First Day (II)

Back in my room, I sit on the edge of my bed and watch Abbie dig through her backpack. She pulls out neatly folded clothes and lays them on my desk.

"You're not changing?" she asks, glancing at my t-shirt and jeans.

"This works." I shrug. "Not trying to impress anyone."

Abbie rolls her eyes. "Some of us have standards, Doe."

She peels off her sports bra in one fluid motion, tossing it onto my desk chair. I lean back against the wall, not even pretending I'm not watching. She catches my eye and smirks.

"Enjoying the show?"

"Always," I answer honestly.

She takes her time, stretching her arms above her head before reaching for the light blue sweater. It slides over her skin, soft cashmere settling against her body. Without a bra underneath, the outline of her breasts is visible against the fabric.

She steps out of my sweatpants next, standing in just her underwear for a moment before pulling on a white pleated skirt that hits mid-thigh. The whole thing takes maybe two minutes, but she knows exactly what she's doing to me.

"No bra today?" I ask, voice rougher than I intended.

She walks over, standing between my legs. "Ease of access," she says, taking my face in her hands. "Never know when we might need a quick study break."

I pull her down onto my lap, kissing her deeply. Her hands slide into my hair, tugging slightly. When we break apart, her lipstick is smudged, and I can feel the ghost of it on my mouth.

"We're going to be late," she murmurs against my lips, making no move to get up.

"Mom's driving. We've got time." My hands find the bare skin under her sweater, tracing the curve of her spine.

She shivers, then abruptly stands up. "Nice try. But I'm not starting senior year with detention."

She walks to my closet and pulls out my varsity jacket, black with gold trim, Doe stitched across the back above my number. She slips it on over her sweater. It's too big on her, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips.

"You wearing that all day?" I ask.

"Problem?" She raises an eyebrow, challenge in her voice.

"No." I stand and adjust the collar of the jacket around her neck. "Looks better on you anyway."

Her expression softens for a fraction of a second before she's back to business, checking her reflection in my mirror and reapplying her lipstick. "Come on. Your mom's waiting."

Downstairs, Mom's got her purse and keys ready, tapping her foot by the door. "Finally. I was about to leave without you two."

"Sorry, Auntie," Abbie says, her voice shifting to the polite, perfect tone she uses with parents. "I couldn't find my sweater."

Mom looks between us, her eyes lingering on Abbie in my jacket, but she doesn't comment. "Let's go."

In the car, Abbie pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her schedule. "What classes did you get this semester?" she asks me.

"AP Physics, Calc, English, History, and some bullshit elective." I lean forward from the back seat to see her screen. "You?"

"AP Psych, AP Lit, AP Calc BC, AP Chem, AP European History, and French."

"Jesus. Why do you hate yourself?"

She shrugs. "College applications."

"You're already taking six AP classes?" Mom interjects, impressed. "That's ambitious, even for you."

"I'm planning on summa cum laude," Abbie says simply, like it's already decided. With her, it probably is.

"And you?" Mom asks me, glancing in the rear-view mirror. "Any advanced classes this year?"

"Just Physics and Calc. Coach says not to overload."

What I don't say is that I barely passed AP Bio last year, even with Abbie tutoring me three nights a week.

"Smart coach," Mom says, surprising me.

Abbie reaches back between the seats and squeezes my knee. "We have English together," she says. "And lunch period."

"Thank fuck for that," I mutter. Last year we didn't have any classes together, and I barely saw her between her extracurriculars and my practices.

Mom pulls up to the school entrance where kids are already streaming in. The building looks exactly the same as it did in June, brick façade, faded banners congratulating last year's graduates, buses lined up along the curb.

"Have a good day," Mom says. "I'm working late tonight, so you're on your own for dinner."

"I'll cook," I tell her. "Don't worry about it."

She nods, then looks at Abbie. "You coming over tonight?"

"If that's okay," Abbie says. "My parents are at a conference until Thursday."

"Of course. Anytime." Mom smiles at her, then gives me a pointed look. "Behave yourselves."

"Always do," I say, and get a snort in response.

We climb out of the car, and Mom drives off with a honk. The school courtyard is already packed with students, everyone louder than necessary, showing off new clothes, new haircuts, new phones. The buzz of first-day energy.

Across the quad, I spot my teammates clustered near the gym entrance. Sanjay sees me first and raises his hand in greeting.

"There's Ashley," Abbie says, nodding toward a group of girls in matching track jackets. "Cheer meeting before homeroom."

"See you in English?" I ask.

She nods, already switching modes, shoulders back, chin up, the smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes but looks perfect in photos. She reaches up and kisses me quickly, leaving a faint mark of red on my lips.

"Try not to miss me too much," she says, her voice low enough that only I can hear.

The first bell rings, harsh and insistent, cutting through the chaos of the courtyard. Everyone starts moving toward the building, the flow of bodies narrowing at the doors. Another year begins, the last one that matters before everything changes.