The Misadventures of Chloe Saunders

Chapter 29

Control


The only redeeming quality Derek had was his self-control. Control not to go after Royce, control not to kiss Chloe senseless in the restaurant with her uncle who thought they were dating, control not to bash Mr. Travis's stupid face when he scared the shit out of Chloe.

Right now, there was no control.

Standing awkwardly at Chloe's locker, he felt his face turn redder and redder. The tight t-shirt Tori had picked out left him feeling naked, and the fitted jeans had him self-consciously checking to make sure his underwear wasn't showing in the gap between the waistband and the end of his t-shirt. Simon had even forced him to wash his hair twice.

"You wanna impress her before the date," Simon offered helpfully while he helped Derek style his hair, pushing his bangs up and to the side, out of his face for once.

"We haven't even agreed on a time or day," he'd argued, but Simon merely raised an eyebrow at him.

Derek wasn't entirely sure if suddenly tight jeans and not-emo hair would make her go, "Wow, he's really cute," but his brother had girls chasing after him since he started growing facial hair so he must've known a thing or two.

The quiet patter of quick footsteps made Derek look up from messing with his backpack. Her cheeks were rosy and pink, her eyes wide as she slowed. "Hi," she said softly, her voice a balm against his frayed nerves.

"Hey." His voice came out hoarse and raspy, and the blush dripped down her cheeks, down her delicate throat and the skin of her breastbone. He totally didn't think of how far down it went, and he totally didn't use his backpack to hide his reaction to the thought of unbuttoning her blouse and seeing the skin strawberry-pink and the lace of her bra all delicate like she was a wrapped present.

Nope, not at all.

Perfect, he thought with a scowl.

"Y-you look..." She searched for the word, her eyes trailing him up and down, from his nice sneakers to his fluffed and styled hair, and then to his eyes, hers the color of the sky, reminding him of Greece, how everything was blue, a sweet, powder-blue. "...Good."

Her smile was wide and shaky at the edges, her cheeks blood-red now, but it still sent a hot burst blooming inside of him.

"Thanks."

"Like, really good. You should wear your hair out of your eyes more often." And then she reached up and touched a stray piece of hair, tucking it away from his face, and she was close enough he could smell the sticky-sweet perfume she was wearing a bit too much of.

His stomach bottomed out as he thought his jeans would burst. All too easily, he could imagine the disgust and rosy blush that would creep across her delicate face if he moved the bag the wrong way and she saw.

"Thanks," he muttered, unable to form any other word with her so close, soft and tiny.

She swallowed as she stepped back, pushing her hair out of her face. Her smile was shy now, quiet, and he didn't know if that was good or bad.

"We should get to class."

And then she turned and walked down the way to her calculus class, and, thank God the hallway was empty, because he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, her hair swinging back and forth, tantalizingly brushing her shoulders and the middle of her back, the little strip of skin where her jeans twisted away from her shirt.

Swallowing hard after he readjusted the situation in his jeans, he headed to his class too. The warning bell rang as he stepped across the thresh hold and glanced around when he heard the quiet titters of voices.

"Nice haircut," a girl next to him said with a smile. Her name was Maya Andrews, and her hair hung like a thick, black rope down her back. The whites of her teeth contrasted with her cracked lips and brown-sugar skin.

"Didn't cut it," Derek muttered as he dropped his backpack under his desk and his ass into the seat unceremoniously.

"Well, it looks shorter. Is all this" — Maya gestured up and down — "for that little blonde you're always walking with? Chloe."

Derek turned to face her fully, his legs sprawled haphazardly across the aisle. "And if it is?"

She laughed. "It's cute. Solid colors look better on you, especially with your arms and shoulders."

He was taken aback. Here was a girl he'd been so sure would try to flirt with him because of his miraculous transformation, and all she was doing was giving him fashion advice.

In all honesty, he was pretty relieved.


Lunch came and went, and there was still no sign of her. His stomach twisted in knots, hot and tight, anxiety spiking.

He spotted the tiny ginger with a nose ring that he'd seen with Chloe. Uncaring of the looks he got, he barreled over and demanded, his voice strained, "Where's Chloe?"

The ginger—who really wasn't a ginger but he wouldn't care less right now—turned to him. Without missing a beat, she licked her jello lid and said, "She said Mr. Travis wanted to talk to her about something."

His temper flared. Of all the stupid things she had to do. Breathing deeply, he clenched his fists and spun, fighting not to break into a sprint.

The hallways were deserted, since everyone who didn't have his lunch was in class, so no one gave him looks as he broke into a speed-walk.

Why would she go with him? There was something off about him, and Mr. Travis didn't sit right with Derek. He didn't know what it was but he had a feeling it wasn't good or legal.

The muted sound of a familiar yelp made him stop in his tracks, and he spun around, heading for the sound. It came from a brightly-lit classroom,the door half-way open.

He looked inside through the narrow window panels on either side of the door, and all oxygen in his lungs evaporated. Relief rushed through him.

Chloe was clinging to a stepladder like a frightened kitten, her eyes wide when she spotted Derek. A box lay tipped over, several textbooks scattered across the floor.

Steeling himself, he stepped inside and offered what hopefully was a small smile. "Need a hand?" he asked.