Adrian Lessons Read Online Free

going to take me up on it. Then he laughs. “I was kidding. It’s how I figure out if I’ll get along with new people—I see if they can handle my sense of humor. Trial by fire.”
    I rest my chin on my hands and nod solemnly like I’m not contemplating the nearest and easiest object with which to kill myself. “Right. I feel you.”
    Damn it. I accidentally said ‘I feel you’ completely unironically. What the hell was in those pills?
    “Feel free,” he says, offering his arm.
    I feel his bicep, giving it a little squeeze. It’s like a rock encased in human skin. Warm boy skin, specifically. “Feels…nice.”
    His smile is so freakishly cute. “You’re a funny girl, Cleo.”
    Funny! He thinks I’m funny. I am funny. I giggle a little bit.
    He continues, “You’re pretty brave to come to Professor Newbury’s class high.”
    My smile freezes. It takes me a good five seconds to track down what he’s said. “High? Me? No. No . I’m not…”
    “Hey, it’s fine.” His voice is so nice. He’s genuinely trying to make me feel comfortable. “It’s college.”
    “Yes,” I agree. “Yes, it is. Wait. I’m not high.”
    “Okay,” he says gently. Great. Now he thinks I’m mentally handicapped instead.
    Professor Newbury’s voice cuts into the babble of students playing with each other’s tongues. “Wrap it up, everyone, and we’ll discuss our results.”
    Adrian the Green-Eyed Greek begins gathering our supplies.
    Suddenly, I’m struck with the memory of what Marie told me. Faced with Dreamboat, it doesn’t seem like such a bad plan after all. In fact, I could put it into action right now.
    “Wait,” I tell him sexily, stealing the food coloring. I squeeze some onto a Q-tip, take his hand, and write my number on tanned boy skin in blue AmeriColor.
    I hear him chuckle and utter a soft, “Damn.”
    That’s right, boy. Damn is the appropriate impressed response to a girl who can write legible numbers with a food-colored Q-tip, possibly the worst writing tool in the world.
    And now that I’m leaned in close to him, it seems a shame to pull away. His mouth is right there. It’s like a gravitational pull. I lose all sense of myself. Our eyes are locked together and it’s as if we’re exchanging a promise.
    “It wouldn’t be a real experiment if I didn’t taste something,” I whisper.
    I kiss him.
    It’s not a hallucination. I’m actually doing this. His lips are warm and cinnamony and perfect, and the feel of them sets off several volcanic eruptions in my abdomen. Evacuate the civilians. Beware of falling ash…
    “Ms. Reynolds!” someone barks. “Please save it for after class!”
    Yes, I would love to keep doing this after class, thank you…
    “ Ms. Reynolds!”
    I break away, slowly realizing what I’ve done. Adrian is staring at me, is expression unreadable. My eyes drop, to the arm where I just wrote my number. There’s a little scar just above his wrist. A V-shaped scar. Where have I seen that before—
    It hits me.
    “No,” I moan, as all the blood empties from my face and pools at the bottom of my feet. “You…walked in…Friday night?”
    “I walked in. Friday night,” he confirms, not unkindly.
    But I don’t give a flying fudge about his tone, because I myself am flying through the door, whizzing past my turtle-headed professor and leaving behind half-truths about sickness and the nurse’s office in my wake.
    The final judge of the Annual Idiot Contest holds up a perfect ten, and the crowd goes wild. I can almost see Marie in the audience, face-palming.
    I’d like to thank the Academy.
     
    ~3~
     
    “You…gave…me… what ?”
    “Xanax,” says Marie, her guilty expression perfectly mirroring my mom’s dog’s when we catch him crapping in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry, Cleo. I was in a rush…”
    I will not murder my roommate! I will not murder my roommate, however much she deserves it.
    “I’m sorry! I’m taking you out for tacos, aren’t I?” she