Free Downcast by Cait Reynolds

what’s going on with Morris?” Helen asked me in a low voice.
    I grimaced. “Yeah. Tell you on the ride home.”
    “He looked totally spooked during calculus.”
    “He is.”
    Before Helen could ask anything else, Jordan’s voice distracted us both.
    “So, you wanna have a smoke before I head to practice?” she asked, squirming around in her chair to face Haley—I saw all this out of my peripheral vision, as I was still looking at Helen.
    “You shouldn’t smoke,” he replied flatly, his eyes never leaving my face. “It’s bad for you.”
    “Oh, I know that. I’m just so tired of being such a good girl.”
    I choked inwardly at the thought of applying the adjective “good” to anything about Jordan, and from the suppressed laughter in Helen’s face, she was thinking the same thing.
    “I’m ready to be a little bad, to be an adult, you know?” Jordan continued, flipping her hair.
    “And you think I’m bad?” Haley asked quietly.
    “I know you’re bad,” she purred suggestively, tracing her finger down his sleeve.
    Shockingly, Haley flinched, though whether it was at Jordan’s words or her touch, I couldn’t tell. He looked up at me, a question in his eyes, but I didn’t know what it was or how to answer it.
    The final bell of the day rang, but not before I was totally ready for it. Mr. Lafitte had come back, and the rest of English had been excruciating, but I had made it through.
    Moodily, I walked down to my locker. I switched out my books, grabbed my jacket, and shut the door. I put my backpack on the floor to put on my jacket, when I felt someone take my arm and pull me around.
    I found myself with my back against Zack's locker, looking up into Haley's eyes as he leaned in toward me. He rested his hands against the locker on either side of my shoulders. He was so close, I could feel his breath on my lips.
    "Um," I said, scrambling for something, anything, to say, to get me out of this. "What are you doing?"
    Not the best, but at least it was direct.
    He smiled slightly, his black eyes drawing me in. He took a quick breath, then lifted one of his hands to my lips and gently brushed my lower lip with his fingertips. His hand then traced down my throat and arm until he snaked it around my waist, pulling me to him so that I was completely pressed up against him.
    This was bad. I knew that this was bad for so many reasons, and yet, all my intelligence seemed to have checked out. I couldn't think of a thing to say or remember what I needed to do to get away from him, including what the word for “no” was. My body was practically vibrating against him. I'd never been this close to a boy before. I was painfully aware of how small I was compared to him and how strong he felt, how solid.
    Gently, he flattened me against the locker, pinning me there with his body, leaning his face in to mine until our noses practically touched, his arm still securely around my waist.
    "What do you think I'm doing?" he murmured, a wicked light burning low in his endless eyes.
    "U-um," I stammered.
    "'A rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore,'" he whispered, his lips so close that they almost brushed mine as he spoke.
    "I'm not dead," I said stupidly.
    He pulled his head back just a little and stared at me for a moment, then broke into a low, raspy laughter. I could feel his body shake against mine from the laughter. This definitely didn't help.
    "No," he said, calming down, but still smiling. "No, you're not. You are very much alive."
    He still held me close, and I wondered wildly if he was going to kiss me. My mind was about to start a vigorous, pointed, short debate about whether to let him kiss me, to kiss him back, or to kiss him first, but then I caught sight of Kara Manzino scowling at me.
    The spell was broken—at least on me. I put my hands up against his chest and gently pushed him back. He frowned, confused, and didn't budge.
    "Look, um, let me go," I said, trying not to sound freaked and