“No, it’s better if I—”
“What? Spit it out.”
“James, I’m not feeling well.”
I came closer and supported both of her arms, preventing her from collapsing. “Do you have low blood pressure?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You should’ve fucking told me. I wouldn’t’ve let you smoke in the first place.”
She put her forehead on my shoulder, so I put my arm around her sides and brought her to the couch.
“Are you able to sit down by yourself?”
She lay down haphazardly, oblivious to my presence.
Her uniform skirt barely lifted up, and her solid thighs peeked out. Her long eyelashes stayed still, and her eyes were closed with such an innocent expression that it made me feel weird.
She was a girl like any other, and I should’ve thought of every way I’d bang her. Instead, I pulled down the bottom of her skirt to her knees, making sure I didn’t graze against her skin. Then I wrapped her in Jasper’s Super Mario blanket.
I thought of the worst-case scenario for a moment. I imagined William walking through the door. He’d never forgive me. And not just because she was collapsed on my couch. I had a vivid imagination, and my thoughts had been going too far for a while. I shooed away those ideas and sat at the kitchen table.
I read the title of the assignment the vice principal gave us.Gender Disparity in Literature.
Let’s see what princess wrote, I told myself, skimming the lines of writing. A foreword, introduction, and the development? Look at how she beats around the problem without ever facing it. I’ll deal with what he made her redo. The concept was well written but it didn’t elaborate, as if she was afraid to show herself. There was no substance to it. What an idiot. She had such childish handwriting.
I spent an hour on that damn essay as she slept. At a certain point her blond hair emerged from the couch.
“Where?” Her eyes went wide when she realized she was at my house.
“You have interesting ideas in that little head of yours,” I told her.
“What are you doing?” she asked apprehensively when she saw me holding her homework.
“I finished it.”
“Oh no, I totally forgot.”
“I already did it. Really.”
She seemed skeptical. “You let me pass out?”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
Disoriented and with messy hair, she looked around.
“I’m starving.”
“You’re stoned. I’m hungry too. Let’s order something.” I put the pages back in the folder.
“Here?” She stared at me, almost scandalized.
“What the fuck do you want, a formal invitation?”
I saw her check her phone. “It’s late. I better get home,” she muttered hesitantly, before picking up her backpack off the floor.
“Don’t forget this.” I handed her the homework.
