.
He watches me through the windows until I turn the corner and disappear from sight completely.
*
After the final bell rings I quickly run-walk to my locker, ready to shrug on my coat, stuff a term’s worth of paperwork into my bag, and then go to meet Tate at the entrance. But as soon as I’ve almost emptied it I see one last thing laying on the metal base, as if it was just slipped in through the crack under the door.
I cock my head at it and slowly slide it to the front, aware that it could be something that fell out of my folders but, for some reason, I don’t feel like it is.
I pick it up and feel a shock run down my spine.
It’s another note.
This time it hasn’t been typed in one of the computer labs – instead it’s handwritten, a font more slanted and elaborately cursive than I was expecting, and it looks as though it was torn from a lined homework book. I immediately glance to the bottom of the page and see the name that I was hoping for. I relax a little and smile as I read the note.
Meet me at the changing rooms after final bell
I’ve got something for you baby 😉
Tate
I blink at the note and read over it a few times, a confusing anxious feeling settling into my gut. I turn the paper over to see if there’s anything written on the other side, and then look back at the words again.
The main thing that makes me pause is the fact that he now wants to meet me at the changing rooms. I mean, for all I know, maybe that’s what he actually meant when he said that he wanted us to meet at the entryway – maybe he wanted to meet at the entrance to the locker room. And he did say that he had something for me, and he does call me baby sometimes.
But for some reason, it just feels… off.
I fold the note into a few squares and then slowly close my locker, turning the key in a slightly numb haze. Why do I feel a bit uncomfortable? Maybe it’s the winking face. Tate and I have never texted before, so maybe he’s a winking face type of person, but it doesn’t match the picture of him that I’ve been building in my head. It doesn’t seem very… him.
I head down the stairs with the rest of the mass exodus, naturally overanalysing my own paranoia. Honestly, what is my problem? So what if he used a winking face? So what if his handwriting isn’t as… buff as I expected it to be? For a reason unbeknown to me, a chill settles in my gut as I reach the bottom of the science block, and I pause.
If I continue going to the left, I’ll reach the foyer and the main entrance in less than twenty seconds, give or take. If I go up and to the right, I’ll be heading to the Gym and I’ll be able to go to the changing rooms, which seems to be where Tate wants to see me now.
I stand at the wall of the corridor, glancing back and forth between the two directions.
I pull the note back out of my bag and read it one more time.
I’m being stupid. It definitely says the changing rooms, so obviously that’s where I need to be.
I shove the note back into my bag and take the exit to the right, not knowing how wrong I was about to be.