Closing Night High Ch. 04

Realization dawns on his face. "Oh. Her. I'm not supposed to badmouth the students—"

Eric barks out a laugh. "You're not supposed to bang them either." Good point, but it earns him a backhanded smack to the chest.

Ignoring my idiot best friend, Caleb goes on. "—but that girl's always annoyed the shit out of me. And now you're saying she's..."

"She's Melissa's informant."

His thick muscles flex as he pushes himself off the desk. I watch him pace around the room and struggle to find something to do with his hands that doesn't involve wrapping them around a pale, skinny neck. Now I'm the one who wants to go comforthim.

"I'm gonna kill her. I'm gonna fucking kill her!" Eric shouts and jumps off the bed, looking like he's about to follow through on his threat right this second. Parker goes after him, wrapping his arms around his fuming boyfriend and whispering something in his ear that sounds suspiciously like, "Don't worry, we will." Works for me.

When he and Eric get back on the bed, Eric asks, "How did you find out about this?"

My eyes watch Caleb's stressed-out form as it slumps against his bedroom wall. What I'm about to say isn't exactly going to help the situation, but...

"Jeff told me."

That brings Caleb back to his seat in a flash, his beautiful face right up in the camera.

"What the hell was he doing talking to you? I told the little fucker I'd kill him if he ever looked at you again!"

"Yeah, well, he did us a huge favor today, so you'll just need to let that one go." Oh good, more pacing. It's like watching those clacky-ball things people keep on their desks—back and forth, back and forth. Is he trying to make me dizzy? Does he want a repeat of the other night's barf fest? "And he's about to do us an even huger one," I add.

"What does that mean?" Parker asks, and I turn to face him, hoping he's as devious as I think he is.

"Well, it means I'm going to need your help with something."

His movie star smirk lets me know he's up for pretty much anything. Which is good, because we're about to break a few laws.

* * * * *

Lacey parks her car, and I watch her walk into the high-end boutique where she works and probably gets all her clothes. She may be spawned from the devil, but the girl knows how to put together an outfit. As soon as she's through the teal-framed glass door, I pull out of the lot and head for her house.

The guys and I spent hours planning this down to the very last detail. Caleb chose not to contribute much, aside from "This is too dangerous," and "There has to be another way." Despite everything he said, he never straight up asked me to not do it. He knows as well as the rest of us that this really is the best possible plan.

Plus, it's a pretty badass one.

Even still, I chomp on my cuticles and twirl my hair repeatedly on the drive to Lacey's place. I'm about to do something shitty to someone. Thinking back, I can't remember a single time I've done that on purpose. Oh, I've had shitty thoughts—plenty of them—but I've never put them into action. She's left me zero choice, though. I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

Once I'm parked at the end of her driveway, I gather Parker's instructions, the disc, and an old sweater I don't mind giving up for a good cause. The last thing I grab is the pic we snagged off Lacey's phone.

Jeff totally came through, and quickly. Caleb texted me as soon as he got to his office this morning, letting me know that Lacey's phone was on his desk, as promised. There was also a brief note that simply said, "I'm glad she has you." Makes me think Jeff was never really that bad a guy. Maybe, even if Caleb hadn't stopped him at the party last year, he would've stopped himself. We're young. We do stupid things. Those things shouldn't define us.

Caleb handed the phone off to Eric right before lunch, and my best friend, his boyfriend, and I had the pleasure of scrolling through her texts, emails, pics, and vids for the next thirty minutes. And, oh boy, were we pleasantly surprised by the ammo we found on there!

The pic I'm holding now is a selfie of her lying on a bed. She's holding the phone at arm's length, so everything from her hips up is in the shot. And it's all naked. Her body is alright, I guess, if you're into hourglass figures with big breasts and lots of freckles. Not my thing, though. Even better, her face is in the pic, too. She's biting her fingertip and giving the camera a lusty look.

Like I said—ammo.

Everything but the sweater gets stuffed into my bag. Before I knock on her front door, I take a second to get into character. This afternoon, I'll be playing the part of Person Who Doesn't Hate Lacey's Guts #1. And... action!

After a quick knock, a stunning woman in her mid-forties answers the door. Whoa. She's the spitting image of her daughter, but less skinny, more tan, and blonde. What leprechaun did she procreate with to produce Lacey?

Ok, focus. We're not here to ogle the hot mom.

"Um. Mrs. Hunter?"

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?" she asks in a voice like honey.

"I'm a friend of Lacey's, from the show—"

"Oh, yes! I recognize you, now. You were absolutely wonderful as Cinderella. Even better than Kim Crosby." Her high praise has me blushing... and feeling ultra-guilty that I'm about to fuck over her daughter. "Come in, sweetie."

I step inside with a quick, "Thanks."

"What brings you here? Lacey's at work right now, but I can tell her you stopped by."

"No, that's ok. I just came by to return this," I say, waving the old sweater. "She lent it to me, like, months ago, and I wanted to get it back to her before we graduate and probably never see each other again," with any luck.

"Oh, that's so nice of you. Here, I can take that. I'm sure she'll appreciate it." She holds out her hand, and I continue on with my script.

"Is it ok if I put it in her room? I kinda wanted to leave her a note, you know, thanking her for being such a great castmate the past four years." Please work. Please work. Please work.

"You're such a sweetheart. Of course." Whew! "Her room's upstairs, second door on the right."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hunter!"

My heart pounds as I take the stairs two at a time. I have to stifle a laugh as soon as I walk into Lacey's room. It's decorated exactly like Bella's in the Twilight movies, complete with the weird-green walls, purple bedding, and beaded curtain on the window. Only, Bella didn't have huge posters of Edward everywhere. Oh, this is too good. Whipping out my phone, I snap a few pics to share with Eric and Parker later. I should probably learn CPR first, because they're going to die laughing.

Ok, time to get down to business. Lacey's laptop sits open on her desk. She didn't have a password on her phone, so we're hoping the same is true of her computer. If not, Parker is just a phone call away, and we'll find some way to get him up here. Maybe tie some sheets together, or something.

Thank goodness, she's lax with security on all fronts. She is so going to regret that in a few hours.

After rereading Parker's detailed instructions, I pop in the disc and reboot. When the blue screen shows up, I go through all the necessary keystrokes until the hard drive wiper starts doing its thing. What did I ever do before I had a computer geek in my life? Oh, I remember—I didn't freaking need one until very recently.

The wiping process takes two to three hours, so if it doesn't hit any snags, it should be done before Lacey gets home from work. I'm about to prop the dirty pic against her screen, when I spot a silver Sharpie in a cup on her desk. It's a little bitchier than necessary, but I autograph her selfie, "To my biggest fan. Love, Emilie."

Then I read through the note I'd written for her last night...

Lacey,

I wish I understood why you did what you did, but I probably never will. What drives one person to hurt another the way you hurt me? Whatever you think I did to you, did it really warrant everything you've put me through?

Just know this: I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. But more than that, I pity you. Is this who you are? Is this who you want to be? Maybe you should take some time to figure that out. We'll be starting college in the fall. Hopefully, you're going to a school where nobody knows you. Use it as a way to start over.

Or don't. You can stay the same heartless bitch, for all I care. But you will not fuck with me or anyone I care about, ever again.

How does it feel to have your life on the tip of someone else's trigger finger?

With all my heart,

Emilie

After placing it on her keyboard, I jog down the stairs and thank Mrs. Hunter as I fly out the door. A huge weight lifts off one of my shoulders. This is actually happening. Caleb and I are one step closer to escaping the hell we've been forced into.

Picturing Lacey's face when she finds my presents, I grin like a moron the entire drive home.

* * * * *

If it'd been at all possible, I would've had every awesome person in my life over to my place last night, popped open a few dozen bottles of champagne, and partied way past my bedtime. With that not being an actual option, I settled for five minutes of giddy squeeing on the phone with Eric, a big heaping of thanks to Cutie, and hours of irrepressible smiles and lots of dirty talk with Caleb. A fantastic night, even without any alcohol or confetti.

Right now, though, my knees are bouncing like my legs are ready to take off, whether the rest of my body follows or not. As my Environmental Science teacher passes out our exam, my eyes stay fixed on the door. This class was something I took to satisfy an elective requirement. We spent the entire semester cataloging trees and birds and rocks and shit in the park adjacent the school. How embarrassing would it be to fail the easiest final ever, just because I can't stop thinking about running straight into Caleb's arms as soon it's over.

Shifting as much focus as I can onto the questions, I read through each one, practically laughing at how quickly the answers pop into my head. It's like my brain is just as eager to get to the sexy, older man waiting for me in his office as my body is. I even take the time to skim over the whole thing once I'm finished, which should earn me some serious extra credit.

Of my five classes this semester, two of them required essays instead of tests, and since my first two exams were yesterday, this is my very last test as a high school student. The feeling is surreal. So, what, I'm now an adult? I've been eighteen for most of senior year, but this feels like an even bigger milestone than my birthday was. Life gets scary from here on out. Then again, the universe can't throw much at me that would be worse than the shit I've dealt with the past few weeks.

You know what's awesome, though? None of it—not a single moment in my life—will have to be handled on my own. I'll have Caleb with me, loving me, supporting me through all of it.

With that powerful thought now etched on my brain, I hand my finished test to my teacher and leave high school behind me.

*

Ok, so I'm not leaving high school physically behind me. More like metaphorically, because I'm not even leaving the building. If it didn't look ridiculous for me to skip through the halls to Caleb's office, I'd be doing exactly that. Power walking isn't uncalled for, though.

I was hoping to pass or bump into or elbow-check Lacey along the way, but I didn't even see her. I did see Jeff, though. He was sitting on a stone wall in the courtyard, hanging out with a few other guys, and when he smiled at me, I waved and smiled back. At least there's one person I can move out of the Enemy column on my mental spreadsheet. Feeling that much less hatred makes Emilie a happy girl.

Know what else makes me a happy girl? The beautiful creature sitting at his desk, repeatedly checking his phone and waiting for me to arrive. He hasn't seen me through the crack in his door yet, so I decide to play with him a little.

hey, i'm gonna be a little bit late. my teacher is making us stay here til the very last second. ugh.

The pained look in his pretty eyes as he reads my text almost makes me feel bad. He quickly sends his response.

Caleb: You're killing me, babe. How long?

Me: exactly 43 minutes

His audible groan has me giggling and totally giving myself away. When he spots me, he stands and closes the three feet of distance between us in a flash. Powerful hands grab me by the waist and lift me straight up over his head, as if I weigh next to nothing. My body glides over his as he lowers me, ever so slowly, causing my sundress to ride up to my hips. Reaching behind me, I close and lock the beveled glass door. We've just taken down one spy; no need to put on a show for any others.

For now, we have this small taste of freedom. It's only within this building and only for today, but there's something magical in it. Caleb sets me on my feet and pulls me to him, holding me tightly as both our hearts race. I press a kiss to his chest, feeling the rhythmic pounding against my lips.

This moment is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that I've decided to live in it forever. That's possible, right?

"God, I love you so much, Em," he says and kisses me sweetly. Then I'm hoisted back up by his hands on my ass, and my thighs clamp onto his hips. He carries me over to his chair and sits with me straddling his lap. Snuggling right back into the comfort of his broad chest, I hug him around his middle and lock my hands behind his back.

"I love you, too, Caleb," I say, giving him a good squeeze. "Can we stay like this for a while?"

"Forever," he vows.

"That's exactly what I was hoping for."

A clock ticks on the wall, but the concept of time doesn't belong in this room with us. My love for this man is powerful enough to pack every second of forever into the four hours we have together.

Completely relaxed, my eyes have just closed when he speaks.

"I have to ask you something." The hesitance in his voice is a huge tipoff that I'm going to hate whatever's about to come out of his mouth next.

"Mm hmm," is all I say in response.

"It's a question I've dreaded knowing the answer to, even before our first night together."

"You can ask me anything," I say into his shirt.

"What are your plans now?"

Anything but that. I know exactly what he wants to know, but I choose to dance around it.

"Well, I plan to be with you." That's not going to deter him, and I know it, but it was worth a shot.

"Em, come on..."

Ok, fine. This needs to be addressed. Time to face reality... stupid fucking reality. With a few grumpy noises, I climb off his lap and try to sit on the drafting table he uses as a desk. Damn thing is still angled down, though, so I keep sliding off, making me even more irritable.

Chuckling at my struggles, Caleb reaches underneath and adjusts something that makes the table lay flat. What the hell?

"Why couldn't you have done that the last time we were in here together?" I ask as I smooth out my bubblegum pink dress and hop on up. He parts my thighs and wheels his chair forward. How am I supposed to have a serious conversation with him while he's so close to all my yummiest parts?

"It would've taken too long. I was in a hurry to make you cum." The hungry look in his eyes tells me he's reliving that memory as vividly as I am. The callouses on his palms lightly scrape my skin as he caresses my shoulders and down my arms before taking hold of my hands. Oh, the chills. "Now, tell me. No more stalling. I won't have the strength to ask again."

"So, ok, yeah... We're really having this talk, huh? Well..." There's no way I can look him in the eyes when I tell him this. It already makes me sad, and if I see that it's making him sad, too, I'll get even sadder, and then the thing ticking on the wall will sound less like a clock and more like a time bomb. But I guess there's no avoiding it, anymore. "I was accepted to Tisch. At NYU."

"Babe, that's incredible!" he says, his entire face lighting up.

Stupid, supportive man. Boyfriends are supposed to be upset when their girls tell them they're moving three hours away.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, I used to think it was amazing, but now it just means I have to leave you in less than three months."

Holy shit. That can't be right. Three months? Really?

All the air in my lungs escapes, leaving me struggling for breath. No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. We haven't even figured out how to bring down his ex, yet. What if that takes the entire summer? What if it never happens? We'll have to keep skyping and sneaking around until I leave for school, and even then, there's no way he can come with me. She'd definitely know what was going on, and she'd for sure release the video then. I mean, really, what would she have to lose at that point? No, Caleb and I are fucking doomed. We'll never get to be happy as long as she's alive. Which means I have to kill her. It's the only option.

Wait, no. That would be crazy, and Melissa's already cornered the market on that. Fucking shame, because it would feel so good to knife that bitch. So we're back to being doomed, and, oh God, is there something in my throat, because I can't swallow, and have I figured out how to breathe, yet?

"Em? Em, what's wrong?" Caleb clasps my wet face between his steady hands. When did I start crying? "What happened just now?"

"We'll never get to really be together, will we? Why even bother if the world is going to keep throwing more and more shit at us?" He pulls me to him and tries to hold me, still while I ride out the tremors coursing through me.

"Shh... Don't think like that," he says, rocking me gently and petting my hair in an attempt to soothe me. "There is nothing the world could throw at us that would keep me from you. Nothing. You know that, right?" Rationally, yeah, I do. But I'm clearly incapable of rational thought at this moment, so I just shake my head against his warm chest. "Plus, I know you'd ever let that happen."

A harsh, muffled laugh escapes me. What control do I have over anything anymore?

"You amaze me, babe. Do you know that?" Another head shake from me, because now he's just not making sense. It's perfectly obvious that I'm an absolute mess. "Look at everything you've done. You're about to graduate high school. You got into one of the best drama programs in the country. Despite Melissa's threats, you've found ways for us to be together. You came up with the plan to stop that Lacey girl from working against us. And on top of all of that, you've kept me sane."

Ok, yeah, I did do those things. And now that he's listed them all out like that, it does sound kind of impressive. I pull back from him, then, to look into his fierce eyes. The tremors have stopped, and my tears have dried up. Like so many times in the past few weeks, this man is lending me his strength when I've run out of my own.

"You're a fighter, Emilie. And when you fight, you win." The pride in his smile and in his words has the corners of my mouth curving up a little, too. "That's how I know we'll be ok. Before closing night, and before all of this, I had no idea that the woman I'd fallen in love with was so damn tough."

"And I had no idea that you were such a softie," I tease, feeling around for a single inch of his body that isn't pure, solid muscle, and coming up empty. Can't say I'm disappointed, though. "But how tough can I really be? Since our first weekend together, I've been depressed, cried more times than I'd like to admit, thrown up all over the patio... and now I've had a freaking panic attack right in front of you."

"Yeah, but look at you, babe. You bounce back, every single time. And if you ever feel like you can't, I'll be there to help you through it. Always."