Author's note: A short one, for your reading pleasure, before I go on holiday until next week. Enjoy.
Chapter II
The next time I saw Eddie on his own was in the library again. Not the best place for a business proposition, but when the alternative was the busy school cafeteria, I took what I could get.
Despite my wish to speak with him, my opportunity came unexpectedly. I'd been browsing the shelves of books, looking for a particular textbook for my English essay. I'd just come from gymnastics, had a quick shower in the locker room, and now wore a blue striped t-shirt tucked into jeans. The sound of Fleetwood Mac's Sara was playing in my headphones, which is probably why I didn't hear the footsteps of someone else until they were right beside me. All of a sudden, Eddie Munson was passing me the book I had been reaching for on a shelf that was just beyond my grasp. He had clearly just entered the library and seen me struggling. I pulled off my headphones and gave him an awkward smile.
"Thanks," I said, quietly. He gave a nod of acknowledgement and made to walk away.
"Eddie!" I called, trying not to let my voice go above a frantic whisper. He turned back and stepped once more down the rows of bookshelves that I was stood between. For a moment, I was struck by how young and boyish was as he looked at me wide-eyed and expectant, waiting for me to explain myself. He wasn't annoyed or impatient, more curious. I noticed for the first time how baby-faced he really was under all that wild hair.
"How are those pills working out for you, Hartley?" he said, a little too loud for my liking. I shushed him, looking behind him to see if anyone else might have heard him, before pulling him by his jacket further into the row of books. It felt safer between the towering shelves, our voices muffled by the pages and pages of paper.
"Shall I answer you, or just announce it to the whole school?" I sassed.
"Don't worry, babe," he said, shaking his head in reassurance. He leaned in real close so that his face was level with mine and whispered. "Your secret is safe with me."
I rolled my eyes, incredulous, as he smirked playfully. He really didn't get it. Although, something about the way he called me 'babe' gave me a little thrill. I'd never been spoken to like that.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," I began. He raised his eyebrows, interested. I tried to sound professional, business-like. "The pills… they're — they worked. And I'd like to set up some kind of arrangement so that I can guarantee a steady supply. I'm hoping you'll be open to a longer-term transaction that satisfies us both…"
He cocked his head, flashing a wide grin. "Well, Hartley, I wasn't quite expecting that. You're a wild one…"
"God, no!" I interrupted. "Not like that. No way."
"Don't go hurting my feelings now, Hartley. Am I really that repulsive?"
"No, not at all," I scrambled, accidentally placing too much emphasis on the words 'at all'. Eddie raised his eyebrows even higher if that was possible.
"Not at all, huh?" I could see him mulling over the thought. He chuckled. "I'll take that."
"I just meant—" I was getting flustered now – he was making me flustered – and I was getting off topic. My former bravado and confidence quickly diminished under his steady gaze. I wasn't quite sure why he was getting to me so much, but if I was honest with myself, this was one of the longest conversations I'd ever had with a guy in a while and without them talking about basketball or something. My experience with guys was pretty limited. Sure, I'd hang out with Chrissy's boyfriend and his friends at school on the basketball team, sometimes even go to the mall with them or the movies on the weekend, chit chat with them a bit. But this was a different kind of conversation with a different type of guy.
"That I'm the sexiest guy in school?" He leant on the bookshelf with his elbow, biting his lip. He was making fun of me now.
I rolled my eyes. "We're getting off topic."
"You didn't say no, still counts." He bit his finger coyly, pretending to be seductive and coming dangerously close. I ignored him and pushed on, trying not to read too much into why I didn't correct him.
"Let me put it simply, in terms you'll understand." He threw me a sarcastic smile, not appreciating the dig at him – my attempt at revenge for him throwing me off.
"You need to pass this year. I need some help, er, managing my workload. I tutor you. You give me those pills. One session, one pill. Get it?"
Eddie nodded slowly, thinking on it but clearly recognising the benefit the set up might bring him.
"Now this is very interesting…" he began. "Aren't you, like, some squeaky-clean cheerleader, all round good-girl type?"
"Some might say that," I said, somewhat haughtily – resenting my reputation but knowing that it wasn't far wrong. Everyone thought they knew me because of what I wore to school.
"And yet, you're standing here – in the library of all places," he emphasised, as if that made it somehow worse. "Wanting some d-r-u-g-s."
He whispered the last word dramatically, sounding out each letter while cupping a finger around his mouth as if it was illegal just to say the word. I rolled my eyes slightly, knowing he was playing around with me.
"Is that a problem?" I stated, not wanting to rise to his goading. "Not getting a conscience all of a sudden, are you?"
He smiled and bit his lip in a way that made me know he was enjoying this.
"I reckon I could say yes to that."
"So, say it," I dared, raising an eyebrow.
"Deal." He held out his hand for me to shake. I took it. It was warm, his grip firm. "Do we start now?"
"My place, tomorrow. After school. 108 Woodland Avenue. It's the one with the red door."
"I'll be there," he said, cheerily.
And he was. Right on time, surprisingly. There was something about him that screamed disorganised, but I was pleasantly mistaken.
I was upstairs when the doorbell rang. I'd not long got in from school and had quickly showered and changed. Now dressed in slacks and loose crop top, I descended the stairs to see my mom opening the door to Eddie. In my mind, she visibly recoiled from seeing him standing on her doorstep, but I'm probably embellishing the memory. That's how I always imagined her reacting to seeing this long-haired metalhead in ripped jeans and a studded leather jacket asking for her daughter.
"Mom," I called from the stairs. "This is Eddie. The new student I'm tutoring," I explained.
My mom nodded and gave a polite but forced smile. She stepped aside, holding the door open for Eddie to enter. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice place," he said, looking around.
"Let's go down to the den," I directed, wanting to get him as far away from my mom as possible. It was vital that their interactions remained very limited. Eddie followed me down the stairs to the den where I'd laid out my textbooks and notepads, ready for the session. It was where I studied most of the time and I took all my tutoring sessions down in the den. I was always grateful for the privacy it gave me, usually spending a lot of my weekend chilling down there. It felt separate from the rest of the house. It was away from the business and noise of my younger siblings messing around at the kitchen table, my stepdad watching TV living room, and my mom barking orders at everyone.
"This is very cool," Eddie said, as he set his bag down.
The den was big. My mom kept the laundry down there in one corner, but otherwise, it had a table and chairs where I often studied and did my tutoring, and a plush floral sofa with a coffee table and a small TV, all from the living room before it was redecorated. It was cooler than the rest of the house in summer, which had dragged on this year into September.
"Take a seat," I said politely. Eddie pulled out a chair and slumped down at the table, still in his usual leather jacket and denim vest. "Aren't you hot?" I observed.
"Trying to undress me already, Hartley. I've only just arrived," he jested with a wicked grin. I flushed, hoping my mom wouldn't hear, even though I knew I'd shut the door to the den. He joked, but he did remove his jacket. Underneath he was wearing his Hellfire Club top. He pushed up his sleeves to reveal pale forearms, toned from playing guitar, that I tried not to get distracted by. I caught a momentary glimpse of his tattoos before he folded his arms away.
I ignored his comment. "English or Math?" I asked. "Or maybe History?"
"Do you have siblings?" He totally ignored my question, deciding his own was more pertinent in that moment.
"Two, half-siblings anyway," I answered hurriedly, wanting to get back to the topic on hand.
"Older or younger?"
"Younger," I answered. "Just kids really—does this even matter?"
"How long have you lived here?" He persisted with the irrelevant questions.
"Eddie—" I began.
"English," Eddie sighed, as if he hadn't agreed to come here for this very purpose.
"Ok, payment first," I stated, mirroring his own previous demand. I held out my hand expectantly, giving a teasing smile.
"I'm rubbing off on you already," he teased.
He shook his head in mock disapproval, but nevertheless reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a small tin that rattled lightly as he moved it. I closed my fingers around it as he set it in my palm, before stuffing it away in my pencil case, which sat close-by on the table.
"So, this year, one of the books we're reading is Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. I'm guessing you've already read it given that this is your third year studying it…"
As soon as I said it, I doubted myself. I looked closely at Eddie's face, trying to gauge if I was correct in my assumption, or whether, by some wild amount of recklessness, he hadn't bothered reading it this whole time. He looked at me blankly.
"Ok, so first things first, read it." I was beginning to see why he'd been held back, twice. I thrust my copy into his hands.
He nodded. "Got it. Will do, Boss."
God, I hope he's taking this seriously, I thought.
"It's my favourite book so you gotta like it," I joked, trying to break the ice. I had to admit I felt somewhat nervous having him in my house, sitting right next to me, and teaching him, for heaven's sake.
"Your favourite?" He repeated.
"Yeah, one of them anyway," I shrugged.
"What else do you like?" He was looking at me with that boyish look again, earnest and wide-eyed.
"Anything by Jane Austen. Especially Pride and Prejudice."
"What's that about?"
I paused, slightly surprised but pleased by his curiosity. "Um, it's about a woman who meets a man in 18th Century England and overcomes the prejudices of her first impressions of him and falls in love."
I had started to grow hot for some reason and avoided his gaze. I think it was that he was looking at me so intently. I saw his lips turn upwards in a cheeky grin. Suddenly he leapt out of his chair and began pacing.
"Hartley, Hartley, Hartley," he said, dramatically. "You old romantic."
"Don't tease me," I cried, throwing a pencil at him but laughing all the same. "Sit down, you buffoon."
I threw another pencil and he whipped round to face me with a mischievous grin on his face.
"You're the boss."
He grabbed the chair and spun it round, sitting down again, but now his legs hung either side of the back of the chair and his head was propped up on one arm.
"Comfortable?" I asked, pointedly. He smiled and nodded.
This was going to be interesting.
