Southbound Surrender by Raen Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

forth, I suddenly wonder if senior year is over yet.
    I’m in all accelerated and college preparatory classes in the morning, like AP Anatomy and History, and I know Piper should be in these same classes. Hudson, although he could hack it if he tried a little harder, isn’t in any AP classes, but our schedules collide in the afternoon. While I sit in fourth hour next to the open window and listen to Mr. Lee talk with his hands about the syllabus, semester, our futures, and the Cold War, I catch a faint whiff of smoke. I look around at the rest of the class taking notes and nodding their heads and realize I should do the same. Everyone in this class will take the AP test at the end of the semester to try to earn college credit and my recent change of heart about college has me thinking I should get my act together.
    Then I smell it again. It’s definitely there, and it’s definitely smoke. Cherry-tinged smoke.
    I snag a bathroom pass with barely a glance from Mr. Lee and trot down the stairs to the basement. Although students aren’t allowed on this floor, I know I won’t be questioned if a teacher or anyone else sees me. After all, I’m the son of the domain’s owner, Big Dave, and therefore, a lucky frequenter of the supply closets and maintenance rooms.
    I count the doors, positioning myself where Mr. Lee’s classroom is a floor above, and I land at Supply Closet A. I get down on my hands and knees to see if the light is on, but it’s black. I listen, waiting to hear a rustle inside the closet, but it’s silent. That’s when I smell the faint hint of cherry smoke again, and I know there is only one person in this school who would smoke a cigar in the middle of class – the girl I’ve been looking for all day.
    My hand reaches for the doorknob as I take one last check down the hallway. The hall is empty. All that’s standing between me and Piper is this door. I crack it open a few inches to see light pour onto her body. She’s standing on top of a metal shelving unit stocked with squirt bottles and buckets. She’s wearing tight jeans and a pink shirt. Go figure. She blows a stream of smoke out the open window a few inches above her head before she turns to me.
    “Welcome, Cash Rowland. I thought you’d never come,” she says, rotating the cigar with a small movement of her fingers.
    The door shuts behind me with a soft click. The cigar’s end glows a dull red and I hesitate for a second, deciding whether I want to turn on the light. Sharing a dark closet with Piper has its perks: mysterious and tempting, just like her. I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t want to see her body again, perched up on that shelf.
    I don’t lie.
    “What are you doing down here?” My hand fumbles along the wall for the light switch. I’ve been in this closet countless times, and I know the switch is right next to the shelf where Piper is standing. I accidentally graze her leg.
    “Getting freaky with me already? I barely know you,” she says with a laugh as I connect with the switch and light floods into the small space. Her laughter tickles my ears, and I shamelessly want to ask her to do it again. Instead, I shove my hands in my pockets and repeat my question.
    “What are you doing down here?”
    “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” She puts the cigar to her lips and inhales a slow, labored breath.
    “Do you seriously smoke? Who the hell smokes anymore? Did you know that lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in both men and women in the United States?” I ask as she lets out a small cough. “I’ll take that as a no to the first question.”
    “Yesterday, I was thinking about the best way to lure you down into a dark space, and I came up with this,” she says, handing the cigar to me. “Just take one drag.”
    Her words dance in my head. Yesterday. Luring. Dark space.
    “Cue cheesy music of an after-school special about peer pressure, drugs, and bullying,” I say with a crooked