Worst-Kept Secret by Sienna Cash

Author:Sienna Cash [Cash, Sienna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Not the Critic Press LLC
Published: 2016-02-28T18:00:00+00:00

twelve

What the hell have I done?

PART 2:

during

thirteen

Today’s spin nausea has nothing to do with athletic prowess. It’s because today’s lunch consisted of a bag of Cheetos. And, oh yeah, I just made out with a kid.

Not that the actual making out made me want to puke. I could have kissed him for hours. Days, even.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Elsie in accounting at work, in her forties, jokes about her crush on Ross Lynch, some rock-star kid on a syndicated Disney show her daughter watches. We all tease her. She calls herself a cougar. Jokingly. Is that what I am? A cougar? He’s only seven years younger than me. But still—seven years. He’s not even twenty.

I’m embarrassed and confused and jacked up all at once. It takes all my concentration to keep the bike’s flywheel pedals from catapulting me through the air every time I accidentally slow down when I forget where I am. Which I do. Often. Because periodically, I’m not in the exercise room on a spin bike. I’m back in the foyer with Wade’s palms against my back, tasting him.

Oh my God, his mouth. His beautiful, expressive mouth. So alive and inviting. Sweet-tasting. Soft. Electric. Sinewy. While I may have admitted being attracted to him, at least to his sigh-inducing body and devastating smile, until now I have never given serious thought to his mouth. Or his tongue. Now I’m so distracted simply imagining everything that mouth and tongue are capable of that I’m becoming a danger to myself.

Trina whoops and hollers from her bike in the center of the room, our own insane cheerleader. I pedal and pedal. If I get off the bike now, Trina will make a spectacle of me. Her reputation precedes her. Sweat pours down my temples. It drips into my eyes from my forehead. Dammit, my towel is still sitting in my bag.

I get into a pedaling rhythm, trying to rely on muscle memory while I force my brain into rational logic. Okay. Let’s dissect this. So I had a moment of severe weakness. It’s not like I like Wade. I mean, I’m attracted to him. That much is clear and undeniable. But, at the risk of sounding like a character on the Ross Lynch show, I don’t like him like him. Not like Dean. There’s a difference.

“Take it up!”

I stand up on the pedals, giving Trina a mental middle finger. In cosmic response she rides one-handed to point at me and then give me a thumbs-up. Showoff. I’m pedaling and huffing and puffing. Even squeezing my eyes shut can’t banish the feel of Wade’s lips, of his breath, of the way his eyes fixed heavily on mine for that eternal moment.

Already the whole experience feels otherworldly. Only seventeen minutes in the past and seventy-five feet down the hall, yet it’s as if we spied a rip in the space and time continuum and flew right through it.

“Still climbing!” I pedal harder. Back to rational thought. So Wade kissed me. No, not true.

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