Chapter Two
TRAIN
People litteredthe school grounds everywhere. Police cruisers, fire trucks, EMS rigs, and cars began to line the street beyond the parking lot. No doubt parents who had gotten wind of the possibility of a bomb had raced to the school, which wasn’t surprising since one text could go viral in the blink of an eye. Not only that, but tons of kids lived close by. So parents could be at the school in no time.
Teachers and police officers directed us away from the building. Montana and I followed the crowd to the far edge of the lawn where it met the sidewalk. We piled up side by side as though we were in a lineup at a police station. Montana kept searching the waiting parents as though she was looking for a place to run, or maybe she was looking for her parents. I knew mine wouldn’t rush down to the school. My mom would have if her arthritis didn’t keep her in a wheelchair most of the day. My dad, though—highly unlikely he would ditch work. We didn’t have the tight father-and-son relationship that my best friend, Austin, had with his dad.
Since my parents had divorced, I hardly saw my dad. Sure, we talked or he bailed me out of jail when needed, but we didn’t hang out or watch football games together. Although he did make a point to show up for my football games and the occasional practice. He loved telling me how to play the game. More importantly, he didn’t want me to fuck up my chances with the University of South Carolina football scouts watching me this year.
Out of nowhere Austin planted himself in between Montana and me. “Hey, man.”
I almost high-fived him. When I thought about my old man, my brain went on a downward spiral. Plus my libido was in overdrive with Montana’s coconut-scented shampoo wafting under my nose. But I would take having Montana next to me over my dad. Or maybe not. Girls weren’t good for me, and I wasn’t good for them, even though I itched to run my fingers through Montana’s long, wavy golden-blond hair.
The funny thing was I had a hard-on for chicks with auburn hair. Maybe I was delirious from her scent. Or maybe my delirium stemmed from the fact that I’d grabbed her dick-squeezing tit, by accident of course, although I wasn’t a breast man. That hunger was reserved for Austin. I got fired up over a woman with long legs that went on forever, and that bill fit Montana.
“Wow. First day of school and boom,” Austin said. “Word is Drew Morris is responsible.”
I shook my head. Drew Morris was a grade A klutz. I only knew that quality about him because he was my ex-girlfriend’s cousin. But he wasn’t a kid who would do anything destructive intentionally.
Montana’s big blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Is he a relation of yours?”
Austin snorted. “Fuck no. The dude shops at a different mall, if you know what I mean. He always has since grammar school.”
I drilled my gaze into Montana more, trying to figure her out. She seemed so reserved compared to how she’d acted when she blew into computer class as though her shit didn’t stink. I imagined it didn’t. Then again, she had been shaken. To me, the loud bang had sounded more like a firecracker. Whether it was a bomb or a firecracker, my instinct had been to rescue like I had done several times when swimmers had been in distress. Although the torment I was suffering from as the hot morning sun beat down was because of how her soft tit had felt in my hand. I wanted to feel more of her. She was beautiful, and my fucking jeans were taut to the point that sweat was sliding down the side of my face.
Drew emerged from the school with a paramedic on each side of him. His carrottopped mass of hair was covered in white flecks. His freckled arms didn’t show any signs that he had hurt himself.
The students around us clapped.
“Glad you’re okay, Drew,” a girl shouted.
Montana sighed heavily. “Yeah. It’s nice to see he didn’t get hurt.”
“I agree, Hannah Montana,” Austin said.
She spit fire on my best friend. “Look, moron. My name is Montana. Not Hannah or Hannah Montana. You got that?” She pushed her chest almost into his.
Austin held up his hands as his white-blond eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Chill, girl. Jeez. You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?"
Feisty, moody, pouty, gorgeous, bold—I could go on and on.
She huffed as she stepped away.
“Maybe we’ll get the day off,” Austin said as though he hadn’t just gotten his ass handed to him by a girl. “Who’s up for the beach?”
The tension was gone. The day was looking brighter.
I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. “We’ve got football practice.”
It was only nine a.m., and the Southern heat was unbearable. I should be accustomed to it.Hey, asshole, you’re sweating like a pig because of the girl next to Austin.Whatever. The ocean sounded good right about now.
“At three this afternoon, numbnuts,” Austin said. “It’s surfing time. We can party at your beach house.”
I could work off some frustration. “I’m in.”
“Han—I mean Montana. Do you want to come with?” Austin asked.
“I can’t,” Montana said.
