One Southern Night Read Online Free

to say. She pouts, but there’s fire in her eyes. I don’t like it one bit.
    “Yeah, I was just leaving.” Darla slinks off my bed. She smoothes out her skirt, lifts her chin, and starts for the door. She walks past Laney without so much as a hello, and it pisses me off to no end. Most of the girls in school think it’s okay to brush her off because she isn’t like them. A stepford southern belle with a pole stuck up her ass. “Kam, you know my number. Call me when you feel better,” she says over her shoulder right before she leaves.
    Um, yeah. Darla. Delete.
    After she’s gone, it’s just me and Laney and a whole room of awkward silence. I break the ice.
    “Hi.”
    I never said it was going to be with poetry or anything.
    “Hi,” Laney responds with an entertained smile. I know what she’s thinking. Once a player, always a player. I wish she knew how wrong she was. Laney walks into my room and drops the book bag by my desk, then takes a look around. I love her confidence and comfort in her own skin. She isn’t intimidated by all the trophies or the black and white pictures of me playing hanging on the wall. Captured movements suspended in time. My favorite is the close-up where I’m just about to fire the football into the end zone. It’s a representation of my dream, of my focus, of my life. It’s also a reminder those things might all be gone.
    “It’s sort of just how I pictured it.”
    “And how is that?”
    “All jock.”
    “It’s not all jock. I still have Mr. Wiggles.” I hold up a small brown bear I’ve had as long as I can remember. I never could let go of this stupid stuffed animal.
    “Oh, well that makes it much less masculine then.” Laney sits down in the chair at the desk. Somehow she fits. “Ready to get started?”
    “Meh.”
    “Senioritis kicking in?” She pulls out a few thick, hardcover books.
    “I guess.”
    “I promise I’ll make it as painless as possible.”
    With you here, I feel no pain at all.
    “Sounds like a plan. How did you get slated for the job anyway?” I take the notebook she hands me.
    “I was in the office when Principal Adams was talking to Julius Maxwell. He was your original tutor.”
    “Orange Julius?” I curl my lip. Biggest brain at school. We call him Orange Julius because of his crazy ginger hair and freckles. He also talks like he’s whining. My skin crawls just thinking about it.
    “Yup. He looked like he wanted to throw up. I don’t think he liked the idea of being your tutor.”
    “That’s probably because I used to give him wedgies and shove him in his locker freshman year. I’ve grown up since then, but he still avoids me like the plague.”
    “Geez, I don’t blame him.” Laney grimaces at me.
    “I’m not that guy anymore,” I argue petulantly.
    “You sure?” she toys with me.
    “Yesss,” I cross my arms. “How did you end up my tutor anyway?”
    Laney looks guilty as she fiddles with the pen she’s holding. “I sort of stepped in.”
    “Stepped in how?”
    “I felt bad for Julius. He looked so uncomfortable. So, I told Principal Adams that I was your chem partner and worried about my grade. And maybe it would be better if I was your tutor so we could stay on the same page.”
    “And he bought that?”
    “Yeah, Julius couldn’t bow out fast enough.”
    “So now you have to put up with me?”
    Laney shrugs. “As long as you don’t try to give me a wedgie, things should be fine.”
    I laugh. I may not give her a wedgie, but I will definitely try to get as close to her underwear as possible. Ideally, pulling them off with my teeth.
    “I’m not making any promises,” I joke.
    “I wouldn’t expect you to. I know your M.O.”
    Ouch.
    “Let’s just get to studying,” I suggest.
    “It’s what I’m here for. Start with history?” She sits back down in the chair at my desk and folds her feet under her legs Indian style. She looks so cute sitting there, in my room, even though I wish she was in my bed. I