All's Fair in Love and HoCo (ONC 2022)

Chapter Ten: Black Lace

"You brought makeup remover, right?" Bri said as she stood in front of the mirror with my mascara wand in her hand. When I nodded, she gave her lashes a healthy coat.

"Your mom will never know." She also wouldn't know Bri was wearing my cute pink crop top with her black mom jeans. "So, did you bring supplies for posters?"

She capped the mascara and grabbed my lipstick, a pink too dark for her mom's approval. "I'm not going to make posters."

That was interesting. People knew Bri, but they didn't know her very well. Her parents didn't allow her to be on social media, so posters were pretty much her only way to publicize. Well, that and word-of-mouth. Overall, Bri was quiet.

I took a deep breath. Maybe I was over-analyzing. "So, did you decide not to run?"

She puckered her lips to inspect them. "I'm running. I just think there's a smarter way than doing posters." She had my full attention. "Which girls do you think will be on the court?"

"Tiffani Morales for sure." She'd been on the court the past two years, so it was definitely her turn to win now that Emily Tanner was gone. The other girls who'd been on the court had also moved away.

"I agree. Tiffani is a shoo-in since everyone likes her. I think Zoey and Asia are most likely to get on the court, purely because they're cheerleaders." She rolled her eyes. She also was right, though.

"Okay? But how does that get you on the court?" I checked my own appearance in the mirror. Beachy waves, check. Makeup, natural and flawless. Undoubtedly, I'd be getting compliments on my black-and-white Glen-patterned pants. They were hand-me-downs from my mom. Practically vintage. My black tank top stopped just above my belly button. The maroon jacket was purely for the dress-code police.

"So, we get our group of friends to vote for Tiffani, me, and themselves since there isn't a chance they could win. They could also leave that third spot blank. Then, all I have to do is get the cross country team to vote for me and have Caleb talk to the tennis team, and, boom, I can make the court. What do you think?"

I was stuck on the part where she didn't think her friends had any chance of winning. All of our friends were smart, funny, kind, and beautiful. What they weren't was outgoing, but neither was Bri. We could easily perform the same mathematical trick with any of the girls in our group and it would work. Granted, they didn't have dates for Homecoming yet, so they didn't have a prospective boyfriend on the tennis team who could campaign for them, not that Caleb would be that much help. He was using Homecoming as a way to increase his visibility.

She placed her hand on her hip. "Do you think it'll work, Em?"

"Yeah, I think so." The first bell rang, so I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. "The math seems right." Provided none of us strayed from that plan.

Trying not to be dismayed by Bri ruining my chance at being queen, I exited the bathroom in a haste and was on the floor before I realized I'd run into a boy.

Tim outstretched his hand, which I willingly took. He pulled me up. "Hey, Emily, are you okay?" I nodded. "Sorry about that."

"No, I'm sorry. I should've been paying attention." I gave him a smile as Bri sidled up to me. "I'll see you later, Tim."

When he was out of earshot, Bri rounded on me. "He's one of the seniors," she made air quotes "isn't he?"

I had no desire to have this discussion with her in the middle of the hallway with everyone privy to it. Really, I needed a few hours away from her. I could support her decision to run for queen and I'd vote for her when the time came, but I also wanted a little time and distance to process it all.

"He's a senior. That's it. End of discussion." I stepped around her. "I need to get to class."

Bri smirked. "So, you're in a hurry to see Tim again."

I was in a hurry to see Riley, but Tim was also in the class. "No, I need to ask Mrs. Bell a few questions about the interviews before I go to Culinary." I sped to my locker and took out a notebook, pen, and pencil before making my way to class.

We didn't have assigned seats in Culinary. Mrs. Coen thought it beneficial to learn how to cook with different people, as everyone had their own style and intricacies. Thus far, I'd managed working with only the girls. I'd watched Riley enough to know that he was a messy cook. Every ingredient that he used was guaranteed to end up on the floor at some point. Though I hadn't been so invested in Tim, I knew that his food tended to burn or flop. He'd set off the fire alarm multiple times, and Mrs. Coen had gotten to the point where Tim's group had to cook at the station by the window which was required to be open. The school had been evacuated a couple times too many because of Tim's inefficiency in the kitchen.

When I walked into class, Riley made a gesture to join him at the station adjacent to Tim's. Was he talking to me? I looked around and took a deep breath. No one was around me. He motioned again and I stepped toward him. He greeted me with a "Hey, Emily" and pointed at the stool beside him.

I set my belongings in the built-in shelf of the table and slid onto the stool as Riley seemed to take note of my clothing, his attention lingering on my chest. Thank God for the jacket, which I just might need to button soon. I let out an audible breath to keep myself from blushing. I wasn't sure it actually worked.

The bell rang and Mrs. Coen directed our attention to the front of the class. Apparently, we would be spending the class making lasagna, a Caesar salad, complete with homemade croutons and dressing, and garlic bread.

We got to work immediately. As I was filling large pots with water, Riley grabbed a cutting board and a knife to slice the French bread into bite-sized pieces. When the pot was on the stove, I found a cutting board to mince garlic and chop herbs for the sauce.

Riley's eyes were wide when I placed the cutting board beside his. He leaned toward me. "So...black lace..." He nodded appreciatively.

"What?" Surely, I'd heard him wrong.

"I just never pegged you as someone who'd wear that to school."

I looked down at my clothing. A black tank top, but no black lace in sight.

He must've seen my confusion. "Your underwear, they're black lace, right?"

If looks could kill, the boy would've been napalmed. "I'm not going to answer that."

He leaned closer, and I could feel his breath on my ear. "Well, you have a hole in your pants and it's impossible not to see them."

I craned my neck, and sure enough, there was a two-inch tear. Oh, God. It had to have happened after I fell. I could feel the color drain from my face.

My jacket wasn't long enough to cover the tear, and the spaghetti-strapped tank top wasn't appropriate by itself. I had a pair of running shorts in my locker, but they'd also be dress coded. And of course, this was the one day neither Mom nor Dad could bail me out, as they were on their way to an eye appointment at Landstuhl. They wouldn't be back until noon at the very earliest.

I must've let out a little cry or had that "about to cry" look on my face that makes males of all ages willing to do anything to make it stop, because Riley looked at me and nodded. He then shrugged out of his flannel and held it toward me, saying, "You can borrow this if you'll help me clean up." He flashed a smile at me. "Just give it back to me after practice."

So, it was a choice of cleaning up after him or the whole school seeing my underwear for the next couple of hours. I grabbed the shirt. My gaze was on the plain white T-shirt that stretched across his chest as I took my jacket off and replaced it with Riley's shirt, which almost hung down to my knees. I muttered a thank you and returned to cooking.

Every time I looked up, Tim was watching closely, and Riley was, too. Par for normal, Tim's lasagna burned and Riley had half our ingredients on the floor, but the food was delicious. Cleanup, however, was a pain.