5

settle down - the 1975

"for crying out loud, settle down!"

I remember vividly the day that Simon's AboutThat post on me and Jeremy went up.
We were sitting in his surfing van, an old Volkswagen, the top rack piled high with surfboards. Mayday Parade's 'Jamie All Over' was playing on the sound system, a throwback emo playlist Jeremy had found on Spotify while we ate takeout from Luis Santos' family restaurant.

At least, we were supposed to be eating. Instead, Jeremy kept cracking jokes, and we spent more time laughing than we did enjoying Luis' cooking. Few people knew about us at that point. None of the pictures we posted ever had the other's face or social media handle attached to it.

Total privacy, and we intended to keep it that way. Even Alexia, Janae and Maeve were in the dark, but for a different reason.

I feared it would all come back to Simon, and then he would share it with the rest of Bayview.

"You're such a dork." I laughed, munching on a homemade tortilla chip piled high with salsa, the red sauce dripping from my fingers as I tried to eat.

Jeremy grinned, leaning back on his elbows. "Yeah, but you love me."

"Yeah, I do." I said softly, swallowing the chewed up chip before leaning over our makeshift picnic and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Grinning into what was supposed to be an innocent and chaste kiss, Jeremy put his hand on the back f my neck, pulling me in for a closer, passionate kiss as he lay down on the van floor, back trunk door still wide open with a view of the sandy beach where we had first met, moonlight reflecting off the water.

I moaned into the kiss as his warm hands travelled up underneath my sweater, my hands tangled in his curls, one jean-clad leg thrown over his body as I tried to close all space between us.

Jeremy did that sometimes, turning even the slightest thing into something suggestive or naughty. It was that damned smile of his, the one that could have me with my legs wide open in an instant. 

I was down bad for Jeremy Ruffalo, I can tell you that much.

On the other side of the van, my phone rang. Incessantly. 

"Jeremy," I whined as he nipped at my neck, leaving me gasping with pleasure. There was a mark there now, and T.J would definitely notice. He knew I'd been acting strangely, but he hadn't yet figured out why.

Or because of who.

"I should answer that." I insisted, attempting to roll out of his grasp before he tightened his grip on my thigh. 

"Or you could stay here with me." He suggested with a mischievous smile,  hovering over top of my body. Jeremy had always liked being on top, being in control. But he was never rough, not if I didn't want him to be.

Eventually my phone stopped buzzing, our lips laced together, hands tangled in hair as out takeout dinner congealed in the plastic containers, entirely forgotten as we fell into each other. 

At least, until Jeremy's phone started ringing. With a curse, the older boy pulled away from me, reaching for his own phone.

"What the fuck do you want, Flynn? I'm in the middle of something."

I was sitting so lcose that I could hear 'Flynn's response through the phone speakers. 

"You mean doing your jailbait girlfriend, don't you."

"Jailbait? What are you talking about?" He was playing it cool, but I could see the terror in Jeremy's eyes. He had too much at stake.

Stomach churning, I reached for my phone.

Alexia: girly this better not be true!

Alexia: you would tell me, right?

Alexia: sent a photo

Alexia: CHARIS BABE, TALK TO ME

Alexia: I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying that Simon is a DICK for posting about it!!!

My stomach sank as I opened the photo. It was a screenshot from AboutThat. The catalyst that would irreparable tear apart my relationship with Simon Kelleher.

CF spotted getting cozy with JR, the coach's son, for all you uneducated minks. But not the one that you're all thinking of. Not the one that watches Attack on Titan and wears the ugliest graphic tees that Wal-Mart sells. He's too nerdy for Bayview's punk rock princess. Sorry, former punk rock princess.

I mean the one who studies business at Harvard on scholarship. The surfer boy womanizer who used to make all the underclassmen swoon. Well, underclass women, mostly. I wonder how TF feels about his twin cozying up to- and likely getting some- from an older man. But of course, TF has some of his own relationship skeletons, like his supposed summer fling with AP. So he really can't judge dear C, can he?

But the fear that I had fel then was nothing like how I felt now, following Nate Macauley out of the restroom, back down the drab white hallway and soundlessly out through the metal doors, clambering across the parking lot before Lords or his men could see us.

My heart was beating out of my chest like a band of horses, and I could feel the sweat pooling in my bra, under the waistband of my denim shorts, mixing with dried blood.

I was too scared to open my mouth, afraid I'd start bawling again.

"Charis!" Nate hissed out, extending an arm to stop me from moving any further. "We can't go back that way." The blond nodded towards where his motorcycle was parked. 

It was dark outside, the sun fully dipping under the horizon as I followed Nate's line of sight. Three men were standing around a motorcycle, appraising it lovingly while also maliciously cracking their knuckles, obviously debating what they'd do with it after it's owner was brutally killed.

"What do we do?" I whispered, voiced wavering as I looked up at Nate. We were standing close together, almost too close. It took my breath away. His eyes were magnetic, drawing me to him.

"I don't know." Nate's voice was husky, his breath warm against my skin. "I was hoping that you might have a few ideas."

I sucked in a breath. "I have an idea, but it's not a very good one."

"Anything is better than what those motherfuckers have planned for us."

I looked up at him, shifting my weight on the balls of my feet. "do you know Alexia Satedtler? Her house is down the road and around the corner, by like two blocks. And a few streets behind that is a college frat party. If we can get to Alexia's, it could buy us some time."

Nate looked back over at the lackeys near his motorbike, his jaw tensing in a way that made my stomach contort.

The way I used to feel around Jeremy.

"I hope you can run fast, Forrester."

NOTES!!

what me finally updating ??? i finally had time so thank jesus for that-