Chapter 1: Oil and Water
Hi, it's me Hillary. I bought you from the local bookstore because I thought you were very pretty, and as advised by my English teacher, I needed something to keep track of my thoughts. I have always loved writing, but I have some difficulty expressing myself in words, which is odd because I somehow won as the junior class representative using my rusty speaking skills. :|
Maybe through this exercise, I can improve my verbal skills. And who knows, I may enjoy talking to you. After all, you won't judge me for what I say or do. My best friend Betsy will never judge me either, but I feel that there are things that I cannot share with her, but I can with you. I hope you understand, Deedee.
I guess this is it for now. I have nothing much to share with you, actually, except that airhead Bill "Pretty Boy" Clinton bullied me again in front of the everybody at school. He loudly proclaimed that Vince Foster was blind to ask me at the prom. That jerk. I wish I could dump his huge head on the garbage can, because that's where he belongs. Him, and his band of jocks who thinks they own the school. Urgh.
Oh well. He'll get his karma. Probably not today but in the future.
Talk to you later, Deedee.
Hillary quietly locked her newly-bought journal and stuffed it gently inside her back. She could hear Betsy calling her from the door of the library. Apparently, lunch break was already over and they should be heading towards the chemistry lab.
"Come on, Hill. Mrs. Merkel wants to start early because we're having an experiment today," Betsy told her best friend.
Hillary racked her brain for that small detail as she quickened her pace. "Oh yeah. She did say that."
"I hope we're early. I wanna sit next to you," Betsy panted as they walked briskly towards the chemistry lab, passing several hallways.
"Me too. I don't wanna sit next to Dan. He picks his nose everywhere."
"He's already in high school but he's still as disgusting as he was in grade school," Hillary rolled her eyes.
"There are some things people can't grow out of," Betsy agreed.
"Yeah, like Pretty Boy and jerk-ism."
"Oh come on, Hillary," said Betsy, exasperated. "Him again?"
"I'll stop when he does. I didn't fire the first cannon," Hillary said irritably as she held the doorknob of the chemistry lab. "If he could just let me live in peace, then that would be great."
Besty simply shrugged. Hillary did have a point. The verbal bullying started back during her freshman year, when she was a transferee. Pretty Boy was a sophomore then. One day, Hillary tripped in front of the everyone in the cafeteria and it was Bill who let out a loud, hearty laugh from his table with the other jocks. Hillary, flustered and embarassed, got up and threw her milk all over his face. That was the beginning of the Rodham-Clinton feud that transcended through the years. They were verbally attacking each other whenever and wherever the opportunity presented itself. At first, it was just words, but later on, it escalated to nasty pranks. Their feud had gotten so bad that Bill ended up with a broken arm and was prevented from playing football for three months. Their principal, Mrs. Pelosi, finally intervened. The feud was still there, but it wasn't as nasty as it was a few years back.
Hillary opened the door, and the two girls found the classroom almost full, except for two empty seats situated far apart from each other. Betsy and Hillary masked their disappointment. At least, Dan was sitting next to Claire, the new girl from Missouri (she was just too polite to tell him off). The two empty seats were next to Model UN Club Vice President, John Kerry and, to Hillary's horror, Pretty Boy, who was stuffing something in the pocket of his varsity jacket.
Hillary walked her way next to John's seat, Betsy got to it first. She could not believe her best friend would leave her out to dry like that. Betsy mouthed an apologetic "Sorry". She too disliked Bill, and she secretly liked John. (She wouldn't admit it to Hillary though the latter figured it out a while ago). Fuming, Hillary quietly walked towards the seat next to Bill's.
"So, it's Little Miss Future President. Are you going to make fun illegal? Because you seem to suck the fun out wherever you go," Bill whispered the moment Hillary took her seat.
"No, but I will outlaw jerkishness. See you in jail, Clinton. I do hope they have striped jerseys there," she quietly fired back.
Hillary could see that she did a good job of pissing him off, as his cheeks were red as beets. Before he could say another word, Mrs. Merkel had entered the classroom and the students settled.
"Good afternoon, class."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Merkel."
"For today, we will be discussing types of mixtures. I want you all to grab your aprons, gloves and get three beakers and stirring rods per table. Some of you come here and get these items," Mrs. Merkel said, pointing at the bottles of ink, oil and suspension medicine in front of her.
The class did as they were told. From the other side of the lab, Hillary could see that Betsy's eyes were still sparkling as she followed John to the equipment cabinet. Hillary could bet that her best friend would walk away from this class learning nothing. Because she was looking somewhere else, she didn't see the person in front of her, and she suddenly found herself bumping into another body.
"Ow! Watch it!"
To her horror and dismay, Hillary had bumped into Pretty Boy, who was gingerly rubbing his chest. Hillary, meanwhile, was nursing her forehead, which hit his chin.
"Watch where you're going, you klutz!" Bill winced in pain.
"You can't blame me if you're all over the place!" she retorted, the pain in her forehead still pounding.
"It's not my fault if you're blind as a bat!" Bill pointed at Hillary's glasses.
"It's not my fault if you're a pompuous ass!"
Hillary was a little too loud on that last retort, and it caught the attention of their teacher and fellow classmates, who simultaneously looked at their direction.
"Language, Ms. Rodham," Mrs. Merkel warned.
"Sorry," Hillary apolpgized sheepishly. She then turned her attention back to Bill. "Move, Clinton. You're standing in my way."
Bill rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Shall I roll the red carpet for you?"
Hillary was about to respond but she chose not to when Bill left. She then took an apron from the cabinet and three beakers as Mrs. Merkel instructed. She returned to her seat with Bill giving a very bored look at the chalkboard.
"Alright. Now, I want you to fill your beakers with water," said Mrs. Merkel. The students did as they were told.
"Once you have filled it with water," the chemistry teacher continued, "I want you to dip your stirring rods in the ink and stir the ink into the water."
Hillary and Bill both reached for the singular stirring rod, and the to immediately recoiled when their hands touched.
"Jesus, Rodham," Bill whispered angrily.
"You heard, Mrs. Merkel! Dip the rod in the ink!" Hillary muttered furiously to her lab partner.
"Alright, alright, Miss Bossypantsuits..."
Bill dipped the rod in the ink bottle and stirred the blue liquid in the water. Like clockwork, the water turned blue.
"So, what have you noticed with the water?" asked Mrs. Merkel.
"It's blue," the class murmured lazily.
"Correct. What else?"
"It's perfectly mixed," said John.
"Yes, it is," Mrs. Merkel replied. "Furthermore, neither of you can properly identify which part of the new substance is water or ink, right?"
The class collectively shook their heads.
"These type of mixtures are called homogeneous mixtures or simply, solutions. Other examples are coffee and juices for liquids, air for gases and metal alloys for solids," their teacher explained.
Hillary was listening intensely to Mrs. Merkel while Bill had his chin propped up in his hand, looking extremely bored. Hillary couldn't roll her eyes hard enough. How could this guy pass his classes?
Unbeknownst to her, Bill was looking at her intently when she had her head down as she was writing her notes.
"Now, for our next experiment, I want you to pour the oil in the water and mix it with the rod," said Mrs. Merkel.
"You heard Mrs. Merkel, pour the oil!" Bill pushed Hillary.
"I am, I am! Geez, do you have somewhere you need to be right now?" said Hillary, pointing at the oil she poured. Hillary stirred it, and the oil kept settling on top of the water.
"Now class, what do you notice?"
"It's not mixing at all," Betsy said, which Hillary was sure was an effort to impress John.
"Well, try stirring it a little more," Mrs. Merkel suggested.
The class stirred their oil again, and again, and again, but the oil as too stubborn not to mix with the water. In time, Bill was finding this exercise quite pointless.
"Uhm, Mrs. Merkel," Bill raised his hand, "What's the point of this? The oil won't mix and no matter what we do, it doesn't. And besides, isn't there a saying that does 'Oil and water don't mix'?"
"Precisely, Bill. Oil and water don't mix. You figured it out!" Mrs. Merkel applauded Bill. "This type of mixture is called a heterogenous mixture. Unlike the first type, the components of this type can easily be distinguished. Look at your beakers. The oil is clearly visible from the water. You can even scoop the oil out so you'll be left with water. That's how heterogenous mixtures work."
Hillary wasn't a class showoff, but it pissed her that their teacher found favor in her archnemesis. Sersiously, how could anyone see anything good in him?!
Her eyes darted to the oil and water mixture. She couldn't resist the temptation of comparing the mixture to her current lab partner and herself. Heterogeneous, huh. No water how hard they were stirred, they would never mix, they would never get along. Only Jesus Christ could make oil and water mix.
Unlike back then when she thought they were ink and water.
Hillary shook her head. Was the ton of schoolwork beginning to addle her brains? For a moment, she thought she was fondly reminiscing the time when Pretty Boy wasn't a jerk, and her experiences with him taught her never to trust that handsome, breathtaking face, because that was all it was: a face. A cover. A façade. Behind it was a cold, callous person who didn't deserve an iota of her sympathy. But there she was, feeling the teensiest amount of affection for the guy.
Focus, Hillary. Pretty Boy is a master of deceipt. You fell for his false charms and that ain't happening again.
Hillary shifted in her seat and refocused her attention back to Mrs. Merkel, who was already discussing colloids ("Colloids are mixtures that are intermediate of homogeneous and heterogeneous mixtures"). Looking through her peripheral vision, she could see Pretty Boy absentmindedly spinning his pen. Typical airhead, Hillary thought.
While Bill didn't bug her for the rest of the class, the sound of the bell couldn't come sooner. She wanted to get away from Pretty Boy as far away as she could, as only distance from him could give her peace of mind.
After their chemistry class, Betsy seemed to be floating in cloud nine. Hillary swore she saw stars in her best friend's eyes.
"Isn't he dreamy?" Betsy mused.
"Does he even know you exist?" Hillary raised an eyebrow.
"He does! He invited me to a meeting of the Model UN!" Betsy insisted.
"Maybe he needs more members?" Hillary asked.
"Either way, I'm going."
"Betsy, you need to lower your expectations. You might be in for a disappointment if he doesn't ask you out."
"I am sure he will!" Betsy said giddily.
"That's...that's exactly what I am warning against."
"Oh stop it, you party pooper," Betsy swatted Hillary's arm affectionately. "You have Vince going with you to the prom. Why can't I have a date too?"
Hillary sighed, stopping dead in her tracks, "I think Vince is already regretting he asked me out."
"Why? Pretty Boy again?" Betsy asked with genuine concern. "He shamed him for asking you out?"
"Yes. I said hi to Vince earlier but he won't answer back," Hillary replied sadly.
Betsy patted her best friend's back in support. "Chin up, girl. I know you'll be with someone at prom. Maybe someone will get to third base with you."
Betsy giggled. "No, seriously. Once the boys see you in that dress you bought? They'll be battling it out to be with you alone."
"Awww, Betsy, you're so sweet."
"Yes, I am, and so are milkshakes. The Chocolair after school?"
Hillary was breathless when she replied, "Yes!"
And so, the thought of milkshakes after school erased the worried off Hillary's mind, including that of Pretty Boy Bill Clinton.
Chapter 2: Secret Penpals
If you're thinking WHY THE HELLL IS THIS BITCH NOT WRITING THE ENDING OF TO LOVE YOU MORE I AM DYING IN HERE, well, the chapter's halfway done but I left it in my laptop back home so I can't finish it until the weekend. :(
And about the sequel of We Are Not Getting Back Together Ever Again!, don't worry. I'm working on that. ^_^
UPDATE: I had to change the name of Bill's girlfriend. I made that decision after I wrote the draft of this chapter and I thought I changed it but apparently, I haven't. You'll see why she's important. ^_^
Hillary dropped her bag on her bed, stretching her arms and legs after a long day at school. She immediately saw the plate of sandwich and a cup of hot cocoa sitting on her study table, and for the billionth time, appreciated her mother's efforts for her. She took a sip of cocoa, sat on the chair and opened her PC.
The first thing she did was open her mailbox. It had been her ritual since a few months ago when she (secretly) met this random guy from an online forum. Since then, they had grown very very close. Nobody knew about the existence of her secret penpal, even Betsy. She feared she would be ridiculed at school if anyone knew.
Hillary's eyes darted past the MySpace notifications and other random emails until she saw the mail she was looking for, and her heart fluttered in excitement.
"Okay, what do you have for me, Handsome?" Hillary whispered giddily.
She clicked on the email, and this message greeted her:
Just finished Rise from the Ashes. That game is superb! How about you? What are you playing right now?
Hillary excitedly typed her reply:
I told you you'd love it! Took me a month to finish because Damon Gant is being an ass. Overall, it was very good. Any more recommendations on your end? How's your day, by the way?
Hillary's heart was almost soaring when she clicked "Send". No matter how bad her day way, she was sure to be greeted by lordofthesax's emails. Was he her online boyfriend? Perhaps, but they did not have a name for whatever it was they were having. They were best friends at a distance, that's for sure. In a way, Hillary trusted lordofthesax more than she trusted Betsy. Maybe there was an air of anonymity in their friendship that made then easily open up to each other in a way that a normal friendship couldn't.
They first met online over six months ago in a gaming forum they were both in. Over in the anything else goes section of the forum, Hillary found lordofthesax's post about being pressured by his high school peers. Hillary, pressured by parents and bullied at school herself, took sympathy over him and PM-ed him with encouraging words. Hillary didn't think lordofthesax would reply to her message, but he did. He gave heartfelt thanks to her encouragement, and from there, their conversations flowed easily, until they found the forum too obstructive to their increasingly personal conversations that they decided to transfer to email. No matter how small, how silly a topic, they always brought it into their conversations.
Just before Hillary stood up to change, her cat, Socks, suddenly jumped up to her lap and seemed to reach for the keyboard. "No, Socks. You missed it. I already sent my email to lordofthesax," she cooed to her pet, kissing its head. Socks had a peculiar knack for jumping up to her whenever she composes an email to her dear online penpal. It's as if the creature knew that she liked him that much.
"Here you go," Hillary carried Socks and gently laid him on the floor. "Don't bother me now. I'm gonna study. You got that?"
The cat let out a meow that seemed to tell her that he understood.
After changing her clothes and devouring her snacks, Hillary went back to her PC to send an email to her chemistry lab partner, Bill. They were supposed to research about their upcoming lesson, saturated solutions, and entropy. Hillary pretty much knew that Bill wouldn't initiate something unless it was sex (he had a reputation of being a ladies man at school) so Hillary took it upon herself to get in touch with him:
So, how are we going to split the topics between us?
Hillary almost rolled her eyes when she pressed "Send". She was pretty sure she would end up doing most of the work. Why on earth would Bill Clinton, football quarterback, popular kid and campus crush, would sink low to do a stupid homework? It's beneath his dignity as the star of Abraham Lincoln High. Him? Do homework?! Such a scandal! But still, Hillary tried her luck to make him do his share.
Hillary, wanting to see if her pitch would work, decided to do her math homework first. She opened her drawer and took out her orange highlighter (one of her many from her pastel highlighter collection), and began reading her notes for the day. Hillary was about to work on her homework when she refreshed her web browser and a new email from Bill Clinton sat in her inbox.
Just tell me the topics you want. I'll do the rest.
Huh. Hillary found Bill's email incredibly civil and...respectful? She furrowed her brows. Did he even write this thing? And what's with the "you choose" thing?! Hillary was sure that either he would choose the easy topics and then leave the rest to her, or he would let her do everything and bribe her afterward (which happened pretty much all the time with girls not named Hillary Rodham). Still in disbelief, Hillary typed her reply:
I'll take the saturated solutions part. Entropy is yours.
She purposely took the part where no math was involved, just to see his reaction, although she was pretty sure she would be met with an objection from him. She could both topics, either way, but she was devoted to doing this social experiment with Bill.
She sighed. Lordofthesax still hadn't replied. She wasn't particularly needy or demanding, but she just wished he would talk to her soon. Nothing serious or anything, but she felt that there was just a void needed to be filled, and only he could to that. But, she understood that he too might need to attend to his chores and duties, as he too was a high school student like she was.
Breaking her reverie, a pop-up message from Bill Clinton came up to her instant messenger.
billclinton42: when do u need d research?
Hillary blinked and rubbed her eyes. He was indeed committed to doing this research.
hillaryrodham: b4 10 pls. I need 2 edit ur part before turning it in
billclinton42: alryt. Will try to submit. Tnx
Okay, that was sooooo weird. Normally, any other lab partner would have simply shrugged and breathed in relief when their lab partner said he would submit their work within their internal deadline. But not Hillary. He was too nice to her that she was pretty sure he and his wicked girlfriend Kellyanne were planning something again to torment her again. She was panicking for this incredibly out of character move from Bill. As a precaution, Hillary decided to print their online conversations. She might need those for evidence later.
Hillary’s part in the research was pretty easy, so she was able to finish it in no time. Bill’s however, was quite difficult. Just in case, Hillary did Bill’s part in the event that he found his topic too difficult, or he didn’t do their homework on purpose. If the latter came true, then he would need to watch his ass because she would certainly make him pay for that.
The rest of the night was uneventful until the clock struck 10. Five minutes past ten, and still no input from Bill. Hillary waited a bit more. Five, ten and then fifteen more minutes had passed but she couldn’t wait further. She needed to proofread his part or else they would be passing a half-baked research. At 20 minutes past 10, Hillary decided to call it a night.
But not before one last check of her email. She refreshed her browser again and a new mail from Bill was on the top of her inbox. Hillary blinked twice. Yep, Bill did send his research at 10:21 pm, probably at the exact moment Hillary decided to give up. She opened his email containing a short reply:
Here you go
It irked Hillary that he submitted beyond the deadline, but considering that this was Bill Clinton, the person who set the lowest bars on, well, everything, Hillary thought that this was a significant improvement for him. Not that she was impressed or anything. She just found it…weird. She was able to exchange a sentence with Pretty Boy without firing an insult. It was like Donald Trump stopped talking about himself. Maybe she was dreaming?
If indeed she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up, as a new message from lordofthesax popped up.
lordofthesax: Heya Finally, he’s online! Hillary had been looking forward to this moment all day.
sexyofstate: hey. Whaddup?
lordofthesax: nothing much. Just finished doing homework. u?
sexyofstate: almost done. Gonna do some proofreading and I'm off. How’s your day? And how’s your be-nice-to-nerdy-girl project going?
lordofthesax: To be honest w u, I havent done much progress. I cant help but be an ass.
sexyofstate: oh you bully. I thot u promised to be nice from now on?
lordofthesax: for some reason, I just hate that girl. Cant stand her. Hearing her voice kinda feels like nails on a chalkboard. She talks 2 loud.
sexyofstate: oh boy. is she that bad?
lordofthesax: totally. she never missed an opportunity to make me feel miserable.
sexyofstate: she a bitch?
lordofthesax: yeah, but I think it’s partly my fault too. I feel miserable because I knew I started it.
sexyofstate: but with the way you said she’s been acting, she kinda deserves it.
lordofthesax: doesn’t justify my asshole attitude though
sexyofstate: not really, but I’m glad your remorse is real. I know you can shove away your demons one day.
lordofthesax: thanks. I know it sounds weird, but you’re the bestest friend I ever had.
sexyofstate: same. I can tell you things I can’t tell my girlfriend.
lordofthesax: like…girlfriend? *wink*
sexyofstate: no silly! Like…my best friend. Well, second best to you.
lordofthesax: wow, I am touched.
lordofthesax: hey…sorry for being such a downer, but can I ask you something?
sexyofstate: fire away
lordofthesax: I have a something to tell you first
Her heart pounding, Hillary took a deep breath. A million scenarios emerged from her imaginative brain, ranging from lordofthesax being gay to him having cancer. After all, despite trusting each other beyond measure, the two of them hadn’t detailed specifics of their life, except for some tidbits here and there, like how school was like, or in lordofthesax’s case, the nerdy girl that drove him nuts. This was the first time Hillary would get a real glimpse of lordofthesax.
An agonizing minute passed by, and still, there was no response from lordofthesax. Every second of uncertainty killed her. Her stomach was already twisting in knots. What was it that he was about to say?
Unable to take it much longer, Hillary typed three dots.
Three miles away, Bill Clinton sat at his desk pulling his hair out. Shit. He was about to tell a complete stranger that he had a girlfriend, and somehow, he felt like he was cheating. To the stranger. To be honest, he didn’t feel a single shred of affection to his girlfriend, Kellyanne. After all, it was she who had a major crush on him and him, the school’s quarterback, and her, the captain of the cheering squad, going out together seemed natural. However, it never felt right. There was always someone who occupied his heart, and it never was Kellyanne. First, it was that nerdy girl that he came to despise, and now, this kind stranger whom he could never ask for more.
He bet sexyofstate was damn beautiful, no matter what she looked like.
Pulling every ounce of courage in his body, Bill took a deep breath and began to type.
Finally, Hillary’s eyes light up and when she saw lordofthesax’s message.
lordofthesax: I should have told you this a while ago but I never had the courage to do so. I want to tell you…I have a girlfriend.
I have a girlfriend.
Hillary couldn’t find four words more devastating than the last ones she just read. She knew she had to right to, but hurt, anger and jealousy sprung from her chest. Her hands were almost shaking when she typed her response:
That’s it? That’s all she was going to say? Bill found it quite uncharacteristic of her to give such a short response. Either she was still processing the news, or she was deeply hurt. Bill prayed that it was just the former.
Hillary did her best to control her emotions. She didn’t want to come out as too attached or too hopeful to lordofthesax, but in face, she was both.
The ball was in lordofthesax’s court, and Hillary sat there, waiting.
Bill blankly stared at the screen. What now? Was he supposed to reply? How the heck could he respond to oh. A smiley? Three dots? What?
In the end, all Bill could say was:
lordofthesax: pls say sumthin. it’s not what u think
Hillary’s blood boiled. Did he really think she was that stupid? Is there any other way to look at it? Lordofthesax was a two-timing scum, and she fell for his false charms.
But then, it hit her: they were never official, to begin with. Whatever this – this something – between them, it was nothing more than platonic friendship. Really. Those feelings of infatuation – it was all just her, not him. And being angry at him for nor not returning her feelings – her feelings that probably he didn’t know that existed – was being too unfair to him.
Hillary took a deep breath. Pushing the hurt aside, she crafted a muted response:
sexyofstate: alright. tell me.
It took quite a while before lordofthesax’s reply appeared on her screen.
lordofthesax: I had girlfriend 4 quite a while, actually. Even before we met. But I’m not happy with her. I just hang out with her because, you know, same reason why I am mean to nerdy girl. I dont wanna lose my status at school
lordofthesax’s revelation appeased her a bit, but Hillary was still miffed.
sexyofstate: not sure I find that acceptable, but I get you. what are you going to do then?
lordofthesax: I want to break up w/ her soon.
Hillary’s eyes were wide as saucers. That…escalated quickly.
sexyofstate: u serious about dat?
lordofthesax: yep. I…I don’t wanna be w her anymore. Should have done that a long time ago. I am sorry I told you this just now. I’m not sure how to tell you when it became clear that I needed to
Hillary felt her heartstrings tug, her hand involuntarily resting on her chest as if she would explode. Come to think of it, this was the closest thing akin to a fight for them, and even so, lordofthesax had been very mindful of her feelings. He never failed to make her feel special, and that thought alone could almost make Hillary float from her seat.
sexyofstate: thank you 4 telling me all of this :-) I have 2 admit, I did get a little mad at u, but it’s all good now. I can really tell that ur a good man, even when others see u otherwise
lordofthesax: tnx. That means a lot to me. :-)
sexyofstate: that’s what friends are for.
Yes, friends, Hillary thought. Just friends. Best friends. Better not get ahead of herself. She was ready to call it a night, her online buddy popped up another message.
lordofthesax: I’d like to properly apologize to you
Huh? He already said sorry. What else was there to apologize for?
lordofthesax: I hope you have your speakers on.
Hillary grabbed her earphones from her table and plugged it into her computer. Within seconds, an audio file appeared on her screen. It was three minutes long. Hillary clicked the file, and immediately, she was treated to the sweet, sweet melody of a saxophone. It was amateurly recorded, but damn, the background noise didn’t stop Hillary from closing her eyes and allowing herself to be caressed by the exquisite sounds. And the song was perfect too. A Song for You by Natalie Cole. It sounded so beautiful that she could almost cry.
sexyofstate: that was exquisite. I love it so much. Did u play it?
lordofthesax: yep. thus my username. I hope you enjoyed it.
sexyofstate: I did. Thank u
lordofthesax: I wish I can dance with u right now w/ the sax playing behind us
Hillary’s heart danced in pure joy. She doesn’t know why she was still giddy despite her affirmation to keep it cool with lordofthesax, but her treacherous heart was overpowering her rational mind.
sexyofstate: me too
lordofthesax: I look forward to that day
With all her worries forgotten (including her chemistry homework), Hillary spent the rest of the night and wee hours of the exchanging words of affection with her anonymous man, not knowing the firestorm that she was about to endure a few hours later…
Chapter 3: Infuriating
Told you, I have lots of free time. =))))
Hillary quietly submitted hers and Bill's research homework when she came in late for Chemistry class. She was met with curious looks from her classmates and a nasty scowl from her lab partner, who was angrily waiting for her. She muttered a soft apology to Mrs. Merkel and the class for disrupting the discussion, and to Bill for submitting their homework late.
"What in the world kept you?! Are you trying to sabotage me on purpose?!" He muttered angrily.
"I didn't," she whispered back with as much emotion as he did. "If your less-than-functioning brain could recall, my grade also hinges on that homework. Stop making this all about you, Clinton."
"Then why are you late?!"
"I fell asleep in the library, that's all," Hillary explained.
What Hillary told Bill was the truth. She was sleepy all morning because she spent the previous evening talking to lordofthesax until 4am. She even forgot to proofread their Chemistry homework that she simply printed her own work right off the bat. Thank God she made a spare homework for her and Bill. She felt kinda bad that Bill's work didn't make it to their final draft, but hey, if they got an A, he wouldn't have much to complain. Besides, she doubted that he would read that homework after Mrs. Merkel returned it.
Hillary's alibi was met with disbelief from Bill. Hillary couldn't care less, though. She had more important things to do than to convince his asshole of a lab partner that she wasn't sabotaging him. He wasn't going to believe her anyway so why bother?
As it turned out, even if she wanted to focus her energy on other more important things, she couldn't. Hell, she didn't even have energy. She was unusually sleepy at Chemistry. She didn't even have the energy to mind Bill, who was pulling strands of her hair just to piss her off. Actually, she was happy that he was doing that, as his antics were keeping her from really falling asleep in class.
When the bell rang, Hillary sped off from class, leaving Bill a little confused, and frankly, disappointed. It felt quite odd and frustrating not to get a rise out of his archnemesis. Ordinarily, she would have probably kicked his shins or bruised his arm already. But a quiet, unfeeling Hillary? Whoa whoa whoa. Maybe the aliens had abducted the real Hillary and carted her off to space. After all, he had called her the Martian Queen many times before for her eccentricities. Maybe the aliens heard him and believed that she was their Queen?
Nah. It probably wasn't gonna happen even if Martians were real. Why would they punish themselves for succumbing to the rule of such a pain in the ass? Unless, of course, Martians were masochists. Bill, however, was not. And that was why it was he was baffled with himself. Why the hell was he squeamish when he finally got the one thing he always wanted: a moment of peace from that loud chatterbox disguised as a teenage girl?!
Urgh, PMS Girl is rubbing off you. Get a grip, Bill.
Yes, he called her PMS Girl because he thought she seemed to be in a permanent state of PMS, and it was the nickname that earned the most ire from her. Something about stigma and feminism that made her extra antsy about that nickname. Blah blah blah. Bill didn't want to hear it, and he couldn't care less.
And that laugh of hers! Urgh that laugh! Why, her laughed sounded like the cackle of a witch! He was once the receiving end of her anger when he passed by her, his hands covering her ears, as she was laughing. Her peripheral vision caught him and she wasted no time screaming the shit out of him. He could only press his hands harder and sing la la la la la just to drown out her voice, which to him was as pleasant as nails on a chalkboard. His attempts to deflect her only stroked her temper, and it backfired against him: he was left with a visible handprint on his cheek.
Urgh. Bill shook his head violently, clearing his thoughts of PMS Girl. He ain't a glutton for punishment. And besides, he was to meet his girlfriend Kellyanne at The Chocolair.
Right after class, Bill hurried to The Chocolair, the favorite student hangout in town. Their specialties were sundaes and milkshakes. Bill loved every menu item in The Chocolair. If he hadn't been in a strict diet regimen (because of football), he would have gone to The Chocolair everyday to eat his favorite banana split.
When Bill entered the snack bar, he found Kim and his friends in their usual booth right across the bar where everybody could see them. Kellyanne, with her girlfriends Ann and Tomi, and his two best buddies Barack and George were already waiting for him at their usual spot.
"Hey, Baby," Kellyanne scooted over to make space for Bill. "Did you miss me?" she batted her eyelashes flirtatiously.
"Of course I did, Baby," he lied. To be honest, he was a little groggy during the day because he had spent all night chatting with an anonymous girl whom he liked more than Kellyanne, but not worth ruining his relationship with his girlfriend for. Fine, he more than liked her, but he hadn't met her yet, and who knows, she might be actually a four-hundred-pound guy sitting on a basement casually flirting with a high school student. Eek. The thought of it crept Bill so he pushed his absurd thoughts away.
"Are you excited for prom?" said Kellyanne in a sickly sweet voice. "I know I am."
"Sean just asked me out," Ann bragged.
"And I, that Greek exchange student, Milo Yianopulos," Tomi exclaimed.
"Ewww, Tomi. Milo?!" Kellyanne exclaimed in disgust.
"We already made out. Twice. He is such a kisser," Tomi said breathlessly.
George and Barack looked like they were about to gag, so Bill asked them if they already had dates.
"Laura said yes," George clicked his tongue, proud of his achievement. "I thought I was gonna faint when I asked her."
"Michelle was kinda hinting that she wanna go with me," Barack said with a goofy grin.
"Ask her out, pal," Bill encouraged him, "no one in their right mind would reject Barack the Rock."
"And we, together right?" Kellyanne snuggled closer and leaned on his chest.
"Of course, Baby," he said. To be honest, he would be happier staying home and playing his sax than to go to the prom with her. But of course, Kellyanne wasn't going to the prom alone, so he would be going with her by default. Sometime during the past few weeks, he imagined himself being single and choosing a girl to ask out. He wanted the thrill of asking a girl out and waiting for her response if she said yes or no, the latter of which was unlikely because he was the popular guy in school.
Bill could think of one girl who would flatly reject his invite to go to the prom.
What?! Silly Bill. Was he really thinking of asking PMS Girl to the prom?! The lack of sleep must have been getting into him. Poor Vince Foster. He must have been either high or drunk when he made the decision to ask Hillary out. Bill laughed out loud when he found out that a guy actually asked PMS Girl to the prom! And Student Council Vice President Vince Foster too! Was he really trying to embarrass himself before he could graduate?
Kellyanne held him closer. "Baby? Do you hear me?"
"Wait, what?" Bill snapped out of his thoughts.
"I said we have cheerleading practice tomorrow. Do you have practice too?"
Bill shook his head. "Not tomorrow. The day after. Coach Kennedy isn't available tomorrow. But he wants us to do se drills,"
"So you'll be watching us, then?"
"From the far end of the grounds, and then from the bleachers, yeah."
"Sounds perfect," Kellyanne smiled.
By the time the sun had gone, Bill had already arrived home. He kissed his Mom, who was making soup, and he quickly went to his room for his daily ritual.
Bill opened his laptop and immediately checked his emails. Some messages from Kellyanne, Friendster, from his buddy Tony in England, but what was looking for was a message from his online anonymous best friend, and he was disappointed that the found none.
No matter. He would just email her right away.
Howdy! How's your day? Miss talking to you ;-)
Bill was grinning like an idiot when he pressed Send. He was sure that she would reply in a matter of minutes. No matter how bad or dull his day way, sexyofstate was there to brighten it up. She was such a ray of sunshine to him. She must be electric in person. If she could make him feel that way even at a distance, Bill could just imagine what she could do to him if she was within his proximity.
While he waited for her reply, Bill grabbed his saxophone from the corner of his room and played. He loved playing the sax and he was really good at it. He learned to play the instrument when he was very little. However, not a lot of people knew that he was a very talented musician. Bill figured that his schoolmates might think less of him if they found out that he was good at the sax. After all , one of the more talented musicians at school, Roy Moore, was found to be banned at the local mall because he was shamelessly ogling at grade schoolers that parents forced the mall management to bar him from entering. Of course, Bill didn't want to be associated with being a pedophile so he kept his musical talent to himself.
Bill began playing the sax to the tune of A Song for You by The Carpenters, the same song he sent sexyofstate last night. He felt the smooth tune of saxophone flowing through every vein in his body as he imagined sexyofstate listening to his music, her hand pressed on her chest and her eyes focused on him. He promised himself that he would play her this song once he met her, and that would happen as soon as he broke up with Kellyanne. Once Kellyanne was out of the way, he would be free to pursue sexyofstate
And he couldn’t wait for that to happen.
The night had fallen deeper, and Bill had played the song countless times. He looked over to his laptop to check if there was a reply from sexyofstate, and his stomach lurched in disappointment every time he saw that there was no new email. Perhaps she was busy doing her homework? Bill checked the time. It was just past 10pm. If he recalled correctly, he didn’t reply to her until around that time yesterday. He was just probably paranoid. He admitted that he was too excited to talked to her. How could he not be? The practically told each other last night how much they liked each other, and that memory made him feel alive. When he found out Kellyanne liked him, he couldn’t care less. But her? This girl he hadn’t even met? Not even close. He was so elated that could propel himself to the moon if he wanted to. Maybe he really could, and he could take her along with him, like what Aladdin did to Jasmine.
Bill waited and waited for sexyofstate’s reply, until he could no longer open his eyes. He needed to sleep after the way he spent his previous night. He probably had a stronger stamina than her, but he too needed to replenish his energy. Tired, and a little disappointed, Bill closed his eyes until sleep finally took him.
Just as when chemistry class was dismissed, Mrs. Merkel handed them back their homework. Bill was elated that he and Hillary got an A. It’s not that he never got an A before. He was doing alright in school (he had a scholarship to maintain so he needed to keep his grades up), but getting an A always felt very rewarding, especially when he worked hard to make it happen.
“Gimme that!” Bill pulled the paper from Hillary’s hands.
“You know you could say, ‘May I see that?’, right?” Hillary rolled her eyes.
Oh who cares. He was excited to skim all over the paper, but he was careful enough not to appear to eager so as not to catch Hillary’s attention. It was too late though, as she was already giving him curious glances. Bill searched for his part on the homework. That’s odd. He couldn’t remember writing any of the text from the topic assigned to him. A few paragraphs more, and he realized that this wasn’t his writing. Somebody else had written his paper.
“Hillary, where’s my part?” Bill asked quietly.
“It’s there.” Bill couldn’t help notice that she couldn’t look at him.
“No, it isn’t,” he flatly rejected her answer. “This isn’t my writing.”
“Oh! I didn’t know you can remember things. I thought your concussions lowered your IQ significantly.”
Bill hammered their desk, his fist clenched. “This is not mine, Rodham. I knew what I wrote.”
“W-w-why do you care? You got an A! You should be happy!” Hillary stammered.
The reddening of Bill’s face suggested anything but happiness. “I worked hard for it!”
Hillary scoffed. “I didn’t know you know how to work hard. You only know how to piss people off!”
Bill pounded his fist again. “And you don’t know how to not be condescending.”
Hillary stood up, outraged, “Excuse me?”
The other students became aware of the escalating tensions between Bill and Hillary, so they hurried out.
Bill took a deep breath in sheer frustration. “I was trying to not be an ass to you, and this is what I get?”
“Oh! I didn’t realize that you must be rewarded for every single good deed that you do. Sorry, I don’t have cookies right now,” she fired back, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“God! You’re so infuriating! What did Vince saw in you?!” Bill was already pulling his hair out.
Bill touching the subject of her prom date seemed to strike a nerve on Hillary.
She retorted, “For one, he has 20/20 vision and a functioning brain. You on the other hand…”
“What?” he stepped forward and stood taller to intimidate her. “What about me? I dare you to say it.”
Even if she was a head shorter than Bill, Hillary was unfazed by his intimidation tactics. She looked up at him with fiery eyes and a more fiery passion.
“William. Jerkinson. Clinton,” she accentuated each word with a prod on his chest and a step forward. Her head held high, her lips were dangerously close to his chin. Bill could feel the faintest flutters of butterflies in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if her insults were getting through him, or he was anticipating something else.
For a split second, he had the urge to meet her halfway. Her lips were so soft and pink. Her skin looked so smooth to the touch. Bill could just stare at the freckles that adorned her bare face. Her warmed breath fanned his chin. She was closer than she had ever been, and his resistance was slowly breaking away until…
“GET OFF MY BOYFRIEND, YOU HARPY!”
Kellyanne’s voice was like a screeching sound of the car brakes, and like the brakes of the car, it put a stop on whatever craziness that was brewing inside Bill. Urgh. For a second there, he thought he was going to kiss that PMS Girl. Ha. No way in hell that was going to happen. To prove that, he pulled Kellyanne and immediately wrapped his arm around her waist.
“The nerve of you, barking at my boyfriend like that,” Kellyanne chided Hillary.
“Oh look, Bill. You can’t even save yourself without your girlfriend bitching in. How pathetic,” Hillary put her hands on her waist and purposely bumped her chest against Kellyanne’s. Bill felt uncomfortable at Hillary’s bold move.
“At least, he has a girlfriend,” Kellyanne retorted. “You on the other hand…”
“…don’t need a guy to prove my worth. What’s your point?” Hillary interrupted with lightning speed.
“It means you don’t get to pick on my girlfriend,” Bill prodded Hillary’s chest. He thought he sounded insincere and frankly, pathetic when he said that “Oh please, you think I’m picking on her. Then you haven’t seen anything yet!” Hillary stomped her foot on Bill’s right toe, and he let out a loud yelp of pain, withdrawing his hold on Kellyanne. Hillary then pulled Kellyanne’s hair before she angrily marched out of the chemistry lab, the loud stomps of her foot drowning the whimpers of her two mortal enemies.
“Damn that bitch,” Kellyanne swore. “She won’t get away with this.”
“No, she won’t,” Bill said as he rubbed his toe. “And I have the just perfect plan for that.”
Grinning wickedly, Bill and Kellyanne left the room to plot their next move against Hillary.
Chapter 4: Saturation
I'll be at a seminar the whole day so I'm dropping this early. :)
Hillary ran off to her bed and screamed on her pillow as hard as she could. She needed an outlet. Badly. Never did she remember a day that ended up like the one she had, and not in a good way. If she could, she would have vanished into thin air and never come back. Melting like the Wicked Witch of the West was also a viable option. Or being eaten alive by quicksand. Anything, anything but having to exist as Hillary Rodham, the unluckiest person alive on planet Earth. Well, actually, scratch that. Hillary Rodham, the unluckiest person alive in the universe.
Her day started like any other day: she woke up early, ate her breakfast and walked to school. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing could have warned her of the unfortunate series of events that would unfold that day, like blocks of domino falling one by one.
The first sign of things to come came when Hillary opened her locker, and a peculiar note stuck out from her books. She opened the note, and the weirdest message freaked the fuck out of her:
I didn’t know you liked me too
That was…gross? And weird? Because Hillary, despite having known that Donald, the rich kid who had cheese allergies, liked her, never EVER showed or expressed any interest in him. She was happy to ignore him in any way she could. When she was campaigning for class rep, she even skipped the classes he was in so that she could avoid any personal interaction with him. The boy was creepy as fuck. One time, while she was falling in line for lunch at the cafeteria with Betsy, Donald simply followed her. He was just there, standing and waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. When she and Betsy were finally couldn’t stand the creepiness, they were forced to eat at the ladies’ room so that Donald wouldn’t follow Hillary.
Hillary bet that this was one of Donald’s delusions, so she decided that it was best to ignore his note. After all, what’s the worst that he could do? If he followed her again, she’ll just hide inside a cubicle in the ladies room. Or at a broom closet. Or she’ll just carry her own mouthwash in her bag and use it as a pepper spray.
After she closed her locker, she went to the student council lounge to get the planning materials for the school prom. Along the way, she greeted her classmates and kids from other grades. Despite being a very interesting candidate during the student council campaign period, she was generally well-liked by the student populace. They knew what a hard worker she was, and how she fostered relationships with various student groups to get the job done.
Well, at least, almost all of the student groups liked her.
There was only one student group that particularly didn’t like her. They loathed her, in fact. It was the jocks, led by Bill Clinton and Kellyanne Conway, arguably the two most popular kids in school. Bill Clinton hated her because she had the nerve to pour milk all over him in front of everybody during freshman year, and she because Hillary was universally liked, and she couldn’t have someone like her to compete against. And that was on top of the fact that Kellyanne hated that Hillary was an unapologetic feminist. She thought that Hillary was just pulling that rouse to make her popular and win votes for student council. In short: Kellyanne hated Hillary’s guts.
And it so happened that Pretty Boy Bill Clinton was dating Kellyanne, whom Hillary called TAB privately – meaning, Tall Airhead Bitch. Hillary thought they were perfect for each other. ‘Pretty Boys’ like Bill had to be with TABs, and no TAB was complete without a ‘Pretty Boy’. See? Perfect.
As Hillary was walking in the hallways, one of the guys in her French class, Joe Biden, who was working part-time in The Chocolair, called her from behind.
“Hey! Rodham!” he called.
Hillary turned around. “Hey, Joe!” She was happy to see him. He was one of the nicest guys she knew.
“Hey.” His voice suddenly lowered to a whisper. “I heard about Vince. He was an asshole for dumping you.”
“Thanks.” Hillary felt a lot better after Joe’s sympathetic words. “I can’t exactly blame him for that. Clinton shamed him for that. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without the other boys taunting.”
“Oh he’s such a bully,” Joe said in disgust, “I am surprised he isn’t off from the football team for every mean thing he did to other students. Coach Bannon is turning a blind eye just because he keeps winning games.”
Hillary sighed. “I know. I wish someone could teach Clinton a lesson. You know how I am on the receiving end of his bullying-“
“I know. The episode in the cafeteria is the worst. Laughing at you when you tripped? My God, hasn’t his mother taught him manners?” Joe was quietly outraged.
“I know. But he is who he is. I didn’t know he was such a bully back then.”
Joe was suddenly curious. “What do you mean?”
Hillary bit her tongue. She almost let herself slip. “Nothing. I mean, when I first entered here, I thought there were no bullies, you know? I have to admit, he has such a good-looking face. But behind that face was a little devil.”
“Well, he hasn’t been like that,” Joe said.
It was Hillary’s turn to be curious. “What do you mean?”
“Listen, Bill was a personable guy. He’s as charming as he gets. He was an ordinary kid in grade school. Only when he made it to the football team in high school did he change. I was surprised that he dated Kellyanne. She wasn’t even his type.”
Hillary ached to hear more.
“And then, I was surprised to see him hanging out with Kellyanne and her two minions. He became friends with George and Barack. The two are nice enough, but they couldn’t stop him from bullying.”
“I see,” Hillary lied. She couldn’t understand how Bill became such a mean person as he was.
“I think he’s way out of line with the bullying thing, to be honest, but still, I couldn’t help wonder what happened,” said Joe, scratching his chin.
“I wonder too…” she said faintly.
Hillary quickly looked away and pretended that she said nothing. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, that must have been me,” Joe chuckled. “Say, since you and Vince are off, how about I take you to the prom?”
That was the best news she heard all week. “Sure, I’d love to!” Hillary squealed with delight.
“Ssssssshhhh,” Joe pressed a finger to his lips, and Hillary lowered her voice. “Sorry, but can we keep it a secret until the prom? I mean, I have been thinking of asking you out, but, you know, I don’t wanna end up like Vince. Nothing, personal, really. It’s just that…”
“Bill is a despicable, human being, I know,” Hillary sighed. “But I am okay with that. I don’t think I wanna be humiliated further by that ass. But I have to warn you, I may not be able to dance with you because I’ll be in charge behind the scenes. You know, student council duties.”
“No problem,” Joe winked. “I thought you might like to be with someone.”
“You’re so sweet Joe,” Hillary said, her words sincere.
“And because you agreed to go out with me, you can have an ice cream milkshake later. On the house.”
“Wow. This is probably the best decision I ever made,” Hillary told Joe.
“You bet! So, later at The Chocolair?”
“Sure! See you!”
Hillary felt good. It was barely morning, yet she managed to snag a date for prom! She had no intention of leaking her secret to anyone. Well except Betsy, who would never tell a soul. She couldn’t wait to spill the details to her best friend at lunchtime.
Giddy and ecstatic, Hillary was almost jumping up and down the hallway as she went to her first class.
“Hey! Hillary! Something fell off your arm!” A classmate of hers called her attention. She turned around and to her horror, she saw that her secret journal fell from her grip. She quickly bent down and tried to grab the notebook. Instead, she saw someone wearing a jersey bend down too, and she attempted to take the journal, something hit her forehead.
Hillary opened her eyes, and the identity of the person in a jersey was revealed to her.
It was Pretty Boy.
"Hey, I could've gotten that myself!" It was the first sentence to escape her lips as she rubbed her head. Apparently, Hillary and Pretty Boy had just bumped heads trying to get the same object that belonged to her.
“Sorry, I thought I’d help picking that up for you,” he said.
“Well, thanks for the nothing, Pretty Boy.” Hillary grabbed her journal. “Oh wait, you did give me a bruise.”
“Hey, no need to be PMSing on me. I was just trying to help,” Bill said, “The least you can do is to apologize.”
Hillary looked up at him, as they were both standing. His pale blue eyes started to hold agitation. She was starting to feel annoyed.
“Me, apologize?” Hillary raised an eyebrow towards him.
“Uhm, you’re the one who’s blind as a bat,” he quipped.
“And you’re the one with an over-inflated ego!”
“And you’re the one who can’t walk ten feet without tripping!”
“And you’re the one dating a TAB!”
“And you’re the one without a date at the prom!”
“And you’re a personification of horsesh-“
Hillary and Bill turned their heads towards the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Pelosi, the school principal.
“Not gearing into a fight, aren’t you?”
“No, Ma’am,” Hillary said, her hands behind her back.
“No, we’re not,” replied Bill, scratching his head, “we’re just having uhm…uh…a spirited argument!”
Mrs. Pelosi’s face indicated that she wasn’t buying Bill’s excuse, but the two weren’t doing anything to merit a conference at her office.
“I am just warning you two. If you two get yourselves in trouble…”
“Suspension. We understand, Mrs. Pelosi,” Hillary answered for them.
Mrs. Pelosi nodded. “Good. Now, behave yourselves and proceed to your classes. Chop chop!”
Fearing a conference with their principal, the two hurried off to their separate classes without a peep. The first half of Hillary’s day went quite normally. Like any other days, she listened to her teachers, jot down notes and attended meetings with the student council during her break. Nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until lunchtime when things started to go downhill for Hillary.
As usual, Hillary met Betsy at the foot of the stairs near the cafeteria. She didn’t waste a second telling her best friend about Joe, and Betsy was delighted to hear the good news.
“Oh my God! Joe asked you out! Joe is as good as Vince,” Betsy whispered happily.
“I know!” Hillary beamed. “I can’t believe my luck!”
“So, are you gonna go out with him?” Betsy asked excitedly.
“If he’s gonna ask me out again, then definitely!” Hillary said. “And besides, I can’t say no to free ice cream milkshakes from him.”
The two giggled quietly as they entered the jam-packed cafeteria. They made their way to the lunch line, keeping their conversation as quiet as possible. Once they got their lunch, a group of sophomores who had finished eating offered their table to Hillary and Betsy.
“Thanks, guys,” Hillary smiled.
The sophomores bid Hillary and Betsy goodbye, and the girls took the newly unoccupied table. A few moments later, Joe piped in to say hello.
“Hi, Hillary! Hi Betsy! Do you mind if I join?”
“Not at all,” Hillary cleared the seat next to her so that Joe could sit.
“Oh, goodie!” Joe sat next to Hillary, and Betsy couldn’t stop giggling. “I had to guess…Betsy already knows, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, she does. But she won’t tell a soul, I promise!” Hillary assured him.
“Of course not. Bill Clinton will definitely have a field day if he finds out, and I can’t let my best friend go to the prom alone.” “
Betsy’s word is as good as any, so I’m all good,” Joe approved. “Say, Betsy, I heard John Kerry already asked you out.”
Hillary’s jaw dropped. “No. Way.” Betsy’s face was red as beets. “Yeah, he asked me out yesterday after Chemistry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” “Well, I saw that Pretty Boy was arguing with you after class, so I knew you were pissed. I was planning to tell you today but you got there first.”
Betsy was bashful, but she couldn’t stop grinning.
“So, you’re like going out for real? And not just for the prom?” Hillary asked excitedly.
“Yes,” Betsy replied. “He invited me to The Chocolair this Saturday, and we go out for movies.”
“That’s awesome, Betsy!” exclaimed Hillary, ecstatic for her best friend.
“Oh boy! I’m on duty this Saturday!” Joe rubbed his hands excitedly. “Don’t worry Hillary, I’ll give you an updated report of their date.”
“Thanks, Joe! You’re the best!”
“Of course, I am!” He cockily pointed his finger towards himself, winking at Hillary and Betsy.
“He is! Rightfully so, unlike that airhead Pretty Boy,” Hillary quipped.
“Truth!” Betsy agreed as she chugged her orange juice.
“If all the boys at school are taken, and I was forced to go out with him to the prom, I’d rather not go to the prom,” Hillary declared.
“If I were I girl. I won’t go out with him either,” Joe seconded.
“See! Joe gets it!” Hillary said. “Honestly, he’s the last person in the world I’d go out with, and that includes the girls.”
“Hear, hear!” Betsy was raising her juice.
“Hi Hillary. May I join?”
The three of them froze. They knew that creepy voice. They all turned around and saw Donald carrying his food tray, wearing a crooked smile.
“What?” Hillary said in befuddlement.
“I thought I might join you, heh,” Donald said nervously.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but, why? Why us?” Hillary asked, her eyes squinting.
Donald looked like he’s gonna pee his pants due to extreme nervousness. “I got your note, and I thought I could sit next to you at lunch.
“Why on earth would you think that?” Betsy asked, perplexed.
“Here.” Donald took a crumpled note from his pocket and handed it to Hillary, who took the paper gingerly and opened it:
Donald, would you like to go to the prom with me?
Three jaws dropped simultaneously.
“I didn’t write this!” Hillary said, horrified.
“I already told Alex Jones that you asked me out,” Donald said with a stupid grin on his face.
“You told Alex?!” Alex Jones, a sophomore student, ran a blog about kooky stuff about his fellow students and his teachers. Basically, he was the school’s TMZ guy. Or National Enquirer.
“Yeah, I did,” Donald replied, feeling proud of himself. “Now the whole school knows you’re going out with me!”
Hillary’s stomach sank. Somebody falsely set her up with Disgusting Donald and now the entire school would think she was going with him when in fact, she was going with Joe!
Hillary’s troubles worsened tenfold when Pretty Boy suddenly appeared behind Donald with a wicked grin on his face.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Did I hear it correctly? Hillary Rodham asked Donald Trump to the prom?”
“I never said that!” Hillary denied forcefully. Bill draped his arm around Donald.
“But this guy here says that you did.”
“And why do you believe him? You know he says kooky stuff all the time, right?”
But then, a realization hit her.
Oh. My. God.
Hillary was shaking when she pointed a finger at Bill. “You…you wrote that letter!”
Bill quirked a brow. “Excuse me?”
“You wrote that letter to Donald, saying that I wanted to go out with him!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied.
Hillary stood up, furious. “You set this all up! Because I didn’t insert your input in our homework!”
“You have no proof of your accusations, Rodham,” Bill warned. “Besides, what if you really liked Donald and you’re putting the blame on me just because it went public?”
“That’s bullpucky, Clinton. I am not a liar nor a bully. Unlike you! You have every motive and means to get back at me!”
Bill tried to deflect his guilt, but he was not doing a very good job of it. “Why are you blaming every single misfortune on your life on me? Maybe it’s also your fault that Donald liked you.”
“Excuse me? Did you hear what you just said? You’re blaming me if Donald liked me? You’re shaming me for attracting the likes of Donald?!” Hillary stepped forward dangerously close again that she was invading his personal space.
Thankfully, Joe and Betsy separated the two, but not before the whole cafeteria heard the commotion between Hillary and Bill. Embarrassed, Hillary was pulled out by Betsy and Joe out of the cafeteria and into a nearby empty classroom, where Hillary shed her tears.
“I can’t believe those bullies would go that far,” Hillary wiped her face with her hankie.
“I’ll talk to Bill. That was totally out of line. Even for him,” Joe promised.
“No, it’s no use. Nothing could penetrate his thick skull,” Hillary blasted her archnemesis, still in tears.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” said Betsy.
Hillary and Joe both looked at Betsy. “What do you mean, Bets?” asked Hillary.
Betsy sighed. “I know his Mom. She’s a bully herself. She bullied my Mom when they were in high school. Bill’s mom was a cheerleader.”
“That raccoon-haired woman was a cheerleader?!” Joe blinked.
Betsy nodded. “Yes. An awful woman too. And an awful mother.”
“How?” Hillary asked.
“You know those Moms who fall very much in love with their boyfriends that they tend to neglect their kids? That’s kinds what Bill’s Mom is like. Bill wasn’t really Clinton when he was born. He was a Blythe. He just changed his name to Clinton when his mother married that Clinton guy.”
Hillary and Joe stilled, their mouths agape.
“I never knew that,” Joe said. “Poor guy, though.”
Hillary fought tooth and nail not to feel sympathy for the guy who made her high school life miserable. “I don’t care what hardship he had experienced. I don’t feel sympathy for any bully who made this sick joke. He can go to hell for all I care. The last thing I could give him is my sympathy. He can go rot in the streets for all I care.”
In their chemistry class, Hillary didn’t sit next to Bill. Instead, she insisted that she sit next to Betsy, and John was next to Bill. From her peripheral vision, she could faintly see that Bill was trying to pass a note to her, but John wouldn’t allow any interruptions in class. Bless him. Hillary reminded herself to tell Betsy to thank John on her behalf.
After the incident at lunch, she was getting weird and curious looks from the other students, no doubt about the news of her going to the prom with Donald. She felt she was being stripped naked. She wanted to run away as fast as she could and hide, but doing so would expose her vulnerability to the other students, and that was the last thing she wanted. Furthermore, it could only invite more bullying attempts from Pretty Boy and his gang, so Hillary painfully endured the sneers and the unwanted remarks from her classmates, and went home bottling up her emotions.
And that was how Hillary’s day ended. She felt like crying all night. She wanted to vent. She wanted to let it all out.
Sniffing, Hillary opened her PC and logged on to the internet. She needed solace. She needed the comfort of the person she trusted the most.
Are you online? I really need you right now…
“That was vile, Clinton. Setting Hillary up with Donald? That’s low, even for you,” Joe remarked as he handed Bill his cup of frozen soda. Bill was hanging out at the bar of The Chocolair, and Joe was currently doing his shift. Once in a while, when Kellyanne and her friends are having their girls’ afternoon, Bill always hung out with Joe. Joe was Bill’s most trusted friend, and probably the only one he listened to. George and Barack were Bill’s good friends too, but none of them held the same influence over Bill like Joe had.
“No, it’s not,” Bill chuckled to hide his guilt. “It’s funny. Imagine, Hillary going out with a wacky date at prom. That’s got to be quite a scene.”
“William, you do know that Donald has a crush on her, right?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t know that?” Bill felt his intelligence was insulted.
“And you do know that he was stalking her at lunch, right?”
Bill knew, yet he had conveniently forgotten when he suggested the idea to Kellyanne. “No.”
“Well, for your information, he followed her once like a creepy pervert during lunch. Hillary and Betsy had to eat in the ladies’ room so that Donald couldn't follow them".
Bill wiped his face with hand and rubbed his jaw. “God, what have I done?”
“And if, God forbid, something happens to Hillary because of what you have done, I swear to Christ Almighty, I’m going to kick your ass,” Joe threatened Bill, pointing his finger at the latter.
"Shit, shit, shit,” Bill cursed under his breath.
“And that’s on top of the fact that my date now doesn’t want to go with me at the prom,” Joe added,grumpily.
“What? How are you getting ditched is my fault?” said Bill, exasperated.
“You set her up with a creepy fucktard and now she doesn’t want to go with me because she thinks people will make fun of me if I did.”
Bill blinked twice. “Wait…you asked Hillary out?”
“Of course, I did. Heck, I wanted to ask her out for quite a while now! I was kinda thankful that you bullied Vince out of taking her to the prom, but fuck, now you got me out of commission too!”
“Sorry,” Bill apologized.
“And now, she doesn’t want anyone to go with her! You sick fuck, man.” Joe shoved Bill in his seat.
“Wow, some weird shit I set in motion huh?” Bill was only beginning to realize the magnitude of his actions.
“You bet. Man, you are sick. You are sick as Donald’s puke when he ate 10 orders of that Sundae Fundae.”
“Ewwww, man. Too much information,” Bill scrunched his nose, remembering that gross incident.
“Exactly. You’re as disgusting,” Joe emphasized.
“Fine, fine, I am sick as fuck,” Bill conceded.
“What am I supposed to do?"
“Well, isn’t it obvious? Apologize to her.”
"That’s gotta be hard, man. She owes me a ton of apologies too,” Bill said defensively.
“Did I say that she didn’t? You two boneheads are so immature. I don’t get you both sometimes. I mean, who spends that much time plotting against someone? I’d rather waste my energy burning Alex Jones’ PC so that he couldn’t anymore spread the trash he makes online. Unless…”
Bill raised an eyebrow on Joe.
“…unless you secretly like her.”
Joe caught Bill’s left eye twitch and he knew he got him. He pounded his fist in triumph. “I knew it!”
“Oh please,” Bill scoffed. “I wouldn’t date a girl in perpetual PMS.”
“Bitch, you dating a human cancer. PMS is waaaaay milder,” Joe slapped Bill’s arm.
“Hey, watch your mouth! That’s my girlfriend you’re talking to!” Bill attempted to defend Kellyanne.
“I’m sorry, bro, but I am not fairly convinced about the ‘girlfriend’ thing. Is she your fubu or…”
“No, she’s not,” Bill interrupted. He leaned closer to Joe and his voice suddenly dropped. “And for the record, we haven’t had sex either.”
“That’s news to me,” Joe replied. “I thought you would have done it by now, judging you bad you PDA.”
“No. Sorry to disappoint you. I don’t want my first to be with someone who can’t even make my heart flutter. I want it to be with someone whom I love. I don’t know how you look at sex, but I want it to be just like that.”
Joe rubbed his chin as if he had a beard. “So, you don’t love Kellyanne, and you want to have sex with Hillary.”
“Yea-I mean no!” Bill scrambled to retract his answer. “I don’t love Kellyanne. Period. But that doesn’t mean I want to have sex with PMS girl.”
Joe was giddy that he finally caught Bill, rubbing his hands excitedly. “Ha! I know I am right! But I wanna kick your ass because you’re a threat to me and my girl.”
“You’re wasting your energy, dude. I ain’t getting your girl because I have no interest,” Bill lied.
“Yeah, sure. Wanna undergo a lie detector test?” Joe challenged.
“No!” Bill replied a little too quickly and forcefully.
“And with that, I have your confession,” Joe winked.
“WHAT?! I haven’t confessed to anything!”
“Sure, Nixon,” said Joe, grinning. “Bill and Hillary sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
“I know I’m right.”
“Urgh, Joe. You’ve had too much sugar.”
“Then I dare you. If Hillary walks in here, don’t take a peep at her.”
“Easy. I don’t need any convincing to stay away from her. I want peace and quiet, thank you very much.”
“Be careful with what you wish for, Billy Boy. You might just get it.”
Bill scoffed, drinking the last of his frozen soda. “Trust me, I won’t.”
“Don’t come to me moping when she finally ignores you.”
“Or when she dates someone else, like a guy from other school. I know you won’t be too bothered when Hillary and I ended up dating because it means you’ll still get to see her.”
“Dream on, Biden.”
“Or when she goes to college. Man, she could easily go places, given her big brains and all. You, on the other hand, will probably end up in the dumpster.”
“Thanks for being such a supportive friend,” Bill replied sarcastically.
“I ain’t kidding, Clinton. She’s miles above you.”
Joe couldn’t believe his ears. “Wait, did you just agree with me? Did Bill Clinton, Hillary Rodham’s most vicious enemy, actually said something nice about her?!”
“I didn’t say anything nice,” Bill corrected him. “I just agreed with your assessment.”
“Which is equivalent to saying something nice about her,” Joe clarified.
“No, it isn’t. Only an idiot would think she’s not smart.”
“No, Clinton. I said that she’s miles ahead of you. I didn’t say she was smart. Well, yeah, she is indeed smart, but I was saying that she’s better than you in every way, and you actually agreed to it?!”
Bill almost choked, realizing his Freudian slip. “No. You’re just parsing my words too much.”
“Well, I’ll stop it. But one day, you’ll be coming to me and saying, ‘Shit, I make a mistake, Joe. I like Hillary more than I like sugar.’ And when that day comes, I am going to enjoy watching you agonize.”
“That…that’s pretty pathetic.”
“All I’m saying is that…if you got hots for her, then it’s not yet too late to make a move.”
Hillary and Betsy arrived at The Chocolair in very jovial moods, much better than the day before. Especially Hillary. Thanks to supportive words of her secret online friend, Hillary was able to pick-up the pieces and kick herself up from her fall. Joe and Betsy also helped, but it was mostly due to him.
The two girls saw every booth and table occupied and the only free space was the stools in the bar. At the far end, they saw Pretty Boy sitting alone. Determined not be affected by his presence, the girls chose to sit on the other end and continued their happy chatter.
“Hey, Hill and Betsy! My two favorite customers!” Joe greeted happily.
“Hey, Joey!” said Betsy.
“Hi Joe! The usual please,” Hillary smiled.
For a split second, Bill’s eyes swayed towards Hillary’s direction, and it didn’t escape Joe’s notice.
“Ice cream milkshake for you, Hillary, and banana split for you, Betsy.”
“Perfect,” Betsy approved.
Hillary rested her chin in her hand. “Oh, Joe, you’re always amazing. Why can’t all men be like you? You know, cool and kind, and not the jerk-ass types whose primary source of entertainment is making other girls’ lives miserable.”
Bill knew that Hillary noticed his presence, and that last jab was directly aimed at him. He pretended to ignore, mainly because it would only spark another argument with Hillary, but he was aware that Joe was watching his every move.
“I try, ladies. I try,” Joe winked at them. “Just wait here, and I’ll get you your treats.”
“Appreciate it, Joey.”
Hillary and Betsy returned to their spirited conversation when Joe left. Hillary found it amazing how she bounced back from her disastrous day yesterday, and now, she was chipper than ever, all thanks to lordofthesax.
The night before, a crying Hillary emailed lordofthesax, who, luckily for her, was online. Without mentioning specifics, Hillary told him that her archnemesis had humiliated her in front of the entire school, and he managed to ruin two of her date plans already.
“Two?! I’d punch him if I see him,” he wrote.
Hillary was deeply comforted by his kind and assuring words. Although, he did confess that he was glad that she wasn’t dating anybody, because after he dumped his girlfriend, he would begin making plans for them to meet. That promise alone lifted her spirits up, and indeed, she was glad that she wouldn’t be dating anyone anytime soon.
“I’d like to know what made you so happy. I thought you’d be still be moping around, but here you are,” Betsy said, glad for her best friend’s quick comeback.
“I’d tell you someday, but for now, it’s a secret,” Hillary teased.
“Oh come on, Hillary! I’m your best friend! I deserve to know!” Betsy asked excitedly.
“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want to jinx it. But promise, I’ll spill everything everything is in order!” Hillary said.
Betsy pouted, unable to sway her best friend. “Fine. But promise me, as soon as everything’s okay,byou’ll tell me.”
“Of course, I do!” Hillary giggled.
“So, are you serious in going to the prom alone?” asked Betsy.
Pretending to drink his empty frozen soda cup, Bill leaned a little closer to listen.
“Yeah. I can’t leave make Joe go though the humiliation of being seen with me. Besides, we probably wouldn’t be dancing because I’d be busy behind the scenes, counting the ballots for prom king and queen and all that,” Hillary replied. “And besides, I have the perfect girl for Joe.”
“Jill Jacobs. The pretty girl from French class. She has a crush on Joe.”
“Wow, Hillary. You’ve thought this through!” exclaimed Betsy, amazed.
“Well, it’s the least I could do for Joe. I mean, he did get out of his way to cheer me up. It’s just my way of saying thanks. And besides, Jill is a kind and smart too. I’m sure she’ll buy all of Joe’s dad jokes,” Hillary giggled.
Betsy rolled her eyes playfully. “Of course, she will.”
The jovial chat between the two girls was interrupted by Joe, who was carrying their banana split and ice cream milkshake.
“Here you go, Betsy and Hill. Hill, this one’s on the house,” Joe winked.
“Oh, no, no. No need to do that Joe. I can pay,” Hillary felt guilty for dumping Joe.
“Nah. I know you needed a milkshake. Tell you what, I’ll throw in a slice of mocha cake to go.”
Hillary shook her head, but she was touched by her friend’s gesture. “I’m good, Joe. I don’t need the mocha cake anymore. Besides, if I eat another slice, I won’t fit in my prom gown.”
“Good point,” Joe laughed.
“You should see Hillary’s gown,” Betsy teased Joe. “She’s divine in it.”
“I am sure she is. She’ll be gorgeous. I bet she’ll be the belle of ball, even though she’s working!” Joe laughed heartily.
“Pffft. PMS girl? Divine? Gorgeous? How the hell did those words end up on the same paragraph?”
Three heads turned towards Bill, who was now leaning on the bar and watching them with the smug look on his face.
"Oh, I didn’t know you’re the new correspondent for Alex Jones’ blog. I heard he was hiring last week,” Hillary jeered. “So you’re eavesdropping on people now?”
“It’s not really eavesdropping if your voice is as loud as a siren. You can’t blame me if you have megaphone mouth and a screeching laugh,” Bill shot back.
“No, I can’t. Because I’m blaming you for being a hardass jerk and an insufferable human being.”
Hillary took off from her seat, and Joe and Betsy were silently freaking out because Hillary meant business.
“Oh suuuuure, Lady McBitch…”
Before Bill could say anything further, he felt a sharp pain in his left eye, and then in his stomach. He fell into the floor, wincing and writhing in pain. He was sure it was Hillary who knocked him down, and boy, she could punch. As he squirmed left and right, he felt a pair of hands grab him and push him
into the tiled floor.
“He’s all clear, Hillary,” Bill heard Betsy say.
Bill didn’t know what exactly was happening, but he felt a tip of a marker touch his cheek. A soft, small hand drew on his face using a marker. Bill couldn’t picture what was being drawn in his face, as his mind was preoccupied by the ache in his eye and stomach. When the pair of hands holding him and withdrawn, he heard Hillary’s voice from above.
“There, a picture of a dick on the world’s biggest dick,” Hillary said with utmost satisfaction. “Befitting, right?”
“Absolutely,” Betsy agreed. She too was glad to see Bill this way.
“H-h-h-e-l-p,” Bill whimpered.
“Help yourself, jerkass,” Hillary dismissed him. Bill could hear the girls’ footsteps fade away as they left the establishment.
Joe’s helping hand pulled Bill from the floor and walked him to a nearby booth. “That’s quite a bruise, Clinton.”
“Yeah, the bitch can punch,” Bill rubbed his eye gingerly.
“Oh, no, no. Don’t do anything to your eye,” Joe warned. “Hold on, I’ll get some ice.”
In no time, Joe was back with an ice pack. Bill placed the ice on his black eye, and he couldn’t help but moan on the immediate relief.
Just as Bill thought Joe was finished with him, the latter pulled out a marker from his apron, and he too drew on Bill’s face.
“Hey, man! Watch it!” Bill slapped Joe’s hand off his face. “What are you doing?”
“Reinforcing Hillary’s message,” Joe grunted as he darkened the penis that Hillary drew on his face. “You. Are. A. Big. Fucking. Dick.”
“Hey, I thought you’re my friend? Why are you siding with that PMS Girl? Affection makes you false!” Bill swatted Joe away.
“Affection makes me false, eh? Then I shouldn’t have sympathized with you when you grumbled about a nice girl,” Joe shoved Bill a little harder than usual. “I told you to apologize! And what the fuck did you do? You insulted her. Again.”
“She started it! Did you hear her jab at me when she arrived?!” Bill said defensively.
“You didn’t have to butt in, you ass. But you whimpered like a baby,” Joe fired.
“I’m sick of always being blamed for everything bad that’s happened to her,” Bil complained.
“If you stop doing bad things to her, then probably you won’t be blamed too!”
“Hey, I tried being nice to her!”
“Since when, jackass?”
“We were lab partners in chemistry,” Bill explained. “We had a research paper due. We were supposed to split then topics and then she’ll do some editing on my part. She edited it out alright. She discarded my input and replaced it with her own! I asked her where my input was, but she told me not to complain because we got an A!”
“Did she?” said a perplexed Joe, who was hearing this for the first time. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you see how she can be a real bitch,” Bill said bitterly.
“But what you did was way worse,” Joe reminded him, still critical of his friend. “Tell me, what was the worst thing she had done to you?”
“She put a fake letter from Coach Bannon in my locker saying that practice had been cancelled. I went home early. I had to do fifty laps the next day. She sat on the bleachers and recorded my punishment.” Bill recalled.
“Alright. What was the worst thing you did to her?” Joe folded his arms in his chest.
That question was easy. However, Bill couldn’t bring himself to tell Joe, because that would mean he had to tell him everything that had happened between Hillary and him, and he fought tooth and nail to protect that secret.
“I did much worse. Far worse. It’s my fault she hated me for three years,” Bill conceded.
“You were referring to the incident in the cafeteria, right? Where she fell and you laughed at her in front of the whole school?” Joe said.
Bill nodded. Indeed it was, but that was the only part that Joe knew. Joe didn’t know what lied underneath. How it permanently destroyed Hillary.
“Hillary’s tough, but she’s crying and crying in her bed. She couldn’t even eat dinner. She was barely doing her homework,” Bill recalled Betsy whispering to Joe a few days after the incident had happened.
Fuck. What had he done?
He buried his face in his palms, finally feeling the weight of his guilt that accumulated for three years.
Everything – everything that he had done since that fateful day was a mistake. It was a mistake to throw her into the wolves like that. It was a mistake to date Kellyanne. It was a mistake to make her life miserable.
It was a mistake to break her heart.
Now, he had dug himself into a deeper hole. Unbeknownst to Joe and his friends, he had been seeing this anonymous girl online, and he was so infatuated with her that he was planning to finally meet her after he dumped Kellyanne. But with Hillary in the mix, he wasn’t sure what to do.
Maybe he should stop talking to her for a while. After all, they haven’t met yet. Leaning from his mistake from Hillary, he was going to give her a proper closure. Whether or not she was going to hate him, Bill would leave it to his friend to decide.
“I deserve more than this black eye,” Bill told Joe.
“You bet your ass, you do,” Joe clapped his back. “Judging from what I saw, I think you’re ready to turn over a fresh leaf.”
“I have fucked this up so bad. What shall I do?” Bill choked.
“Stay away from her,” Joe said. “She deserves that from you, Buddy. Let her heal. If she’s ready, she’ll forgive you. But bro, I cannot assure you that she ever will."
Writing Joe and Bill's conversation was very fun. I think you'll see more of them in the future....
Chapter 6: Shake-up
I hope you like this chapter :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Hillary lay flat on her stomach, playing her Gameboy Advance. After her very interesting afternoon at The Chocolair, she felt no desire to study. She felt invincible. Like, she could do anything. Boy, punching her worst archenemy felt pretty good. She was pretty proud of herself.
Of course, such monumental achievement would not go without a diary entry, which she wrote as soon as she jumped into her bed:
WHAT A DAY. I finally followed lordofthesax's advice and stood up against Pretty Boy. IT FELT REALLY GOOD. I know, I know I don't usually take violent means but punching him in the face was a very cathartic. It siphoned all the bad vibes he caused yesterday. I felt like we're finally even, and I have no more desire to pester him again. Even if I have to go to the prom alone. I don't really care much at this point.
I'll thank lordofthesax later when I email him. He has been such a comforting figure to me. And I am so excited to see him. He told me that we'll meet after he sets his affairs in order. I just hope he lives nearby so that we can visit each other often. He's one of the reasons why having to go to the prom alone isn't much of a bother to me, though I really am sorry for Joe. I just hope he and Jill will have a fun time together (and probably kiss! <3
I won't write too much today. I am too much on cloud nine to do anything.
After writing her journal entry, Hillary then opened her PC and told lordofthesax her story:
I finally did what you told me to do. I stood up to my bully, and it felt really good. You are right, I should have fought for myself and shown him that I wouldn’t and couldn’t be bullied. I think what I did to him earlier really taught him a lesson. I don’t think he’ll even think of getting back at me now, even if his crooked bully friends are still out there.
I am so happy that you’re here for me. Even though we are yet to see each other, I’m really glad I met you. Thank you for all that you did for me.
I hope I’ll see you real soon.
And with that, Hillary closed her browser and went on to play her game. She was anxiously awaiting his reply, yet she was too adrenaline-infused to do anything productive. She could catch up reading her favorite Harry Potter fanfics but she found it too boring so resorted to her video game instead.
In the midst of her busy fingers, there was one thought that couldn’t get out of her head.
She was excited about what lordofthesax had to say.
Well, he had to know! After all, he was the one who boosted her morale yesterday and told her to finally give Bill a piece of her mind. And give she did. Hillary had been a very opinionated girl all her life. She was never the one to shy away from arguments or debates, but this was the first time that her first did the talking for her. Did she feel any pity for Bill? No, she didn’t. Why should she? Punching Bill Clinton in the eye felt sooooo gratifying. If she could pair it with another bruise on his other eye, she certainly would!
Oh, nothing could ever dampen her happiness.
It was almost midnight when Hillary stopped. She was sleepy, and her eyes were dry. She hadn’t noticed how fast time flew. When she saw the time, she jumped from her bed and ran straight to her PC. Lordofthesax should have replied by now. And indeed, she was right. A long, singular email from him greeted her:
I am glad that you finally show that bully what you’re made of! I am so proud of you! I couldn’t have done it better myself.
Sorry it took me quite a while to respond. I have something very important to say, and I don’t know how I’m going to say it. But here goes.
We have known each other for almost a year now, and I have to say that even though I haven’t seen you, I know that you are a good person. You are a bright, caring and loving young woman who I am sure is a delight to all the people around you. I have seen your heart without having seen your face. And I promised you that one day, we’ll be seeing each other. I was genuinely excited to see your beautiful face and your gorgeous smile.
But sadly, I don’t think I can hold on to that promise. I thought long and hard about this, and I deeply regret to come to that decision. I just found out that I am entangled in a deeper mess more than I had realized, and meeting you requires something more complicated than dumping my girlfriend.
It pains me to tell you this, let alone think that I might never see you. You have been such a joy to talk to. You are something more than a friend to me. More than a best friend, in fact.
I love you.
I know you might think of me as an asshole for saying it, but that’s what I really feel about you, and it’s been going on for quite some time now. I am sorry that I told you this just now. I should have done it long ago, when I first realized how I feel about you.
If you’ll hate me for this, I understand. I truly do. I hope you get over me quickly and find a cool, handsome guy to date you, not some random stranger you met online and has now broken your heart. You deserve all the best, my darling.
I guess this is goodbye. You’ll always be in my heart and in my dreams.
All my love,
Hillary blinked, unable to believe what she had just read. Wait, what? No. No, no, no, no, no. There had to be a mistake. Or confusion. Or something. Anything. Hillary re-read the letter just to be doubly sure, but it only deepened the wound that the message had inflicted. In addition to the sudden pain that felt like a stab in the heart, Hillary’s confusion around lordofthesax’s abrupt dismissal of her only aggravated her already strained emotions.
She closed her eyes, and she began to sob. Only one question ran through her mind.
Hillary answered her own question. “Because I am a damn idiot, that’s why.”
She turned off her PC, not wanting to see any of lordofthesax’s emails, and she knelt at the edge of the bed. Tears started to form as she blinked furiously and tried desperately to hold them back.
She was in tears again.
For the past few weeks, the universe had been working overtime to make sure she was miserable. First Vince, then Joe, and now lordofthesax. Hillary let out a muffled wail as she covered her face with her blanket and wondered who she had wronged in her previous life to make her deserve something like this. Vince’s withdrawal had been disheartening, and her decision to let go of Joe was just as bad? But lordofthesax’s goodbye? It was devastating, on a magnitude of a massive earthquake or a terrible tsunami.
No. This wasn’t happening, she thought. lordofthesax promised her that he would always be there for her. Was it all for naught? Was she played for a fool? She didn’t want to think it was either, but one of them had to be true. But how? How could lordofthesax back away from his promise?
And what was this shit about how he loved her? If indeed he loved her, then why was he leaving? If he truly loved her, he would stay. He wouldn’t leave her.
Maybe, like every other guy she met, lordofthesax was trash. Garbage. Shit.
Bill. Vince. Donald. lordofthesax. They were all the same. They were nothing but useless sacks of spoiled cum.
Unable to control devastation, Hillary wrapped her arms around her folded legs and cried in her knees, falling asleep due to emotional and physical exhaustion.
The following afternoon, Betsy and Joe knocked on her bedroom door. Hillary hadn't gone to class that day. She told her mom that she a severe headache, and it was very rare that Hillary called in sick, so her Mom allowed her to take the day off. Dorothy told Betsy that Hillary was going to miss her class, the later pulled Joe along to visit their friend who they thought was ill.
"Hillary?" Betsy knocked. "It's me and Joe. Can we come in?"
A faint "Okay" came from inside the room.
Betsy and Joe found Hillary looking out afar from her window, sitting on her bed. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she her hair looked like it hadn't been washed nor brushed. The two immediately rushed to their friend's side.
"Hillary, what happened?" asked Betsy with deep concern, rubbing Hillary's arm tenderly.
"I am so stupid, Betsy," Hillary began to cry, "I am so dumb."
"No, you're not," said Joe with great incredulity. "You're the smartest person I know! Why would you say that?"
"I should have thought better than to trust someone who I have never met."
"What are you talking about, Hill?" asked a confused Betsy.
And so, Hillary told Joe and Besty all about lordofthesax. Her story left their jaws dropping and their eyes wide in shock. Hillary managed to keep her secret from them for over a year. Betsy could only gasp when Hillary told them about lordofthesax's final email, and Joe was pounding his fist in rage.
"That piece of shit," Joe pounded her desk.
"Maybe you should talk to him. Ask for deeper explanation," Betsy suggested.
Joe shook his head. "No. We don't know who that guy is. For all we know, he could have been someone who wanted to bait Hillary. Let's be thankful that he cut ties with her. The nerve of that fucker to toy with Hill's emotions like that."
"But I did love him..." she mumbled, to which Betsy let out a deeper gasp.
"I don't mean to be an ass to you Hillary, you wasted your emotions for nothing," Joe said. "Not your fault, though. That son of a bitch deserves to burn in hell."
"I can't believe did that to me," Hillary covered her face with her hands, weeping. "He said he'd leave his girlfriend for me."
"He told you that?! My God. He's lucky he never introduced himself, otherwise he'd be dead by my hands by now."
"Calm yourself, Joe. It's not helping," Betsy begged Joe to restrain himself.
"I got through Vince, Bill and Donald because of him. He comforted me. He's also the one who told me to finally give Bill a piece of my mind,” Hillary sighed.
"Whatever he was, Hillary, he hurt you. He made you hope for nothing. Joe's right. You need to shut him out of your life," said Betsy.
"I don't think I want to go to the prom," she said.
"Hillary!" said Joe and Betsy in unison, aghast.
"Or maybe go with Donald..."
"NO! That's suicide, Hillary! Donald will probably force you to kiss him..."
"Or grab your pussy," Joe finished. "I told you, Hillary, I'll go with you."
"Jill will be disappointed if she sees me with you Joe," Hillary reasoned. "She likes you and you already asked her out."
"It's senior year, Hillary. Maybe you'll regret it if you didn't go! What about your dress?" Betsy tried to convince her best friend to go.
"I told you, Hillary, every boy in our class will turn their heads around when they see you in that dress. They'll be fighting over for you. Trust me," Joe tried to boost Hillary's deflated ego.
“Please, at least reconsider. If you don’t go, then I won’t go too,” Betsy tried to sway Hillary’s mind.
“But you already told John you’d go with her!” Hillary gasped in horror at the thought of her best friend ditching her date. “I cannot skip the prom because of student council duties,” she clarified, “so I’ll be there still. Just not as an attendee.”
“But that’s worse than not coming, Hill,” Joe said. “Come with us, please.”
“John and I will pick you up,” Betsy offered.
“Or Jill and I. Maybe we can meet at your house and we’ll go together?” Joe suggested.
Hillary was on the verge of tears again, but this time, she was touched. She couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky she was to have friends like them.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Betsy panicked when she saw her best friend crying again.
“No, I’m okay,” Hillary wiped the fresh batch of unshed tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. “I’m just incredibly touched. I may have the worst luck in guys, but I have the two most awesome friends in the world.”
“Awwww, we love you Hill,” Joe sat on the bed beside Betsy and hugged Hillary. “And besides, I owe you a lot. If it wasn’t for the awesome reviews you gave me in the feedback form, I wouldn’t have had a raise.”
“But you deserve it, Joe. I get the best desserts and the best treatment from you,” Hillary said, her chin resting on Joe’s shoulder.
“Because you’re the best customer and the best tipper ever,” Joe quipped.
“Excuse me, Joe. I think I am your best customer,” said Betsy in her fake outrage, pointing a finger at her chest.
“Oh shut up, Ebeling. Hillary here spent a thousand dollars last year on ice cream milkshakes alone,” Joe told them.
“Did I really spend that much?” Hillary asked, perplexed.
“You did,” Joe said as pulled away.
“Gosh, it’s a miracle that I’m not 400 pounds right now,” Hillary looked down on her body, rubbing her flat belly.
“Indeed,” Betsy agreed, “thus, there is no reason for you not to attend to the prom and wear that gown. I promise you: after the prom, every guy in our class will kneel before you and beg to lick you…”
“BETSY!” Hillary screamed, half-laughing and half-horrified.
“La, la, la, la, la…” Joe covered his ears in faux disgust.
Around midnight, Bill and Kellyanne were walking hand in hand in the park, the former lost in his thoughts. Bill’s parents weren’t home, so he decided to spend the night with his girlfriend outside. She blurted his name three times before he realized that she was calling his attention.
“Bill! What’s wrong with you?” Kellyanne said irritably. “You’ve been out of your mind all day.”
“I’m sorry,” Bill apologized, “I am just…stressed.”
“Baby, if it’s about that getting back at that Rodham girl, fret not, my Love. The girls and I are already working out a plan.”
“No,” Bill said firmly. “I don’t want you getting involved further. What we did to Hillary was vile, Kellyanne. Stop it.”
“Bill, she punched you. We can’t let her get away with it,” Kellyanne argued.
“And then what comes next? She plots something against us? And then we get back at her. And she gets back at us. Haven’t you been tired of the same cycle over and over, Kellyanne?” Bill broke away from her grip. “We’re graduating in a few months. I don’t want to spend the remainder of my time in high school relishing someone’s misery.”
Kellyanne simply looked at her boyfriend, unable to believe what she was hearing. “What has gotten into you?”
“Nothing, okay? This is just what I’ve been feeling all these years, Kellyanne. Whenever we intimidate others, deep inside, I feel guilty. I don’t like it. I don’t like flaunting my power,” Bill opposed her.
“And so Rodham can flaunt her influence all over our classmates like some ambitious bitch that she is?” Kellyanne snorted.
“Stop calling her a bitch. She isn’t one,” Bill’s voice was dangerously low.
“Oh, now we have different opinions of her? Tell me, did you feel something when she was on top of you when she drew that picture of dick on your face?” Kellyanne grabbed Bill’s crotch, but he quickly swatted it away.
Bill blushed. “No, I didn’t.” It was the truth, but the image of Hillary on top of him made him a little uncomfortable.
“Liar,” Kellyanne shoved him. “I know you, Bill. You felt something. If I knew, you already had jerked yourself over it.”
“I did not!” Bill insisted the truth. “You’re just mad that I don’t want to go with your plans anymore.”
“Fine,” Kellyanne conceded, clicking her tongue. “If that’s the case, let’s settle it now.”
Bill didn’t like the sound of this. “What do you mean?”
“I am frustrated at your months and months of dodging,” Kellyanne replied. “I wanted to sleep with you for so long. We’ve been dating for quite some time now and the farthest we’ve come is second base. I haven’t even sucked you.”
“I don’t want to because I don’t want us to do something we might regret someday.” It was his rehearsed response whenever Kellyanne was demanding for sex.
“I don’t get you, really,” Kellyanne squinted her eyes, folding her arms on her chest. “You’re projecting yourself as the heartthrob, the campus crush, the ladies man. And yet, you can’t even pluck up the courage to go all the way. So you’re all talk and charm and no action.”
“If that’s what you think of me, then yes,” Bill finally owned up to his weakness. “You call it cowardice, I call it being responsible.”
“Being responsible, my ass. You just don’t want to do it with me!”
“What makes you think I don’t want it to do with just you?” Bill spat angrily.
“Do it with someone else then,” Kellyanne dared him. “Anyone, including Rodham.”
At the mention of the name Rodham, Bill swallowed. Thank goodness Kellyanne didn’t notice.
“You’re insane,” Bill walked away.
“Hey! Come back here!” she screamed from behind. “Come back here, Clinton! We’re not finished yet!”
Bill stopped dead in his tracks. Kellyanne just handed him the perfect opportunity. He turned around to see his girlfriend fuming.
“You know what?” his nostrils flared, “Maybe we are. Maybe we are finished.”
“What? What fuckery is this?” Kellyanne objected.
“I don’t want this anymore. Us. I don’t want us anymore. I am sick and tired of pretending someone I’m not. I am tired of being your boyfriend, in the loosest sense of the word. You only liked me because you can flaunt me around the school.”
“That’s such a stupid line of thinking, Clinton. If I didn’t like you, then I wouldn’t want to have sex with you, you dumb piece of shit!”
“You only want to fuck me so you can say to everybody that you boned the school’s quarterback,” Bill fired back. “I know you, Kellyanne. You know how to use and manipulate others. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And you know what else I’ve seen? That you’re a world class liar!”
“Wow, the saint has spoken,” she said sarcastically, her arms on her hips. “How dare me, boo-hoo.”
Bill shook his head and turned around.
“Good riddance, Kellyanne Conway! Have fun fucking Coach Bannon!” Bill shouted from the distance.
A stunned Kellyanne watched Bill fade into the distance, wondering how he learned of her dirty little secret.
Up next: Prom!
UPDATE: I am currently writing the prom and there will be at least two chapters devoted to it. Very possible it will have three! Pray to the fanfic gods that it will happen!
Chapter 7: Prom I
Finally, the much awaited prom!
Hillary simply gaped when she saw herself in the mirror. She couldn't believe that she was the person she was seeing in the reflection. It wasn't that she found herself ugly. It was just that she never thought she looked that good. Her golden hair wrapped in a gorgeous bun, her face painted with just the right amount of make-up. Her cheeks softly blushed and her lips painted in the most natural shade of pink. Her dress...boy how could anyone begin with her dress? It was a long sleeved, gold lace gown adorned with small sequins all over the body. It had the right amount of sexiness and modesty, as her torso and their legs were covered by another lace underneath the outer lace.
"You look beautiful, Hillary," Dorothy whispered from behind, resting her hands on her daughter's shoulders.
"Thanks, Mom. I am so grateful that you did all this," Hillary said, almost choking.
"You're welcome, dear. But I only did the sewing. My friend Oscar did the design. He's amazing," Dorothy smiled, turning Hillary around so she can look at her daughter with her own eyes.
"You're amazing, still. Not every Mom these days would do the effort of sewing their daughter's prom dress," Hillary replied.
"Nonsense, dearie. Though if I still can, I want to sew your wedding dress too. No dress is too hard for your Mom to sew. Just for you, Darling."
"Awww, Mom," Hillary really fought hard to keep her tears in check, otherwise they would have to do her make-up all over again.
"Okay," Dorothy sniffed in an attempt to pass her tears as allergies, "let's get going. Your father is waiting for you downstairs."
Even with Betsy's and Joe's invitations to pick her up, Hillary still chose to go to the prom all by herself. She would have gone with her friends if her Dad didn't volunteer to drive her to the prom. Not wanting her friends' dates to be ruined, she accepted her Dad's invitation.
When she stepped downstairs, her father almost teared up seeing his eldest daughter looking so beautiful.
"Oh, Hillary. I feel like I'm giving you away already," Hugh wiped a single tear from his eye.
"Oh stop it, Dad," she hugged him, "I'm just going to the prom."
"I know. That doesn't change the fact that my baby girl is all grown up," Hugh replied.
"Your father's right, Hillary. You've grown up so fast. In a couple of months, we're dropping you off to college," Dorothy agreed.
"Mom and Dad, you're getting too emotional," Hillary choked again, "we need to get going to the prom."
"Right, right," Hugh cleared his throat. "Well, we're off. I'll be back in half an hour." He kissed Dorothy's cheek.
"Alright, Dear. Hillary, Darling, have fun! And text us if you want Dad to pick you up," Dorothy said.
"Thanks, Mom. Bye!".
Hugh and Hillary got inside the car and waved to a teary Dorothy, who watched the car pull out from the garage and drive off to the school.
A little over a minute when after they left the house, Hillary felt her phone vibrate. She looked at it and apparently, her Mom sent her a text:
I put a condom in your purse. Stay safe, honey. Delete this message immediately before your Dad sees this.
Right away, she did as she was told. Holy crap. She was so hellbent on not going to the prom that she forgot to bring a condom. Thankfully, her ever-supportive Mom was there to secretly pack one inside her purse. She doubted that she would be using the condom tonight but still, better safe than sorry.
The ride to Hillary's school usually took only fifteen minutes, but since it was prom night, heavy traffic towards the school was at least expected. Because of this, Hillary insisted that she leave the house early. After all, she needed to attend some stuff for the prom too. Some last minute arrangements and then she could leave the rest of the prom stuff to the emcee.
Ten minutes into the drive, Hillary began to feel the jitters. Urgh. Why was she feeling that way? She wasn’t expecting anything that night. She was just supposed to assist behind the scenes, eat, chat with her friends and go home. Crap. Why are these pesky butterflies in her stomach suddenly awake? Damn them and her fragile emotions. But more accurately, damn Bill, Vince, Donald and lordofthesax for making her feel crap when she should have been having the time of her life right now.
Men are fucking crap.
Just as Hillary thought she was about to barf, Hillary felt a very strong lurch that almost knocked her off from the confines of her seatbelt. For a few seconds, she thought she had literally barfed which gave her a mini heart attack. What a relief she felt when she realized that she hadn’t really barfed and her dress remained clean and unsullied. However, Hugh’s “uh-oh” and the sounds of the engine barely starting up signaled a more dire problem for Hillary.
“Dad, what’s ‘uh-oh’?” Hillary began to panic again.
“Uhm, let’s see,” Hugh tried to start the engine again, but the engine sounded like a dead man coughing his last breaths. Hugh tried and tried to get the engine going but it won’t start.
“Dad, what’s happening?!” Hillary’s sweat turned cold.
“Uhm, Sweetie…” Hugh opened the door and looked under the hood of the car, “I’ll just check what’s happening. Don’t worry. Daddy promises you’ll be at the prom on time.’
“Okay, Thanks, Dad,” Hillary replied, disheartened that her senior prom was already in shambles even before she got there. She let out a deep sigh. She should have known better than to get her hopes up even for a teeny tiny second.
Hillary heard her Dad’s grunts and the sounds of clanging metal from under the hood of the car, and some occasional cursing too. Judging by her Dad’s whispers, she got the feeling that the car won’t be starting anytime soon. Or even tonight.
Finally, Hugh closed the hood of his car with a disappointed look on his face.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. It seems that the engine overheated. I need to get the car fixed,” Hugh apologized.
So that was it. Hillary’s senior prom ended right then and there.
Hugh saw his daughter dispirited inside the car so he tried to think of another way.
“Sweetheart, can I borrow your phone?” Hugh said, “I’ll call Uncle Carl and see if he can drive you to the prom. I’ll stay here while and I call and wait for the mechanic to arrive.”
“Sure, Dad,” Hillary handed her cellphone to her Dad, hoping that his idea would work.
Hugh dialed Uncle Carl’s number, and thankfully, he picked up Hugh’s call. Hillary wasn’t breathing during the entire call, but hearing the words, “Oh, it’s alright. I am sorry to bother you” and “No, it’s okay. We’ll just look around,” gave Hillary the answers she wasn’t hoping for.
“Well,” Hugh turned back to his daughter, “Uncle Carl is out. Do you have a friend who can fetch you?”
Thankfully, she had two standing offers from friends who were willing to fetch her. She took her phone from her Dad and dialed Betsy first.
“Hi Bets, it’s me, Hillary.”
“Oh hey! Are you at the prom yet?”
Hillary bit her lip, “Actually, that is why I am calling you. I have a favor to ask.”
“Dad and I are stuck in Dunson Street. Can you give me a lift to prom?”
“Oh,” Betsy sounded disappointed, “Johnny and I are already a block away from school.
Hillary couldn’t ignore that Betsy called her date “Johnny” and beneath the panic, she was secretly thrilled for her best friend.
“I see. Thanks, Bets, “ Hillary said
“I’m sorry Hill. Maybe Joe and Jill are still at her house?”
“Sure. I’ll call them. Thanks!”
After a few seconds, it was Joe who was answered her call.
“Oh hey, Hillary!” Joe sounded a little surprised that she called. Hillary figured that he was in the middle of….something. Something that involved him and Jill. “Why did you call?”
“Uhm,” Hillary felt awkward, “you know what, never mind. See ya later at the prom!”
“Oh…uhm…see ya!” Joe croaked like a thirteen-year-old.
Hillary ended the call, disappointed with her responses, but not mad at her friends.
She was really thinking of ditching the prom altogether. Fuck the rest of the council. Let them do the work this time.
Almost two kilometers from the school, Bill rode his motorcycle without any worries. He initially planned to bring his stepdad’s car with him since he would be picking up Kellyanne, but since they have broken up, Bill was going to the prom alone. Going solo in the prom wasn’t as bad as he had initially anticipated. For one, there was one less woman to nag him for a kiss during the night.
As he drove past the streets, something weird caught his eye. He saw a girl in a golden dress with her back leaned against the door of the car. Her arms were crossed against her chest. Bill wasn’t able to see her face right away because he was in motion. He turned his head around to have a clearer look at her face, and his heart almost stopped when he realized who it was.
It was Hillary Rodham.
Fuck, she looked so beautiful.
And fuck, he almost hit a telephone pole had he not returned his gaze back to the road. He let out a strained yelp as he pressed the brakes. His scream caught the attention of the stranded Rodhams.
“Who is that weird fella?” Hugh squinted.
Hillary didn’t need to squint to know who it was. She could recognize that deplorable form from a mile away.
“That’s Bill Clinton, a classmate of mine,” the mention of his name brought a bitter aftertaste in her tongue.
“Looks like it. The boy’s wearing a tux. Must be going to the prom too,” Hugh noted.
“Yeah, he is,” Hillary said. On his own, oddly enough, she thought.
“Maybe he can bring you to the prom,” Hugh innocently suggested.
“NO!” Hillary almost screamed at her Dad. Hillary immediately scaled back when she realized that she had raised her voice on her Dad, “Uhm…how? “
“Let’s call him. HEY! YOU YOUNG LAD! COME OVER HERE!”
Bill looked around to find where that voice was coming from. He was struck when he realized that the voice came from Hillary’s direction. His legs suddenly felt like Jell-O and he felt like he was going to barf those potato chips he ate earlier.
Under normal circumstances, Hillary’s heated gaze made his blood boil. But at that moment, it made him melt.
Bill walked towards Hugh and a fuming Hillary, who still had her arms crossed. The relieved expression on Hugh’s face made Bill a little confused.
“What can I do for you, Sir?” Bill said in his charming Southern lilt. He straightened up his bowtie so as to impress her Dad. Hillary, however, could see through his bullshit. She knew better than to fall for his false charms. Of course, she already did it before and there was no way she would be fooled again.
“Well,” Hugh began sheepishly, “I was driving my daughter here to the prom but as you can see, my car broke. I’d appreciate it if you could give her a ride to the prom since you’re going there too.”
Hillary thought there was no way Bill would agree until…
“Of course, Sir,” Bill said with a straight face.
Hillary’s eyes were reduced to slits. What was he up to?!
“Goodie!” Hugh clapped Bill’s back jovially. He then turned to his daughter. “Well, then Hillary. Bill Clinton’s gonna take you to the prom. She’s not intruding, is she?”
“Oh, no, no, Sir. I’m going to the prom alone,” Bill dismissed Hugh’s concerns. Hillary was pretty much sure that it was a lie.
“Perfect! Maybe you’ll have a fun time at the prom after all, Hillary!” Hugh chuckled. “Well then, better be off kids. I’ll be waiting for the mechanic and hopefully, I’ll be home before midnight. Have fun, Hillary!”
“Thanks, Dad,” was her muted response, although if she could, she would have said, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAD?!”
“Goodbye, Mr. Rodham.” Bill bid Hugh goodbye.
“Have fun kids!”
Hillary silently followed Bill to his motorcycle. It wasn’t the best option for her, considering that she was wearing a gown but she had no choice. She would have preferred to stay with her Dad but she didn’t have the heart to say no to his efforts so she begrudgingly let Bill take her to the prom.
Bill hopped on the motorcycle, and suddenly, Hillary’s heart sank.
She would have to hold on to his back.
No, no, no, no, no.
“Uhm, how do I…uhm…how do I ride the motorcycle?” Hillary stammered.
Bill realized her concerns too, but he tried not to be affected. Or at least, hide the fact that his heart was pounding wildly in his chest.
“Sit behind me and hold on to my waist,” he said, trying not to sound too excited.
Bill could hear Hillary mutter a litany of courses, but in the end, he felt the seat behind him depress and her arm wrapped around his waist.
Neither of them was moving.
And apparently, not breathing too.
Hillary found that holding Bill wasn’t as disgusting or as repulsive as she thought it would be. She thought he smelled like freshly mown grass. Well, not that he literally smelled like grass, but there was an air of warmth and freshness in him that Hillary found hard to ignore.
Bill, on the other hand, was having an internal meltdown. With Hillary hugging him from behind, he suddenly forgot what to do next. How the fuck should he start the engine? His keys were sitting idly in the key slot. Bill pressed and pressed the accelerator but never moving, cursing angrily under his breath until he realized that the engine was off.
“Oops, sorry,” Bill’s face reddened in embarrassment, and he was thankful that Hillary wasn’t seeing it.
“It’s okay,” she whispered from behind.
The two sat still in the motorcycle, under the light of the moon. The two seemed to be content just sitting there and not moving. Just listening to each other’s breathing.
“Uhm…shall we go?” Hillary finally broke their delicate silence, trying to sound as least awkwardly as possible.
“Oh, uhm…” Bill cleared his throat, “Okay. Let’s get going.”
He started the engine and ramped up the accelerator. They were good to go. He told Hillary to hang on tight, and he felt her nod from behind. He sped off a little faster than he usually does. He wasn’t sure what made him up the speed, he definitely felt like flying in the clouds.
Hillary, on the other hand, was apprehensive of the speed. She held on to Bill a little tighter, her heart pounding. She was afraid that she would fall, but whenever he would serve through cars, she would squeal. She thought she was going to fall, but she didn’t. Somehow, Bill was maneuvering the motorcycle to catch her. In the deepest depths of her mind, he heard a younger Bill’s voice call unto her.
Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.
On their way to the prom, when they thought the roads were clear, Bill heard a loud honking from behind. Bill looked in the mirror and saw that a car was speeding up on them. It was likely to hit them unless Bill took a sharp swerve, which might knock Hillary out of the motorcycle. His heart was racing, and blood was pounding in his brain, but he had to keep it cool, otherwise, one wrong move and they might be dead in an instant.
“Bill, I think the car’s gonna hit us,” Hillary whimpered from behind.
“Hold on to me as tight as you can. I’m going to swerve,” he ordered her.
Bill took a deep turn, and this time, Hillary thought that she was really going to fall, so she held him as tightly as possible. Just as Bill shifted the motorcycle in e sharp curve, Hillary screamed from behind, narrowly avoiding the speeding car. Hillary closed her eyes, bracing for a crash or fall. Instead, the harsh winds from the speed of the motorcycle tapered down, and they slowed him, their hearts beating louder than a drum.
“That was close,“ Bill panted.
“Yeah, I thought we’re gonna die,” she gasped.
“Fucking asshole,” he cursed.
“How…do you even survive these things? I think I’m gonna barf,” Hillary said.
“Do you want to? I can wait for you. There’s a tree right around the corner where you…”
“Stop,” Hillary interrupted him, her voice stern, “it’s just an expression. I’m not really gonna barf.” And if even if she was really going to barf, she wouldn’t let William Jerkinson ‘Pretty Boy’ Clinton see it. Knowing him, he would probably snap a photo of her and circulate it.
“So, are you okay? We’re just a couple of blocks away from school,” Bill asked, concern thick in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied. “Let’s…let’s go slower, please?”
True to his word, Bill drove his motorcycle in a much slower phase that made Hillary more comfortable, though she and Bill didn’t realize that she still had that death grip on her.
When they arrived, Bill dropped her off in front of the school gym where the prom would be held. Hillary didn’t’ want to be an ass so she insisted that she accompany him to the parking lot. Bill wasn’t complaining, though.
When they got off, Hillary straightened her dress and Bill adjusted his bowtie. They were alone in the parking lot. For some reason, they seemed to have simultaneously realized that they ought to enter the gym together.
Where everybody could see them.
Bill, unconsciously, was about to lift for her to take when Hillary cleared her throat. “I’ll just use the back entrance. Thanks for the ride by the way.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Bill coughed. He almost embarrassed himself in front of her. “Have fun, Rodham.”
“Likewise,” she said cordially.
On the way the back entrance, Hillary didn’t speak to Bill. She didn’t know why, but she was afraid that something might happen if she did. What is it that she was afraid of? She didn’t know herself. Better to stick with the status quo than to open Pandora’s box.
She kept walking, her head hanging low and her hands gripping her dress so that she might now slip. When she reached the back entrance, she turned around and her heart died a little when she saw that Bill wasn’t behind her.
“Hey, Hillary! Guess what we just found out?” Betsy said excitedly as Hillary sat in the vacant chair between Betsy and Joe. John and Jill were seated next to their dates, and with them in the table were Al and Tipper. Betsy reserved Hillary a seat as the latter was attending to last-minute prom arrangements. Hillary, being the primary organizer of the prim, did a final run-through and briefed the prom emcee before she got to her seat with her friends. Everything was running as planned, except for that surprise game that the emcee had prepared for everyone. The game was so tightly under the wraps that even Hillary herself wasn’t privy to it.
“Okay, Bets. Spill,” Hillary said beneath her breath.
“Pretty Boy came in solo!”
Oh. Hillary thought Betsy had something else. Of course, Hillary knew that before Betsy did, but she had no heart to tell her best friend that she came to that knowledge way before her. She wasn’t in the food for a CIA-style interrogation from her, or from Joe.
“Yep, he sure did. He looked quite disappointed too. Must have been because the TAB dumped his ass right before prom,” Joe said.
Huh. That was odd. Hillary wasn’t under the impression that the guy was said when she and her father saw him riding. Or when they got off at the parking lot. Bill Clinton was a strange boy, wasn’t he?
“By the way, how did you get here, Hill? Did your Dad find someone to drive you?” Betsy asked. Joe and Jill looked the other way around, trying to look casual.
“You could say that, yeah.” Well, her Dad did find someone to bring her there.
“Alright. So, let’s see who went with whom.” Betsy scanned the room for unexpected pairings. Hillary was grateful that she didn’t press further.
“There’s Dick and Lynne!” Joe quietly pointed.
“I wonder what Dick said to make Lynne go with her,” Betsy wondered out loud.
“Lynne did a lap dance on Dick once,” Jill interrupted quietly.
The table went suddenly silent.
“Say what?!” Hillary was sure it was just fanfiction.
“No, really. We were at Mitch’s birthday party. I was gonna use the bathroom but on the way in, I saw a door ajar, and Lynne was grinding all over…”
“La la la la la la la,” Joe cupped his ears.
“Ewwwww,” Betsy and John said simultaneously.
“God, I think I need to have a detox after hearing that,” Hillary pretended to make gagging noises. “Anyone else looks interesting?”
“Look! Jill Stein and Michael Flynn going together!” John noticed, perplexed.
The group tried to look at Jill and Michael’s direction without being noticed, but it’s really hard for a group of seven people not to avoid being seen stalking.
“How the hell did they fall in one another’s orbit?!” Joe asked under his breath.
“Vladimir introduced Jill to Michael,” Tipper replied from the other side of the table.
“Vladimir, that Russian exchange student?!” Hillary gasped.
“Yes. Apparently, Vladimir and Michael have long been friends. Michael, the ever shy boy, had a crush on Jill so Vladimir introduced Michael to Jill,” Tipper said.
“I didn’t know Vladimir was such a matchmaker. Maybe he’d find one for Donald,” Hillary scoffed.
“I don’t think any girl would go out with him. He’s creepy,” said Betsy. Jill and Tipper nodded too.
“Okay. Anyone else seems interesting?”
“Pretty Boy is sitting with George and Laura and Barack and Michelle. God, he looked really out of place in here. The other two couples look like they’re gonna go for it anytime soon,” Betsy remarked.
“Where’s his TAB then?” Hillary said bitterly.
“TAB’s with Sebastian,” Joe said.
Hillary almost spit out the lemonade she was drinking. “As in Gorka?!”
“Yes, the one and only. Seems like the TAB and Pretty Boy have indeed broken up.”
Hillary shifted in her seat. Knowing that Bill had just broken up with his girlfriend made her motorcycle ride with him all the more awkward. She just prayed that no one at school had seen her with him. Never, ever will she tell a soul about the ride, and those weird emotions that she felt while she clung to his waist.
But then, that didn’t stop her from looking at him again. She didn’t call him ‘Pretty Boy’ for no reason. Indeed, he was one of the few men Hillary found handsome. He had a powerful jaw, unparalleled to any other she had seen. His eyes were not the deepest of blue but were as expressive as they could be. His smile was a trap to snare any girl he liked, and Hillary found it attractively dangerous. But what really caught her attention was his hands, adorned with long slender fingers. She had never seen such huge hands. She wondered what it would be like to see his hands in motion, like writing or pointing or passing the ball or inside her…
Hillary cut herself off before she could even finish the thought. Bill must have added something in his cologne to make him seem less asshole-y to her. But that musk…
Hillary snapped back to Earth One, where she wasn’t thinking how good Pretty Boy smelled and he was still a pathetic piece of shit when the emcee took the stage and announced the start of the prom.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the Abraham Lincoln High School Annual Senior Prom!” the emcee happily announced.
Everyone clapped enthusiastically. Hillary caught Bill stealing a glimpse of her.
“Tonight is purely for your fun and entertainment. I hope you all have your dates with you because the dance floor will be open right after your dinner.”
The students let out excited murmurs amongst themselves.
“And of course, we have the much-awaited coronation of the Prom King and Queen!”
The crowd applauded, and Hillary swore she saw Kellyanne seeming more interested.
“I hope you all vote wisely for Prom King and Queen. We will distribute the ballots later right after the surprise prom night game,” the emcee said. “But for now, we invite all of you to the buffet tables situated all around the gym, and the open bar serving mocktails and sparkling drinks. Right after the dinner, the dance floor will be opened. So, the night is young and we have all night to party! Have fun, everyone!”
Hillary and her friends (and Al and Tipper too) flocked to the buffet table to get their food. Hillary picked up a glass of sparkling cider from the open bar (no chardonnay so she picked the next best thing). Once back in their table, she dined happily with her friends. Being along at prom wasn’t so bad after all, especially if there were friends like Betsy and Joe to keep her company. Even Al and Tipper were fun to be with, despite having known Al as a dork. The guy wasn’t so bad at all. He was just slow to open up to people, and their group had the right combination of warm and funny to make Al feel at home.
“Who knew Al Gore was such a funny guy?” Joe clapped Al’s back, laughing.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with him if I didn’t know that,” replied Tipper, blushing.
“WHOA!” the table erupted into a loud applause, cheering Al on.
“To Al,” John raised a toast to Al.
“To Al,” the rest of them followed. They all clinked their glasses against each others’ and the downed their drinks in one gulp.
With her friends old and new at her side, Hillary thought she’d be just fine.
Bill sat in his table, silently chewing his food as he watched everyone mingle and dance. From his seat, he saw Kellyanne shamelessly flirting with Sebastian in the dance floor as if she hadn’t been dumped a week ago (to which Bill was sure she already told Alex Jones and made it look like she was the one who dumped him for nor having sex). Every suggestive wink, every lick of her lips validated Bill’s decision to break up with her. God, she seemed to have worn Bill off the way she had worn of underwear. And Bill still hadn’t started with her weekly fuck with Coach Bannon in the latter’s house every Saturday.
Well, good riddance to her. Kellyanne could fuck half of the school and Bill wouldn’t give a damn.
His mind drifted to his anonymous online lover. Ever since he sent his goodbye message, she hadn’t replied, understandably so. After all, he treated her like shit. For weeks and weeks, he had promised that they would meet once he got rid of Kellyanne but another girl came into the equation, and he dropped her like a hot potato. He felt terrible for treating her like that, but Bill believed that it was for the best. He thought that they would be in deeper trouble if they were already committed to each other and yet, there was still the issue of his confused feelings towards Hillary. He couldn’t have sexyofstate go through all that. No. She was too good for her, and he was shit.
Speaking of Hillary, his eyes drifted to her stunning form, sitting between Betsy and Joe. The ride to the prom had been very awkward, to say the least, and he bet it was the last thing Hillary wanted, but she had no choice. Well, if he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t ride with himself either. After all, he just torpedoed her date plans and set her up with the creepiest boy in class, not to mention a silent pervert. Hillary Rodham had no business being with Bill Clinton.
But still, he couldn’t help but give himself a fist bump when he saved them from the raging car, and she held on to him like life itself, and her soft body in his back sent the most erotic images in his brain. It was a miracle that he was able to keep his focus on the road and arrive at the prom without any broken bones.
Bill sighed. A lot had happened since freshman year, hadn’t it?
As he gazed Hillary from a distance, Bill couldn’t help but admire her beauty. Fuck. How could he have forgotten how she could mesmerize her? Didn’t he forget his own name the day she bumped into him on the first day of school, and her things went flying everywhere? Somehow, he didn’t notice that she grew more and more beautiful each day into that fine young woman he couldn’t tear his gaze from.
Oh yeah. Bill figured out why he missed her blossom. He spent the last three years making her life miserable.
Gee, who would have thought, Bill thought bitterly.
Suddenly, Bill saw everyone from Hillary’s table stood up and toasted their drinks, and she beat the sun with her radiance. If she was indeed the sun, Bill would have been blind by now.
After the toast, everybody in her table left for the dance floor, leaving her all by herself.
She was like Cinderella at the ball, but he ain’t no Prince Charming.
As soon as they gulped their drinks, the music suddenly changed from lively, to slow and romantic, and everyone knew that the dance floor was now open. Joe excitedly pulled Jill towards the dance floor. Al and Tipper followed. Betsy and John, on the other hand, were quite apprehensive to leave Hillary alone.
“Why aren’t you on the dance floor?” asked Hillary, confused as to why Betsy was still with her.
“We don’t want to leave you alone,” Betsy replied, and John nodded behind her.
Hillary waved them off. “Oh, not worry about me. I’m fine.”
“I am surprised that nobody had asked you until now,” Betsy said. “You look magnificent tonight. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Pssssh, it doesn’t have to. So get your booty out of here and wiggle your ass on the dance floor with John!” Hillary laughed as she slapped Betsy’s backside and pushed her to the dance floor, pulling John with her.
Betsy mouthed a silent “thank you” and she and John went off to dance. Hillary smiled, contented to watch her friends dance from their table.
When Hillary sat down, she felt quite a little…odd. It was as if her feminine instincts were speaking to her, telling her to keep an eye on her surroundings. She looked around to see if something was out of the ordinary. Nothing. Everyone was having fun, dancing, drinking, chatting, except…
…Except that one guy who was looking at her from afar.
Her peripheral vision caught him, but she wasn’t sure who it was.
On the pretense of looking for her handkerchief, Hillary stood up and pretended to look for the missing piece of cloth. She turned left, right, and left again with her head on the floor, but her eyes were secretly scanning the room for that mysterious gazer. It was hard to see when her head was parallel to the floor, but she had no choice as she didn’t want to attract any attention and possibly scare the on-looker. Shit. Who was that?
Finally, it hit her. She saw who was eyeing her, and she felt weird knowing so. It was Pretty Boy, sitting at the far end of the gym and looking at her like she was the only person there. Ugh. What was his problem? Why was he staring her like that? Did he think she looked like an old woman? Or that she was overdressed? Hillary did not like to be stared like that. It gave her the creeps. She would have preferred it if she saw Pretty Boy dry humping the TAB on the dance floor. At least, in that case, a good barf would have washed down the icky feeling inside.
But this icky feeling inside her wasn’t really icky. It felt like she had swallowed a snake and the snake was slithering inside her belly. Her heart was beating so wildly against her chest, she swore she could almost hear her own heartbeat. She was careful not to give away her cover. From what she had gathered, Bill somehow plastered his eyes in her direction and never tore his gaze from her. Hillary wasn’t even sure that he was breathing.
And as she would realize a few seconds later, she wasn’t either.
Hillary gasped a lungful of breath, trying to calm her never. The proverbial snake inside her writhed more violently. Feeling a little faint, Hillary sat down and rubbed her forehead gingerly. When she sat down, she saw Pretty Boy stood up in reflex, as if he could catch her from a few feet’s distance.
Hillary downed the glass of water in front of her, and it soothed her anxiety a little. She asked for more water from the waiter, and the downed it in one gulp too. She tried pinching her left nostril and breathed through the other, and switched nostrils a few minutes later. Thankfully, it did the trick.
When the music changed, Hillary saw Al and Tipper returning from the dance floor, holding hands and smiling ear-to-ear.
“Did you have a good dance?” Hillary asked the couple.
“Sure did,” Al was grinning…and beet-red.
“Yeah, thanks for asking Hillary,” Tipped replied happily as Al kissed her hand.
“I’m so happy for you.” Indeed, Hillary was.
Hillary turned around to look for the source of that voice. It was Joe, and he was jostling towards her with a million-watt smile and his hand extended to her.
“Care to dance with me?” Joe said.
Hillary was very touched. “But what about Jill?”
“Jill says it’s okay. Just one, and I’m all hers afterward,” Joe winked.
Hillary looked for Jill, who was walking behind Joe. She playfully rubbed her date’s arm and smiled at Hillary.
“Joe wanted to dance with you and he asked for my permission. You’re dear to him, after all.” Jill said.
Hillary felt her heart was going to burst anytime soon.
“Sure,” Hillary took Joe’s hand and walked with him side-by-side towards the dance floor. They stood behind Betsy and John, who were so into each other that the gym would have caught fire and they wouldn’t have noticed.
Hillary rested her hands his shoulder while Joe held her waist. Slowly, they began to sway with the music.
“You look beautiful tonight, Hillary,” Joe said. “Have I told you that?”
“I seem to recall you saying something to that effect earlier,” Hillary replied, “and a thousand times since then.”
“Well, I’m going to make it a thousand and one times. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Joe. How’s your night with Jill so far?”
“To be honest,” said Joe, trying to parse his words, “I don’t want to sound like a jerk but I am glad that I didn’t go out with you tonight.”
Hillary chuckled. “You are a huge jerk for saying that out loud.”
“Ha, I’m sorry!” Joe laughed. “But seriously Hill, thank you. Jill is amazing. Not as amazing as you…”
“Oh Joe, don’t lie to me…”
“Fine, she’s at least as amazing as you,” Joe replied, still laughing. Suddenly, his face became serious. “I feel bad that you don’t have anyone with you tonight.”
“Oh Joe, it’s nothing. I am fine. Really.”
“If you say so. But there is something else.” Joe hinted.
“When Jill and I were dancing, we saw Bill Clinton looking at you like you’re football. He couldn’t take his eyes off you!”
Hillary raised a brow. “Did you just compare me to a ball?”
“Well, he is the quarterback after all! And he always has to have his eyes on the ball!” Joe chuckled.
“I don’t like it, though,” was Hillary’s half-lie. “He’s just staring at me because his girlfriend dumped him, and I’m available.”
“Oh bullshit, Hillary. First of all, stop reading Alex Jones. A little birdie told me that Bill dumped Kellyanne. In fact, he wanted to for quite some time now.”
Hillary couldn’t help but remember lordofthesax’s promises to her, no matter how irrelevant he was to the conversation.
“So you’re an investigative journalist now?” Hillary quipped.
“Ha! Not really. I am still the bartender at The Chocolair. I am very friendly to people.”
“Point taken,” Hillary conceded. “Do you even have an enemy? Even John McCain loves you.”
“And I love him back, Hill. He’s a good guy, but dating that hot chick Sarah Palin drove him nuts.”
Joe’s humor tickled Hillary. She was laughing quite hard when she accidentally bumped into John and Betsy.
“Ow!” Betsy yelped in faux pain.
“Shut it, Betsy. I’m dancing with Joe,” Hillary mocked Betsy back.
Betsy playfully bumped into Hillary again, until the music changed into something lively again. The lights dimmed, and it was time to groove.
“WOOOOOH! LET’S DANCE!” Joe screamed, cupping the sides of his mouth with his hands
“Jill! Al! Tipper! Come here!” Hillary squealed with excitement. “Let’s all dance!”
The three youngsters from the table happily scampered towards the dance floor to join their friends.
They spent a good few minutes dancing and laughing without any care in the world. Hillary and Betsy were arm-in-arm, Joe was moving in odd motions that he called “dancing”, and John, Jill, Tipper and Al were just having a good time. At the end of the song, all of them cheered, and the friends formed into a group hug.
“I love you so much guys,” Hillary said, her voice muffled.
“Love you all!” Betsy screamed.
“Love you back!” Joe replied.
When the music had died down and the lights were brighter again, the emcee proceeded to the stage and told everyone to settle down.
“I hope you all had a fun evening so far,” the emcee said. “While some of you are catching their breaths after that wild dancing, we will be having a small game.”
“Oooooh,” said the crowd in unison.
“That’s right! Just as I have told you guys earlier, we will be having this game before you can vote for Prom King and Queen. After this, we will distribute the ballots and then you will be given time to cast your votes. While we count your votes, we will open the dance floor again for everyone and then we will announce this year’s Prom King and Queen!”
The students applauded in excitement.
“Hillary, do you know what the game is?” Betsy asked.
Hillary shook her head. “No. The updated program doesn’t say. So apparently, the only person who knows is the host.”
“Oh,” said Betsy, disappointed.
“Now,” the emcee said, “in your prom sign-up sheet, the student council has asked you to specify if you are going to the prom alone or with someone else. So for this game, we have taken all the names of those without dates tonight and we are going to randomly match them with another person and they will have the dancefloor to themselves!”
Hillary’s face sank. Her friends were looking at her like she was some sort of weirdo.
“Did…did Donald come here alone?” Hillary’s trembled.
Everybody shrugged. Nobody knew.
“Oh shit,” Hillary cursed under her breath.
The emcee continued, “Here’s how we will do it. The boys who don’t have dates tonight will pick a strip of paper from the box,” the emcee pointed to the box near him, “and he will have to dance with the girl whose name appears on the strip. If not, well, I’ll let you guys dictate the punishment.”
Several students howled and cheered in delight. Hillary wished she could just disappear.
“So, I will hand over the box to you and let you guys pick,” the emcee stepped down from the stage and handed the box to the nearest table. One of the boys in that table took the box and drew a name. When he read who it was, he almost fainted, and his seatmates cheered him.
“I think they got the hang of it already,” the emcee laughed. “So, guys, pick a name from the box and ask the lucky lady to dance with you. Ladies, you can refuse but it’s just five minutes. Live a little. You never know, you might be crowned Prom King and Queen because of this.”
Hillary was ready to crawl underneath the table because of the prospect of sheer humiliation. She prayed that somehow, her name won’t be picked.
Once every available guy in the room had picked their dancing partner, the emcee asked them to go to their chosen girl and take her to the dance floor.
“Can I pretend that I’m lesbian?” Hillary said, panicking.
“No, because you said yes to Vince,” Joe replied sadly.
“What about I’m bisexual and I’m currently into girls?”
“That might be believable,” Betsy said hopefully. “Besides, you can refuse. We’ll be there to help shut the jerk down if he ever tries to force you.
Hillary bit her lip and nodded, comforted by her friends’ assurances.
Hillary frantically scoured the room for anyone who might be going to her direction. So far, there was none, and Hillary breathed a little. She saw Donald pulling Hope Hicks like she was some dog. Good. Well, not good for Hope but good for her, Hillary. At least, she won’t be dancing with the creepiest dude in school.
“Have you guys seen anyone coming for Hillary?” Betsy asked anxiously.
The rest of them shook their heads or said “No.” Hillary breathed a little deeper again, feeling that she might have dodged the bullet.
Just as when she believed that she was safe, a voice with a thick Southern accent called her name from behind. Her heart almost stopping, Hillary, slowly turned around, and she saw the large hand of Bill Clinton, holding a strip of paper with her name on it.
I hope you don't kill me for this epic cliffhanger. But I am telling you that the waiting will be all worth it.
Thanks so much for the kudos and feedback! Merry Christmas to you all! I'll try to update before the new year comes!
Chapter 9: Prom III
Sorry for the errors. This had been a shitty Christmas week :(
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
"I'd like to have a dance with you, Hillary."
Hillary's eyes quickly darted on the piece of paper that Bill was holding. Indeed, her name was written on it. The sinking feeling that she expected, knowing that it was Pretty Boy who picked her, did not come. Instead, she felt a rush of blood surging through her cheeks. Everyone at her table was simply looking at her, holding their breath, waiting for her to accept or reject him.
Hillary bit her lower lip, an internal war battling inside her. She could end her struggle immediately by just saying no, but Pretty Boy, whose eyes were poring all over her like raging fire, was daring her to do the unthinkable. Underneath the sweetness of his voice was the intense desire to defy her and the entire school.
Prove yourself. Show me you're not a coward.
Of course, Hillary had never been the one to shy away from a challenge, especially if it was Pretty Boy who was daring her. Hillary was any things, but coward wasn’t one of them. At any other day, she would have stood up and tripped him at the first opportunity. But tonight…well, tonight wasn’t an ordinary right. The night was still young and there was still plenty of time for things to go wrong. After all, who would have guessed that Pretty Boy would break up with her TAB girlfriend, took her to prom and almost crashed them into a speeding car?
But still, the challenge was enticing. Bill was enticing. He was like a lamp, and she the moth that flew dangerously close.
Throwing all the fucks that she could give out of the window, Hillary stood up confidently, and her table let out the most silent gasp. Betsy gripped John’s hand for support, and Joe hugged Jill close with one hand as if they were watching the collapse of the Twin Towers. Or the Apocalypse. Hillary on the other hand, gave them a look a said “Trust me”, and the table breathed a little. Bill offered his hand for her to take. When Hillary’s hand was almost touching his fingers, a surge of electricity passed in between them, and the two were jolted in pain.
“Ow!” Hillary wiggled her hand to numb the pain.
Bill was gingerly rubbing his fingers. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Too much static. I was combing my hair just before I got here.” That was only a half-truth. What he didn’t tell Hillary that beneath that mask of bravery was a very nervous Bill, who was rubbing his hands against his coat on the way to Hillary’s table.
“Don’t make me your discharging pole next time,” Hillary said irritably.
“Sorry.” Bill offered his other hand, and when Hillary touched it with her opposite hand, there was another static that jolted them.
“Girl, they have too much spark,” Hillary heard Joe whisper to Betsy, to which the latter nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” Bill apologized again, turning beet red. Hillary had never seen him have such low confidence.
“Oh boy. Bill has electric charge and Hill has a magnetic field. And instead of metals, she attracts douche-y quarterbacks,” Betsy told Joe.
“That’s called induced magnetism, Bets” Joe quipped, chuckling, “I know because I aced that test on electromagnetics.”
“I love physics,” Betsy giggled. Hillary was a bit pissed that Joe and Betsy apparently forgot that she could hear them. Meanwhile, Bill couldn’t tear his gaze from Hillary, whom he thought was incredibly breathtaking.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” said an exasperated Hillary. “You sure you’re not…uhm…shocking already?”
Bill touched Jill’s arm, and the latter didn’t flinch.
“All clear,” he said, a little embarrassed of himself.
He offered his hand again to his dance partner. Hillary covered his hand with hers. This time, a different kind of electricity passed through them both, and it was riveting. Neither had wanted to acknowledge that this was more powerful than the first shock, so they looked away in different directions. Hillary tightened her grip as if telling him to take the lead, and so he did. Bill took the first step to the dance floor, walking hand-in-hand with his archnemesis, the only woman who had made him feel inferior in more ways than one.
As they walked towards the free space of the dance floor, the students seemed to have realized who the odd pair was they gave way to them like how the Red Sea gave way to the Israelites. The couples on the dance floor left quite a huge empty space for Hillary and Bill. Everybody seemed to have forgotten the game; they simply gaped at them as they idly went by their own businesses.
“This is fucking weird. Everybody’s looking at us,” Bill whispered.
“Not my fault, Clinton. Your hand somehow found its way to my name. How queer,” Hillary rolled her eyes.
Having no other choice, Bill and Hillary settled at the empty space. They faced each other, but their eyes were roaming somewhere else. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and he gripped her small waist. His hand, having a mind of its own, crawled a little further south so that he felt the delicious curve of her hip. Bill thought that his hand and her hip fit perfectly. Forgetting where he was and the million pairs of eyes looking at them, he pulled her closer to him.
Hillary was quite surprised at his bold, unexpected move. She didn’t know what game Bill was trying to play, but it made her feel uncomfortable. If this was his idea to attract attention, she didn’t like it. However, she didn’t voice her objection, and somehow, her voice couldn’t bring itself to do so. It was probably because of the breath that she didn’t realize she was holding.
The lights dimmed again, and a new song was played. Bill and Hillary started to sway with the rhythm of the song. Their hearts were pounding, but neither let the other know that it was so. They were looking at wildly different direction. Even though their bodies were as close as humanly possible, their hearts and minds were infinitely far apart.
Bill, holding Hillary close to him and feeling her warmth, finally acknowledged that he was tripping all over her. It took every ounce of willpower for Bill not to look at her because if he did, he might finally fall. And as their physics teacher Mr. Bill Foster had told them, it wasn’t the fall the kills a person. It’s the momentum, and he feared that her mere look could start something that he couldn’t stop.
Hillary was hellbent on ignoring the raging tsunami inside her. She was supposed to feel triumphant after being able to win over Bill’s own game, but she wasn’t. She was uncertain of her feelings. Her face felt hot, and she, much to her dismay, relished the closeness of their bodies, how tender he was. Hillary, knowing him, expected him to lead her and pull her to whichever direction he wished, and brashly too. But he was slow and gentle, and he let their own bodies lead them. After three years of feuding, she had almost forgotten how warm and tender he was.
If she could fall into his arms and nobody would see her, she would probably do so.
In the middle of their dance, another couple had bumped into them, hitting Hillary in the back. She almost lost her balance. She clung to his arms, and used his body as her support. She mouthed a quiet “Thank you”. Bill held her closer, ready to carry her if she fell all the way. He pulled her up to her feet gently, careful not to let the goddess in his arms dip all the way.
Forgetting her self-imposed resistance against Bill, Hillary looked up to her dance partner. The two pairs of eyes that avoided each other all night finally connected.
The two of them felt the ground shift underneath their feet. They didn’t know what it was, but they just knew that the tremors were strong. With only the two of them in this earthquake, they pulled each other closer, never breaking their connection.
Beautiful. That’s how they saw each other at that moment.
Hillary wanted to say something, anything, but eloquence had escaped her. How could words possibly describe what she was feeling?
She had almost jumped for joy when Bill moved their clasped hands from their side to his left chest.
Crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy.
Hillary felt so alive. She that she couldn’t get more worked up than when she and Bill had their shouting matches. Ironically, it was this moment of silence made her heart race faster and her blood pump harder. To her delight (and confusion), she could tell that Bill was feeling exactly the same way.
Lost in their deep feelings and the touch of the music, Bill made the boldest request.
“Can I kiss you?”
The answer wasn’t complicated, it seemed.
Bill was inching closer, and Hillary tiptoed a bit to meet him halfway.
Just as when their lips were going to touch, the music had stopped, and the lights became brighter.
The game was over.
Clearing her throat, Hillary gently shoved Bill away and hurried back to her seat, her head hanging low. Confused and disappointed, Bill followed, but the sea of students blocked his path towards her, until he saw her take her seat and was comforted by Betsy and Joe.
She looked like she was going to cry.
What had he done?
“I bit off more than I could chew” Hillary declared when she sat back between Betsy and Joe, her voice quivering. “That was so embarrassing. I shouldn’t have said yes to Pretty Boy.”
“I thought it was all fun and games ‘til I saw you two getting serious,” said Joe.
“That was all a rouse. I didn’t think he’d go that far for his bid for attention,” Hillary replied.
“Of course!” Betsy figured out excitedly “Kellyanne’s here. He’d wanna get back at her. Random draw or not, he figured that dancing with you would wipe that disgusting smile out off her ugly face. So he took it all the way!”
“Fuck,” Joe wiped his face and punched his palm, “he hurt you again. I’m gonna beat the shit out of him when this prom’s over.”
“Please no, Joe. Not tonight, at least,” Betsy begged.
“Alright,” he replied, suddenly remembering that he had a date with him.
“Guys, I’m fine. I’ll just find another way to get home tonight,” Hillary said.
“Another way?!” Betsy and Joe said in unison.
“What does Bill have to do with it?” Betsy asked.
Hillary was angry at herself for slipping. Because of that, she was forced to tell Betsy and Joe how she got to prom.
“Holy fuck,” Joe exclaimed, aghast.
“I don’t know what to say,” said Betsy.
“You don’t have to say anything, guys,” Hillary sighed, “I just want to get this over with.”
“I’ll go home with you, Hill. We can hire a cab,” Betsy offered.
Hillary shook her head. “Betsy, you have John with you. I’m sure John has plans for you after.”
“Oh! No, I don’t,” he lied.
“See? I can come home with you,” Betsy insisted.
But still, Hillary was firm. “I’ll just ask Dad to bring some comfortable clothes and walk me home.”
“Seriously, Betsy. It won’t kill me. Have fun tonight…”
Exasperated, Hillary grabbed Betsy’s purse out of her best friend’s hands.
“Hey! Give it back!”
“Bets, I have you to have a fun time,” Hillary insisted. “So, I’m giving you this,” Hillary opened her own purse and took out the foil of condom for everybody to see. “I’m putting it in your bag because you’re gonna need it more than I do.”
Betsy and John went to a deep shade of red.
“Hill!” Betsy complained, but deeply touched by Hillary’s gesture.
“You’re welcome, bitch,” Hillary smiled.
Just as the two friends made up, the ballots for Prom King and Queen were being distributed. Students eagerly wrote their votes in the ballots and immediately dropped their piece of paper in the ballot box.
“I think I know who I’ll vote,” Joe winked at Hillary.
“Don’t you dare, Joe!” Hillary threatened.
Giggling and eyeing Hillary, Joe proceeded to write his vote.
“I’m voting Barack and Michelle just to piss Kellyanne and Sebastian,” Betsy said.
“Donald probably voted for himself,” Hillary mused. “Both for King and Queen.”
“Is there any doubt?” Betsy giggled.
Betsy and Hillary wrote their votes on their ballots. Hillary voted for Betsy and John. She couldn’t think of two other people more deserving of the title. She just hoped Betsy didn’t write her name, or Bill’s.
After the votes were collected, the students were called again for another round of dancing. Hillary’s group went back to the dance floor and danced some more, without any care in the world. After dancing for quite a while, Hillary heard a voice she hoped she never would.
“So, that was quite a stunt, Hillary Rodham,” Kellyanne Conway called from behind.
Joe and Betsy looked at her, warning her not to pay any attention, but Hillary was determined to eke out a victory that night. She might have lost against Bill, but she’d be damned if she’d let Kellyanne score a win on her too.
Hillary turned around to face Kellyanne, her game face on.
“Why are you here? Bored of Sebastian already?” Hillary hissed.
“I underestimated you, Rodham. I thought you couldn’t pull that spectacle off. But you did. With my boyfriend too,” said Kellyanne.
“Ex-boyfriend,” Hillary clarified. She relished the thought that someone had dumped Kellyanne.
“Whatever,” Kellyanne rolled her eyes. “At least I had someone to go with me at prom.”
“Am I supposed to feel envy or…?”
“It means that nobody wanted to go with you,” Kellyanne spelled it out, but somehow, it sounded a little desperate on her part.
“I seemed to recall that Vince wanted to go with me, but you and your ex-boyfriend bullied him into dumping me.”
“Girl, if he really wanted you, he shouldn’t have been deterred,” Kellyanne said, crossing her arms in her chest and wearing a smug look on her face.
“Girl, if you boyfriend really wanted you, he shouldn’t have asked me if he could kiss me.”
Betsy and Joe gasped. The smile on Kellyanne’s face turned to a scowl, and she marched away from Hillary and her group. Hillary’s hands were on her waist, smiling triumphantly.
“Did Bill just really asked you to kiss him?” Betsy asked.
“Of course not,” Hillary lied. “That’s too far for a stunt.”
Betsy was satisfied with her answer, but Joe was not. He knew that Hillary was hiding something more, but decided not to press her.
After some time, Hillary and her friends had grown tired of dancing, and so did the rest of the students. The emcee had stepped back in and all were suddenly quiet.
“And now, the most awaited part of the evening: the announcement and coronation of this year’s Prom King and Queen!”
The students were murmuring excitedly amongst themselves. Hillary saw Kellyanne smile and wink at her minions Ann and Tomi.
“First is our Prom King!”
As the emcee was opening the envelope, Joe was pretending to wink and smile at the people behind him.
“Joe!” Jill nudged Joe.
“Hey, what if I won! I am pretty handsome and friendly, after all!”
Jill giggled. Hillary and Betsy rolled their eyes.
“And the Prom King is…”
From the corner of her eye, Hillary saw Pretty Boy looking bored and inattentive. Odd, Hillary thought. He usually didn’t miss the chance to hog attention. Or else, what was that dancing-with-her stunt for?
And the Prom King is…Bill Clinton!”
Out his reverie, Bill looked genuinely surprised as if someone told him that the gym was on fire. Looking a bit embarrassed, Bill processed on the stage where he was greeted by Mrs. Pelosi, the emcee and Mrs. Merkel, who put the sash and crown on him. Hillary couldn’t help but giggle. He looked ridiculous. Pity she didn’t have a camera. She could have captured at moment when Pretty Boy looked incredibly horrendous.
“Thank you, Mr. Clinton,” the emcee said. “And now, it’s time to announce our new Prom Queen!”
Kellyanne was holding Ann and Tomi’s hands like she was some finalist in a beauty contest. Hillary nudged Betsy to look at Kellyanne’s direction and the two friends giggled.
“God, she thinks she’s gonna take it,” Betsy said.
“Better be. She goes well with Pretty Boy onstage. Two attention seeking whores getting exactly what they want,” Hillary jeered.
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” said Betsy.
“And now! For the Prom Queen!” The emcee opened the envelope, and everybody saw Mrs. Pelosi take a peek. The principal didn’t look too happy about the results, and her expression didn’t escape the two friends’ notice.
“Now I know Kellyanne won. Look at Mrs. Pelosi’s face!” Betsy giggled.
“Oh boy this is gonna be a whore-fest.”
“And this year’s Prom Queen is…”
This was just so delicious, Hillary thought. Her two archnemeses embarrassing themselves in front of everybody.
Hillary almost choked the iced tea that she had been drinking, nearly spilling all over her dress. Her eyes darted around to see if she heard her name correctly. Everyone in the room was looking at her, which meant that she definitely heard her name from the emcee’s mouth. Kellyanne was even giving her a dirty scowl.
“Go up stage, girl,” Betsy encouraged her. “You don’t wanna make a scene.”
“I’m making a scene, either way,” Hillary rolled her eyes as she stood up and went to the stage to join Bill. At that moment, there was nothing else she wanted more than being eaten by the ground alive, but she couldn’t let anyone see it, could she? With the brightest smile she could ever fake, Hillary faced her fellow students confidently as if she was relishing every second of this unnecessary attention.
When Hillary got on the stage, she was congratulated by Mrs. Pelosi, Mrs. Merkel and the emcee, who put the crown and sash on her and gave her a bouquet of flowers. The emcee led Bill and Hillary to the front of the stage where everybody had a clear view of the newly crowned Prom King and Queen. Hillary wasn’t sure if it was accidental or otherwise, but she felt Bill scoot to her closer so that they were rubbing shoulders. She smiled at the clapping audience, but she remained stiff. She wasn’t used to pageants or stuff like this, so she just smiled.
In the middle of the cheers, Hillary felt a large hand clasped her free hand from behind. It gave her the sliver of comfort that she needed, as if the owner of the hand knew exactly what she felt. She looked at Bill, who appeared to be basking in the attention, but deep inside, she felt that he too wasn’t enjoying this. Hillary felt guilty for thinking that he was faked his surprised reaction earlier.
In a move to show her sympathy, Hillary closed her fingers on his hand.
I hope you liked this chapter. Prom night isn't over. Something is still in store for our favorite couple-slash-mortal enemies.
The universe just loves to toy with them, doesn't it?
Chapter 10: Aftermath
The last part of prom night!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Bill and Hillary silently walked towards the parking lot, their crowns and sashes thrown away at the garbage bin. It was almost 1 am and everybody had left. At the stage right after the awarding of Prom King and Queen, Hillary told Bill that she’d call her dad to pick her up. Bill agreed to it, but after the prom, he noticed that Hillary was agitated and asked her what’s wrong.
“Dad wasn’t answering my calls. I think Mom and Dad are asleep,” Hillary bit her lip.
“They must have assumed that I’ll take you back home. I can do that,” Bill offered.
Bill taking her home would have been the most awkward cap on this one hell of a weird evening, but Hillary seemed to have no choice.
“Are you sure you aren’t going anywhere? A date after this perhaps?”
Bill chuckled bitterly. “If I had a date, I would have taken her to the prom, wouldn’t I?”
“Meet me at the front entrance when everybody’s gone. Can’t have other people seeing us like this. I’ve had too much attention for tonight,” Bill said.
Hillary nodded, but in her mind, she was raging. THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU PULL THAT STUNT EARLIER YOU DUMB PIECE OF SHIT?!
When Bill and Hillary reached the parking lot, she was surprised that Bill’s motorcycle was gone. Instead, a black car was the only vehicle sitting in the parking lot.
“Uhm, Bill…where’s your motorcycle?”
“Barack stole it,” Bill explained, “when we were up on stage, he took my keys from our table and went off on my motorcycle. Said Michelle wanted to ride my hog. He left me with his car keys instead. The crazy bastard.”
“Oh,” Hillary was a bit relieved that she didn’t have to experience that death trap all over again.
Bill opened the door of the car for her, and she went inside, feeling awfully weird that her archnemesis was going all gentleman-like on her. Bill followed, and they were off the school.
“Are your parents gonna be mad if you came home late?” Bill asked as he was driving.
“Not really,” Hillary replied, thinking about the condom her mother left in her purse and was probably now gone. “I have my own house keys. I’ll be alright.”
Hillary found his last response weird.
“Something up?” Hillary couldn’t help but ask.
Even in the dark, Hillary could tell that Bill was turning red. “Uhm, you see, I don’t know if I should tell this to you…”
“I can listen.” After all, it was the least Hillary could do for Bill, taking her to prom and back, and all that.
“It…it’s just that I really wanted to bring someone to the harbor after the prom. But, as you know, I went to the prom all by myself…”
“I am sorry, Kellyanne shouldn’t have done that,” Hillary feigned her sympathy.
Bill shook his head, laughing bitterly. “I wouldn’t bring her to the harbor even if hell freezes over. I’d rather bring Barack.”
“Oh!” Hillary felt awkward knowing the most intimate details of Bill’s life. Still, she found it odd that he wouldn’t bring Kellyanne to the harbor. Then she realized that she had always thought their relationship was simply that of convenience. But then again, she never knew how much Bill hated his girlfriend. He reminded her of another man she knew, a man who promised to dump his girlfriend for her and then suddenly balk in the last minute.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d like you to come with me at the harbor. You don’t need to do anything. You can stay in the car if you like,” Bill said.
1 “I don’t mind,” Hillary replied. “It’s kinda lame if I’m home early. I’ll go with you.”
Bill looked genuinely elated. “Thanks.”
As they drove towards the harbor, Bill turned on the radio and they were serenaded by beautiful saxophone music, which never failed to make Hillary swoon. She shifted in her seat so that she was leaning sideways on the backrest of her seat. Bill couldn’t really take his eyes off the road, but under the pretense of looking at the side mirror, he caught a glimpse of her and thought that she looked absolutely breathtaking, getting all loose and relaxed in front of him.
“Sax music is so beautiful,” Hillary said in jest.
“You think?” Bill’s heart fluttered to hear her adoration of sax music.
“You listen to it frequently?”
Hillary shook her head. “I don’t. I just stumbled upon it quite recently. I am amazed at people who can make such beautiful music.”
Bill was this close to telling her that he was good at playing sax, but he thought better. “I’ll leave you to listen, then.”
The drive to the harbor had been pretty quiet, except for the serenade of saxophone music. There were times that Hillary’s were fluttering due to exhaustion, but she would catch herself before she could fall asleep. Bill would catch a glance at her every time he thought she wasn’t looking. It took every ounce of Bill’s restraint to stop himself from running a finger on her pink cheeks. Fuck. She was so beautiful. How could anyone in God’s tiny blue Earth be feuding with this beautiful creature every single day for three years?
When the reached the harbor, Bill pulled over at a spot where one could have a clear view of the seas and the ships. He nudged Hillary awake, who finally succumbed to sleep a little while ago. She stretched and yawned in front of him, and Bill thought she looked too adorable. He got off the car and eagerly watched the bright lights from the ships that were docked on the port.
Hillary followed him, her arms crossing his chest because of the cool sea breeze. She loved the freshness of the air. The gentle breeze caressed her face and almost knocked her already loose bun. Wanting to relieve herself, she finally let her hair loose, her locks dropping on her shoulder. She took a deep breath. She had to admit: It was a good idea for Bill to take her to the harbor.
Bill looked back and saw his companion behind him. His jaw almost dropped. The vision in front of him – Hillary with her hair on her shoulders, her nose up and enjoying the feel of the breeze – was all too much to bear. Not to mention that she was wearing that very exquisite gown. He secretly wished that he had his camera with him so that he could memorialize that sight forever.
Bill sensed that she was shivering a bit, so he took off his coat. “Here.”
“Oh no, I’m fine,” Hillary said.
“I insist. It looks like you’re gonna freeze,” Bill insisted.
Hillary finally took the coat from Bill’s hand. “Thanks. It’s weird that it’s the Midwestern whose teeth are chattering in this temperature and the Southerner who’s enduring.”
Bill chuckled. “Indeed.” He leaned forward on the deck of the harbor. “It’s so beautiful.
“It is. I never thought it looks this way at night,” Hillary said, mesmerized.
“My dad brought me here when I was still very little. Stepdad, I mean,” Bill said.
“What happened to do your Dad?” Hillary asked before she could stop herself.
“He died in a car crash when I was still in my Mama’s belly,” Bill said, and it elicited an audible gasp from Hillary.
“I’m sorry. I overstepped my boundaries,” Hillary apologized.
“It’s alright,” Bill put his hands in his pockets and continued to admire the magnificent scene in front of them. “It feels great. Just staring at the sea in silence, I mean.”
“Yes, it does. Really puts things into perspective. Like two mortal enemies currently enjoying the beauty of the seas. Who would have thought that would happen?”
Bill chuckled. “Tonight’s been a crazy night. We almost got killed, got to dance and crowned Prom King and Queen, my motorcycle got stolen and now we are staring into the open waters.”
“The universe is punishing us, it seems,” she said. “I probably killed a person in my previous life and now I am paying for my sins.”
“Or maybe you did something in this life and the universe is making you pay while you’re still alive,” he quipped.
Normally, Hillary would have been already worked up by that quip from Bill, and she would have been ready to punch him in the nose, but she was not in the mood for that. “If you’re talking about the dick incident, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such…well…a dick. Removing the marker stain much have been shit.”
“It did take me quite a while to remove the stain from my face, and walking around with a black eye made it worse,” Bill said, “I never thought that the black eye could be removed in time for prom. Thank God my Mama has this magic cream or something like that. The bruise was gone in two days.”
“So I noticed. Good for you,” Hillary almost had the urge to punch him playfully in the arm, but good thing she caught herself.
Bill owed Hillary an apology too, and he felt there was no other perfect time to give her that well-deserved apology.
“I’m sorry for being a jackass too. Ever since freshman year. From that incident in the cafeteria up to that horrible fake letter to Donald. You don’t deserve that bullying from me, or from anyone. I’m really, really sorry.”
“I…I wanted to hear that for years,” she confessed, her eyes on the dark seas, the breeze gently blowing her hair. “I thought that if I became influential enough, the bullying would stop. So I made more friends and ran for student council. I befriended everybody, and I was class rep, but the bullying persisted. So I thought there might something…rotten in me to make me a prime target for bullies.”
A hard lump was stuck in Bill’s throat after hearing her confession. He never realized how bad Hillary blamed herself for being bullied. At least now, she knew that it was never her fault. He was just simply a jackass.
“We thought you’re just an easy target because of how easily worked up you get,” Bill said. “Normally, other kids would cower before us and obey our every whim. But not you. You fought back. You defended yourself. You even stood up for others who were bullied. It sickened us. That was why we were relentless in going after you.”
Truth be told, Bill had another thing in mind why he was so relentless: he loved seeing her so passionate. But it had to come at her expense.
Surprising them both, tears suddenly fell unchecked from Hillary’s eyes. Bill scrambled for his clean handkerchief and handed it t her. Without thinking, she took the piece of cloth and gently dabbed it on her eye.
“It feels so vindicating hearing my greatest tormentor say that, but that doesn’t completely remove the pain that I’ve felt over the years,” Hillary said. She was referring to something much, much deeper, and Bill felt he wasn’t quite ready to answer it yet.
But he was ready to give her solace. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. She flinched at the touch a little.
“If I could ask for your apology a thousand times over, I would,” Bill said, looking at her eyes directly.
“I can try.” All night, Hillary had tried to resist Bill from the get-go, and her sudden declaration of her willingness to forgive him confused her as much as it angered her, though her heart was ready to do that since Day 1. Now with the cat out of the bag, there was no turning back. She would have to keep her word.
“I want a truce, Hillary. No more fighting. No more nasty tricks,” Bill requested, his eyes begging.
“I think I can do the ‘no more nasty tricks’ part,” Hillary replied. “Not sure about the ‘no more fighting’. We do easily find ourselves in each other’s crosshairs.”
“And I do find your voice annoying,” Bill grinned. It was a total lie, though.
“And I find you a pompous airhead jackass, Mr. William Jerkinson Clinton,” Hillary laughed.
“Duly noted,” Bill replied, also laughing. With their guards down and their boundaries blurred, he absentmindedly moved closer to her. She, likewise, didn’t mind their narrowing gap.
“Did I already say that this harbor looks so beautiful at night? If not, then yes, the harbor looks so beautiful at night,” she admired the view as the took a lungful of sea breeze.
Speaking of beautiful…
“You look beautiful tonight, Hillary,” Bill said, causing the hairs on her skin to rise. She had been complimented as such all night – from her friends, classmates, and teachers – and no one would provoke such reaction from her other than him. When he said it, she felt like it was the absolute truth.
“Thank you,” Hillary hoped that the darkness could hide the blush the was forming on her cheeks. It could certainly hide the pounding of her heart. She just prayed he couldn’t hear how loud her heartbeat was.
“I saw you and Joe dancing. Nice of him to invite you to the dance floor. I saw you having so much fun,” Bill remarked.
“He is, he is. But I knew he had a much better time with Jill.” Hillary had to stop herself from spilling further details.
“Does he? I thought he wanted to go out with you,” Bill quirked an eyebrow.
“He did, but I balked after the Donald incident,” she explained.
“Sorry,” he said regretfully, biting his lip.
“It’s okay! I did have as much fun as I thought I’d have if I went with someone. If it’s Joe, we’d probably hit a pole by now,” Hillary giggled.
“Did you really?” Bill felt a little hopeful when he heard her say that.
“Yes. Come on, I won Prom Queen! What else could top that?” she gave her signature loud hearty, laugh, and Bill’s eyes sparkled.
“Indeed.” For Bill, it was different, though. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine drawing her name from the box and being able to dance with her, especially with her looking so magnificent. He would be lying if he hadn’t imagined that night at least once since freshman year (though it took him quite a while to admit it to himself that it was his ultimate dream). By sudden twists of fate, he ended up with the exact same image of his fantasy.
“I didn’t see you ask anyone to dance. I found it quite…odd of you,” Hillary said in jest.
“Meh, I don’t feel like dancing with anyone,” Bill replied.
Hillary realized how insensitive her comment was. She forgot that he just came from a break-up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.”
“No offense taken. I’m glad Kellyanne got someone else to go with her. She’s insufferable. I’m glad I got rid of her.”
Hillary was struck hearing those words from the TAB’s ex-boyfriend. She couldn’t help but ask…
“Why did you stay with her if you’re so unhappy?”
Bill knew the exact answer, but he couldn’t bear to say it. Instead, he simply drooped his head and took a deep sigh.
Hillary, feeling that she touched a nerve, backed away from the subject.
“It’s getting late, and my parents are probably worried,” she lied. In reality, it was just an excuse she made so that she could get out of his whim. She had to admit that she enjoyed everything that had occurred that had happened that evening – intentional or not. If Bill had been any other guy, she would have wanted this to continue. She felt that she was charting in dangerous waters – becoming too intimate with Bill – and ever since the cafeteria incident, she vowed never to go to that territory ever again.
“Oh, okay.” Bill didn’t bother hiding the disappointment in his voice, and it secretly thrilled Hillary. However, he had one last request. “Can…can I just look at the harbor for three more minutes?”
“Of course.” It was such a small request. Hillary didn’t mind at all…
…Except that she couldn’t look away from him as he stood in watching in awe. She felt like a freshman again, admiring Bill Clinton from a distance. How handsome he was. How sweet and caring he was. How she wished that they were more than friends…
Suddenly, the sound of Bill’s horrendous laugh in the cafeteria echoed inside his mind.
Feeling like she was dumped with ice cold water, she quickly tore her gaze away from him, but it was too late. Bill had already caught her staring at him, and she simply ignored what had just happened.
“Are you ready? I’ll be heading inside the car,” she quickly turned away from him.
But not before Bill could catch her hand.
Hillary almost just jumped when she felt his touch, like tongue on ice. She turned around to face him,
“I miss us,” Bill said, his eyes pleading.
She missed them too, but she wasn’t going to let him know that anytime soon. Instead, she scoffed.
“I don’t know what ‘us’ are you referring to. There was no ‘us’,” Hillary shot.
“You’re not a particularly good liar tonight,” Bill said quietly.
“Oh really? I am telling the truth, Bill. There was no ‘us’. You made that particularly clear three years ago,” Hillary tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I can feel that your heart is telling you otherwise,” Bill said.
Hillary pulled away forcefully. “Would you look at that. A guy telling what a girl should feel.”
“You felt it earlier, Hillary!” Bill was almost screaming in frustration. “At the dance!” He was referring to their almost kiss, and Hillary knew exactly what he meant.
“Oh? Was I really that a good actress?”
That remark was like a shot in Bill’s chest, and Hillary felt guilty for it, though she didn’t dare show it.
“I still believe that it was real,” Bill persisted. His defiance against her was pushing her to the edge. Damn phantom memories of the moment they met three years ago. His soft smile. His almost nervous invitation to the park. The fluttering butterflies in her stomach. Fast forward three years later. Their dance…their dance was no ordinary one. It was an odd yet exact representation of what they shared all these years. It was a duel, a fight at face value. But deep inside, it was exactly what they wanted: a moment to share, a moment to cherish, a moment to remember.
And here they were again, a couple of hours later, all alone. Fate was tempting them again one more time. After all, Fate made an extra effort to make sure they would end up together after their life-changing dance.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He towered over her, glaring down into her bright blue eyes. He was immovable. He was trapping her, yet she was as defiant as ever.
“Do you think a single dance is all it takes to make me go running to you?” she retorted. “I don’t want you. But if you want proof, fine. Kiss me. Right here. Right now. See if I’ll swoon all over you.”
“You never swoon, Hillary. But you did almost fall earlier.”
“Oh yeah? Enough talking, Clinton. If you’re so bold and daring, why don’t you do what you said you wanted to do? Here, I’ll make it easy on you,” Hillary darted past Bill and found a small milk carton. She dumped the milk carton on his feet and stood on top of it so that they’re even. “Go ahead. Kiss me. See if the world shifts off its axis.”
Despite her bravado, he sensed far more was at work behind her daring gaze. "You're just a scared little girl."
Boldly, Hillary leaned in, tilted her head, and captured his mouth with a lingering caress. Tentative at first, barely brushing her lips over his until he deepened the kiss when his tongue gently parted her lips. She allowed the access and then hissed when their tongues met. She fought off feeling anything with all she had, but the way he was inhaling her mouth so hungrily that her center was already tingling. One deliciously deep and wicked kiss after another until before she knew it both her arms were locked tightly around his neck, desperately clutching him to her. He hauled her off the milk carton, his strong arms curled around her waist, holding her off the ground hard against his chest as their mouths tore into each other violently.
Somehow, Bill found the strength to break the kiss.
“Tell me now, Hillary,” he breathed, “tell me now that you felt nothing.” He whispered softly over her mouth before he nipped her bottom lip, “Please stop denying us.”
“You shouldn’t have done that first,” she sighed.
That remark from her felt like a stab in his heart.
“Would you deny us now, then?”
Bill felt her lips quiver. But immediately, he felt the forceful shove of her hands in his chest and she went to the car. Bill couldn’t help but notice the swing of her curvy hips as she walked towards the vehicle, inviting him to follow her. It was as if she was leaving a trail scent, and he was to follow that trail. She quietly slipped into the passenger seat. He followed her, but that didn’t mean he was conceding. At least, not yet.
“So you’re just going to ignore me, huh?” he said as he slammed the car door.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she folded her arms and looked in the opposite direction. Beneath her façade of anger was the intense desire to be pursued by the man sitting next to her.
Despite what appearances might have said, Bill knew Hillary, perhaps more than anybody apart from herself. He knew that she was just playing a game, and she was just baiting him.
If she would not yield, Bill thought, then he would just have to force her hand.
Bill leaned closer to her, closer and closer until his lips were brushing her cheek. She could feel her his breath fanning her face, but she remained resilient and enduring. Slowly, his fingers touched her chin and gently turned her face towards him. He was quite surprised that he was met with no resistance as if she was waiting for him to do that. With her eyes now half-closed, he brushed his lips against hers ever so lightly, just to torture and tease her. They were not kissing, at least not yet, but this one was way more intimate and affectionate than the passionate kiss they just had outside the car.
When he pulled away, her lips instinctively followed, though he was much too far away from her reach now. Hillary opened her eyes with her lips half-pursed, and she saw him with a triumphant smirk.
Hillary felt she was toyed, and it only upped her annoyance. But hand in hand with it was her desire for him. She wanted to…to go all the way with him. Her insides and her center were screaming Bill’s name, but she just couldn’t. She was smarter than to let her fleshly desires take over her. After all, they just forgave each other for the three years of nasty feuding. Hillary didn’t think that jumping on one’s mortal enemy just after reconciliation was the best idea in the world, but it would have been the lie of the century if she told herself she didn’t want him.
Besides, she foolishly gave the condom to Betsy a few hours ago. She just prayed that it was put to good use.
Bill sensed the internal war inside her. As much as he too wanted the same thing, her deference to her exceeded his needs. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything about it.
She quickly turned to him. “Yes?”
“May I?” Bill rested his hand on her leg and rubbed it gently. She immediately knew that he was talking about.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. It’s my fault after all,” he said.
Hillary could see his darkened eyes and the faint outline in his pants. “But what about you?”
“You don’t have to if you’re not ready. But I want to help you. Nobody has to know. I won’t tell, I promise. I just don’t want to see you in such unease.”
Hillary paused a while to weigh her options, but the longer it took her to think, the more awkward it got. Finally, she decided to him help her. She gave a silent nod to him, biting her lower lip.
Bill, having not done this before, suddenly became nervous. He had seen quite a lot of this from watching porn, but he never had experience in it.
“Hillary, I…I have a confession to make.”
“What is it?”
Bill licked his lips. “I want you to tell me if it feels good or not. This is my first time doing this. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Lazily, she said, “Mmmkay.”
The raw emotion of his voice tore into her senses as she felt his fingers wander around her legs until he gently pulled her skirt up, revealing her thighs wrapped in stockings. She had never felt so vulnerable yet secure at the same time. It’s not that she wasn’t used to this before. It’s that the thought of Bill caressing her like that scared her to death.
Bill was wallowing in fear too. He kinda regretted offering to ease her. What if he couldn’t bring her to completion? What if wasn’t satisfied? Or worse, what if he hurt her? And so, his hands lingered in her thighs for quite a while, and his indecisiveness was leaving her more and more frustrated.
“Bill?” she finally said.
“You can go further,” she coaxed him.
Thankful for her encouragement, Bill slowly slipped his hand inside her underwear, and he was surprised by the sudden jerk of her body, and the sheer wetness he found inside. He was stunned. He hadn’t done much, but Hillary was already soaking and wanting. He couldn’t help but grin. Good thing her eyelids were fluttering, thus his smirk was hidden from her view.
She was quivering under his merest touches. She was making these little erotic nosiest at his most tentative caresses. Needless to say, she was feeling so good. Over and over she felt him teasing her to the point of pleasure/pain until he, at last, yanked the cotton aside and fully cupping her sopping mound.
She almost shrieked, and then her hips arched into him as continued his sweet assault. Slow, lingering lashes of his finger from her hard nub down, gathering her sweetness, stroking her senses higher by the second. Her thighs shook his hand as his fingers slipped beneath her, all throughout the length of her entrance, teasing her as if it was his manhood was about to enter her. Her entire body shook with pleasurable tremors, nearly turning sideways in a silent wail.
She dared to gaze at him and was awed by the sheer intensity of his hunger for her. She felt guilty that she couldn’t do anything for him that night, but her guilt was drowned by the immense pleasure that was emanating from her sex.
Feather-soft lashes of his fingers gave way to firm, faster strokes taking her to the edge of ecstasy, and then teasing her with paradise. The scent of her was now forever burned into his memory. The scent of her made his manhood throb as his finger pushed inside her, fucking her in a way that made his manhood envious. She trembled, with the right hand now resting on the headrest of her seat, her left pushing his hand further inside her. Her right hand, with a mind of its own, quickly jumped from the headrest to his throbbing erection, but he quickly swatted her hand away.
“No, Darlin’. Not tonight,” he said.
Nodding, the orgasm that was building inside her exploded, and her vision went all white. There was no orgasm in her past that compared to the mind-blowing one she was experiencing. An out-of-body climax that left her crying out his name while rocking her hips into his fingers. She felt him softly rubbing her bud as wave after pleasurable wave throttled through her until she finally had to shove him away.
“That…that was…” she gasped, lying limply on the passenger seat. “Thank you.”
Bill was drinking every second of her climax, recording it on his mind so that he could envision it the next time he would jerk himself off. He couldn’t believe that he managed to bring her to completion. A feat, he thought, to make Hillary Rodham orgasm like that. He felt like he deserved the Nobel Prize.
In a moment of sheer emotion, Bill pulled his finger out of her and gently caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and sucked her essence out of his finger. Bill was sure he almost came.
She was tired, and surprisingly, so was he. He wanted to do something with his raging erection, but exhaustion had taken over them both. After all, it was almost three in the morning.
“Bill?” he heard her say.
“Hmm?” He leaned in his seat on his side.
“I wanna cuddle.”
Bill couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips. “Of course.”
The two of them went to the backseat of the car, and there, they simply lay, caressing and kissing, until sleep took them over. In three hours, the events of the night would be erased, and they would be back to their normal lives, where they would spat at each other constantly, ruin each others’ days and probably out of each other’s lives for good once they graduate in a few months.
Until then, she was his and he was hers.
Whew that went waaaaay longer than I intended to. I just realized that we are already at Chapter 10 and 40% of the story so far is about the prom. LOL. Anyway, I hope you liked this one. I hope you aren't disappointed that Bill and Hill didn't have sex. I never really had the intention of having them boink each other's brains out because I don't want them to go through the experience of fucking their enemy, at least without proper reconciliation. (Spoiler: They're both virgins at this point)
Thanks for the feedback and kudos. Keep em coming! ^_^
Chapter 11: A Helping Hand
This chapter was particularly difficult to write. Welp.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Sorry I haven’t been writing to you in a while. I was exhausted, and I spent yesterday sleeping all day that I had to call in sick at school. To say that the last few days had been a whirlwind is an underestimation.
I had the weirdest prom experience ever. It started with Dad’s car breaking down on the way to prom and guess who drove past by us in his motorcycle: Pretty Boy. Dad was a desperate to get me to prom so he asked the guy to drive me without running it through me first, so I had no choice. And then, the emcee had this weird game of dateless guys picking their dance partners randomly from a box. Guess who picked my name (Spoiler alert: Pretty Boy). We ended up dancing in front of everybody. The nerve of him to pull a stunt like that. Because our classmates were so amused to seeing the two archnemeses dance, we were voted Prom King and Queen *hides in shame*
Pretty Boy and I went to the harbor after the prom. He said he wanted to see the view of the harbor before going home. Because he was nice enough to bring me to the prom, I agreed to go with him. Thinking back, I wish I hadn’t. We had a wonderful time together, and then when things got suddenly got too personal, he tried to bring back ‘us’. The fucking nerve of him. But that didn’t stop me from falling for him.
Yep, you heard it right. I fell for him. We kissed. We went further (but not *that* far), and it pains me to say it, but I loved it. I love being in his arms. I loved his touch. I was happy with him.
Does that mean I’ll be with him after this? Of course not. I know better than to let myself drown in the Sea of Bill Clinton again. Perhaps we can be friends. At most. Or probably not. I seriously don’t know at this point.
Oh well. We’ll see what happens. At least the TAB and Pretty Boy are already broken up, which means my life will get a little better…right?
Hillary shut her diary as she heard the 1 PM bell ring. She dashed from the library to the chemistry lap, hoping that Mrs. Merkel hasn’t arrived yet. Thankfully, she hasn’t. But someone else hasn’t too.
From the door, she quickly noticed that her lab partner Pretty Boy wasn’t there yet. Hillary shrugged it off and walked towards the seat near Betsy, which had been John’s.
“Hey, where’s your Johnny?” Hillary asked.
“He’ll be here. He’s probably wrapping up the Model UN meeting. How about you? Where’s your Pretty Boy?”
“I don’t know. Why are you asking me that? I’m not his TAB,” Hillary rolled her eyes.
“Well, you did go home with him after the prom. Tell me. Was he a good kisser?” Betsy asked excitedly under her breath.
“I have no fucking clue,” Hillary tried her best to act casual. “We didn’t kiss. He dragged me into the harbor to look at fucking boats and we went home.”
“At 7 in the morning?!” Betsy refused to believe what her best friend just said.
“Who told you we went home at 7?!” Hillary was caught off guard.
“Your mother! I called you when you were sleeping the other day and she told me! And ha, something happened! I just know it!” Betsy said triumphantly, rubbing her hands in earnest.
“No, nothing happened. We ran out of gas and we waited until morning to get to the gas station. I just slept the entire evening while he fucking stares at the sea,” Hillary persisted with her lie.
“So if I ask Joe…he would say the same?”
Oh fuck. She hadn’t thought about Bill telling Joe.
“Likely not. You know how Pretty Boy likes to inflate things, like his head. He’ll pretty much tell Joe a fanfiction just to make it seem he managed to screw me,” Hillary managed to lie with a straight face.
“Screw you, sure.”
“Stop it, Betsy! Nothing happened,” Hillary put her foot down.
“Alright, alright, Miss Bossypantsuits,” Betsy backed off.
“Enough about me, what abut you? Did you use the condom I gave?” Hillary whispered giddily.
“Well, no. But something happened.”
Hillary gasped in excitement. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for you girl! And you’re fucking dumb for not using the condom.”
“Hey, chill. I took the pill so we’re all good,” replied Betsy.
“Whew,” Hillary rested a hand on her chest, relieved. “So, tell me how John was before he or Mrs. Merkel arrives.”
“Girl,” Betsy smirked.
“Oh my God,” Hillary cupped her mouth with her hands. “Is he good?”
Betsy let out a bashful smile which was a big big yes. Hillary tried to suppress her squeal, but it was still loud enough to be heard by the other students in the room.
“Quiet you!” Betsy playfully slapped Hillary’s arm. “So, what about Joe? Have you heard anything about him?”
Hillary shook her head. “No, but he and Jill were a little bit too cozy earlier at the cafeteria. Al, Tipper and I were so uncomfortable. Where were you, by the way?”
“I had to leave school for a bit. I dropped my mail to Stanford,” Betsy explained.
“Oh yeah! I hope you get in, girl. I am rooting for you.”
“Thanks. How about you? How’s it going with Wellesley?”
“They’ve sent no additional questions to me. I guess my chances are pretty grim,” Hillary replied, the wind sucked out of her balloon.
“Hey, we don’t know that! Maybe they have seen and heard much from your recommendations that they have put you in their accepted list immediately. No school in their right minds would turn you down,” Betsy assured her.
Hillary sighed. “I hope so.”
“Why didn’t you go for Harvard right away? It’s just a few miles away from Wellesley.”
“They said something about not needing women in their degree program. News flash: It’s already 2004!”
“Oh my God, they really said that? What a bunch of assholes.”
“Correct. If they don’t want me, I don’t want them either. And that includes law school.”
“What are your choices for law school now that Harvard is off the list?”
“Yale or Princeton,” Hillary replied. “I heard Michelle is applying for Princeton.”
“She can make it. She’s smart,” Betsy said.
“Hey,” Betsy tried to shift the conversation, “guess who’s applying for Wharton.”
Hillary quirked a brow. “Who?”
“Donald!” Betsy tried not to laugh but she failed spectacularly.
“Oh, his Daddy’s just gonna pay his way in. I doubt he’d survive a semester. Or even a month.”
“Same. The guy has no knack for business. Just all flashy about his money.”
“Oh, that is so true,” Hillary giggled. She was going to bring out about Joe’s college applications when John and Mrs. Merkel arrived at the same time. Hillary gave John a quick hi and went back to her seat. Strange. Pretty Boy was still missing. Oh well. Not her problem.
“Good afternoon, class,” Mrs. Merkel greeted.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Merkel,” the class replied.
“Today, we’ll be dealing with ideal gas laws. I hope you have your scientific calculators with you. We won’t have much activity today since we don’t have the right conditions to simulate the physical implications of the ideal gas laws. We will be doing calculations instead.”
Hillary adjusted her seat forward. She was secretly thankful that Pretty Boy wasn’t there to bug her in a probably difficult lesson.
As the lesson went on, Hillary found herself sort of…itching for an interruption. Like a random poke on the shoulder. Or a paper ball rolling over her notebook. Or a fan of breath on her ear. Anything just to tell her that she had a seatmate named Bill Clinton.
As a matter of fact, she found it quite hard to concentrate. She was quite restless and uneasy. With the constant flow of interruptions gone, she thought she could focus on the lessons. It turned out to be the opposite.
What the fuck was the problem? Was it a Pretty Boy Withdrawal Syndrome?
In time, she gave up on trying to sit still and just doodle on the last page of her notebook. Anything just to keep her mind on the lesson. Spirals, pyramids of circles and stars stained her notebook page, which were her usual doodles over the years, but there was one doodle that was new and out of the ordinary: the waves of the sea.
The sea. But of course. Was it her brain’s way of telling her that something special had happened near the sea a few days ago? Hillary didn’t need her brain to tell her that. She just admitted it to herself. Did she miss Pretty Boy? Probably. Was she going to do anything about it? Hell no.
But maybe she could quell the sinking feeling in her stomach…just this once.
Hillary breathed a sigh of relief once the bell rang. Thank God her classes were over after this. Still feeling antsy after Pretty Boy’s absence, Hillary invited Betsy to The Chocolair for some milkshakes.
“Great idea. Joe’s shift probably had started by now,” Betsy giggled.
As expected, The Chocolair was packed with people by the time Hillary and Betsy arrived, save for the two empty seats at the bar. They quickly spotted a beaming Joe, who directed the two girls to the empty seats.
“I reserved these two seats for you, ladies,” Joe greeted them happily. “So, the usual?”
“Of course,” Hillary replied. “Once you’re free, come over to us. We wanna know what happened to you and Jill.”
“I know you two have stories to tell too. Sure, I’ll be right over with your drinks,” Joe winked.
As promised, Joe arrived a few minutes later with two chocolate milkshakes.
“Ladies, here you go!”
“I miss these milkshakes. Those last few weeks of dieting were horrible,” Hillary said, sipping her milkshake so fast that it made her brain freeze. “Owwwww! It fucking hurts!” she rubbed her temple in pain. “But that’s okay. I still miss the brain freeze.”
“Whoa! Somebody missed her milkshakes,” Joe laughed. “Speaking of milkshake, did your milkshake brought Pretty Boy in the yard?”
“Oooooh, straight to the point, Joe,” said an intrigued Betsy who was also sipping her milkshake, albeit on a much slower pace.
“Stop it, you two,” Hillary swatted them off.
“Hey, it’s not we who went home at 7 in the morning,” Joe quipped. “So, spill.”
“I thought Pretty Boy would have told you right now,” Hillary said.
“I haven’t seen him. He didn’t go here yesterday,” Joe replied.
“That’s odd,” Betsy remarked.
“Are you sure about that, Joe?” Hillary’s eyes were reduced to slits.
“Positive, Hill. Which was odd because he expressed interest in working in here. He said he was free yesterday for an interview,” Joe confirmed.
Hillary and Betsy glanced at each other, their mouths agape.
“What the hell is going on?!” Hillary whispered urgently.
“Was he possessed or something?” Betsy said.
“He told me he wanted a job right after he dumped Kellyanne. Then he told me Coach Bannon was keeping them overtime at football practice so he couldn’t come.”
“He wasn’t in chemistry class earlier, either,” Hillary added. Her stomach suddenly sank.
“Don’t you think something had happened to him?” said Betsy with genuine concern in her voice.
“Maybe we should check on him,” Joe suggested. Betsy and Joe then turned to Hillary, who felt uneasy. The two seemed to think Hillary had something to do with Bill’s sudden disappearance.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Hillary started to sweat.
“You wanna check on him? Go to his house or something?” asked Betsy.
“Why me?! Joe can check on him. They’re close friends, after all,” Hillary tried to resist the pressure.
“I can’t Hill. My shift’s until closing time. I still have to go to Jill’s after this,” Joe said.
Hillary looked to Betsy, but she wasn’t going to let Hillary go away easily.
“Sorry, Hill. I have errands for Mom before I go home.”
Hillary slumped on the bar and let out a strained, muffled scream. She got up again, and she was more composed than before.
“Fine, I’ll go. But don’t expect much,” Hillary conceded.
“Good girl,” said Joe.
“It’s not like I have a choice anyway,” Hillary said in gloom.
“You don’t. We don’t know exactly what happened to you guys after prom, but we think we have a pretty good idea,” said Betsy.
“What if your assumption is wrong?” Hillary asked hopefully.
“Unlikely,” replied Joe, “with the way he looked at you at the dance, and you to him, it doesn’t take a genius to deduce to read between the lines. All you’re missing is privacy. I’m sure you probably boinked each other-“
“No, we didn’t!” Hillary whispered angrily. “My God, why did you assume that? Besides, I gave Betsy my condom.”
“She has a point Joe,” conceded Betsy, “but still, I think something else happened. I really thought he would have asked you out after that.”
“Well, he did. But I turned him down,” Hillary said flatly.
“Oh, that settles it,” Joe said. “Not that I didn’t see that coming, but you probably came off too harsh Hill. The guy literally had hearts in his eyes when you were dancing, and so did you.”
Joe and Betsy’s sudden defense of Bill shot up her blood pressure. “Oh please, he’s such a baby. It wasn’t like he confessed to me that he liked me and then the next day, I laugh at him hysterically when he trips in front of the entire school. And then I pretend that her never existed.”
Hillary didn’t immediately notice the slip of her tongue, but Joe and Betsy did. They two had eyes as wide as saucers.
“What?” Hillary sipped her milkshake to cool her rising temper.
“Hillary!” said Betsy with utmost shock, her hand on her chest, “did…did you tell Bill you liked him during freshman year?”
“I—No! What the hell made you say that?!”
“What you said just now…good God, Hillary. Is that why you really hated Bill all these years?” Joe gasped.
Hillary wanted to kick herself for that careless slip of the tongue, but her silence was as good as a resounding yes. The veins on her temple were almost protruding. Her fists were resting on the bar counter, and each prod from Joe and Betsy made them clench harder.
“Hill…I“, Betsy stammered, “we never knew.”
“So, the three years of feuding were actually three years of unresolved longing?” Joe asked, his shoulders shrugging.
“OH SHUT UP YOU TWO!” Hillary didn’t want to hear from Joe and Betsy anymore. They didn’t understand. They probably never would. They were wading into her private business and they had no business meddling whatever it was she had with Pretty Boy. Pissed, Hillary threw a couple of dollar bills on the bar counter, scooped her backpack and marched away from a stunned Joe and Betsy.
Hillary slammed her bedroom door, still furious at Joe and Betsy. She kicked her bed before she let herself fall in the mattress. She grabbed her pillow and covered her face so that her screams would be muffled. Stupid, stupid, stupid Hillary. She had one job: to never let anyone know what happened between her and Pretty Boy during freshman year. But, alas, just a little bit of pressure made her spill worse than a broken dam. Why the hell couldn’t she keep her trap shut? Urgh. Hillary wanted to scream more, but she was interrupted by a text message from Betsy:
Hey hill…u ok?
What the fucking kind of question was that? Was Betsy dropped on her head as an infant? Betsy saw hew storm out The Chocolair, didn’t she? So, her fucking brain should probably tell her that she’s not fucking ok. God, it infuriated her more. She was so mad that she tossed her phone on her bed and it landed on the floor, not bothering to pick it up. For a second, she had an instinct of opening up to lordofthesax, but then she remembered she wasn’t speaking to that asshole too.
Without anyone to talk to, Hillary grabbed her journal and began writing furiously.
When Hillary arrived at Chemistry class, she saw Betsy already sitting with John. Betsy seemed wanting to reach out to her, but Hillary let her invisible wall up. She kept marching towards her desk, where Pretty Boy was already doodling. Sensing her presence, Pretty Boy quickly removed his stuff from her seat and kept them on his bag. She sat on the empty seat, but she didn’t so much as gave him a glance acknowledging his presence. She picked up her notes from her bag and quickly bent down to rewrite her already organized notes. She was at arm’s reach from Betsy and Pretty Boy, but she effectively shoved them at a mile’s distance.
She was in the middle of writing when she felt a soft prod on her shoulder. It was Pretty Boy.
“What?” She seemed poised to bit his head off for interrupting.
“Oh, uhm…I just wanna ask if I can borrow your notes. You know, because I missed class…”
Hillary gave him a cold, hard stare, but in the end, she said, “Ok.”
“Thanks,” he whispered, and then went back to his mindless doodling.
Mrs. Merkel arrived, and the class stood in attention. Pretty Boy dropped a ball of paper on the floor and out of extreme nervousness, he almost knocked Hillary off her seat.
“Ow!” she whispered, glaring at him.
“Sorry,” he said.
The class went on as usual, except that Hillary felt that Betsy and Pretty Boy were glancing at her every once in a while. She kept her best poker face and focused her attention to the teacher and the blackboard, her eyes straight as if she was wearing a horse blinder. The more she focused on her lesson, the more agitated she got. There was a time that she almost tore the page of her notebook with how stressed she was on her pen. She was grateful that she was able to sit through chemistry class without exploding.
Once Mrs. Merkel dismissed the class, Hillary ran off without a word and went straight to the technical control room of the school auditorium. The school fair was coming up, and she needed to make an inventory of the school equipment needed for their activities. She dropped her bag on the floor and went on to check the equipment.
Hillary heard a soft knock from the door. She was quite relieved, thinking that another student council member piped in to help her with the inventory. She bellowed “it’s open!” to let the person in.
When she turned around, her relief turned to disappointment when she saw Pretty Boy standing inside the control room.
Hair disheveled and glasses lopsided, Hillary let out an exasperated sigh. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh,” Pretty Boy scratched the back of his head bashfully. “I followed you here. I just wanna borrow your notes.”
Hillary blinked. She had been so hellbent on ignoring him that she forgot to give him her notes right after class.
“Oh, uhm,” Hillary placed her clipboard on the nearest surface and dug her chemistry notes from her bag. “Here you go. Please don’t wrinkle them.”
“I won’t,” Pretty Boy promise, “thanks for this.”
“Welcome,” she turned around again and went back to her inventory.
Bill was surprised to be dismissed unceremoniously just like that. He lingered inside the control room, waiting for an opening to talk to her. She had almost forgotten about him, until she turned back around and saw that he was still there.
“You still here?” she remarked, half-complaining.
“I was…” Bill turned beet red, “I was gonna ask how you’ve been earlier. You look tense.”
“Oh, maybe it’s just your imagination. You do like to make-up shit a lot,” she said, carrying a heavy box across the room.
“Oh let me help you with that,” he offered.
“No. I ain’t asking for help because I don’t need one. As you can see, I am perfectly well and capable of holding on my own. So you can leave me now and go bother someone else,” she said.
Her words stung him like a bee. “Oh okay.”
Bill was about to turn a leave when Hillary realized how bitchy he had been when the guy was doing literally nothing to her. Irritated at herself, she called Bill back.
He turned around, his eyes hopeful. “Yes?”
Hillary sighed. She called him back. Now what?
Suddenly, she remembered what she and Betsy and Joe talked about yesterday. He had also been absent from school, hadn’t he?
“You were gone the past few days. Why?” Hillary tried to sound as if she had an iota of care for him, but she came out the exact opposite.
“Oh!” Bill was struck by her question, “I…my Mom, my stepdad and brother had gone off to Arkansas for a trip. Someone needed to guard the house.”
Her eyebrow quirked on its own.
“Don’t play bullshit with me, Pretty Boy. You look like shit when you came back. But then again, you do look like shit even before that…”
“STOP!” Bill stomped his foot, his knuckles clenched. His face was red again, but it had no hint of bashfulness. It was of anger and rage. For the first time ever, it made the hairs on the back of Hillary’s neck stand up.
“I thought we had a truce?!” He pulled every ounce of his restraint not to beat up the girl in front of him. “You agreed to that fucking truce!”
“I-“ Hillary was caught speechless. He was right. She did agree to a truce. Whatever happened after that, it shouldn’t have altered the validity of their agreement.
“I was trying to be nice to you but you still treat me like crap. You acted as if nothing had happened between us,” Bill was in the verge of tears.
There was no plausible deniability that was open for Hillary. Indeed, something had happened between them and she did pretend that it never happened. And unlike the last time, she had lost her moral credence on this by pushing him away for no apparent reason.
Seeing Bill tearing up – a first for her – thawed a frozen part of her heart that was particularly reserved for him. What had she done? In her effort to push him away because of her fear, she managed to hurt him again. She sighed. This was exactly the thing she was avoiding when she rejected him the morning after prom.
Hillary slowly approached him and cupped his face, rubbing the tears off the pad of her thumb. Her touch settled him, her warmth comforted him, and her presence soothed him.
“I’m so sorry. I was a bitch for treating you like that,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. I just cracked. Things have been pretty shitty lately.”
Hillary felt that there was something more than he was letting on. “What do you mean?”
Bill hesitated for quite a while, but in the end, he decided to confide in her. “I was kicked off the football team.”
Hillary couldn’t help herself with this unexpected news. “Holy shit!”
“Kellyanne is sleeping with Coach Bannon. When I dumped her, she told Coach Bannon to fire me. And so he did. He called he last Sunday. But it’s being kept under the wraps. He doesn’t want to announce my departure until he gets a replacement.”
Hillary was disgusted with his ex-girlfriend. She had the urge to punch the TAB in the gut if she ever passed by her in the hallway. “She’s a total bitch.”
“She is,” Bill sniffed. “But I don’t want to think about her. Being kicked off my team is bad enough. I needed football for my school allowance and college scholarships. Now I’m off the team, my dreams are all gone.”
Hillary’s heart broke at his hopelessness. All the more that she felt guilty for the bad way she had treated him. “Aside from the usual college football powerhouses, where else have you applied for?”
“Georgetown,” he whispered.
Hillary blinked. She wasn’t expecting that answer. “Georgetown? Why?”
“I…I wanted to be a lawyer. And probably run for office,” Bill explained, “I saw my grandad in Arkansas doing all the good thing for his folks, and I told myself I wanna be like my grandad too. So, I kinda thought, if not football, law and politics would be good for me.”
Hillary stood there stunned at his profoundness and nuance. Three years of feuding made her forget how caring he was. Hearing Bill’s dreams and aspirations made Hillary extra sick of herself, and at the same time, determined to make him feel better.
“I want you to sit in here,” she pulled a chair from the side and pushed him down. He followed her movements, still confused of what she was trying to do. She knelt in front of her and cupped his face again.
“I’m gonna do something for you. I want you to close your eyes and tell me to stop if you don’t want me to. Understood?”
Still hazy and confused, Bill nodded and closed his eyes.
Once Hillary ascertained that his eyes were fully closed, she opened his thighs and settled between his legs. Her hands gently rubbed and massaged his thighs, applying just the right amount of pressure to relax him.
“Does this feel good?” she asked tentatively.
“Uh-huh,” he replied, still with eyes closed.
“Good.” She returned her focus to his legs.
Her hands caressed his knees up to the thigh, slowly moving closer and closer to his crotch. Once in a while, he would whimper, but he didn’t stop her. Hillary tentatively brushed her fingers on his crotch, and she was met with little resistance.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
“I like it,” he said.
Satisfied, Hillary proceeded to open the zipper of his jeans. She could feel the erratic rhythm of his breathing as she pulled the zipper open. She slowly pulled his jeans downward, and he lifted his ass instinctively to let her free him from the garment. She was satisfied that he was already anticipating her underneath the layer of fabric of his briefs.
“I am going to pull your briefs down. You want me to stop?” she asked again.
A shake of his head was the only response she got. She gently pulled his briefs down, and she was surprised by the quite a large erection waiting for her to be ravished. The briefs didn’t provide an accurate visual for her. For a second, she feared that she might not be able to do him justice.
But this wasn’t for her. This was for him. After all, he too had hesitated when he tried to pleasure her at prom, but did fear stop him?
Gently holding his member, Hillary began to stroke him up and down. From his legs, she could feel that he was relaxing further, making her job easier. In no time, she felt him grow and stiffen further, thanks to her masterful handiwork. She could hear him give occasional grunts and groans, signifying how much he was enjoying this.
Still, she wanted to check. “Want me to go on?”
“Yes,” he moaned, his eyes still shut.
Seeing as he was ready, Hillary stepped back a little to admire him. It would have been the lie of the century to say that she wasn’t all wet for him. Bill Clinton thrashing and turning in her touch – nothing could be more arousing. He had this beautiful, sexy look on his face that made her want to touch herself while she pleasure him, but no. This was not the time for her needs. This was for him and for him enjoyment.
Bill, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. Never did he allow Kellyanne go near third base, and he was thankful that he did. If ever, this would be his first experience at third base, and with Hillary kneeling down in front of him, about to suck him clean…it was the experience of a lifetime.
All further thoughts were forgotten at the first touch of her soft, wet tongue over the head of his
straining cock. He gave a long, satisfying groan as she lazily dragged her tongue up and down his hard shaft, flicking it as his thighs tensed beneath her free hand. The skin was so soft against her pink lips, like velvet wrapped around steel as she worshiped him while bent over his lap.
Her teasing nips brushed along his length as she pumped him with her small fist. The hint of danger at being caught at any time amplified his arousal as the wet swipes of her tongue rolled his eyes in the back of his head. The warmth of her breath fanning over his cock as she nibbled greedily on the head was beyond words for him to describe. Her tongue lashed away a clear drop of pre-cum, and then at last she inhaled him deeply. "Jesus... Hillary, oh...fuck..."
Gliding him smoothly between her lips, Hillary nursed his cock until her name escaped his throat. Her soft, sucking mouth made love to him with hungry affection. He jerked beneath her, his body shivering as she took him inside her warm mouth, drawing firmly around him. Her head began to bob rhythmically as he rested a gentle hand over the back of her head, tangling in her hair.
“Hillary,” he said breathlessly, “I’m about to…”
Encouraged by his warning, Hillary began to pump him with her hand relentlessly in conjunction with her forceful sucking. Her head bobbed frantically in his thigh, working her tongue to finally push him over the edge. He was dangerously close to coming, and his still unexperienced reflexes couldn’t stop to forceful rush of his cum, spilling everywhere inside her mouth without warning.
Her sweet, loving mouth possessively drew every drop of his release. She drank all of him in, up to the very last drop until he gave a lost satisfying sigh, followed by the last twitches of his fading orgasm.
With his chest heaving, Bill finally opened his eyes and lifted her chin to look at her. He was exhausted and out of breath, but his heart was still racing for this beauty who just showed him what love was.
Wiping his sperm off her lips, Hillary was trapped in the beauty of the person she just worshipped. He was a good guy, wasn’t he? He wasn’t perfect. In fact, he hurt her a lot. But he was good enough for her, wasn’t he?
But still, she knew better. She wasn’t going to let her heart be broken again.
Hillary helped Bill fix himself, pulling his briefs and pants back up. He, on the other hand, rummaged his bag for his Tic Tacs and offered her a couple of bites. She smiled at his gratitude, and downed the mints in one gulp.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling.
“No, thank you. I never knew I needed that,” Bill said, grinning. “Where did you learn that, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Hillary didn’t mind at all. “I had a fling last summer. He thought me many things,” she giggled.
“I should send him a gift basket. He taught you well,” he quipped. “But seriously, thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do. You were very caring to me at prom. Consider it my thank you and apology,” she said.
Once again, she cupped his face, her eyes directly poring into his. “Bill, I want you to listen. I don’t want you falling in despair just because things didn’t go your way. You have a lot of potential, and people are gonna see that you’re not just a football player,” she encouraged him. “Joe told me that you want to apply for a job at The Chocolair. I say go for it. Georgetown. Go for it. Law school? Go for it. I will completely support you.”
“But, what about you?” he said, “shall I go for it too?”
Hillary froze. She didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I…I don’t know Bill. I know that you know what I feel about you, but remember how we got shocked by static just before our hands touched at prom? I think we’re like that in real life. We have too much spark. We’re explosive. We are just going to crash and burn the second we hit the gas.”
“Okay,” Bill lied, determined to get her still. “I understand.”
“Thanks, I appreciate your understanding,” she smiled.
Bill hung his sling bag on his shoulder, ready to go. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll return your notes to you after class,” he said.
Bill was about to leave, but before he went to the door, the turned back and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, and then left without another word.
Hillary smiled as she caressed the spot on her cheek where he kissed her, her heart floating in cloud nine.
First of all, HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU!
Second, I just wanna thank all of you for the overwhelming feedback I got in the previous chapter. I am so happy! You all inspire me to write and I promise more out-of-the-box stories in 2018. I don't get tired of researching for new ideas and all, and that's because of you!
Lastly, I hope you aren't impatient with the pace of the story. One of them will know their secret online identities real soon...
Until the next chapter! ^_^
Chapter 12: Accidentally
I am sooooo sorry for the delay. The first week of 2018 was shit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Bill walked into The Chocolair, excited for his first day of work. After a pleasant interview with the owner the previous day, he was allowed to start immediately. He would be assisting Joe in running the shop after school. The wage was fair, though it wasn't still enough to cover his allowance. But he'd see how this went first. If he needed an extra job, he'd probably apply to be a newspaper boy for the local paper.
"Hey! Pretty Boy! First day high, huh?" Joe greeted him from the bar, wiping a glass with a cloth.
"Oh hey, Joe. So, what will I do?"
"Today, you'll be my intern. You'll do everything I say. Tomorrow, you're on your own. Sounds good?"
"Awesome." Bill looked around and saw the place half-full. A girl from the booths was raising her hand, apparently calling Bill and Joe's attention.
"You know the drill, Bill. You know the menu front to back," Joe grinned as he clapped his hand onto Bill's back. "Chin up, put on your best smile and get out customers what they want."
"Got it, Joe." Bill raised a thumbs up.
Bill was given his uniform before he attended the girl. He happily took her order and was amused at the shock in the girl's eye seeing their school quarterback taking her order. He politely thanked the girl and then forwarded Joe her order.
"The girl's stunned to see you, huh?" Joe said as he took the note from Bill and handed it to the kitchen staff.
"She was. It's not every day that your school's ex-quarterback gets to serve you," Bill grinned.
"No, no. You mean the school's former biggest bully," Joe corrected him.
"That makes a lot more sense when you think about it," Bill paused in deep thought. "I did recall bumping her on purpose for no reason at all."
"See? You were pretty much an ass to 80% of the school."
"I know, I know. I won't be surprised if they dropped nasty comments in the feedback form just to get back at me."
"Jesus, you're right!" Joe was struck at the thought. "But don't worry. I'll vouch for you. The Boss trusts me. We just have to make sure that you don't give your enemies an opening to get back at you."
Bill sighed, regretting every single instance he poked fun of his fellow students for no reason at all. "I won't mess this up. I promise."
"Atta boy, Clinton. Keep your head up. Work your ass off, one day at a time. You'll be surprised at how far you've come."
"Wow, since when did you become a sage, oh Master Joseph Robinette?"
"I get a subscription to inspirational quotes in my email every day. You should try that."
"Maybe I will." Upon the mention of the word, 'email' Bill thought of sexyofstate. A twinge of guilt sprung in his belly as he recalled how shitty he had treated her, but it wasn't the time for that, so he brushed those feelings off.
“Hey! More customers! Go get’em Billy Boy.” Joe pushed Bill away from the bar, laughing.
“Alright, alright!” Bill feigned his annoyance as he approached a group of freshmen. Each pair of eye widened as Bill handed them the menus. A mixture of fright and astonishment prevented them from focusing on their orders. Bill noticed their apprehension so he tried to assuage their fears.
“You need help with the menu, guys?” Bill smiled.
The freshmen shook their heads nervously. “No, it’s cool. We are just debating among ourselves what to choose.”
“Oh! If that’s the case, then why don’t you try the jumbo cheese freeze and a milkshake for each of you? That’s a good start,”
“We like that,” a girl mumbled.
“Or the Smores on a Skillet is to die for. I’ve tried it so many times. Always perfect, each and every time,” Bill suggested.
“What about the onion rings?” a boy asked.
“That’s good too! We have ketchup and hot sauce if you like,” Bill told them enthusiastically.
The freshmen slowly seemed to be at ease with Bill. They were now excitedly chattering about their orders. Bill patiently waited as he smiled on the sidelines.
After the freshmen gave their orders, he went back to the bar and handed Joe his note.
“Nicely done. Continue that and you’ll be fine in here,” Joe praised him.
“Thanks. It feels good, though. I mean being all nice to folks who I don’t know. Feels very different from making fun of them.”
“Boy, what in the world Kellyanne injected into you. Of course, it feels nice! Ever since I got the job in here, I came to know every face in school. Everyone greets me in the hallway. It’s very satisfying.”
“Yeah,” Bill wondered whether Hillary would ever greet him in the hallway again like she used to.
Joe noticed that Bill’s eyes were distant. “Something up, Clinton?”
“Nah, it’s nothing.”
“I know you. I have a built-in Clinton Lie Detector Test in my body,” Joe said.
“What the hell is a Clinton Lie Detector Test? And what does that even mean?!”
“It means that it’s futile to lie to me, kiddo,” Joe said, “so spill. Talk fast before another customer comes in.”
Bill sighed. Once again, Joe cornered him into confessing.
“I was thinking about Hillary,” Bill said.
“Oh for Pete’s sake! Her? Again? Does she have a lease on your brain?” Joe said, exasperated.
“Oh come off it. I only think of her this once. Nothing more,” Bill lied.
“Really,” Joe’s eyes rolled, shaking his head. “I doubt it since I heard you were fidgety when Hillary ignored you in chemistry class, that day after she walked out the here.”
“Wait, what? She walked out on you?”
Joe smacked his forehead with his palm. “Yeah, I haven’t told you said.” Joe regretted that slip. “She walked out on me and Betsy. We were kinda pressing her and then she freaked out.”
“What did you press her on?” Bill quirked a brow.
“Please don’t be mad at us,” Joe pleaded.
Bill was even more confused. “Okay?”
“Well,” Joe gulped, “we were pressing her to tell us what happened between you and here after prom. And then we talked about you because you were absent for two days in a row. Betsy and I were getting worried so we asked her to check on you and then she exploded.”
“What did she say?”
“She’s all ‘Pretty Boy’s such a baby! You didn’t see me all weak and shit when I told him that I liked him and then the next day he laughed at me in front of the school!’ Something like that.”
Bill froze. His hands became numb.
Hillary just told Betsy and Joe the truth about them.
However, he had no other choice. “She isn’t wrong, though. Her account’s pretty accurate.”
Joe’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. So you really knew that she liked you.”
“Of course I knew,” Bill said nonchalantly. “We both knew. Even before she told me herself.”
“You say this as if it’s a universally accepted fact. How come nobody else knows this?” asked Joe, as if three question marks were about to pop out of his head.
Bill sighed. “I was the first person she met in freshman year. She was a new student, remember?”
“Yeah, she is. But I don’t recall you two going out together.”
“We did,” Bill said.
Joe wiped his face with his hand. “Jesus Christ. You asked her out?”
“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I almost threw up because I was so nervous. I thought she’d say no,” Bill fondly recalled, a stupid grin forming on his face.
“Okay, let me get this straight. You liked her. She liked you. So what the hell happened in the cafeteria? Like, no intelligent boy would do that to the girl they wanna date.”
Bill sighed. He too couldn’t understand why the hell he did it. “I guess…I guess I knew that she was miles ahead of me. She’s smart, funny, kind, intelligent…I mean what guy wouldn’t want her?”
Joe shook his head. “You’re still not making any sense.”
“Well, I kinda acted impulsively. I was sitting with the football team when the incident happened. I wanted to look all cool and all, and the boys on the team were talking about her behind her back. They said she was too loud, and bossy, and she didn’t know her place in the school. Stuff like that. I was furious with what they said, but I didn’t have the courage to defend her. When she tripped, I had to choosing between her and the football team. Because I didn’t want to lose my good favor with my teammates, I chose the latter.”
Jose stood at the bar with his mouth agape. “Jesus, this is the first time I’ve heard it.”
“Yeah,” Bill began fidgeting his apron, “and to think, she told me the day before that she wanted me to be her boyfriend.”
Suddenly, Bill felt a hard slap on his head.
“Ow! What was that for?!” Bill was nursing the spot Joe hit.
“You idiot! She told you she wanted you to be her boyfriend?!” Joe was at the height of incredulity.
“Well, she didn’t tell me per se. She wrote me a letter. She hid the letter in my locker. When I read it, I thought I was on cloud nine,” Bill recalled.
“Oh, that’s not the fucking point! The point is, you have a girl telling you that she likes you, and she wants to take things with you to the next level, and then you throw her away like a fucking garbage just because of football?” Joe seemed to be on the verge of ripping Bill’s throat.
“When you think about it, yeah.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You’re an even bigger idiot that I thought!”
“I know, I know,” Bill buried his face in his palms.
“So you mean to tell me, the root cause of your incessant feuding, is that you two liked each other?!”
“Yep,” Bill said simply.
“You two are idiots.”
“But I was the bigger idiot. I shouldn’t have let her go when I had the chance. And now, I don’t have football, and I don’t have her.”
“Well, you deserve that, you son of a bitch.”
Joe recognized that look on Bill’s face. “You’re planning something.”
“I’m not giving up on her Joe,” Bill was determined. “She said she doesn’t want me, but I don’t believe that at all. She just doesn’t want to act on her feelings because she’s afraid she’s gonna get hurt.”
“Dude, I strongly advice you against that. It’s not smart to go against Hillary. She might hate you more than she does now.”
“She doesn’t hate me. We had a truce already. But we’re not friends either,” Bill replied.
“Then don’t ruin your truce! Honestly, Bill. I don’t know why you’re still looking for trouble.”
Bill tried to make Joe understand.
“Well, Buddy, if Jill is in your grasp and then she slips away from you, what will you do?” he asked.
“I guess I’ll do everything I can to get her back,” Joe said exactly what Bill wanted to hear.
“Good. I’m doing the same with Hillary,” he declared.
Joe was at loss for words. He still didn’t think Bill going against Hillary’s wishes would earn his friend favors, but he had no heart to stop him. In this would be done in the name of love, who was he to stop?
“So, the whole nine yards, eh?” Joe said.
“That’s right, Joe. The whole nine yards,” Bill said with absolute conviction.
“Well, I can’t do anything, except to wish you luck. Your girl is mad at me and Betsy for pushing her too hard,” Joe replied with a sad look on his face.
“That can’t be helped. I’m sure a proper apology will appease her,” Bill consoled his friend.
“I know, I know. But she evades us on purpose. She hasn’t come here in days.”
“Yep. She’d usually speak to us again about 1-2 days after we pissed her off. Well, it’s been almost a week and she still hasn’t shown up. I wonder if something had happened to her,” Joe thought out loud.
Bill wanted to tell Joe that something indeed had happened; specifically, inside the technical control room of the school auditorium. But he figured that it wasn’t wise to tell Joe about it. He’d probably beat him to a pulp if he knew.
“What are you gonna do about it, then?” Bill asked.
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t want to piss her off any more than I already have, but I am sure she’ll forgive us when we apologize. It’s just that it never happened before.”
It was now Bill’s turn to offer a sympathetic ear. “I understand. I’ll try to talk to her if I can. She probably needs someone who’d listen too.”
“I doubt she’d open up to you, but still, thanks, man.”
Bill felt good playing the bridge between Hillary, Betsy, and Joe. He had no doubt that the three friends would one day soon reconcile. Well, at least, he was hoping to. If those three never reconciled, then he might as well consider all hopes of getting Hillary back dead.
For the next few days, Hillary hadn’t visited The Chocolair, and Joe’s worry grew. Hillary went back to normal speaking terms with Bill, but she still hadn’t spoken to Joe or Betsy. Ever since she walked out, she had been bringing her own lunch and was eating all by herself inside her classroom. A few days after Bill got hired in The Chocolair, the announcement of his exit from the football team was made, and he was left out of the football table in the cafeteria. He didn’t care much, though. That gave him an opening to join Hillary at lunch but one time when he offered to join her, she suddenly remembered that she had an errand and quickly walked away. That was like the closest thing to a “DO NO APPROACH” sign flashing on top of Hillary’s head, so Bill dropped his idea.
Hillary, needless to say, wasn’t taking her isolation well. She was still mad at her best friends for pressuring her to spill her deepest, darkest secret, and neither of them had apologized for it. She had stopped visiting The Chocolair because she was surely going to see Joe and Betsy.
But she missed them both. She missed them so much. It was like the valve from her oxygen tank is turned off. She wanted to talk to them, to tell them what happened between her and Bill, and finally bury the hatchet, but neither of them made the first step. All they did was to glance at her knowingly from a distance, whisper behind her back, and those were it. To be honest, she felt a little annoyed.
After days of freaking out and mulling what to do with her friends, she decided to make the first step. Get everything out. Clean her closet. First, he would let Joe and Betsy read Deedee, which detailed everything that had happened with her and Bill and her thoughts about it, and finally burn the diary. She wanted a fresh start, which she thought was a little ironic since she was just months away from graduation. Nevertheless, she wanted to move on. From Pretty Boy. From lordofthesax. From everything that had plagued her in high school.
Through separate letters, Hillary invited Joe and Betsy in The Chocolair. She specifically chose a time when Joe wasn’t on duty so there wouldn’t be any distractions. Hillary, holding Deedee close to her chest, nervously entered The Chocolair. She looked around. Bill was manning the bar, Kellyanne and her minions were sitting in one of the booths, but Joe and Betsy weren’t in sight. She checked her watch. She was still ten minutes early from their meeting time.
Hillary settled in one of the vacant booths. She could feel Kellyanne’s eyes following her, but she simply shook it off. She was thankful that a waiter who wasn’t Bill took her order. She asked for chocolate milkshake, and then added a mocha cake too for good measure. She smiled at the waiter as he scuffled away from her.
Still nervous, Hillary opened Deedee and read some of its passages. She felt a little disgusted of herself to have thought and written all of those things, especially the ones where she was completely in love with lordofthesax. She had even printed the pages of her conversation as a memento. That was fucking stupid and naïve of her. Now the wiser, Hillary wanted to scream at her younger self for being such a complete fool over a sweet-tongued stranger she never met.
Because it was a day that ended in “y”, it wouldn’t be complete without Kellyanne tormenting her in some way, and she did. Kellyanne and her two blonde bimbos were suddenly towering over her with a nasty smirk on their faces.
“Wow, Hillary. Nice diary. Is that yours?” Kellyanne said.
Hillary shut Deedee and pulled it from the table. “None of your business, Conway. Aren’t you supposed to fuck Coach Bannon today?”
“Figures. Clinton would have told you that after he told everyone he dumped me when we all know it’s the other way around,”
“You know what? I believe Clinton. I believe him because I would have dumped you too if I was your boyfriend,” Hillary sneered.
“Thank God, you’re not. Oh wait, nobody wants to be your girlfriend,” Kellyanne shot, and her two minions laughed
Your ex certainly wanted me. His fingers doing wonders on me were proof of that, she thought.
WAIT WHY THE HELL DID I THINK OF THAT? Hillary almost wanted to slap herself for that momentary lapse.
“Well, I don’t care much, because as I’ve said before, my worth doesn’t rely on the number of boys going down on me. After all, I wouldn’t want to have STD’s,” Hillary finished with a triumphant smirk on her face. Kellyanne gave her a dirty scowl that Hillary surmised could cause forest fires in California.
Hillary was able to defeat the ringleader of this blonde gang in an epic fashion, but that didn’t mean that the minions became useless. Basking in her verbal victory, Hillary didn’t notice that a pair of hands pulled Deedee from under her armpit, and one of the girls began reading its pages.
"Kellyanne, you've got to see this! Look what Hillary has in it!" Tomi flipped Deedee’s pages and passed the journal to Kellyanne.
“Let me see!” Kellyanne yanked Deedee from Tomi.
Hillary tried to get the journal back, anger starting to surge through her veins. "Hey give it back!"
Hillary instantly pounced on Kellyanne. But before she had reached her, she had closed it and had tossed it to Ann.
For a couple of minutes, Hillary and Kellyanne started to wrestle, the former actually trying to get the latter off because Kellyanne was blocking Hillary from reaching the book from Anne. Hillary was trying desperately to claw at her rival. She tried punching her in the gut from behind, slapping her face, or kicking her shins, but nothing worked. Kellyanne was just too strong. There was no use. She was instantly pinned down by the blonde ringleader.
And then the inevitable happened.
"My, my. Who is this Hillary? Who's this guy you've been talking to? Who's this lordofthesax?" Ann read out loud.
Hillary’s faced turned pale.
"And... What's this all about? You having an online relationship?"
And if there was any color left in her cheeks, the last hue was drained.
"That's PRIVATE, ANN. What the HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Hillary tried to escape from Kellyanne’s grasp.
And then, to add more fear to her nerves...
“sexyofstate…I am glad that you finally showed that bully what you’re made of. I am so proud of you! I couldn’t have done it better myself…OH, MY GOD, HE TOLD HER THAT HE LOVES HER! WHAT A DUMBASS!”
Ann went on to read some of the other private conversations between sexyofstate and lordofthesax, and hearing those read out loud in front of everyone – including Pretty Boy – embarrassed the hell out of Hillary.
Summoning her last ounce of strength, courage, or whatever life force in her to get away from Kellyanne, Hillary shot her eyes opened and managed to punch her nemesis in the gut.
Kellyanne, though in pain, was laughing, and so was Tomi and Ann. Hillary managed to get up looking around the room for the journal. It was obviously not in both their hands.
“I have it,” a deep, raspy voice behind Hillary said. Her head snapped to the direction of the voice and it was Pretty Boy holding the journal with wide eyes.
Losing not another second, Hillary marched over to him and tried to grab her journal. But instead, because of his quick response, she caught only air. He was intently reading her journal as if he owned it, his eyes blurring in motion and eyebrows already joined in the middle. Hillary was surprised to see him out of nowhere.
“Give it back, Pretty Boy,” she seethed, her fist clenched tightly and hot tears starting to stream from her eyes.
“Hold on…” he begged her to let her read a little more, “Where…where did you get this?” He now looked at white as sheet.
“Damn it, Clinton. I’m not kidding. Give it back.”
“Where?” he insisted, his voice shaking.
“NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, CLINTON!” Hillary screamed with a shaking voice.
“Seriously, where did you get this?” His voice had a tone of urgency she had never heard before. He continued the same unidentifiable stare at the same time taking out her most recent conversation with lordofthesax from the journal and holding it up in the air.
“Why would I tell you that?!” Hillary tried to snatch the journal once more, but he was quicker still.
“Why don’t you answer my question?” he replied with a look of confusion and disbelief on his face.
“Why do you even care?!”
Hillary grabbed her journal for the third time with all the fury that was pent up inside her exploding, and this time she was successful. A couple of pages fell on to the floor, but she didn’t pick any of it. She didn’t care now if anybody read those, now that everyone knew. Bill, on the other hand, was scrambling to pick up each loose sheet on the floor.
After obtaining Deedee, Hillary stormed past the doorway, where she bumped into Joe and Betsy, who were calling her. She didn’t turn back.
She had to leave.
She never felt so humiliated in her life. Even more so than the cafeteria incident.
Again, it was Pretty Boy’s fault.
I forgot to mention to you guys...that "shock" between Hillary and Bill at the prom? It happened to me with a male co-worker @_@. The shock was...intense.
Anyway, finally, Bill knew! What is he gonna do about it? Well, the next chapter will answer that....
As always, thanks for the feedback! You guys bring much joy to this stressed girl!
Chapter 13: Turmoil
First of all...thank you so much for the awesome feedback last chapter! Still stressed, but you guys made it a lot better ^_^
Now, Bill knows about lordofthesax and sexyofstate. What is he gonna do about it?
Bill remained rooted on the spot, his hands shaking as he read the contents of the loose sheets of paper that he held in his hands, the laughter of Kellyanne and her minions ignored in the background. His eyes were laser-focused on the printed text in the loose sheets. There was no mistaking it. These were the loving words he sent to his anonymous lover. His heart pounding, his brain in a complete meltdown. But there was no denying it: Hillary was sexyofstate.
All of them were the same person.
Bill felt like he was struck by lightning when the epiphany sank in. What were the odds that the girl he had loved then hated then loved again was the same person whom he had been seeing online? Like, what kind of weird shit was that? Of all people that he had to fall for in the entire internet machine, it had to be her, Hillary Diane Rodham. The girl that captivated him the moment their eyes clapped upon each other. The same girl that stirred his passion like no one else could, who made him feel alive, who lifted him up when everything seemed to be hopeless.
In his possession was the printout of the lordofthesax's last email. He remembered it like it was just yesterday. He wrote that because his feelings for Hillary came roaring back to life, and it would have been unfair if he let her wait for him for nothing. He was conflicted with his decision but felt that it was for the best.
As is turned out, he dumped Hillary....for Hillary.
This was some weird shit.
Bill snapped out of his reverie and saw his ex-girlfriend and her two minions still laughing, while Betsy and Joe, who had just entered the cafe, looked confused.
"Hillary has a secret lover! Ha! I can't wait to tell the school!" Kellyanne shrieked.
Betsy and Joe immediately figured out what was going on, and they quickly moved to stop Kellyanne.
"So, you just couldn't resist it, bitch. You just couldn't let a day pass without tormenting someone, you hag," Betsy shoved Kellyanne. Her blonde minions seemed ready to hit back, but Joe towered over the two.
"Oh, trying to cover up for your desperate friend who has to resort to an online boyfriend just because no one in here wanted to get into her pants?" Kellyanne sneered.
That last remark seemed to hit a nerve on Bill. "Shut up. You've been shitting on her when she had already stopped messing around. What kind of a pathetic human being are you?"
"A soulless one, that's for sure." Joe fired a shot.
"Oh please, that prom stint? I never knew you're such a great actor, Bill. Considering that you can't fake an erection on me..."
Bill's temper flared. "That was a fucking lie, Kellyanne."
"Oh, was it?"
"I never went to third base with you," Bill suddenly revealed, to which the entire cafe gasped.
Kellyanne was furious at Bill for having the gall to humiliate her in front of everyone. "You'll pay for that, fuck boy."
"Not any more than you will, Kellyanne. Your lies will come back to haunt you," said Bill menacingly.
Still glaring at Joe, Betsy, and Bill, Kellyanne, and her friends left the cafe without another word, surely plotting a revenge against the three.
"Whew, thank God they're gone," Betsy sighed in relief.
"What happened?" Joe demanded an explanation from Bill.
Bill sighed. He hoped that the two would not be furious at him.
He told the two what happened, from Kellyanne's pestering until the moment they entered the cafe. He was careful to omit the part that he read Hillary's diary, but that didn't escape their notice.
"How did the pages of Hillary's diary end up in your possession?" Betsy’s eyes squinted.
“I saw that those bitches were giving Hillary a hard time so I tried to intervene.” That part of Bill’s story was true. He, however, didn’t mention that he also heard the passages of the online conversations from Ann and tried to take a peek at her diary.
“She ran away after that and didn’t take these pages,” Bill added.
“God, she must have been so upset. She didn’t let anyone else see that diary,” Betsy gasped.
“That’s true. We never read that diary. But she did tell us about her secret online boyfriend,” Joe said.
Bill suddenly became interested, his voice eager. “What did she tell you?” Bill thought he sounded too forceful so he backtracked a bit. “…if you don’t mind me asking.”
Betsy looked at Joe, unsure whether to tell Bill.
“We probably shouldn’t tell you, given your history and all that…” Betsy said.
“I think Bill should know. I can vouch for him,” Joe said firmly, remembering his conversation with Bill a few days ago.
Betsy sighed, still unsure, but she trusted Joe’s judgment on this.
“Since last year, Hillary had been secretly ‘seeing’ this guy online. We didn’t know about it until a few weeks ago when you set her up with Donald. She and the online guy had been really close. She would confide to him whenever she couldn’t do it with her other friends, especially us. But that particular moment when she was upset with you, she confided with that guy, and he replied that he had personal issues to deal with so he couldn’t meet with her, even though he promised her that he would. That devastated her, even more so than your prank. She almost considered not going to the prom if we hadn’t convinced her.”
Bill gulped. There was no mistaking it. Hillary was sexyofstate, as if he needed further confirmation.
“I gotta go back to the kitchen,” Bill told this flimsy excuse to get away from them. “I’ll see what I can do to make her feel better.”
“That is much appreciated, Bill. Thanks,” said Betsy.
“Thanks, Buddy,” Joe patted his shoulder in gratitude.
As Bill left the two, there was only one thing going on in his mind.
I have to talk to her…and tell her everything.
Hillary threw Deedee across her bedroom, the diary landing somewhere on the floor. She thought of tearing or snipping the journal right then and there, but she just couldn't do it. She simply glared at the journal and ran over to her bed and sob.
"I just had to bring you outside, hadn't I? What the hell was I thinking?" she screamed at the diary.
Despite all of her rage and fury, the diary simply sat on the floor, silent and unmoving.
But she was blaming herself more than carelessly bringing Deedee outside. Her recurring thoughts of self-blame for falling for Pretty Boy and lordofthesax had resurfaced yet again.
She had never cried so hard in her life. Harder than when Pretty Boy basically dumped her in front of the school.
Like the first time, images of her fear and insecurity began to flash inside her mind. For sure, Kellyanne and her minions would have gossiped about her journal all around the school. She’ll be the laughingstock of everybody. Nobody would defend her. They’ll ridicule her…
She felt embarrassed and worthless.
She remembered the last time she felt like this. Three years ago. She was young. It probably wasn’t the most important thing in life, but it still hurt. And the episode earlier at The Chocolair had to remind her of it.
She closed her eyes to remember.
It was her first day of class. She was a new student who just moved into the new town. Her friends were a thousand miles away, and she was alone.
But not for long. She bumped into a tall boy wearing a jersey and with a thick Southern accent. He was incredibly charming and sweet. He had this goofy smile on his face that made her stomach do backflips. They clicked immediately. Suddenly, they found themselves lost in each other, forgetting the world that existed around them. Weeks of quiet flirting, library chats, nights wasted due to incessant texting…
Before she knew it, she had fallen for him.
She didn’t know that falling for somebody could be this painful when the day after, Bill made fun of her in front of everyone. She was alone. She was defenseless. She thought she had a friend in him, but she hadn’t. Like a scared animal, she needed to protect herself, to fight back. And so, she stood up for herself and showed him her worth. She punched him right then and there, and walked away, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.
She found her courage, her own strength, but she lost her heart.
Just like that, she dropped her feelings for him without any question. She started to hate Bill Clinton, began to call her Pretty Boy, a moniker for his deceiving good looks that she was stupid enough to fall for. She pranked him, played tricks on him. She ridiculed him.
Somehow, the past few weeks were a complete reversal of the last three years. They danced. They kissed. They almost fucked each other. Hillary felt disgusted at herself for failing to learn the lesson of three years past.
Tomorrow…I’ll dispose of you, Deedee. You’ve brought me nothing but misery, she told herself.
Hi, it's me Hillary. I bought you from the local bookstore because I thought you were very pretty, and as advised by my English teacher, I needed something to keep track of my thoughts. I have always loved writing, but I have some difficulty expressing myself in words, which is odd because I somehow won as the junior class representative using my rusty speaking skills. :|
Maybe through this exercise, I can improve my verbal skills. And who knows, I may enjoy talking to you. After all, you won't judge me for what I say or do. My best friend Betsy will never judge me either, but I feel that there are things that I cannot share with her, but I can with you. I hope you understand, Deedee.
I guess this is it for now. I have nothing much to share with you, actually, except that airhead Bill "Pretty Boy" Clinton bullied me again in front of the everybody at school. He loudly proclaimed that Vince Foster was blind to ask me at the prom. That jerk. I wish I could dump his huge head on the garbage can, because that's where he belongs. Him, and his band of jocks who thinks they own the school. Urgh.
Oh well. He'll get his karma. Probably not today but in the future.
Talk to you later, Deedee.
Bill couldn’t help but read again. The page in his hand had been doing unthinkable things with his emotions. “Mixed feelings”, as someone could describe it. All that, coming from a few loose pages.
He had no doubt in his mind that Hillary Rodham, the girl who always insulted him, played tricks at him, mocked him, annoyed him…was his girl online.
She was the girl for him.
The universe was conspiring to bring them together. That was the only explanation Bill could think of that would explain the weird series of coincidences between them: the online stuff, the prom, the accidental discovery of her journal. Everything.
Everything that Bill needed to know was on those pages. Finally, he had the answer.
Should he let her know?
“The whole nine yards,” he recalled himself telling Joe. The whole fucking nine yards.
What did that even mean?
His mind drifted back to three years ago when he ridiculed her. He made her feel worthless. It didn’t take long to figure out that he fucked her bad. Like duh, it was obvious. He tried to make amends for what he had done: he tried to talk to her, but she won’t let him. And he just…gave up. He got frustrated and so, he gave up. Just like that.
God, why did I give up?
He was furious at himself for letting her go. She didn’t want to talk to him. She was stubborn. She let him push him away.
He wasn’t going to commit the same mistake again.
He opened his PC and composed this email to Hillary:
I know you might be mad at me for breaking things off with you all of a sudden, but I found out something very important today that I think I should let you know. This is very important that I think I should tell this to you face-to-face. Meet me at The Chocolair tomorrow at 5pm. Bring a chocolate bar and a Nintendo DS game so that I can find you.
I’m sorry for the short notice. I hope you’ll understand when I reveal everything to you.
I hope I’ll see you there
Hillary blinked hard when she read this email from lordofthesax. She couldn’t believe it. She had the gall to email her when he pretended her feelings didn’t exist when he abruptly dumped her. Was he insane?
But still, she couldn’t help but agree to this meeting. She felt that it was indeed something important.
She closed her eyes and thought deeply. Was she going to give him another chance?
Despite her disdain for lordofthesax, she couldn’t help but want to give him another chance.
But what if he failed her again?
Hillary wept in her table again. Why must she be tormented like that?
“Don’t forget about the extra credit assignment. Most of you are in dire need of those extra points. Especially you, Lewandowski,” Mrs. Merkel pointed her finger at Corey Lewandowski, who seemed unaffected by their teacher’s direct name reference on him. “Remember: Free cut day tomorrow. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”
The class excitedly mingled with each other, and Hillary was right in the middle of it. It was a tactical diversion to hide and get away from two people she knew were angling to talk to her: Betsy and Pretty Boy. Hillary found it amazing that she only shared one class with both of them and still, she couldn’t handle it. But then again, nobody could blame her for wanting to get away from those two as much as possible.
She caught them glancing at her every once in a while, but Pretty Boy’s were much more intense. It’s as if he wanted to dramatically pull her away from class and talk to her. But nope, it ain’t happening under her watch. There was nothing to talk about. Really. Pretty Boy made it clear what his intentions were, and it certainly wasn’t good.
Betsy, on the other hand, was less intense than Pretty Boy. But still, Hillary was hurt. She and Joe never showed up at their agreed meeting yesterday. Had they been there, things would have ended differently. They might have been on their way to The Chocolair right now. Or perhaps going home to do their assignments together. But no. It didn’t happen. She was forsaken, and she felt betrayed.
Seeing that talking to Hillary was a lost hope, at least for now, Betsy quietly slipped out of the classroom disappointed. Hillary sighed in relief. There’s one less person to be bothered with. Pretty Boy, on the other hand…
He was still watching her intently from his seat, was if he was going to choke if he didn’t talk to her. From the corner of her eye, he was looking at her strangely. She can’t say what exactly, because she could only see him from the corner of her eye or when she would look absentmindedly in his direction. Whenever she could catch a glance, she would see him gazing at her, and it annoyed the hell of out her.
What the fuck was his problem?
But still, it frightened her. She felt like being x-rayed by his eyes. There was something in those gazes that told her he knew something that she didn’t, or that she had to know something.
Hillary maintained her ignorance, her attention still on her chattering classmates.
However, when Hillary was about to go out, she felt a large, firm hand grab hers. She didn’t need to turn around to see the owner of the hand, as that touch had become very familiar to her. She quickly pulled out of Pretty Boy’s grasp as if he had leprosy.
“What?” Hillary angrily remarked.
“Hillary, about yesterday, I’m sorry…”
Hillary rolled her eyes. “If you’ve got something to say, I don’t wanna hear it. Save your breath for somebody who wants to hear it. Perhaps your time will be much better spent if you leave me alone and mind your own business. You might probably want to hang out with the student lounge and catch some girls who might fall for false charms as a replacement for Kellyanne.”
“Look, I just want to apologize,” Bill insisted.
Hillary glared at him with the deadliest stare that she could give, but it didn’t scare him.
"Look save your sympathies for somebody else. All that happened was me getting embarrassed. And you'll probably say that there wasn't anything for me to be embarrassed about-"
"Wouldn't you let me finish?!" he said irritably. "I'm sorry that I didn't give your journal back when I caught it from Ann. But here, I want you to have these back."
Bill rummaged from his messenger bag and produced several pages of loose sheets. Hillary took the pages and gave them a look. She was horrified to learn that these were the same ones that had fallen out of Deedee.
"I picked them up when you left," he told Hillary.
"Oh, okay. So apparently not everybody knows that I have an imaginary online boyfriend. Unless..." Hillary quirked a brow, "Did you read these?"
"I did but..."
"Wow. Did you make copies and pass them around school?"
"Of course not!" Bill exclaimed, horrified and appalled at the mere suggestion.
"So why are you giving it back to me? To rub it in my face? To prove to me that you're not as shitty as I thought you are? Well, news flash, Pretty Bot, not so shitty is still shit. And don't expect me to give you credit for not giving in to your usual asshole tendencies."
"I wasn't asking for credit! I just wanted to give it back to you! Damn, you're infuriating!"
"Oh, so I am infuriating? Am I infuriating for wanting to defend myself from bullies like you? When I thought...I thought..." her lips started to quiver.
"No! No, you're not. Far from it. I'm sorry," Bill regretted his choice of words. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."
Hillary scoffed. "Oh please, there's nothing to talk about. Even though you knew I was already HUMILIATED you continued to read things that were still none of your business?"
"I did, but I had a good reason to-"
Hillary was completely appalled by his response. "You have a good reason to? What the hell do you have on somebody else's thoughts? My diary is private. My conversations are private. You don't have any right to either of those."
"Fine, your diary is yours alone," Bill conceded. "But the conversations..."
"What, are you the FBI? Do you have a search warrant to go through my internet history? What's next? Gonna lock me up?"
"No, but listen to me, dammit!"
"NO!" Tears were already falling down her cheeks. "I've listened to you enough. I thought...I thought...I gave you another chance, and you blew it at the first opportunity. Kellyanne and those bitches? They're just like that. Bitches. And I can live with that. But you...you!" Hillary felt as if she was gonna faint, but thankfully her legs could still support her. "If you're gonna ask my forgiveness, I won't give it. If you're gonna ask for another truce, then you have it. But that's all you're gonna get from me."
Hillary walked away from Bill, relieved to be out of his radius but still in tears. Still, she couldn’t help but notice that he was still giving him this different look that was more than guilt. It’s as if something was eating him alive. He looked at him as if she didn’t know something. And he was going to tell her what it was.
He had lost his chance. He hurt her for the second time.
Hillary heard him call her from behind, but she didn’t listen. The desperation and hurt in his voice were evident, and it was hurting her too, but she had to stand up for herself.
She vowed to herself Pretty Boy would never hurt her again.
Chapter 14: D-Day I
aka Bill's first attempt to tell Hillary
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Come on, Joe...pick the fucking phone up.”
After a million rings, Joe picked up the phone. He sounded a bit tired when he answered.
“Good afternoon! This is The Chocolair. This is Joe speaking. How can I help you?”
“Is…is that you, Bill?”
It was 4:50 pm and Bill was pacing nervously in his bedroom, anticipation playing with his nerves. He thought he was ready to burst when the minute hand of the clock on top of the study desk crawled closer and closer to 12.
“Yes, it’s me, Bill,” he was almost shaking when he replied, his sweat cold as ice. His hands were numb, and his face was whiter than Sebastian Gorka’s taste for women.
“Hey! What’s up? Make it quick, though. We might have calling customers.”
Bill nodded. “Joe, I need a favor.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, having an internal
dispute with himself to either sit down or stand up.
“Sure,” Joe said happily. “What is it?”
“I need you to look for somebody. Might arrive in ten minutes. Or probably she’s in there right now.”
Joe squinted his eyes on the other line. “I don’t like the sound of this but okay. What’s her name?” asked Joe, intrigued as to who was this mystery girl of Bill’s.
“No, I can’t give you a name. Look for a girl who has a Nintendo DS cartridge and a candy bar.”
“Alright,” Joe began looking around.
“Do you see anyone?”
“Naaaaaaaaah…I don’t see a girl having that description.”
Bill was disappointed, but not surprised. His jitters persisted. “Can you call me you see someone with the description I gave you?”
“Of course. But, tell me, what’s all this about?”
“I’ll tell you later, I promise,” Bill replied.
“Sure, but you better tell me what’s going on once I tell you who it is.”
“Thanks, man.” Bill heard a click as he sat the phone down.
This was going to be the longest ten minutes of his life.
Hillary wasn’t sure why she was walking towards The Chocolair, but a few minutes past 5 pm, she arrived at the appointed place. She didn’t know what to expect, but her heart was pounding. She had told herself a million times not to go to the place where her online boyfriend had told her, but there she was, looking around for an empty booth for them to sit on.
Luckily, she found one, right at the corner of the café. Good. Away from the bar where Joe was, and away from the prying eyes of her fellow students who probably already had knowledge of the contents of her journal. To be honest, she was puzzled as to why her online boyfriend chose this place. It’s as if he knew more about her than she had ever divulged him. Sure, she had told him where he lived, but he could have chosen a more mainstream place, like a mall or a park. But not The Chocolair, the place where she had made so many memories since she moved to the current neighborhood.
Not to be obvious that she was going to meet someone, she kept the candy and the game inside her buddy bag. Once she sat down, she pulled the game and the candy bar and placed them on top of her table. She took out her Nintendo DS and played with it so that she wouldn’t be so obvious. She prayed that her mystery man would come soon.
She tried to distract herself with the video game, but she couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t help but think what lordofthesax would be like. Handsome? Ugly? Nerdy? A Pervert? Or a middle-aged man pretending to be a high school student?
And more importantly…what would he think of her?
And what would she think of him?
Her nerves were starting to eat her alive as she gripped her Nintendo DS tightly.
She was instructed to bring a video game and a chocolate bar. Apt, she thought. The video game was a passion that they shared, and the candy bar was for his sweet tooth.
But for Hillary, it symbolized his sweetness to her.
Going restless and tense, Hillary dropped her Nintendo DS and subtly scanned the room for someone who looked like who was going to meet someone. Nope. Not a single candidate in sight. People, as usual, were up and about, doing their business, either having a good conversation or having their mouths busily sipping a milkshake.
Hillary would order one, but she was so nervous now.
She looked at the clock across the room and it would only be a matter of time until he got here.
Only a few minutes more.
She wasn’t going to run.
Bill’s phone rang, and he scrambled from the bed to pick it up.
“Hey, Bill. It’s me, Joe.”
Bill’s heart sank. It’s now or never.
“Well? Who is it? Did you see anyone?”
Joe bit his lip. “Buddy, I…I don’t see anyone matching your description.”
Bill blinked. “Seriously?”
Joe nodded. “Uh-huh. I don’t see…” Joe looked around once more, and he realized he was mistaken. “Oh wait! I see one!” he whispered to the phone excitedly.
Bill’s heart thumped faster. “Okay, who is it?”
“Wait…I can’t see her face because her face is away from me and she’s rummaging something from her bag. But I do see a video game in front of her and a chocolate bar.”
“Great!” A rush of relief flooded Bill’s veins. “Can you look at her?”
“Hold on…I’m trying to see…she’s still rummaging her bag.”
“Come on…come on…”
“Wait! I see her now!”
“Fuck Joe! Tell me who it is!” Bill almost yelled at Joe impatiently.
“Hillary who?” Bill’s brain was goo.
“Hillary Rodham, of course! Do we know another Hillary?!”
“Oh, right sorry.”
It didn’t take long for Joe to put two and two. “Okay, what’s this about? Are you gonna prank her? If you do, I don’t want any part of it.”
“No, listen,” Bill whispered urgently, “remember when Kellyanne and her friends played with her journal and she was upset that they found out they had an online boyfriend?”
“Well duh, how can I forget that? It was just yesterday!” Joe rolled his eyes.
Bill slapped his palm on his forehead. “Oh, right sorry. But that’s not the point. The point is that Hillary was supposed to meet with her online boyfriend.”
Joe’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
“Well…if I tell you, you probably won’t believe me,” Bill said.
Somehow, Joe figured out what Bill was trying to say. “Oh, shit! Are you supposed to meet her?”
“Yes,” he confessed.
“Shit, this is fucked up. I can't believe this! How did this happen?”
“Long story. I’ll explain it to you tomorrow.” Bill promised.
“Alright. What are you gonna do then? Will you see her? You know she’ll be upset when she finds out.”
"I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Bill abruptly hung up the phone.
An hour of nervously waiting, and nobody had approached her, nor did she see anyone who seemed to be looking for her. One hour of praying. One hour of looking at the glass windows, watching the passers-by come and go and hope one of them would go inside and look for her. Each minute that passed had filled her with disappointment.
Hillary wondered if lordofthesax took a look at her and left without a word.
But her thoughts were disrupted when she saw the familiar figure of the person she least needed at the moment.
Pretty Boy looked around and to Hillary's horror, he spotted her. Hillary scooted away from him instinctively. He walked closer and closer, and she moved further and further until her shoulder hit the glass window. Fuck. She had nowhere to go.
“Hi,” Bill sat down across her.
“Why are you here?” Hillary asked him pointedly.
“I thought you might like some company,” Bill told her.
“Didn’t I tell you I don’t want to? I made that pretty clear earlier in school. So please, leave!”
Thankfully, Hillary realized that there was a menu sitting on top of her table. She grabbed it and held the menu in front of her, covering her face from her new companion.
“Are you still here? Go away!” Hillary was panicking. lordofthesax might already be on the premises and she was stuck with Pretty Boy.
“Hey, maybe you need someone to talk to?” Bill said feebly.
Hillary slammed the menu on the table, infuriated. “No! I don’t need anyone! I’ve been waiting in here for an hour and the last thing I need is you! Go away!”
“You’ve been waiting for an hour?” Bill was back to his airhead self. “Hmmmm…are you waiting for someone?”
Hillary panicked that Bill was thinking exactly what was on her mind. “No! So go away! I gave you a truce, didn’t I?”
“But I want more than a truce. I want you to listen to me.”
Hillary folded her arms across her chest. “No. And you can’t make me.”
“Even if I tell the school that you have an online boyfriend and you’re about to meet him right now?”
Her jaw dropped. How…how the hell did Bill know that?! Was it the one he was trying to tell her all along?
No, no. That would have been crazy. Hillary shoved those thoughts out of her head and focused on pushing Pretty Boy away.
“Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“I would be forced to if you won’t listen to me,” he said, almost begging.
Hillary stood up and pound her fists on the table. “Stop it. I thought you wanted a truce? I am not messing with you right now, so fuck off!”
In the midst of her rage, she heard the sound of a candy wrapper being ripped.
Pretty Boy was eating the candy bar for lordofthesax.
“What…what the hell are you doing, asshole?”
“Eating. I’m hungry. And it will make you listen,” was his simple reply.
“You ass! That candy bar is for somebody else!” she screamed at him.
“So, I’m right. You are meeting your online boyfriend. Tell me, who is it?” Pretty Boy gave her a smirk.
Her hands began to clench themselves into a ball underneath the table. She was ready to launch herself at him.
"So I finally met a guy who likes to gossip..." she seethed, gritting her teeth. "Such a nosy person aren't you?
“You’re expecting company. Might as well talk to you until he gets here,” Pretty Boy took another bite of the candy bar, his eyes narrowing as usual.
"Oh and I suppose our 'talking' will lead you to ask me that burning question." she shook my head while she gave a small fake laugh. "Or at least alleviate the guilt that you're feeling. So you can say to yourself, 'at least I tried.'"
"What question would that be?" He smirked taking another greedy bite. "What am I 'supposedly' asking from you?"
She raised an eyebrow, "You want me to forgive you right?"
"So why don't you?" He stopped his chewing.
"Dream on. My answer still stands. And what you did... it's unforgivable."
“Hey, I didn’t deliberately go and find that journal of yours, didn’t I?”
Hillary shook her head. “No. But you just had to read it before you returned it to me.”
“Yeah, I admit that,” he conceded, “but I told you, I had a good reason to!”
“And I told you, that’s bullshit,” she flatly shut down his attempt to explain. “Clinton, please, just leave now. I’m begging you.” Her eyes darted to the entrance when she heard them open, but she was disappointed to see only a couple had entered.
Urgh, why did lordofthesax even choose this place?
“No, I won’t. Not until you answer my question,” he said, biting the last of the candy bar.
“Fine. Yes, I am meeting him here. And I’ll have you know, he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” she was on the verge of tears again. She knew it was a lie because lordofthesax also hurt her, but she had to say it just to save her face.
His face darkened. Hillary had never seen him like that.
“You know that? I think online relationships are crap. I think only desperate people do such a thing so they can have some attention.
For some reason, her heart stopped at this, but she pinched herself to get her out of the state.
“You know, I really thought you’re just a bully, and that one day, you’ll grow out of it. But no. I was wrong on epic proportions. You are a despicable, deplorable human being. You are a skank, a sleaze, a man whore,” Hillary pointed her finger to his chest to emphasize her point. “You are a player, Pretty Boy. A player. How you play all of those girls and…” her lips were about to quiver when she almost said “and me” but she caught herself. “To sum it all up, there are only two words to describe a guy like you: Pretty Boy. You’re nothing but a Pretty Boy. You only think of yourself. You never know how to make anyone happy. Hell, you’ll never have the ability to make anyone happy even if you wanted to. And because of that, you…you are worthless.”
Her chest was heaving with emotion, but it was the exact opposite of the boy sitting across her. At first, his eyes reflected a myriad of them: shock, anger, and hurt. And then quickly, it turned into nothingness. Nothing. Only a blank stare.
At the same time, Hillary realized something.
She defeated him. She won.
But, after knowing this, after saying what she wanted to say all those years…
She didn’t feel like a winner.
She felt like a sore loser.
His eyes quickly darted off somewhere, unable to look at hers. He cleared his throat to regain his composure.
“I see. Well…thanks for your time, Hillary. I…I’m sorry for having taken your time.”
Hillary stood at the booth, her feet rooted to the spot. She was about to say something but he quickly turned around and left. As she watched him leave, she felt drained and exhausted.
I think I might have hurt his feelings.
I don’t know whether it was your intention to trick me or not, but I could not believe I fell for your false charms again. I trusted you, yet you hurt me again. So much for that “I love you” shit that you gave me in your email dumping me.
Remember the bully I had always talked to you about? Well, guess what? He showed up after he pestered the hell out of me again.
And then, I realized something: You’re exactly like him. A player. You play with other people’s feelings like a toy. But you don’t realize how much people can suffer just so you can have your amusement. You know what? I’ve had it with you. You can burn in hell for all I care.
Thanks for nothing, asshole.
Bill blinked. He could not believe what he just read. She had written her insults against him almost word for word and used it to blast her (possibly) now ex-online lover. Did…did she already know? Surely she must have? After all, she’s a smart girl. Smarter than any person he ever knew.
He contemplated what to do next. Should he tell her by email? Doing so would risk falling into her trap if ever she laid one. No matter what he decided to do, he knew Hillary would get mad at him.
But she had to know. Even if it would hurt them both. He owed her the truth.
In pain, Bill silently typed his reply:
I am sorry that you were hurt because of my absence. Instead of a friend you could trust, you only met an enemy. Instead of having a good conversation with me, you only had a good fight with somebody else. But I can make it up to you.
Meet me back at The Chocolair at 6pm. I promise I’ll be there first before you arrive.
Look for a rose and a letter on an empty booth.
I’ll be there. I promise.
“So, you two fucked it up huh?” Joe let out a sarcastic laugh as Bill drank the last drop of his beer. There were inside The Chocolair, and it was past closing time. The only people that remained inside were the two of them.
“Yep. We are such a piece of work. We’re worse than a divorcing couple.”
Joe snorted. “Divorcing? You aren’t even dating yet, let alone married.”
“I know, asshat! It’s just a metaphor.”
“I kid, I kid. I’m just trying to lighten the mood around here. But damn, she really unloaded on you earlier. Years of bottled-up anger, all released in one go. I never thought she could hurt you like that.”
Bill took another swing of beer, but he realized that it was already empty. “I know, I know. I was stunned too. Didn’t think she had it in her.”
“Maybe she sees it as a payback. You hurt her, she hurts you,” Joe suggested.
“Maybe. But damn, when I first saw her three years ago, I never imagined we would end up like this. From liking each other to hating each other while secretly loving each other and then-“
“Wait,” Joe held up a hand to silence Bill. “Did you say you love her?”
Bill wished he still had a bottle of beer. “I did.”
“Wow. You sound as if it’s so easy,” Joe said in amazement.
“Well, we just went for it. Or at least, that’s how lordofthesax and sexyofstate did.”
“Wait, your names are lordofthesax and sexyofstate?” Joe stifled his laughter.
“Yep. Because I play the sax. And she wants to be a diplomat,” Bill explained.
“Holy cow, you can play the sax?!” Joe’s eye widened in wonder.
“I can, you ass.”
“How come you never told anyone?” Joe was still amazed.
“And risk being ridiculed for it? No way, Jose.”
“Oh, Clinton, you think so lowly of yourself. Think of the girls who would swoon all over you!”
“No girl wants to date a guy who knows how to play the sax,” Bill said flatly.
“Really? I’m not sure about that”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sure one girl would like to hear you play the sax,” Joe said, “and she’s gonna want to hear that tomorrow when she sees you.”
Huhuhuhuhu. Writing this chapter was very painful. And why the hell did Bill eat the chocolate?! LOL
Chapter 15: D-Day II
I literally just submitted all my deliverables at work and I'm scrambling to post this!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
Hillary was instantly annoyed when she felt that gentle tap on the shoulder. She would have exploded right then and there, but Pretty Boy was pretty much cordial, so she had reason to be unpleasant to him. Besides, Mrs. Merkel was still lingering inside the classroom even though class had already ended.
“Oh, Clinton. It’s you,” she turned around, giving a fake smile.
Fuck. What does he want now?
“Do you mind if I steal you for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” she said, appearing nonchalant but inside, she was ready to rage.
She followed him towards the empty classroom next door, uncertainty written on her eyes. She saw Betsy gave her a nervous look, but she shrugged it off. The two were yet to make up after Hillary’s walkout in The Chocolair.
Once inside the empty classroom, Hillary spoke before he could even begin.
“So, Clinton, I was thinking about yesterday and there’s something I want to tell you too. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I said. I went low. Lower than I expected to be when I should have gone high. When they go low, we go high. I forgot that yesterday. It’s just that it was really a bad timing and you showed up and…”
“I understand,” he said, his eyes bright and kind. Damn. It’s like the Bill Clinton she knew before, and it was twisting her stomach in knots. “Does this mean you’re going to forgive me?”
So, he’s human after all.
“Yeah, I’m calling it even. Anyway, I learned my lesson. I should never let you push me to my limit again. I know you can be an ass sometimes but I have to admit, I shouldn’t stoop as low as you,” she said.
“Gee, that makes me feel so much better,” he remarked sarcastically, but there were hints of laughter in his voice, the beginnings of a smile dawning his face. “But anyway, you’re right. I should have respected your privacy. I’m sorry for that. But there’s something I need to explain why I had to do it-“
“Well, enough said. Case closed. No hard feelings. I don’t want to dwell on the past, anymore. I want a fresh start, so it means moving on from all of this…whatever this is. Whatever your reason is, I am fine with it, but I just don’t need to hear it. Makes it harder for me to let go, you know?”
He simply looked at her, unsure of what to say or do. Before he could open his mouth again, Hillary had told him “Goodbye!” and she was already marching straight to the door. To be honest, she was thankful that he was being mature for once and handled their dispute like an adult, but she couldn’t help but feel that the drama wasn’t over yet, so she left him there, not letting him finish what he wanted to say.
“I am so nervous, Joe,” Bill said as he sipped his coffee, sitting in the bar thirty minutes before the moment of truth.
“You idiot! Why did you order coffee? You should have asked for, like, a banana split!” Joe scolded him from behind the bar.
“God, I’m so stupid today,” Bill wiped his face in exasperation, “I’d probably blow it when Hillary finally comes.”
“That is IF she comes. I doubt she’d be coming back here after you – or rather, your online alter-ego – stood her up yesterday. She was freaking mad!”
“I know, I know. Totally my fault. But I’m still hoping that she’d show up. I tried to tell her earlier but she won’t listen,” Bill sighed.
“You can’t blame her for that, Bro. She probably wants to move on and turn a fresh leaf.”
“She does. But she needs to know. She has to.”
“I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is that you need to be patient with her,” Joe explained.
“So you think telling the truth to her right now is not a good idea?”
“That I do not know. But I can tell you that she will be stubborn, and you need to let her take her time. You of all people should know that” Joe gently reminded him.
Something clicked inside Bill.
But I can tell you that she will be stubborn, and you need to let her take her time.
He recalled the first time he hurt her, three years ago. After the incident in the cafeteria, he was following her everywhere she went. He was cornering her, even pestering her just to make her hear him out, just like what he was doing today. She was stubborn as hell. She would always shut him down whenever he tried to explain. When she wouldn’t budge, he got frustrated, and simply gave up.
And with that, he realized what his mistake was.
And it dawned unto him: he might be making the same mistake the second time around.
Should…should he back out?
But what if Hillary came and found nobody again?
“He-llo?” Joe tried to break his reverie.
“Sorry, I just thought of something,” Bill dismissed.
“Dude, whatever it is, you can think of it later. Your girl might come here anytime soon,” Joe reminded him.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, my nerves are starting to get the better of me,” Bill ran his hand through his hair, clearly shaken.
“Wow, Pretty Boy Playboy Bill Clinton losing it to PMS Girl Hillary Rodham. What a sight!”
“Ha! But seriously, you need to let give her space. Let her come to you. I know this won’t be easy for her, and you need to let her swallow the truth at her own pace. Don’t force her. She’ll only clam up more then harder you push her.”
Bill took another sip of his coffee. “Thanks for telling me that, Joe. I wouldn’t have known how mistaken I was the first time. I fucked everything.”
“Oh hell yeah you did,” Joe clapped his shoulder affectionately. “But seriously, even though she’d rather die than admit it, I know she loves you.”
Bill frowned. “How did you know that?”
Smirking, leaned into Bill’s ear and whispered, “She gave you a blowjob to when you were in your lowest of lows. If that wasn’t love, then I don’t know what it was.”
Hillary didn’t know why her feet were carrying her towards The Chocolair. After all, she should say no to the second attempt in meeting him for the second consecutive time in the same week. Crazy, right?
But she was stubborn. Meeting him was like an itch she needed to scratch, even if there was a great chance that it would bleed.
So, why was she doing this?
She needed to know, even what she would find out would hurt her. She knew the risks, but her thirst for answers overwhelmed her need to protect herself.
She stopped in front of the doors now, her legs suddenly unwilling to move. Her own body was waging a war on herself.
Crap, crap, crap. Not now!
Hillary shook her legs and took a deep breath to relax. She pushed the door open.
This is it.
She stepped into the café and saw nothing that seemed to be unusual. People were happily chatting and enjoying their food and drinks, there was a waitress who was attending to the orders...
On the far end of the café, her eyes caught Pretty Boy having what seemed to be a nice conversation with Joe. He must be off his shift.
Good. This time, Pretty Boy won’t be bothering her.
She continued scanning the room. Her heart stopped when her eyes landed on an empty booth. On top of it were a ‘Reserved’ marker, a folded letter and a red rose.
Just as lordofthesax promised. Her heart was hopping like an overexcited bunny.
Hillary walked casually to the booth. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her. Nope. Not a single soul. She thought that this could be some scavenger hunt, and The Chocolair was the starting point. Hillary dreaded the thought of a scavenger hunt, for her legs were too tired for running.
When she was finally in front of the booth, she slowly picked up the red rose. It was a very nice rose. It looked so fresh and vibrant and there were no thorns on the stem. She inhaled it with a smile, her heart leaping with joy.
And now the letter. She picked it up and slowly unfolded the white piece of paper.
It’s amazing. We’re finally going to see each other.
I’m sorry I had not introduced myself to you, and broken my promise. I deeply regret that I had done so, but I vow that it will not happen again.
To tell you the truth, I was here yesterday. We saw each other. We even spoke to each other. I didn’t know about this until two days ago. We were right under each other’s noses the whole time.
Now to see me where I am, turn around and look for the guy sitting in the stools.
I’ll be talking to Joe.
Hillary turned around and her eyes locked with Pretty Boy. Those kind, blue eyes that enamored her three years ago. Those eyes that gazed lovingly at her inside the car after prom. Those eyes that could make her melt under their intense gaze. Those eyes that were begging her to believe them.
Suddenly, everything fell in to place. It made sense now! All those stories lordofthesax told her: the bitchy pain-in-the-ass girl, his bimbo girlfriend, his bullying behavior…of course! It was all Bill Clinton! Hillary hated herself for not figuring it out sooner. That WJ at the end of his last email…it stood for William Jefferson!
Hillary numbly dropped the letter and the rose to the floor, hot tears began flowing from her eyes.
This can’t be!
She ripped her eyes away from him and made a mad dash towards the door.
“Wait! Hillary! Wait!” She heard him call her from behind but ignored.
“No! Leave me alone!” She tearily screamed when she was already outside The Chocolair. She couldn’t see where Pretty Boy was, but she screamed all the same. She ran and ran away from the café, as far away from Pretty Boy. She didn’t care where she would end up. She just needed to get as far away from him as possible.
“Hillary! Please! Come back!” She heard the screams crescendo from behind.
With tears in her eyes, her vision became foggy. Thus, she didn’t see the uneven pavement in front of her, so she tripped her foot and she fell, diving forward. For a split second, she thought she was going to hit the cement pavement, but a large hand grabbed hers, and with her fall, a large body behind her followed. The body twisted them so that she was on top, and it endured the impact of the fall. She heard a loud thud when the body hit the granite floor.
Pretty Boy was underneath her, moaning and groaning in pain.
And yet, the pain that he felt was nowhere near hers.
Still in tears, Hillary moved so that he could get up, sitting in a lotus position. He slowly crept up, gingerly nursing his bruised back, and stood back up in full height. He reached out his hand to her, but she refused.
“Let me pull you up, Hillary. Take my hand,” he said.
“No. Leave me alone,” she said, sobbing and turning away from him.
“What’s wrong, Hillary?”
“WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS?!” She screamed in loud sobs. She looked at him, a thousand questions already going through her mind. The people around them gave them scandalized glances, but Bill could be bothered by them right now.
“What’s wrong? I’M lordofthesax…” he lowered his hand further so she could grab hold of him.
“I know!” she swatted his hand off. “But WHY?!”
“Why? What’s wrong with it? To find out that’s me?” He sat down in front of her and firmly held her shoulders. She refused to meet his eyes.
“This is all wrong, Bill. Why did you do this to me?” She struggled to remove his firm grip. “YOU BASTARD!”
“What are you talking about?” His voice was soft and comforting, and she loved it as much as it made her squirm in discomfort.
“I should have known that you’d do this to me again.” Her tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and her breathing erratic. Her hands were frantically wiping her tears from her face. It’s like her eyes were a broken dam. “You bastard! You pathetic bastard! How could you do this to me again?! How could you play this cruel joke on me?”
“What?! This isn’t a joke…”
“How…how could you?! You pretended to be somebody else when you knew all along…I trusted you! I confided in you! And you do this?! You lied to me?!”
“I never lied to you, Hillary. I have been more honest with you than every person I have met! I only found out when Kellyanne took your journal away from you. I had to make sure it was you! That’s why I had to read your journal. And that girlfriend I told you I wanted to dump? It’s Kellyanne! See? It makes sense!” Bill implored her to believe him.
Yes. It did make sense to Hillary. All of it.
“Yeah, and I am the bitch girl you were talking about in your messages. The pain-in-the-ass girl,” she said quietly.
Bill’s face fell. He had forgotten how much he blasted Hillary in his emails, how he mocked and demeaned her. She read and printed every single one of them!
“I’m so sorry! I was being an ass to you back then. And I thought you were someone else. And those were all my fault. But please, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say all those things!”
“Yeah, we just spent almost a year talking about me behind my back.” Never did Hillary felt so duped.
“It’s not your fault, Hillary! Please don’t do that to yourself…”
Still in sobs, Hillary shoved Bill and ran away from him as fast as she could.
He did not run after her this time.
Hillary woke up at 4:30 AM. Too damn early for school, but too late to go back to bed to. She rubbed her eyes, but they were more swollen than usual. Her throat was sore and itchy, all thanks to her incessant crying the previous night. She felt really, really tired, and she was tempted to skip school altogether.
But, she wasn’t going to let Pretty Boy see that she’s a weakling.
Far from it.
She stretched her arms and legs and sat on the edge of her bed. She turned to her side saw that her computer had been on all night.
Faint memories of the previous night began to resurface – crying, then wanting to rip her journal apart, then struggling to send Bill an email, then back to crying again. There was no doubt she was in a shitty state, and she was thankful that she hadn’t done anything crazy while she was in a depressed mood.
But now, she was calmer, and her head was clearer.
She just made a decision.
She immediately stood up and looked through the drawer of her desk. She found what she was looking for.
She didn’t need it anymore. Writing to Deedee had been a terrible decision in the first place, and she didn’t need to be reminded of that.
And more so, she didn’t need HIM.
“Clinton!” she called him after chemistry class. Unlike before, he was seated on the far end of the room, far from her usual seat was.
“Hillary!” he said, perplexed.
“I want to talk to you. But please let me finish before you speak,” she told him.
“Alright,” he said cautiously.
“I have something for you.”
His forehead scrunched in confusion. Hillary pulled the journal from her back and shoved it into his hands.
“Your journal?” he asked.
"It seems that this object is the source of all my problems. And since you're so interested in my thoughts, I thought I should give it to you. I don't need it."
“But, but Hillary, this is yours. This journal keeps your deepest and darkest secrets,” he replied, obviously hurt.
“I know. But those secrets aren’t deep and dark anymore now that they’re in the open,” she sighed. “I don’t want to revisit them anymore. They’re all mistakes. Epic mistakes. I was stupid to write in the first place. If you’re going to divulge them to everyone, I don’t care anymore. What do I have to lose anyway?”
“Please don’t say that, Hillary. You’re not like that. You’re an amazing girl…” his voice trailed off.
“Yeah, right. I’m so amazing that I didn’t realize I was being duped into liking my biggest tormentor.” She had almost said “love” instead of “like”, but she didn’t want to give Pretty Boy any ounce of satisfaction. She wanted him to torture him, let him feel every pain that she ever felt in his hands.
“Please, listen to me. All the things I said about you were true, or at least, that’s how I felt when I wrote those things. I deeply regret I called you a pain-in-the-ass bitch behind your back, but I was completely honest with you in my last email.” He begged her to believe him as they locked their eyes once again, ignoring the barrage of students who were making noises in the background.
I love you, and that’s the truth, his eyes were screaming to tell her.
Hillary got his message loud and clear, but she quickly glanced away, refusing to believe what his eyes had just told her.
“I better go. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
From the corner of her eye, she had seen him close his mouth, his eyes narrowing but not into an angry stare.
Welp. That went well, didn't it?
Hillary walked across the school hallway, chin up and head held high, strutting as if nobody ever knew that she had an online boyfriend and coincidentally, it was the person whom she hated for three fucking years. She didn't know whether anybody else knew what the contents of the diary were, but she didn't care one bit. She was tired of being thrown around and toyed whenever she went, whether it be the blonde cheerleaders or Pretty Boy. This time, she was taking back her life.
As part of her plan to let everyone know that they could suck it, she did her roots (urgh, the color's going off after the last time she did that, which was just before prom), she wrapped her long straight hair in a bun and wore the short skirt she bought in New York when she spent the last summer (and coincidentally triggered a fling with a college student who's studying at NYU).
And strut along the hallway, she did. She wore her most confident smile and greeted everyone who came by her way. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors and her fellow seniors. Everybody was struck with her newfound radiance and confidence, but they weren't surprised. She had always been a beacon of self-assurance at school. She had always handled pressure with poise and grace. After all, she didn't land a spot in the student council on her first year if not for her sheer confidence and dedication to her work.
Somewhere along the way, Hillary got a glimpse of Joe and Betsy, who were quietly talking in front of the latter's locker. She caught their eye, but she didn't greet them like everybody else. A lump suddenly got caught in her throat, a heaviness forming in her chest. She missed them terribly, she truly did. But it seemed that they were hellbent on ignoring her that they didn't even explain why didn't turn up on her invitation to talk in The Chocolair.
Hillary quickly glanced away and continued to greet the other students, until a group of three blonde students blocked her way.
Kellyanne, Ann, and Tomi were giving Hillary dirty smirks.
"Wow, look who's going bimbo," chided Kellyanne, "just because you're prom queen doesn't mean you get to steal the spotlight from us. You're no popular kid."
"Oh, really? If I recall, I won the popular vote for student council. Landslide, in fact," Hillary gave a nasty grin on the three. It did not sit well with Kellyanne.
"Oh, so you're wearing a short skirt now so that Bill could ogle you? Whatever happened to girl power yada yada?"
"Please," Hillary rolled her eyes, "Unlike you, my self-worth doesn’t rely on the quality of blowjobs that I can give."
"Says the girl who has an online boyfriend," Kellyanne purposely said that out loud so that everyone could hear. Heads suddenly turned to their direction.
Hillary didn't expect Kellyanne to bring that online boyfriend thing right off the bat, and truth be told, she was taken aback by it. Thankfully, her quick wit saved her.
“So, I finally have something that you always say I do not,” Hillary smirked. “Weren’t you just mocking me a few days ago because nobody wanted to be with me?”
Kellyanne was struck by Hillary’s response, her mouth ajar. The color on her face seemed to drain. “I never said that.”
“Lying are we now eh?” Hillary replied cockily. “I believe everybody here heard what you’ve said to me, pretty little liar.”
The pressure seemed to turn Kellyanne’s face green, large drops of sweat forming on her forehead. “You ain’t stealing the spotlight from me.”
“I would happily cede the spotlight to you if you hadn’t snatched my journal and told everybody I had an online boyfriend,” Hillary clicked her tongue.
Another swipe at Kellyanne, who seemed to be grappling to throw a swipe at Hillary, but she seemed to be failing. Instead, she was giving her murderous looks, which Hillary found not intimidating at all. Maybe it was because Kellyanne was struggling to pull it together. Her face was greener, and sweat was pouring all over her face. Was she…sick?
Hillary, on the other hand, kept her eye contact, unblinking and unflinching. Hell, there was no way she would allow herself to lose to Kellyanne this time. She needed to get back at her for toying with her and playing with her secret journal. And this time, she seemed poised to succeed.
Kellyanne opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, she let out a barfing sound and she quickly covered her mouth. Panicking, she scrambled to get out of the hallway and into the nearest ladies’ room. But just before she could reach her destination, she vomited right in front of everybody while her hand was still covering her mouth, the smelly odor of her puke quickly filled the hallways and so everybody covered their noses to protect themselves from the horrible stench.
Hillary, still pinching her nose, was absolutely ecstatic that she couldn’t help but open her mouth in delight. What a sight! Her female archnemesis died a social death, and it was right in front of everybody, to boot! Between her epic tripping at the cafeteria and this, this was waaaaay worse, and what’s more, she was right in the middle of it!
Ann and Tomi ran in aid of their friend, both horrified and embarrassed by this whole debacle. They escorted a vomit-laden Kellyanne and while they were ushering her away, Kellyanne stepped on her own puke and she slipped, causing her to spectacularly fall and her bum hit the floor, further staining her clothes. When she stood up, it looked like she had shit all over her dress. Once the trio of blondes was out of the picture, the students erupted in applause at the epic demise of school’s most popular and most hated figure.
The students then turned to Hillary, whom they credited for staring Kellyanne to her downfall. Celebratory whoops and whistles were thrown at her, and her fellow seniors were patting her on the back. Some were yelling ”HIL-LA-RY! HIL-LA-RY!” while clapping. And others were shaking her hand in congratulations.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Joe clapping hard and cheering. Her stomach twisted. She felt guilty for still harboring her anger for him and yet the guy was cheering for her success. Beside him was Betsy, who was also clapping, but in a less jovial mood than Joe. She looked troubled and concerned. Hillary suddenly wondered if she had done something that upset her best friend.
Brushing her hesitation aside, Hillary basked in the cheers of her classmates (though she had to hop over that puddle of vomit that Kellyanne left). While she was walking to her class, she swore she saw Pretty Boy smiling proudly behind her. Intrigued, she turned around to give him a second look.
He was gone.
Hillary left the student council room at around 7 PM. She had been using the room as her study area since her brothers Hugh and Tony were doing band practice in their garage. She made sure to do all the urgent homework in the student council room first before going home and finish whatever was left in their house. She also liked the student council room because unlike her bedroom, it didn't have a PC. She wouldn't be tempted to read her online conversations with lordofthesax a.k.a Pretty Boy a.k.a Bill Clinton. Every once in a while, she would log on and read their conversations, and end up crying. Although she knew that reading their conversations would only remind her of the deceit that Pretty Boy did upon her, she had always been drawn to him, no matter how hurt she got. She had a knack for doing self-inflicted wounds.
That night, Hillary finished her homework and she was ready to go home. She finished everything that needed to be done, and she was looking forward to playing with her Nintendo DS (she just bought the new Pokemon release and she couldn't wait to play). Before she turned off the lights in the council room and headed to the ladies' room, where she would freshen up a bit before she headed home.
As she approached the ladies' room, she heard soft sobs coming from inside. At first, she thought it was just a figment of her imagination, but the sobs became louder and louder as she walked closer to the ladies' room. Surely, someone else was there, but who could be staying in the school at this late hour? What it even a student? Or perhaps, it was a burglar trying to trick her into coming in?
Cautious as ever, Hillary positioned herself near the door, trying not to be seen inside. The person didn't seem to notice her presence, as the sobbing continued.
Hillary kept her ears in attention. She thought that the sobs were familiar.
It was Betsy!
Feeling bolder, Hillary slowly crept into the ladies' room. Betsy must have been inside one of the cubicles.
"Bets! It's me, Hill," she called.
The sobs immediately subsided. Hillary thought that Betsy was just going to dry her tears and answer back or probably get out of the cubicle, but a good five minutes had passed and her call was ignored.
Hillary called again, "Betsy! Is that you? It's me, Hill."
Again, nothing, and it was beginning to get to her nerves. First, Betsy ignored her invitation to talk and now she's ignoring her on her face?
For the last time, she called, "Bets! I know you're there. If you're not gonna answer me, I'm gonna call security!"
The last call seemed to work, as the last cubicle door opened, and Betsy came out, eyes still puffy and her nose runny from crying.
"What do you want?" Betsy asked Hillary, on the verge of tears again.
"Why are you here at this hour? You should have been home!" Hillary told Betsy angrily.
"You don't get to tell me what to do, Hillary. I'm not a kid anymore," Betsy spat back.
"I only care about you, Bets. Even if you don't feel the same for me," Hillary replied, hurt evident in her voice.
"How dare you, suggest that, Hill! You ignore me and Joe just for cracking a joke about you and Pretty Boy!"
"And I gave you the chance to explain!" Hillary bellowed, "I told you to come meet me at The Chocolair but you didn't show up!"
"We did show up, Hillary!" Betsy screamed louder. "But when we arrived, you were running away from The Chocolair crying and we thought we'd let you go because you might get angry at us for not giving you your space!"
Hillary crossed her arms and looked away. She didn't know whether Betsy was telling the truth or just plain lying.
Betsy knew that look. "You probably didn't see us. You can ask Pretty Boy..."
The merest sound of the word "Pretty Boy" broke her restraint. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT PRETTY BOY, DAMMIT!"
Betsy was a little taken aback by Hillary's forcefulness.
"I'm sorry. But I don't know what to say to make you believe me. He saw me and Joe entering right after you left," she said apologetically.
"I don't believe any word that's coming out of Pretty Boy's mouth right now."
Betsy understood. "I know, but I am just telling the truth.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Hillary covered her ears and shied away from Betsy. “Lies. All I hear from you are lies.”
“We’re not lying to you Hillary,” Betsy beseeched her best friend, “why would we do that?”
“I don’t know. You and Joe haven’t been good at being my friends lately,” Hillary let out bitterly, “I didn’t see you two running towards me when Kellyanne took my journal or when Pretty Boy played me for a fool.”
“Hillary, listen,” said Betsy calmly, “we wanted to apologize to you. We did. We wanted to approach you after class but you are so hellbent in getting away from Pretty Boy that we didn’t think there was any a good time to talk to you.”
Hillary tried to ignore Betsy’s explanation, but her heart seemed ready to forgive.
“If you don’t want to be friends with us again, it’s cool,” Betsy said.
Hillary tried to look unaffected with what Betsy just said, so she tried to shift the conversation.
“Why are you still here anyway, and why are you crying?” said Hillary, her arms crossed.
“I promise to tell you the truth, but I need you to let me finish first. Is that okay?”
Hillary nodded, her lips still pursed.
“That afternoon after Kellyanne vomited at the hallway, I heard Ann, Tomi, and Kellyanne inside the library. They thought they were whispering, but they were pretty loud. Or at least, I heard them.”
“What did they say?”
“Kellyanne told Tomi and Ann about her vomiting. Apparently, she’s been like that every morning. She thought she’s just suffering from anorexia or something. That morning when she confronted you in the hallway, she hadn’t barfed yet, and for a while, she thought she was okay. Until, well…she barfed. Ann and Tomi told her to go to the school doctor.”
Hillary nodded. “Okay.”
“But before Kellyanne went to the doctor, she decided to try something: she did a pregnancy test.”
“It was positive. Kellyanne was pregnant with Bill’s child,” Betsy said.
Somehow, it didn’t surprise Hillary that Kellyanne was pregnant. However, she was sure that it wasn’t Pretty Boy’s child.
“No,” Hillary said.
“I bed your pardon?”
“She’s not pregnant with Pretty Boy’s baby,” she said firmly.
“How did you know this?”
“Pretty Boy told me Kellyanne was fucking Coach Bannon.”
Betsy’s jaw dropped. She was stunned and horrified. “Oh. My. God.”
“I know. It’s just a matter of time before something like this happens. I also know Kellyanne would be so reckless,” Hillary said.
Betsy felt uncomfortable. “Uhm, I thought you didn’t believe any word from Pretty Boy. Why believe this one now?”
“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY? I JUST DO!” Hillary bellowed. She had no choice but to believe Pretty Boy on this, that this was Coach Bannon’s child and not his. The alternative was to believe that Pretty Boy indeed fathered this child and just the mere thought of it could crush Hillary’s soul.
“Okay. The baby is Coach Bannon’s,” Betsy conceded, deciding that it was best to leave that topic alone. “So anyway, I was alarmed.”
“Because…because I’ve been vomiting for weeks too.”
Hillary suddenly looked at Betsy with a panicked look on her face. “And…?”
“I tested too Hillary,” Betsy’s voice began to crack again. “I got positive”
Betsy held out the pregnancy test that Hillary didn’t notice that she was holding.
It had two red lines.
Hillary walked closer to take a better look at the test strip. “It’s…it’s real.”
Betsy sobbed. “Yes, it is.”
Betsy nodded. “I should have used the condom you gave me at prom, Hillary.” Betsy broke into harder sobs.
As much as she was angry at Betsy at the moment, she couldn’t bear seeing her best friend go through something like that alone.
Without another word, Hillary leaped towards Betsy and hugged her as tight as she could, tears slowly trickling from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Bets,” Hillary sobbed, “I’m sorry I thought the worst of you. I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”
“No, Hill. You aren’t. You’re just hurt. I understand. I truly do. I’m sorry I haven’t been your shoulder to cry on, especially in the past few days.”
Hillary pulled away. “You know what happened?”
Besty nodded. “I do. Joe told me everything. The first meet-up and the second meet-up.”
Hillary sniffed and went back to hugging Betsy. “I always know you’d look after me somehow. And right now, I’ll be the one to look after you.”
Betsy was speechless. “Hillary…”
“I’ll be with you, Bets. You have me and Joe. And hopefully, John too. We’ll get you through this ordeal. No matter what you decide – whether to keep the baby or not – we’re all behind you.”
Betsy was tearing up again and then she hugged her best friend tighter. “Hillary!”
And thus, the two best friends spent the remaining time to themselves mending fences and healing wounds before they walked home, facing their problems hand-in-hand.
Bill was nervous as was walking a block away from Hillary’s house. He was carrying his homemade Southern Mud Pie, fresh from their oven. He had to scram home all the way from school so that he could bake this pie just in time for him to deliver it to her that night. Bill wasn’t sure if Hillary was going to take his peace offering, but he had to try though.
Once he was in front of the Rodham yard, his hand began to shake. His sweat instantly turned cold. His heart was beating wildly. Please please please make her take this pie.
When he was at the front door, he rang the doorbell thrice. He prayed that Hillary opened the door.
To his surprise and disappointment, it was Hillary’s mom Dorothy who answered the doorbell.
“Good evening, Mrs. Rodham,”
“Oh, hi Bill. How are you?” Dorothy said.
“I’m good, Ma’am. I came here to bring Hillary some pie,” Bill showed Dorothy the pie he had been holding.
“That’s very nice of you, Bill,” Dorothy said. She was a bit confused as to why this boy was bringing her daughter an entire pie. She had heard about Bill from Hillary, and she couldn’t remember an instance where she said something nice about this boy.
“If it’s alright Ma’am, I want to see Hillary and give this pie I made to her,” Bill said meekly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Bill. She hasn’t come home yet,” Dorothy replied.
“Tony and Hugh are practicing at the garage and Hillary can’t stand the noise. She does her homework at school.”
“Oh,” Bill was crestfallen to hear Hillary wasn’t around. “Can you please give this to her?”
“Ah, yes. Certainly,” Dorothy received the pie from Bill. “I’ll give this to her once she’s home. This looks delicious. Smells delicious too.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Rodham. I’ll be going home now. Goodbye!”
Dorothy was intrigued as to why this supposedly awful person was giving her daughter a gift. Based on their short conversation, he didn’t seem to be awful at all. In fact, she found him quite good looking and she was sure that her daughter would be charmed by someone like Bill Clinton.
If she knew better, she was sure Bill Clinton had a crush on her daughter, with the way he carried himself earlier.
But still, Dorothy decided to be quiet since Hillary hadn’t opened up to her about Bill Clinton lately.
Speaking of Hillary, she arrived home ten minutes after Bill brought the pie. She was looking a lot chipper than she did when she left for school that morning.
“Hi Mom, hi Dad.” Hillary kissed her Mom and Dad. Dorothy was in the kitchen while Hugh Sr. was watching the news.
“Oh hi, dearie. Hungry?”
“Starving. Betsy and I walked home.”
“Was Betsy doing her homework at school too?” Dorothy asked.
“No. She had something else to do. But we caught up and went home together,” Hillary skirted the question, not wanting to tell her Mom about Betsy’s pregnancy right off the bat. “Where’s Hughie and Tony?”
“They’re at Richie’s house. They say they’re gonna so some more band stuff. But I told them to be home for dinner.”
“Okay. What’s for dinner then?”
“Yummmmm,” Hillary’s mouth watered.
“And Southern Mud Pie.”
Hillary’s eyes widened in excitement. “Mom, you made Southern Mud Pie?”
“Ah, no. Bill Clinton dropped by earlier and give the mud pie for you.”
Hillary, who was about to race upstairs to change clothes, suddenly stilled mid-step. “Did you say Bill Clinton?”
“Yes. Wasn’t he the same guy at school you always complained about?”
"Yeah, he is.” Fuck. What was he thinking, being all nice and giving her a mud pie just like that? “You shouldn’t have accepted the pie, Mom.”
“Why not? It’s rude not to accept a gift,” Dorothy said pointedly.
“I know Bill Clinton, Mom. I’m sure he put a laxative in the pie so that I’d poop all over,” Hillary replied.
“He can’t have done that, Sweetie. He must have known that your Dad and I and your brothers will eat the pie too. And if something goes wrong, Virginia’s gonna have an earful from me.”
“Maybe he thinks he can dig a favor from me sooner or later,” Hillary came up with another excuse.
“Oh, give it a rest, Dear. The boy is being nice and he gives you a pie. Just eat a slice after dinner.”
“But, Mom, there’s no way Bill Clinton is nice! Or maybe it was an impostor Bill Clinton!” said Hillary, her hands up in the air as she finally climbed upstairs.
“Whatever, Sweetheart. Go down in twenty minutes. Your brothers just texted. They’re on the way home,” Dorothy said from downstairs.
Persistent, cautious and stubborn, Hillary refused to eat the pie when it was dinnertime, opting for her Mom’s brownies instead. The pie looked so delicious that Hillary had a hard time resisting the urge not to eat it. As it turned it, it was delicious indeed. Hughie and Tony begged for a second slice of pie but Dorothy said no. All the throughout dessert, Hillary was licking her lips and eyeing that mud pie.
At midnight, when everybody was already asleep, Hillary snuck downstairs and took half a slice of pie. The first bite was like nothing she had ever experienced. Her closed her eyes and slowly chewed the pie, savoring the sweetness all over. Damn. Her Mom was right. It was that damn good, This was so delicious that Hillary thought she must be dead because there was no way something this good was allowed to exist on planet Earth.
Hillary was tempted to take another slice, but she controlled herself. She thought that for once, Bill Clinton didn’t fuck something up. He was…nice. And decent. For at least thirty seconds.
Smiling, Hillary just demoted him from the World’s Most Pompous Ass down to No. 2.
I really thought I wasn't gonna make it. The past few days had been quite rough for me. My friend died last Wednesday after five years in dialysis. I thought I was doing okay until I saw her urn and I became a total mess. I'm gonna miss her.
Before the day ended yesterday, however, I received some spectacular news: I finished my 10th actuarial exam and thus completing my professional associateship. What does it mean? Other than a title at the end of my name, I am halfway through my career ladder and two promotions away from being a vice president.
TL;DR: My week was a whirlwind and I was tired af.
From the bottom of my heart, I cannot thank you enough for the comments and feedback you give on my stories. And no, this is not a farewell fic, but I just want to tell you all guys that I appreciate you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!
Chapter 17: Just Barely
SORRY FOR THE LATE UPLOAD HUHUHUHUHU
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The news of Kellyanne being pregnant circulated around school like California wildfires. All of the students expressed shock and disgust over the news, though Hillary felt the complete opposite. She was not surprised when she heard it from Betsy, and she was thrilled that her worst enemy was having a worse time than her. Every time Kellyanne walked in the hallways, she was always met with curious looks from the students which had no hint of admiration in them. Once in a while, a cheerleader would come forward and express sympathies for her, but the rest of the school remained determined to witness Kellyanne suffer at a distance.
Not surprisingly, the other casualty in the Kellyanne pregnancy fiasco was Pretty Boy. Naturally, everybody thought that he fathered Kellyanne’s child. Hillary would roll her eyes every time she heard someone say that Pretty Boy fathered Kellyanne’s child. Like, duh, the guy wasn’t exactly the stud. No one had ever seen him thrash around a blowjob so much, and based on Pretty Boy’s account, that included Kellyanne. Hillary thought he might have been a virgin.
To be fair, she had no right to demean him for being a virgin as she was one herself.
She didn’t bother correcting the record even though she knew it would save Pretty Boy’s ass. Too risky. If she told people that the kid was Coach Bannon’s, they would ask her how she found out, and she can’t simply blurt out, “I found that out after I gave Pretty Boy a blowjob.” No. Just no.
Also, since then did she take Pretty Boy’s words at face value?
Normally, she would have ignored Pretty Boy’s revelation that Coach Bannon was fucking Kellyanne and instead reinforced the idea of Bill fathering Kellyanne’s child. However, the idea of Pretty Boy having a baby with another girl made her feel…nauseous? Or squeamish?
And a teeny, tiny jealous.
Fine. She was. She scolded herself for being such when Betsy told her, but surely that was just a fluke. A spur of the moment reaction. A lame attempt to convince herself that Pretty Boy genuinely cared about her and liked her. But as always, he turned out to be an ass. But the jealousy persisted. She couldn’t breathe just thinking about Pretty Boy fucking Kellyanne and now that the had a baby (not that she was wanting one at the moment). Finally, she had come to the awful conclusion that she was jealous.
Instead of living in the idea that Pretty Boy and Kellyanne would be having a kid and risking ripping the latter’s throat apart, she chose to believe Pretty Boy’s revelation, much to her chagrin.
One afternoon, Betsy came to the student council room while Hillary finishing reviewing the Drama Club’s request student council assistance on their upcoming production.
“Hi Hill,” Betsy entered the room.
“Oh hey Bets,” Hillary replied, her eyes never leaving the paper she was reading.
“Are you going home soon?”
“Yeah, I just need to finish reading this and I’m going home. Wanna go to The Chocolair?”
Betsy shook her head. “I wish I could. I need to talk to my parents.”
Hillary’s head suddenly shot up, “Why?”
“I asked my parents for dinner out. I’m gonna tell them about…you know.”
“Oh,” Hillary’s heart sank. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I need to tell them sooner rather than later.”
“Have you made a decision yet? Like, are you gonna keep the baby?”
“That’s what I wanna talk to them about. I wanna see their reaction first.”
“But...if it’s only just you, what do you want?”
Betsy sighed, “I want to keep our baby. I already told John and-“
Hillary gasped, “Oh my God, what did he say?”
“What can I say, I am so lucky. He says he’ll be happy to keep the baby if I want to.”
“Wow. You bagged a keeper,” said Hillary, in awe.
“I know. He’s gonna tell his parents this week. He’ll defer college for a year and work to support us and then we’ll make a decision later.”
“How about you? What about your studies?”
“I’m gonna do the same as John. And then when our baby is a year old, I’ll try to bring him or her to college. It’s gonna be hard, but I’m willing to do it.”
Hillary stared at Betsy in complete awe. “I don’t know how you can manage to stand up like that. The universe, like, has collapsed on you and somehow you have presence of mind.”
Betsy beamed at her best friend, “I learned from the best, Hillary.”
Somehow, it was Betsy who had offered comfort to her best friend than the other way around. It was amazing, really, and Hillary was glad that she and Betsy had been on good terms now.
“Well,” Hillary sighed, “I hope your talk with your parents will be alright.”
Betsy waited for Hillary to finish her work before the two headed out. Just as when Hillary and Betsy were at the door, someone called out to Hillary.
The two turned around. It was Tom Perez, sophomore class rep.
“Hi, Tom. What up?” asked Hillary.
“Hey, Hillary. Have you read the Drama Club’s proposal?”
“Yeah, I just did. Why?”
“The school suddenly canceled their reservation for the auditorium because some church needed the auditorium for their service and they were willing to pay for rent.”
“What?!” Betsy and Hillary were aghast.
“I know. We need council members to talk to Mrs. Pelosi. Meryl Streep, the Drama Club president asks for our help.”
“Sure, sure,” Hillary said. She then turned to Betsy, “Bets, I’m sorry I can’t walk you home.”
“It’s okay, Hill. I understand. I can manage. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure. Good luck, Bets.”
Betsy left for home alone, while Hillary went back to have a meeting with Mrs. Pelosi, feeling guilty that she wasn’t with her best friend at the most crucial time.
“No, Kellyanne, but nice try.”
Bill abruptly left Kellyanne in the middle of their conversation. The newly pregnant girl asked Bill for a serious talk. In hindsight, he couldn’t understand why he allowed himself to see Kellyanne when she asked him to have a serious talk at the back of the school gym. He should have known that she would con her, just like she always did. Bill thought she was going to apologize or something of that sort, but what happened was far from that. Kellyanne, upon the threat of coming forward to Georgetown and telling them that he sexually assaulted her, blackmailed Bill into publicly claiming her baby as his own.
“Bill, come back!” Kellyanne ran after Bill.
“There is nothing that would corroborate your story, Kellyanne. Even if your girlfriends would lie for you, there is no evidence against me,” Bill said angrily, still walking away from her. “Besides, I would gladly take a paternity test.”
“You scum, Bill Clinton. You know you used me so that you can be in the good graces of the football team and Coach Bannon. Other than that, you are a sucky quarterback,” Kellyanne chided.
Bill stopped and turned to Kellyanne. “Two championships during my stint tell you otherwise, but hey, keep convincing yourself,” Bill told her off snarkily. “While we’re at it, how’s that presentation on that Bowling Green Massacre coming? I heard you had an argument with Mr. Tapper in class and so you had to invent a fake massacre. Mr. Tapper called you out and yet, you’re still insisting that it’s real!” Bill was laughing so hard that he was tearing up.
“Oh shut up, Bill.”
“Kellyanne, face it. You fucked Coach Bannon. He’s gonna be fired and you’re gonna be expelled. There’s no way out of it,” Bill said the last sentence not bothering to hide his schadenfreude.
“There’s still something I can do,” Kellyanne said menacingly.
“Oh gosh, now I’m really afraid!” said Bill in a mocking voice.
“Tell everyone that this is your baby or else I’ll claim that Hillary Rodham told you to abort this baby."
Bill snorted. "Dream on. Hillary isn't even speaking to me."
"Alright then. You leave me with no choice.”
Without another word, Kellyanne marched towards Bill and pulled him into a less-than-innocent kiss. Her tongue was trying to enter his mouth but he was too shocked and disoriented to do anything. It took Bill a full five seconds to realize what was happening, and he almost threw up at the thought of what Kellyanne was doing to him. He shoved her forcefully, wiping the remnants of her kiss out of his lips.
“What the hell are you thinking, Kellyanne?!” Bill spat angrily.
Kellyanne was red in the face, furious. “You bastard.”
“So, I’m the bastard now for refusing to cooperate with your schemes, huh? Well, Kellyanne, you can’t scare or threaten me anymore. That child isn’t mine. If you wanna insist, then go to court and prove your case against me,” Bill dared her.
Leaving an agape Kellyanne, Bill walked away furious yet feeling triumphant.
Hillary came out of the room frustrated and exhausted. They weren't able to convince Mrs. Pelosi to rescind the cancellation of the school auditorium for the Drama Club because apparently, the church who was going to hold an event at the auditorium would be donating a huge amount to the school and Mrs. Pelosi was powerless to argue with the school board. That left a very angry Hillary. She was seething when she came out of the principal's office with Drama Club president Meryl Streep.
"I can't believe the board is doing this to us. This is a public school!" Hillary ranted at Meryl.
"I know," Meryl sighed.
"I am so furious. We need to do something!"
"Maybe she should clear our heads for now and convene tomorrow with the other student groups," Meryl suggested.
“I guess you’re right. As much as I wanted to get out now…”
Meryl patted Hillary’s shoulder, “Hey, it’s alright. We’ll have plenty of time to fight tomorrow. But for now, thank you for standing with us. You didn’t leave us hanging when we need you most.”
Hillary smiled, touched by her classmate’s appreciation. “You’re welcome. I’m just doing my job. Nobody will fight for our rights except us students.”
“Indeed, and we will be ready for battle first thing in the morning tomorrow,” Meryl smiled, “I’ll see you then?”
“Yeah, you too. Take care!”
Those last words by Meryl brought solace and joy to her fatigued heart. Amazingly, she was happy despite being in deep shit in the past few days: Kellyanne humiliated, made amends with Betsy and now, reaffirming the trusts of the students on her. It almost took away the pain of Pretty Boy betraying her.
No matter what she did, somehow, she just couldn’t shake off the pain Pretty Boy inflicted upon her, even it was three years old. She thought she had moved on from him. She thought she didn’t care anymore, but she did. She cared so much that it scared her.
And now that he was trying to make a better guy for her, it made her more scared.
Nobody had thrilled and scared her at the same time more than Bill Clinton.
It took her days to acknowledge that even if she was angry at him, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him this time, now that she knew everything. Deep inside, she knew Bill was telling the truth about himself as lordofthesax. Why? Because lordofthesax was the same Bill Clinton she new during her first few weeks of freshman year: kind, sweet and caring, if not a bit indecisive sometimes.
Should she forgive him? Definitely. The guy never failed. But would she forgive him this time? Probably. Hillary herself was not sure.
Sighing, Hillary decided to go home.
Bill continued brooding on Kellyanne as he walked home. He was not in the mood to do talk to anyone or to do his homework so he stayed at the park and sat on the swings. Odd. It was the same set of swings where he pushed Hillary during their first date. Boy, those sure were good old times. He loved how she laughed and screamed when he pushed her too hard and she would fly high. She was puny so it wasn’t that hard for him. She would open her legs wide like a carefree kid and sometimes lean backward to intensify the thrill. Looking back, Bill was surprised that his younger self hadn’t had dirty thoughts about her at that moment. Maybe his brain was too preoccupied with being in awe of her to think of anything else.
He sighed. He was disappointed in himself for not making progress reaching out to her. The least he could do was to make her forgive him before the graduation. Anything else other than that would the icing on the cake. Speaking of which, did she even eat the mud pie he gave her. Bill thought that there was a good chance she didn’t even touch it or threw the entire pie altogether. He hadn’t heard from her since he visited her house and truth be told, he was a getting a little paranoid. What should he do?
He thought of enlisting Joe’s help, but he remembered that Hillary wasn’t speaking to Joe. Betsy had reconciled with her, but he doubted that she would be willing to help him. Joe was his best bet in an array of dismal ones.
In other words, he was sub-zero.
His primary challenge was to make her listen to him. To make her believe that he didn’t realize that he was talking to her all this time.
But how? She was stubborn as hell. He found out the hard way then when her mind was made up, she could never, ever be persuaded. She was as firm as a rock. She would even bulldoze you if you try to get in the way of her thinking.
And then suddenly, Bill figured it out. He knew the way to get to her to listen to him.
He needed to speak to her heart.
Hillary didn’t realize how exhausted she was. With her energy drained, she was ready to crash into bed the moment she set foot in her house. Her legs were as heavy as lead, and her eyes were shutting on their own. The walk from school to her home had been a complete torture. She was tempted to simply sit down a bench and nap for about fifteen minutes but that would probably disrupt her sleep cycle so she resolved to stay awake.
She was just two blocks away from her house and her eyes were struggling to remain open. Just…two...blocks…away. She was like a zombie. Her brain had completely shut down but her body was still functioning.
Hillary, upon reaching the pedestrian lane, absentmindedly crossed the street, absolutely and positively sleepy. One more crossing…one more crossing…
But then, her ears picked up a loud noise: a car horn. Her peripheral vision caught a glimmer of light. She looked at the direction where the light came from. A car was fast approaching her. Her senses suddenly woke up like she was dumped with ice cold water. Her eyes widened. She was numb with fear. The car was surely going to rip her apart.
“LOOK OUT!” a male voice said.
Just as when she expected every bone in her body breaking, she felt being pulled to safety. A strong, warm body cuddled her instead. She could hear its heartbeat just as she heard hers. Blood was thundering in her spinning head.
She never felt so safe.
Hillary looked up to get a glance of her savior, and she was stunned to find the kind face of Bill Clinton, red-faced and looking at her with fear.
“BITCH!” the car driver yelled at her as he sped away.
The look in Bill’s eye turned from that of fear to fury. He gently pulled away to run towards that bastard who almost killed Hillary. Bill was only able to take a few steps when Hillary was able to grab his arm.
“No, don’t. It’s not worth it,” Hillary said, panting.
“I…I just wanna give him a piece of my mind,” Bill replied.
“No need to. You’ll just get yourself into trouble.”
Bill nodded. As if angels had whispered in their ears, their eyes locked again, searching for answers to a million questions that were running through their minds.
And just like that, they stared. As the saying goes, the eyes are the windows to the soul, and at that moment, they were searching deep inside each other’s souls. Time slowed down, and the earth stopped spinning. They were trapped in a dimension where only the two of them existed.
Hillary could not look away, not that she wanted to. Bill…Bill was so beautiful. Bill was perfect. Bill was the only one she ever wanted, the only one she ever needed.
He was the one for her.
Hillary didn’t realize that she was so close that she could see the pores of his skin, a contrast of rough textures against hers. Her eyes were darting back and forth between his lips and eyes, daring him to kiss her. She felt him hold her tighter. She happily followed her lead. They were mere inches away, their breaths fanning their faces. Hillary closed her eyes, anticipating the warmth of his lips…
But the warmth never came. Instead, she felt a cold breeze part them. She opened her eyes and saw Bill with a sad look on his face. Still clinging in his arms, Hillary gave a confused look.
“I want to kiss you so bad. I really do, but I can’t.”
“Why?” Hillary dared ask, bracing for the painful truth.
“Today, another girl tried to kiss me against my will,” Bill confessed. “I don’t want you to think you’re being played-“
Bill never got to finish his explanation because Hillary pulled him and silenced him with a searing kiss. Her lips burned hot against his. The sensation was so wonderful that Bill did the only thing he could think of doing. His arms found their way around her slender form as he started to return the kiss with more passion than he had ever thought possible.
Hillary never wanted to let go, and just to remain in his arms forever. She felt she belonged there, belonged to him, no matter what. She was kissing him like she had never done before. The prom forgotten, his betrayal forgotten, their history forgotten. All that mattered to her was that he was kissing her back with equal fervor, if not more, and it meant the world to her.
Coming from the high of their sudden reconnection, the two began to breathe in between kisses and toned down their intensity, gradually switching from passionate to affectionate. The didn’t pull apart, but they enjoyed their slower, more tender kisses.
Betsy’s voice was like a hammer breaking the fragile glass of their intimacy. Bill and Hillary quickly broke apart to see a stunned and confused Betsy.
“I…I…I was walking to your house Hill and then I saw you two..uhm…” Betsy stammered.
Bill and Hillary fixed themselves as if nothing had happened.
“Uhm…where you going?” Hillary asked, her head still pounding.
“I’m wondering if I can spend the night at your house. My parents kicked me out,” Betsy said.
“Oh!” Hillary replied. She had forgotten about Betsy and her dinner with her parents. Things suddenly became awkward between her, Betsy and Bill. Bill was trying hard to become invisible, but he was such a towering presence that he was very difficult to ignore.
“I’ll leave you two girls,” Bill said bashfully, his face redder than beets.
“Alright,” Hillary cleared her throat. “Let’s go, Bets.”
Bill and the girls parted ways without any more pleasantries. Hillary and Betsy were twenty feet away when she realized she had forgotten to tell something.
“Bill!” she called.
The sound of Hillary calling out his name – not ‘Pretty Boy’ – made his heart and entire body leap.
“Yes?” Bill turned around.
“Thanks for the pie,” she simply said.
Bill nodded, understanding what she said. It was not the typical thank you for a gift. It was her way of telling him that she was ready to forgive him, but she needed time.
As the two parted ways, their broken hearts healed just a teeny tiny bit.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for the kind words you left in the last chapter. I am still exhausted but I still wanted to make you guys happy. I hope you like this one. Not much drama, but some healing to dampen the pain/angst of the last few chapters.
Let me know what you think. It means a lot to hear from you!
Chapter 18: Spring Break
Sorry for the late upload! :(
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
What was supposed to be a trip to Cancun for spring break was reduced to staying home when Betsy decided to drop out of their planned trip to the luxurious island. Worried about the expenses for her baby, she chose to remain at Hillary's home while the rest of their friends fly to Cancun. Hillary and the others weren't going to allow Betsy to get left behind, so they decided not to buy tickets too and instead hold camp in one of the nearby campsites just 20 miles away from their town.
Betsy had been staying at Hillary’s for weeks now ever since her parents kicked her out of their house. The Rodhams had been nothing but very pleasant to her, and they welcomed her like family. As s sign of goodwill to the family who accepted her, Betsy had been helping Dorothy with the cooking, the laundry, and other chores. Hillary had been sharing her room with her best friend. Hugh Sr. found Betsy a weekend job at his pal’s grocery and Betsy could not have been more grateful.
As for the camping trip, it would be the first time in weeks where Hillary would be talking to Joe. They hadn’t spoken since she walked out of The Chocolair and neither made the first move to approach each other after that botched meeting. Hillary was looking forward to the trip, but not talking to Joe.
The afternoon before their camping trip, Betsy and Hillary were at the kitchen baking cookies for them to bring. They had been using Hillary’s cookie recipe, which she had developed when her Mom punished her for demeaning their neighbor Janet for being a stay-at-home mom rather than being a careerwoman when she could have done so.
“I didn’t know that Dorothy punished you like that. But what you said was mean, though,” Betsy said as she rolled the small cookie dough and flattened it on the cookie sheet.
“Maybe because it hit home. She wanted to be a careerwoman herself but she didn’t have the opportunity,” Hillary replied.
“You know, I am so in awe of your Mom. She cared for her sister while she works as a babysitter for another family. At a tender age of 7. That’s practically child labor these days,” Betsy remarked.
“I know,” said Hillary, picking a cookie ball from the bowl. “I probably wouldn’t have survived either. Mom’s a workhorse.”
"All I'm saying that it wasn't easy. You three are a riot."
"Hey! Leave me out of it."
"Yeah, sure. Because you didn't punch the guy you like and hate so much and drew a penis on his cheek-"
Before Betsy could finish her sentence, the girls heard the doorbell ring.
"I'll get it," Hillary volunteered.
Hillary walked to the front door and opened it. She was taken aback to see Joe in front of her, holding a casserole in his hands.
Joe gulped. He saw Hillary was wearing plastic gloves.
"Uhm, is it a bad time? I have a casserole with me?" Joe said awkwardly.
"Oh...uhm...sure. Come in," Hillary led Joe to the living room.
"Thanks. Uhm...here's a casserole for you and Betsy," Joe said, handing Hillary the still-warm casserole. "I thought I'd help with Betsy with the baby too, and uh...it's high time for me to apologize to you. Can we talk?"
"Oh," Hillary didn't know what to say, but she definitely needed to get this casserole off her hands. "I'll just drop this in the kitchen and I'll be right back. Please, make yourself at home."
Hillary hurried to the kitchen carrying the casserole. Betsy was surprised.
"What's that?" Betsy took the casserole from Hillary's hands and placed it on the counter to cool.
"Joe brought us these," Hillary replied, "and he wants to talk."
"Oh! About time," Betsy said. "Good luck!"
Sighing, Hillary let out a thankful smile to her best friend and went back to the living room where Joe was settling on the couch. Hillary sat opposite him.
"Hi," Hillary said. She felt like a teenager on her first date.
"Hey. What are you up to these days?"
"Not much. You know, we got the school to reject the mega donation from that awful church. Plus, Betsy's been staying with me. Nothing much. How about you?"
Shrugging, Joe replied, "It's been the same in The Chocolair. There's a new Oreo flavored milkshake that we just released. People are loving it. You should try it sometime."
"I will, probably," she replied, and she would, if she had no reason not to go to the café, but currently, she was currently in a fight with the bartender and he kept ignoring her for weeks, so she might not be paying there a visit anytime soon.
"The café misses you, Hillary. It's less brighter when you're not around," said Joe.
"Oh stop it. I'm just your regular customer."
"Regular and very frequent customer," Joe corrected her.
"Yeah, a regular. But I'm sure the café has other regulars too," Hillary said.
"Yeah, but the bartender misses you because you love the milkshakes he gives you, and a certain waiter is crazy in love with you. Oh, I totally forgot to mention that the bartender and the waiter owe you an apology," Joe said.
Hillary simply stared at Joe.
"Hill, I'm sorry. I should have apologized to you early on. I thought you needed some space especially when you found out Pretty Boy's online identity. I bet it hurt a lot, but I don’t know if you needed me. I forgot that you needed a shoulder to cry on too. Well, you can cry now. I don't care if my shirt gets wet."
It might have been a few weeks late, but Joe’s apology was final ingredient for Hillary’s Broken Heart Cure. And boy, it tasted bittersweet like dark chocolate, and it made her heart twinge. The feeling was cathartic, and Hillary didn’t realize how much she needed it until she moved across and hugged Joe and wept in his shirt.
“I forgive you, Joe. I was such a bitch to you and Betsy,” Hillary cried.
“Oh, no, no. You aren’t. Kellyanne’s a bitch, not you.” Joe said.
Hillary giggled in the midst of her tears. “Don’t we know it.”
“She deserves what she gets. Her years of bullying are finally catching up with her. No good deed goes unpunished, Hill”
“I know. I’m sorry for being a little devil but I am really glad Kellyanne’s going through all that shit,” Hillary sniffed, clinging to Joe’s arm. “Well no, I’m not really sorry.”
“Same, Hill. Same. That bitch is gonna totally burn in hell for all the awful things she did to us.”
“It’s just the beginning, Joe. I can’t wait to see her expelled from the school,” a wicked grin started to appear on Hillary’s face, “just months before graduation.”
“That is so particularly evil, Hill. But I love it.”
Giggling, Hillary said, “If I’ve only known Kellyanne is all it takes to reconcile us, I would have brought her up sooner.”
“Damn right, I’d kiss Pretty Boy if I see Kellyanne kicked out,” Betsy shouted from the kitchen.
Joe and Hillary jumped in their seats and saw Betsy approaching them and joining the group hug.
“Awww, Joe. I’m glad we straightened this out,” Betsy said.
“Well, I can’t let myself ruin our camping trip tomorrow, can I?”
“Thanks for letting us use your parents’ motorhome, Joe,” said Hillary.
“Yeah, Joe. Thanks. I can’t wait to eat smores tomorrow,” Betsy drooled.
“Urgh, don’t tease Betsy. Now I want smores too,” Joe complained.
“Well make lots and lots of smores tomorrow,” Hillary promised. “Damn, now I want a chocolate milkshake.”
“Well, I’m on my way over to my shift. How about I wait for you girls at The Chocolair and then I give you your usual? On the house, as always.”
“Yay!” The girls cheered Joe.
Joe happily bid the girls goodbye, ready to go to work. But before Joe left, he said to Betsy, “Hey Betsy, you can’t kiss Pretty Boy. Hillary would probably beat you to death if you did."
Joe’s remark left a howling Betsy and a red-as-a-beet-faced Hillary.
In Hope, Arkansas, Bill carried crates of apples inside his grandfather’s grocery store. It was the billionth crate he had carried inside since that day was delivery day, he was supposed to restock the shelves with newly delivered goods from his grandfathers’ suppliers.
Originally, Bill was planning to spend his spring break with Barack, George and his other football teammates in Florida. But because he was cut off from the team, his allowance was discontinued and, well, the other players deserted him. Bill was still in contact and George and Barack though, but he chose to hang out with Joe more often.
Bill’s grandpa heard his grandson’s unfortunate circumstance and took pity on him. He bought round-trip tickets for Bill to Arkansas and offered to let him stay there. Both Bill and his Mom, Virginia, were delighted of this, he because he had always enjoyed his grandfather’s company and she because it meant more alone time with Bill’s stepfather.
Large drops of sweat were already trickling down Bill’s face, but he was nowhere near ready to take a break just yet. He may not look like it, but he had a bull’s stamina, all thanks to rigorous football training.
“Looks like you are ready to take a break, son,” his grandfather chuckled from behind as Bill finished shelving the detergent and the fabric conditioner.
“I am stronger than I look, Pappaw,” Bill wiped his sweat from his forehead, “Unfortunately, I never grew out of being red-faced.”
“Ha!” said his Grandpa Eldridge, “I wonder how you act like girls. Your face is a dead giveaway!”
“Well, yeah. But hey, they love it when I blush on them!”
“You must be quite a stud in your school!” Pappaw affectionately clapped Bill’s shoulder.
“Nah, not anymore. But I used to,” Bill cringed when he admitted that to his grandpa. “Girls will walk down the hallway and wink at me, and my ex-girlfriend will pretend that she was jealous when in fact she is basking in the attention.”
“Boy, that ex-girlfriend of yours sounds like a bitch,” Pappaw shook his head, “But all of the girls fell for you, eh?”
“Well, except for one.”
“Sounds like she’s a pain-in-the-ass, if you ask me,” his grandpa laughed.
“Well, in a way, she was. No girl drove me crazy like her,” Bill followed laughing.
“Tell me more about her then.”
“She drew a penis on my cheek, Pappaw!”
Pappaw’s eyes widened with the delight. “I’d like to send flowers to this young woman.”
Bill sighed, “Me too, Pappaw. Me too.”
“So why don’t you? You’re my grandson. You have my genes. I know you can make anyone fall for you.”
“Well, it’s not a question of falling, Pappaw. It’s whether she can forgive me.”
Pappaw raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
In the middle of the detergents and fabric conditioners aisle, Bill told everything that had transpired between him and the girl who drove him crazy, Hillary Rodham. Pappaw listened intently to his story, his smile widening and widening as Bill went on.
“So, PMS Girl indeed,” said Pappaw when Bill finished his story. “Watch what happens if you’re already married and she’s pregnant.”
“Well, I can definitely see you two getting married.”
“She won’t even speak to me, Pappaw,” Bill said, although it was partially a lie. How could he forget than tender kisses they shared, in the prom and that night when he saved her from a speeding car? Those kisses weren’t lying. He knew what he felt about her. It’s just that she was still letting her brain dictate her feelings. Whether she would finally listen to her heart, Bill had no idea if that would happen.
“Well, all I know she cares deeply about you, son. Maybe she isn’t showing that to you because of a fear of being hurt again, but trust me, when she realizes how much you mean to him and she to you, I doubt she’d ever want to let go again.”
Sighing, Bill secretly prayed that his Pappaw’s words reached God’s ears.
Hillary woke up before the sun had risen, while her friends were still asleep. Betsy, Jill and Tipper and she were on one tent while Joe, Al, and John were on another. The fire they had built last night had already been extinguished, and only a whiff of smoke had remained. Hillary looked around the tent and saw that Joe’s golden retriever, Marshall, was already up. An idea flickered in her head. She put Marshall’s leash on its body and wrote Joe a note telling him that she would be talking Marshall with her.
Once Hillary taped the note on the boys’ tent, she and Marshall were ready to go. Dressed in her hiking clothes, Hillary quietly left the camping site with Marshall and walked all by herself towards the beautiful trails.
Hillary quickly found out how good her idea was. The cool breeze kissing her exposed skin, Hillary basked at the gorgeous sceneries in front of her. Huge trees, clean, clear waters, and the hills kissing the horizon. Even Marshall too was enjoying himself. His tail was constantly wagging as they traversed the hiking trail.
When Hillary reached the end of the trail, which was on top of a hill overlooking the horizon and the rest of the natural park, Hillary couldn’t help but hold her breath and simply watch the spectacle in front of her. Watching the sun rise slowly, Hillary took a deep breath of fresh air, taking all her problems away, her eyes closed to fully enjoy the moment.
How she wished Bill was with her.
Had she thought that a month ago, she probably would have kicked herself for thinking such, but now, she was finally at peace with the idea that she wanted Bill, the same Bill Clinton whom she met on her first day of class, the same Bill Clinton who laughed at her, feuded with her, loved her anonymously, and then begged for her forgiveness.
Oh, how Bill would have loved this.
Still feeling the void that he had left in her heart, Hillary took her iPod from her pocket and inserted the earbuds on her ears. She swiped her iPod until she found the music she was looking for.
Bill’s saxophone music he sent her.
As soon as she heard the first tunes of the saxophone, Hillary felt warm all over. She silently grinned like an idiot, reminiscing that night when he sent her that saxophone tune, how he promised her that they would meet one day. Well, in a way, he did fulfill that promise, didn’t he?
And when he pulled away from that speeding car, he was exactly what she needed: a loving hand and a loving heart, ready to comfort her from the woes of the world. It’s…it’s like the universe was telling her something: that he was the one for her, the love of her life.
Hillary heard the universe loud and clear, but that didn’t mean she had to do anything about it.
Why should she? Every time Bill Clinton captured her heart, he always managed to hurt her. She was falling back in love with him again, and it was only a matter of time before Bill would hurt her again.
Hillary sighed. Why did it have to be that way? Why couldn’t Bill just love her and not break her heart? Was that too much to ask for?
The universe didn’t get to answer her question right away because Hillary thoughts were interrupted by Joe’s voice from behind.
“You stole my dog, Hillary,” said Joe, grinning. He was wearing his school sweatshirt.
“Hey, Joe,” replied Hillary. She didn’t look back at Joe, instead continued staring at the rising sun. “Are they up?”
“Nah, it’s just me. I got your note,” said Joe, who was now beside Hillary and basking in the beautiful scenery in front of them. “This is fucking gorgeous.”
“Yeah, you said it, buddy. I’m kinda glad we went camping instead of Cancun. This is much more relaxing,” Hillary said.
“I agree. Just low-key relaxation. We can do whatever we want,” Joe said.
“We can still go to Cancun for next year, though. When the baby’s born,” said Hillary.
“You’re being too optimistic, Hill.”
Hillary frowned. “Why?”
Joe sighed, “Please don’t tell Betsy.”
“Okay,” Hillary didn’t like the sound of Joe’s voice.
Joe licked his lips before he replied, “John’s gonna ask her to marry him.”
It took Hillary a whole ten seconds before she responded, her jaw on the ground. “That soon?!”
“Yeah. Apparently, we underestimated how much John loved Betsy.”
“Good God. I get it that he loved her so much, but this is marriage we’re talking about. He can’t just like, you know…decide on the top of his head.”
Joe sighed again. “You know Hillary, maybe your opinion is being swayed by your experiences lately.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not. But I’m just saying, just because you are afraid to take things to a whole new level doesn’t mean other people are.”
Hillary’s frown deepened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re afraid to take a chance on Bill,” Joe said simply.
“Again, is that a bad thing? His record isn’t exactly stellar…”
“Well, no,” Joe chuckled. “His history with you is the complete opposite of his football record.”
“Exactly. He isn’t the best guy out there. Or even the normal one.”
“But you still want him, right?”
Hillary, debate pro, couldn’t find a rebuttal to Joe’s argument.
“What my heart and my mind say are different things. I usually regret it if I let my heart take over me,” she said quietly.
“Did you regret the three years you let your brain dictate what you feel?”
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. What was Joe getting at? And why was he speaking like this?
Hillary let out a sardonic laugh. “Joe, just please get to the point.”
“Alright. I just want to say to you…forty years from now, will you regret not giving Bill Clinton a chance?”
Hillary simply stared at the sunrise, the answer crystal clear, yet her brain just overpowered her again.
Bill sat on his Pappaw’s back porch, scribbling notes on a dirty piece of paper, holding a saxophone in one hand and a pencil on another. It was already past 1 am, but he was still up. In a few hours, he would be leaving Arkansas. He needed to finish his original composition for Hillary. When he gets back home, he would launch his all-out charm offensive to woo Hillary, and among his plans was to serenade her in front of her house with a song he made. There was no way she wouldn’t have loved it, no matter how much she decided to hate him. Bill had only two months left until graduation to execute his plan, and he was hopeful that he could pull it off. The only thing that Bill regretted was that he didn’t think of doing it sooner.
Again, Bill played the music that he just composed. He had been revising it for days, and he didn’t seem to find the right tune to satisfy him. He had gone frustrated over his work for quite some time, but the universe seemed to bless him that night when he was able to find the perfect tunes. Smiling, Bill couldn’t wait for the day that Hillary would finally hear his music, his labor of love.
Bill looked at his watch again. In seventeen hours, he would be back home, and he needed to do something for her the moment the plane landed at the airport…
This chapter isn't much, just a breather from the teenage drama and me moving things along for the final chapters of the story. The next chapter will be a big one, so watch out for that. :)
Some plot issues I just wish to address:
- Kellyanne is done. She got her horrible exit. Done. She can't cause trouble anymore. :)
- How the hell did Joe know about the incident in the technical control room? *wink* Well, I'll just let Joe speak for himself in a future chapter
- Tired of waiting for that smut? Well, you'll have to wait a little bit longer, sorry. :(
I hope you like this chapter and I am so overwhelmed by the response to this fic. I will never ever not be thankful to you guys. <3 <3 <3 <3
Chapter 19: Panic
The title might be bad but it's not as bad as you think.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
As soon as the plane's wheels hit the tarmac, Bill couldn't wait to disembark from the plane and execute the first phase of his so-called the Hillary Rodham Pursuit Program. He couldn't stop bouncing in his seat that it drove his younger brother Roger nuts and almost got the attention of the flight attendant. Thank God Bill was able to control himself, but it didn't dampen the enthusiasm that Bill had inside him. He was fired up, ready to go, and determined to pursue Hillary at all costs.
Much to the chagrin of a very tired Roger, Bill ordered the cab to take them from the airport to the famous flower shop in town. Using the money his Pappaw gave him, Bill bought the most elaborate bouquet and ordered the shop to deliver the flowers to Hillary's doorstep before she went to school. When all was said and done, Bill left the flower shop feeling accomplished (although Bill did have to buy Roger an ice cream around the corner to appease him).
As the taxi drove from the city to their urban home, Bill couldn’t help but recount his master plan for the eleven millionth time inside his head, smiling like an idiot inside the cab. First, he would have to get Hillary a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers (check). Then, when Hillary visits The Chocolair, he would prepare her favorite milkshake and serve her himself. And then, he would cook and bring her lunch at school (and eat with her, of course). Next, he would compose a poem for her and submit it to the Poetry Club’s Weekly Poetry Bulletin Board (he hadn’t begun making a poem but he’d do that) and for the finale was the saxophone serenade outside her house and finally asking her to a date.
The thought of doing all of those for Hillary made Bill feel giddy. He was feeling pretty good about his plan. And why wouldn’t he? He thought his plan was foolproof. There was no way Hillary would say no to him. Or at least no forgive him. That kiss told him what she had felt for him. He would just have to push her in the right direction.
And what’s more was that Pappaw was very supportive of his plan. In fact, he was the one who suggested the original saxophone music to serenade Hillary with. Bill had been planning to play the usual tunes he had been playing her, but Pappaw told him that Hillary would have appreciated it more if he composed his own tunes. And so, he did. Hours before their flight back home, Bill had managed to finish his composition.
Bill, still grinning ear-to-ear, took a deep breath. He was thankful for that exhausting, busy, yet rejuvenating spring break from Pappaw. It helped him think and re-focus himself on the more important things, like his friendships and school. Aside from his Hillary project, he needed to finish his final year with stellar grades so that he could find a scholarship that would be willing to support him going to Georgetown.
It was already nightfall when the cab stopped right in front of their house, and Bill paid for the fare while Roger was nagging incessantly behind him, understandably because of the exhaustion. Fortunately for him, his older brother was in a very good mood and wasn’t going to smack him in the hey just yet that he would normally do. Bill pulled their luggage out of the trunk and watched the cab drive away from their street.
When Bill turned around, he was surprised to see Roger simply staring at their house. A few seconds later, Bill realized what Roger kept Roger from going inside the house.
The screams of their Mother terrified the Clinton brothers. Bill protectively held Roger and pulled him away from the house, the latter almost in the midst of tears. The screams of their Mother were followed by rages of Roger’s Dad, Roger Sr. The two boys became more frightful when they heard the sound of china smashing against the walls.
"Roger, go to Mrs. Dawson. Tell her we need help," Bill told Roger urgently.
"But what about you?"
"I'll see what I can do with Mama and Daddy."
"No buts, Roger. Do as I say," replied Bill, his voice stern and authoritative.
"Alright, Bill. You sure you're okay?"
"I'll be fine, Roger," Bill assured his little brother, "so go to Mrs. Dawson. She'll know what to do."
And with that, Roger ran off to their neighbor to seek help. In the meantime, Bill decided to go inside the house and try to calm his parents down.
It wasn't the first time Bill witnessed his stepfather in his violent rages. When Roger was still very young, he came home from school later than usual because he hung out with his friend in his house. When he came home, he opened the door and saw his stepfather about to wield a hot iron on his sobbing mother. All three of them were stunned to see each other that way. In the end, Roger Sr. let go of the iron and left the house for three days. It was quite a miracle that Bill arrived just in time, otherwise, Virginia would have ended up with severe skin burns or worse.
The violence may have stopped, but the nasty arguments didn't. Bill thought that Roger Sr. may have only stopped short of hitting his mother just because he and his little brother were around. Now that they have left for spring break in Arkansas, he may have found the courage to finally let it out on his mother.
Bill wouldn't let that happen, not while he's around.
Unsurprisingly, Bill found the door unlocked. The loud screams and sobs of his mother and stepfather seemed to come from the kitchen. Bill slowly crept towards the kitchen so that he would be unheard. As he approached ground zero, the screams became louder, and he got a full blast of what their argument was about.
Oh fuck. Mama's asking Daddy for a divorce.
No wonder Daddy didn't take it well.
But still, Bill felt there was no reason for him to speak to his Mama like that, and each screaming word out of his Daddy's mouth made him resent the man more and more. He regretted all those years of simply watching him abuse his Mama - physically or verbally, and now that he was a fully-grown adult, he would finally put his foot down.
When Bill reached the kitchen, he found his Mama and Daddy on the opposite sides of the room, both faced laced with sweat and hair sprouting in all directions. Their clothes were disgruntled, and Bill noticed several deep scratches in his Daddy's arms, which were clear signs of a struggle. But what really caught his attention was knife his Daddy was holding.
It appeared that his parents didn't notice him - or at least, they were ignoring his presence.
"Please, Roger. I'm begging you! Calm down!" Virginia begged, sobbing.
"You bitch! You swindled me! You stole my money and then you're gonna ask for a fucking divorce?!" Roger screamed at Virginia, his chest heaving.
“NO!” Bill ran towards his mother and shielded her from his stepfather. “Don’t you dare hurt my mother!”
“Stay out of this, Bill. That bitch you called a mother stole the money I gave to her and spent it on his floozy!”
No, that wasn’t true. Bill couldn’t believe what his stepfather said. “That’s a lie!”
“Isn’t it? Why don’t you ask your mother over there? She can tell you!” Roger pointed at a sobbing Virginia with his knife.
“Bill…I…it’s not like that…”
Bill knew that his stepfather was telling the truth, but he still couldn’t help but be protective of his mother, despite her sins or shortcomings.
“You don’t have to go this far, Daddy. We can arrange this,” Bill said calmly.
“Can we, eh?”
“What about your other women, Daddy? Are they gone?” Bill asked.
Roger remained still, his knife still pointing at Bill and Virginia. “That’s none of your business, Bill.”
“Heck yeah, they are, Daddy. You may not know it, but little Roger and I know more a lot about you that you have let on,” Bill’s voice became more steady. “We are hurt when we hear those rumors, and we were devastated when we found out that those were true.”
“Where did you-?”
“I saw you with another woman outside. You were kissing her. It was already 2 am. Mom was in Arkansas visiting Pappaw,” Bill replied.
The look on Roger Sr.’s face remained rigid, but he didn’t deny the accusation.
“So, what say you, Daddy? You are both at fault here. Let’s just talk it over-“
When Bill thought he had his stepfather’s attention, Roger Sr. charged towards them, wielding the knife in his hand. He launched to Bill’s side and aimed at Virginia. Bill, quick on his feet, managed to block Virginia from his stepfather’s attack. However, Bill did not go unscathed. His arm blocked the knife from hitting Virginia, and so he was hit instead, and it left a deep, long gash in his harm. Blood was all over his clothes, with Virginia sobbing at his side.
Bill felt light-headed, and the pain in his arm was threatening to make his head explode, but he was determined to protect his mother.
Hillary was walking home at 7:30 PM, her ears covered with her earbuds, listening to Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne on her iPod. She had been staying late at school despite being spring break, but she had important stuff to do. This time, it was for the petition for the students to have a say in the bidding for the school cafeteria concessionaire. She was reviewing the comments from the students all night and summarized it into a consolidated report that would be delivered to Mrs. Pelosi by the student council first thing in the morning tomorrow.
Her spring break had been great, if not subdued. After she and her friends got back from camping, Betsy finally decided to go to the OB for the first check-up. She was frankly quite flattered that Betsy had chosen her to accompany her to the doctor instead of John.
And to no one’s surprise, the doctor confirmed Betsy’s pregnancy. She was seven weeks along. Betsy received this with mixed emotions. She was thrilled to have John’s baby, but at the same time, terrified of the responsibilities of parenthood. Even though she felt she wasn’t at all prepared to face the challenges of raising this baby, she felt brave.
As long as she had her friends, she’d be fine.
Hillary had never felt so much pride for her best friend.
Aside from the camping and Betsy’s pregnancy, her spring break was not very remarkable. It was probably for the best, though. After all, she needed a break from all the drama at school that probably would last her a lifetime.
Speaking of drama, Hillary felt quite weird that there was no Pretty Boy – or rather, Bill Clinton – to pester her over spring break. She was looking forward to Cancun partially because it meant a Pretty Boy-free weekend. Well, Cancun didn’t happen, but her spring break remained Pretty Boy-free because, as she found out from her Mom, stayed in Arkansas with his little brother.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she missed Bill. It felt weird not seeing him around, tending customers at The Chocolair or bumping on him at the grocery.
Urgh, so freaking weird.
Maybe it was this secret longing that made Hillary unconsciously walk into the Clintons’ block on the way home. She was absentmindedly listening and humming to the music on her earbuds when she faintly heard a scream from the background. She looked around the neighborhood. That was odd. There was no sign of unrest anywhere. She initially dismissed it as a figment of her imagination and continued her walk home.
Closer and closer to the Clinton home, the faint screaming sounds didn’t stop. Instead, they were growing louder and louder until it freaked her out. She looked around again, and she suddenly noticed the ajar door of the Clinton house. Curious, Hillary quietly approached the house and hid behind the window. She took off her earbuds to listen. She was immediately greeted by terrible screams from inside, screams that she recognized were from Mr. and Mrs. Clinton. She pressed her ear further to the wall. It seemed that Mr. and Mrs. Clinton had been fighting. She was immediately frightened. Her heart was pumping hard. She was suddenly dripping with cold sweat. She needed to get out of there immediately.
But suddenly, another voice jumped into the screaming match. Unlike the other two, it was calm and gentle and firm, and it was the voice that she was secretly longing. She was about to leave when she suddenly heard Bill’s voice, and it pulled her back from leaving. He seemed to be in the middle of mediating between his fighting parents, but he was suddenly cut short with the most blood-curdling scream that Hillary every heard. It was so terrible that made Hillary almost faint. There was no doubt about it. Bill gave out that scream, and there was only one thing on her mind: Bill was in trouble.
Panicking, Hillary ran out of the Clinton house as fast as her legs could carry her. She was scampering until she reached her house, never mind that her flip-flops swung into the air as she ran. Please, please, please, Bill. Please be alright, was her mantra until she reached her house, when a stunned Betsy welcomed her into the living room.
“Hillary!” exclaimed Betsy, who was reading a Harry Potter book, “Why are you all sweaty? Did you run a marathon?”
“Phone. I need the phone,” Hillary replied, her voice cracking. She quickly went to the phone on the side table and dialed 911 as fast as she could.
“Please, pick-up, pick-up, pick-up,” Hillary muttered furiously on the receiver.
“Hill! What’s going on?” Betsy tried to talk to her from behind.
“Pick-up, pick-up, pick-up…”
“Hill! What happened to you? Are you hurt?”
Hillary ignored Betsy, praying to the phone that an operator would pick-up. Relief flooded her when somebody from the other end had answered.
“I need help. My neighbor…I think he’s been attacked.”
“Okay, Ma’am, may I know your name first?” said the operator.
“Hillary Rodham. 147 Oakwood Street.”
“Alright, thank you, Hillary. May I know who’s been attacked?”
“Bill Clinton, 42 Pine Street. His parents were arguing. I heard them from outside. I think he tried to come in between them until I heard him scream. He was hurt. I know he was! Please help him!” Hillary was already crying.
Betsy gasped from behind her, listening intently to the conversation.
“Are they the only people in the house?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know. Please, save him!”
“Alright, I think we got it now. Don’t you worry, Hillary. We’ll be sending first responders to the scene. Calm down now. We’ll take care of this.”
Relieved by the operator’s assurance, Hillary replied, “Thank you, thank you.”
When Hillary hung up, Betsy didn’t waste time asking questions.
“Hill! What happened?”
“I can’t explain right now,” Hillary stood back up and went to find a new pair of flip-flops. I need to go back there. Something might have happened to Bill.
“No, Hillary. You can’t! You might get tangled in their mess, or worse you’ll be hurt. Just stay inside and wait until the police arrive!”
Hillary, already in her flip-flops, was defiant. “No, Betsy. I’m going there.”
“Tell Mom I’m at Bill’s house. Send Dad over there too,” Hillary said hastily as she scampered back to the Clinton residence.
Betsy was left screaming for her, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
When Hillary returned to Bill’s house, it was not like the scene she left five minutes ago. At their porch sat Roger Clinton, whose nose was severely bleeding. At the swing was a sobbing Virginia.
And on the mailbox, there lay Bill, whose arm was bleeding profusely.
Hillary hurried towards Bill and she almost fainted when she had a clearer view of him. His bleeding was worse than she had originally seen. A long gash marred his left arm, his flesh open for her to see. He was squirming and moaning in pain. Each moan seared into her heart. She might be physically unharmed, but at that moment, her heart was bleeding like his stabbed arm.
“Bill, are you okay?”
Bill looked at her, and his face lightened up in the midst of the pain. “It hurts, Hillary.”
“Ssssssh, don’t move. I’ll help you, okay?”
Bill nodded quietly, relieved to see her.
Hillary tore her shirt up to her midriff so that her stomach became exposed.
“Bill, I’m going to press your wound, alright? This will stop the bleeding,” said Hillary, her voice now more stable.
Bill nodded again.
With what used to be her shirt in her hand, she used the cloth to press his wound to stop the bleeding. Bill moaned again, and another proverbial knife stabbed her heart. She couldn’t bear to hear him in pain, but it was necessary.
He needed to live.
“I’m sorry. There’s no way around it,” Hillary apologized, sniffing.
“It’s okay. I know I’ll be fine. You’re here now,” Bill gasped.
Speechless and touched with that Bill just said, Hillary continued pressing the wound. And the cycle repeated. He would moan and she would be hurt. How she wished she was a robot at that moment, cold and unfeeling. She didn’t know how she was able to endure the devastating pain that had eaten her alive just seeing Bill suffer like that, but somehow, she did.
Her heartache temporarily subsided when she heard the sirens of police cars and ambulance. She turned around and was relieved when once medic took over Bill’s first aid. She was commended by the medic for the exemplary response that she had demonstrated, but Hillary didn’t care. What was more important to her was Bill was safe, and with the medic beside her, she felt a little relieved.
She briefly turned her attention away from Bill and focused on the police. The police surrounded Roger and Virginia Clinton, and some medics were giving first aid treatments to Roger too. Roger’s injury was way less grave than Bill’s, so the medic wrapped up in no time and Hillary saw the police escort the two adult Clintons into a police car, presumably to take them to the police station. Bill, on the other hand, was still under the care of the medic.
“Miss?” the medic asked Hillary?”
“We will be taking the victim to the hospital now. Thank you for helping us.”
“I’ll go with him. He needs someone to watch over him.”
“Are you family?” the medic asked.
“No,” Hillary replied.
“May I know your relationship with the victim, Miss-“
“Rodham,” Hillary finished. Suddenly, she was stumped by the medic’s question. What was she exactly to Bill? She wasn’t his friend. She was technically his girlfriend for a few months but the police wouldn’t probably count online flirting as a genuine romantic relationship.
“Neighbor,” she finally said. “I was the one who saw the incident and called 911.”
“Ah, I see. I’ll just make note of this, then. Since the victim’s parents are being escorted to the station, it would probably be better if you escort him until his immediate family comes to him. We’ll just give an exception to you.”
“Thank you,” said Hillary, grateful for the medic’s consideration.
When Hillary saw Bill again, he was already being carried into the ambulance on a stretcher. The rest of the medics were making sure he was comfortable and secure before they carried him inside. A medic asked Hillary to enter the ambulance with them. Inside, she sat beside Bill, who was visibly tired.
“Bill?” she whispered, caressing his forehead.
“Yeah?” he answered weakly.
“I’m here. I’m not leaving. Don’t you worry now, okay?”
“Okay,” he smiled.
Hillary was heartened to see him smile again. And as the ambulance moved, Hillary held Bill’s right hand and never let go.
Before you all react, I'm just gonna say that no, Bill isn't gonna die and no, they won't have sex at the hospital. Poor Bill. 2004 wasn't really his year, was it?
Chapter 20: Healing
Hillary woke up when her phone alarm rang inside Bill’s hospital room. She groggily shifted on the couch which she used as her bed and reached for her phone to silence it. She looked at the time. It was 5:30 am. She needed to get home if she wanted to get to class. She had half a mind to skip the first day of school after spring break because she wanted to get a little more sleep and assist Bill during his stay at the hospital, but she had to deliver the students’ petition to Mrs. Pelosi. Also, her father might berate her for skipping school altogether for such a futile reason.
Stretching her arms and legs, she got off the couch and yawned. To be honest, she was exhausted. She stayed up all night until Bill was released from the emergency room. Once his wound was all stitched up, he was transferred to his suite where Hillary waited for him. It was already 3 in the morning when things settled down and Hillary finally allowed herself to get some sleep.
Two and a half hours later, Hillary felt like a zombie, while Bill lay in his bed, fast asleep.
She was really tempted to stay, but she had other pressing matters to attend to. Finally, she had convinced herself that she had to leave Bill, at least temporarily, so she wrote him a simple note, explaining that she was only going to school for the next few hours and would be back with him that night until his mother came. She wished there was another way, but her hands were tied.
Hillary left the note on her bedside table. Checking if the coast was clear, Hillary leaned down and quietly planted a kiss on his forehead, smiling as she did so. It felt good really, kissing him like that. She felt all warm and fuzzy inside, like being shrouded in a thick blanket during a rainstorm. Odd, though. She never expected the respite, and yet it came.
She took her phone and her wallet, the only possessions she had. Her Mother followed her at the hospital and brought her the said necessities and a change of clothes (she was still wearing her ripped shirt and she was attracting curious looks at the hospital). Dorothy, ever understanding, allowed Hillary to stay with Bill until the morning. Hillary wanted to ask for her mom’s permission not to go to school the next day but she didn’t think she will be allowed, so she shot down the idea instead. But still, she was grateful for her Mom’s support.
Before she left the room, she gave one last look at Bill. He was soundly asleep, and the sight of him resting and healing well alleviated some of the worries that had accumulated inside her.
Sleep well, Bill, she thought as she left.
Thank her lucky stars that there wasn't so much traffic on the way home. She managed to sneak in a fifteen-minute power nap on the bus, so she felt a lot better when she arrived.
After almost two hours of shower and breakfast, Hillary was ready to walk to school with Betsy. But as soon as she opened the door, a man carrying a huge bouquet of vibrant, fresh flowers suddenly appeared on their doorstep. Hillary and Betsy both jumped.
“Hi. May I help you?” Hillary asked tentatively, feeling a little bit embarrassed for the man who was delivering those flowers at the wrong house.
“Uhm, I am looking for Ms. Hillary Rodham?” the man struggled to read from the card as he was obstructed by the huge leaves.
“Yes, I am Hillary Rodham. But I didn’t order any flowers,” replied Hillary, confused. Meanwhile, Betsy was looking at her best friend as if she had known something that the latter didn’t.
“These have been paid for, Miss,” said the man, handing Hillary the bouquet.
“By whom?” Hillary wouldn’t accept the bouquet unless she knew who it was from.
“There’s a card somewhere,” the man tried to search for the card buried in the flowers, but it was Betsy who saw it.
“Here!” Betsy grabbed hold of the card and handed it to Hillary, who read the contents of the card in silence:
I thought I’d send you these flowers. I hope you like these. For once, I’d like to put a smile rather than a frown on your face. :-)
Hillary pressed her hand on her chest, incredibly touched by Bill’s gesture. However, she was confused. Bill was bleeding to death yesterday. How the hell did he manage to send her flowers?!
Brushing her questions aside, Hillary accepted the flowers from the man. “Thanks, Sir.”
The man left, relieved of his burdens. Hillary gaped at the flowers in awe that she didn’t realize that she was barricading the door.
“Oy, Hill! We don’t have all day to wait for you to admiring those flowers your boyfriend sent you!”
“What?! What boyfriend?!”
“That boyfriend of yours whom you stayed with last night. You know, the one who you panicked over.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Hillary said irritably.
“Yeah, sure,” Betsy waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m sure all of us have non-boyfriends whom we stayed with in hospitals when they get injured.”
“Urgh, stop it, Betsy. The guy’s stabbed. What am I supposed to do, leave him out to die?”
Hillary had a good point. “Sorry,” Betsy apologized.
Hillary was thankful that Betsy didn’t press further. Hillary placed the bouquet in her bedroom and left for school with Betsy. Truth be told, she just wanted to sleep but she couldn’t skip her classes that day.
When her classes finally ended in the afternoon, she was incredibly exhausted but her mind was still on Bill. She hadn’t heard from him all day. But then again, she had no way to. She shouldn’t even be privy to his condition as she was not family. But could anyone blame her for wanting to know? After all, she saved his life. She intended to see him through.
Hillary told Betsy that she wouldn’t come home with her but instead go back to the hospital to visit Bill. Again, Betsy gave that same knowing look she had when she saw Hillary admire the flowers, but did not tease her. The two friends bid each other goodbye and then left their separate ways.
Before she rode the bus to the hospital, Hillary stopped by the grocery store to pick up some food for Bill: bread, pudding, Jell-O, chips, some fruit, and water. She had thought of bringing her own Nintendo DS for him to play with, but she left the handheld console at home.
Before the sun had set, Hillary arrived at Bill’s hospital room and found him sleeping. Hillary surmised that he must have been awake earlier because of the empty plate on his mobile table. Careful not to make a sound, Hillary stored the supplies she bought into the fridge. Seeing that Bill was fast asleep, Hillary found no reason to stay much longer so she wrote a note to Bill telling him that he had extra food in the fridge and immediately headed for the door.
Her hand had twisted the knob and the door was already ajar when she suddenly heard Bill’s raspy voice call her name.
Suddenly, Hillary felt like doing somersaults.
She turned back around and saw him still lying on the bed, but he was looking at her. He must have been awake when she arrived, only his eyes were closed. He was looked tired, but the sparkle in his eyes, stemming from the joy that he felt seeing her, was indomitable. There was this smile on his face that Hillary thought would never ever fade, and she was secretly thrilled to know that she was the cause of his high spirits.
“Hi,” Hillary sat down next to Bill, smiling. “Are you alright?”
“Well, not really. My arm still hurt,” Bill pointed on his heavily-bandaged arm. “The doctor said they need to monitor the slash. It was kinda deep. They would have to change the bandage every so often. Might be here for a week.”
“Oh no,” Hillary gasped, “that’s terrible.”
“Not really. It could be worse,” Bill shrugged.
“It’s true. I’m just glad that you’re up and about now,” said Hillary. Suddenly, she remembered the flowers. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.”
Bill’s smile widened, and it reached his eyes. “I’m glad you liked them.”
“You shouldn’t have. I mean, you’ve been hurt and all that…”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Bill chuckled. “I ordered it before, you know, the incident yesterday. Just right before it, in fact. I landed at the airport because I spent my spring break in Arkansas and then I immediately went straight to the flower shop and had those delivered first thing in the morning to you.”
“That is so sweet, Bill,” said Hillary, incredibly touched. “But really, either way, you shouldn’t have. I didn’t do anything to deserve those flowers. I have been horrible to you.”
“Well, just think of as an advanced thank you gift for all the effort you did for me. You shouldn’t have, but you did. And besides, I wanna see you smile. You look pretty. And probably it’s because of me that you do so less often.”
There it was again, that warm, bubbling feeling in her stomach. Urgh. How is it that Bill could make her feel like that over and over again like it was the first time?
“Say, how’s school? Did we have homework in chemistry?” Bill changed the topic, much to Hillary’s relief.
“Oh! Uhm…” Hillary was taken aback by his question. “Well, we just discussed balancing chemical equations. Lots of complicated math stuff.”
“Sounds tough,” Bill frowned.
“Yeah, it is. I am having difficulty with it myself,” Hillary admitted.
“Hey, maybe we can study it together?” Bill suggested. “I know I might be asking too much but maybe we can study here while I’m at the hospital. I hate missing schoolwork.”
Hillary blinked. She would never have guessed Pretty Boy was a diligent student, but then again, her assessment of Bill Clinton was miles off the real Bill.
“Sure, I think we can do that,” she smiled.
“Great,” Bill’s smile widened. He was very pleased that she agreed to study with him that he propped himself up from the bed, not realized that he used his left hand for support, and it applied pressure on his wound and it hurt terribly.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Bill winced in pain.
“Careful, careful,” Hillary gently pushed Bill into a sitting position.
“Thanks. That was reckless of me. Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s no biggie,” Hillary waved it off. “How do you feel right now?”
“Well, to be honest, I am a little hungry.”
“You’re in luck. I brought food. Jell-o, pudding, bread. I even have several bottles of water stocked in your fridge.”
“Wow, you’re an angel,” said Bill, and it made Hillary beet red. “Thank you so much. You’re such a comfort in these terrible times.”
Hillary laughed nervously, unsure whether she really was a comfort to him when she had given him hell for past three years. “You want me to feed you, though?”
“I’d like the pudding. Kraft?”
Bill said that last sentence like a school kid coming home to milk and cookies. Hillary took out the pudding from the fridge and opened it for him. She handed him a spoon and pulled the mobile table in front of him.
Bill tried to eat the pudding with his right hand but with great difficulty. Either he was spilling the pudding from the spoon or he toppled the plastic container every once in a while. It soon got him frustrated, more so because he felt stupid in front of Hillary. She, on the other hand, felt so much for him.
“Here, I’ll help you.”
Hillary took the spoon from Bill, scooped a small amount of pudding and fed him. Bill was hesitant at first, feeling embarrassed and all, but Hillary never thought of it that way. She was kind, and she was sympathetic. She just wanted to make him feel loved and special.
Just like how he made her feel.
Hillary fed Bill silently, the only sound in the room was the scraping of the spoon against the plastic cup and Bill’s chewing. Bill, once he shed off his embarrassment and hesitance, could not tear away his gaze from her. He couldn’t believe that this paragon was sitting in front of him, feeding him, caring for him like…like she’s his girlfriend. His ex, Kellyanne, never would have done that for him. But, Hillary, PMS Girl, the girl he feuded with for three years…wow. It felt very surreal, and Bill felt like he was going to burst.
“There, all done,” Hillary said happily as she scooped the last remnants of the pudding. She was holding the spoon midair when she saw that he was staring at her and realize how intense his gaze was.
If heat emanated from his eyes, she would have melted right then and there.
Brushing off the intense pounding in her chest, Hillary fed the last mouthful of pudding. He obediently ate the pudding. She was about to stand up, she suddenly felt something on her face that made her stay still.
His hand was caressing her face, a finger running through her cheek. The stroke of his finger sent chills down his spine.
God, Bill looked so beautiful. Even in pain, he’s the epitome of strength.
Hillary was able to admire more and more of his beauty as she saw his face move closer to her. She would have told him to be careful with his arm, but she was too entranced to think about anything else but Bill.
Heedless of the pain in Bill’s bandaged arm or the fact that they were in the hospital and someone might walk on them, their gazes never left each other’s - staying locked until those last moments when her eyelids fluttered closed, his own closing a moment later and their lips touched.
Whatever they were expecting – fire, or lighting, or just fireworks – it didn’t come. Unlike their hot, fiery kiss at the harbor, this was soft and slow. There was no feeling of being cast adrift or the sudden inexplicable feel of their hearts being grabbed by a fist as it tried to burst from their chests. Instead, there was the pleasant feeling of warmth cascading through their systems, spreading from their lips, fighting the first throes of attraction. This was a deeper, soul-searing; blazing lines of fire that burned hotter and brighter the longer their lips lingered together.
For a moment, the universe was perfect, and it had only two inhabitants: Bill and Hillary.
Warm, soft and tender. Their kisses lingered for God-knows-how-long. They didn’t know, and they didn’t care. And why should they? Everything was right. Everything was perfect. Why would they be bothered by anything else when the very thing they wanted most in the world was right in front of them, kissing them and making them feel loved?
Even if it was their greatest desire to never let this end, the universe had its other plans for them, because while in the middle of their affectionate kissing, the door suddenly flung open with a stunned Joe and Betsy behind it.
Bill and Hillary, as if being dumped by ice cold water, suddenly broke apart and wiped their mouths with their free hands. Hillary stood up and threw the pudding container she was holding into the trash bin, while Bill adjusted his seating position.
“I…I think I’d go home now. I feel tired,” Hillary said hastily, unable to look at anyone inside the room.
“Alright,” said Bill, disappointed. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah, bye.” Hillary gathered her things and quickly left.
Betsy was still stunned, but Joe winked at Bill as if the latter had hit the jackpot. “You the man, Bill Clinton.”
“You know, for two people who aren’t dating, you sure like to kiss a lot,” Betsy rolled her eyes.
Bill turned beet red. “Well, it’s not like we planned it. It’s just the spur of the moment.”
“Yeah, no kidding. It’s the second time I caught you two kissing.”
“Why am I not aware of this?” said Joe.
“I thought Pretty Boy here already told you,” Betsy shrugged.
“Well, apparently not. Is that how you are now, huh? Keeping secrets for me?” said Joe in mock outrage.
“I just thought Hillary might get angry if I told anyone,” Bill said guiltily.
“Is that also why you never told anyone that Hillary blew you?” Joe said in jest.
Bill and Betsy were both wide-eyed, he from the horror and embarrassment and she from amazement.
“How the hell did you find that out, Joseph Biden?” Betsy was furious. “Tell me, are you a gossip rag or are you a perv?”
“Well…” Joe was scratching his nape sheepishly.
Betsy pulled Joe’s collar. “Answer me, Biden!”
If Bill’s sex life wasn’t the topic of the conversation, he would have found it funny how Betsy was reducing Joe to quivers. However, he was too embarrassed to speak anything.
“I’m waiting, Biden. How did you know Hill gave a blowjob to Mr. Suckerberg here.” Betsy was steaming.
“I..I saw them okay?”
Bill’s jaw dropped.
“What? You saw us?!”
Joe nodded nervously. “Yeah. I followed Hillary after class because I wanted to apologize, and then I saw you two inside the technical control room and then I heard you. I took a peek…and…”
Joe gulped and his face reddened. He tried to hide what he was thinking, but unfortunately, Betsy caught him.
“YOU JERKED OFF, DIDN’T YOU?!”
“Well, not really. I mean yeah…but…”
“Man, you’re disgusting,” said Bill, wishing his left hand was well so that he could punch his pervert friend.
“Look, I didn’t pull my pants down right there and jerk off…”
“You just jerked off somewhere else,” Betsy finished for him. “That’s the same, Joe! You perv!”
“Hey, I didn’t watch the entire thing!”
“That doesn’t make it better Joe,” said Bill, still embarrassed.
“Fine, fine. I’m sorry! But please don’t tell Hillary…” Joe begged.
“Oh heck yeah, I’ll tell her. We’ll even get a restraining order against you!” said Betsy angrily.
“I can’t believe you! I just assumed you heard it from someone else! I didn’t know you turned my private meeting with Hillary into a live show!” exclaimed a disgusted Bill.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a live show if you didn’t…”
“Oh, come off it, Biden,” Betsy pushed Joe away. “I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. What are we talking about again?”
Bill froze. Oh yeah right. They were talking about his love life. Gee.
“How Hill and Pretty Boy kiss more often than Donald Trump changes underwear,” said Joe, relieved to get off the hook.
“Ewwww, Joe, why are you disgusting today?” said Betsy, making gagging noises with her mouth.
“But you get the point. So, Clinton. What’s with you and my girl?” Betsy interrogated, her arms folded across her chest.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Bill said truthfully. “I’m still working to make her forgive me…”
“Uhm, I think she already did. You don’t think she’s giving away kisses, do you?” Betsy replied.
Bill tried to suppress his smile, elated at what Betsy had just said. “Well, I don’t want to presume. I have pissed her enough.”
“Damn right you did. But answer me: Are you still planning to pursue her? I’m sure there must have been some unresolved sexual tension between you two.”
“Oh great, now you’re a pimp,” Joe rolled his eyes.
“Excuse me, Mr. Moral Ascendency,” Betsy hit at Joe. “Anyway, I hope you realize that you have an opportunity here, Bill.”
Bill frowned. “What do you mean?”
Betsy laid it out for him. “It means she’s gonna be with you until you recover. And you, Sir, might want to make use of the time that you’re alone. Just the two of you.” She winked at Bill.
“Oh God, Betsy,” Joe rubbed his face with his hand.
“What, Mr. Celibacy?”
“This is why you’re a pregnant, Virgin Betsy” Joe said, “and if Pretty Boy here succeeds, God forbid, I’ll have two godkids next year.”
Chapter 21: Sacrifice
Hi! Sorry for the delayed update huhuhuhuhuhu.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
"Say 'aaaahh', Bill".
Bill obediently opened his mouth as Hillary stuffed his mouth with steak from her fork. It was Joe's Dad's birthday and the two of them were invited to a barbecue party in his house. But since Bill was still hospitalized and Hillary chose to stay with him, Joe sent the cooked steaks instead. Betsy and the Rodhams are at Joe's. Hillary would have wanted to be at the party, but Bill must come first.
"Damn, Joe's Dad is the best steak cook ever," Bill said after he swallowed his steak.
"I know," Hillary replied before taking a bite of her own. "Mr. Biden's been inviting us over for years, and we them. I'm always looking forward to dinner with the Bidens."
Bill felt a little guilty for locking her up in a boring hospital room with a boring patient. "I'm sorry you didn't get to go this year. Maybe you can still go...?"
Hillary shook her head. "Nonstarter. You have to have someone with you. If it makes you feel better, your grandpa's coming tomorrow."
Bill sighed. "I know. I just fell...I don't know...helpless, you know? Like I want to do stuff for myself but I can't. I don't want to bother the people around me. I want them to go on with their normal lives."
Hillary knew that when he said "people", he meant her, as she was the person who had done the most for him since the incident. With both his mother and stepfather in police custody, he had nowhere else to go to. Bill had to rely on her, even if it meant he was being a bother to her again as if he wasn't during the past three years. He was supposed to make her smile, help her mend her broken heart. But what happened? There he was, lying in a hospital bed and being a burden to her.
"I know how you feel," Hillary lend a sympathetic ear to him, her hand clasping his unbandaged one.
Bill stared at her in disbelief. "You? Helpless? Come on, Hillary. You're kidding." Her? Helpless? The strongest person he ever met? Preposterous!
"Well, to be honest, I felt helpless because...uh...." Hillary struggled to find the right words.
"Why? Why did you feel helpless?" Bill pressed on.
"You see...um..." Hillary was clearly stalling, and Bill thought he might have an idea why.
"Is it because of me? Did I make you feel helpless?" Bill looked at her, but she broke her gaze and looked away.
"Yeah, you did," Hillary sighed, the hurt evident in her voice. "Often, actually. But the worst was when you stole my bag and found all of my notes ripped up. I kept my notes in an orderly fashion, and to see them all destroyed...I felt helpless."
Bill was horrified and disgusted at himself for even concocting such plot. "I'm so sorry...."
"It's okay. I know you already regretted it. But still...I am a self-reliant person. Always, I try to do stuff on my own because I don't want to be a burden to other people. But then my notes all got ripped up, I had to borrow Betsy's and rewrite my notes all over. The re-write wasn't so much of a bother to me, but I felt ashamed of being a bother to Betsy."
"But why are you ashamed? Isn't Betsy your friend? Surely she's happy to help you."
"Like I said, I don't want to bother people," Hillary said.
Bill tried to catch her eyes. He thought he knew what was on her mind.
"Is it that you don't want to bother people, or that you don't know how to rely on others?"
The latter seemed to have caught Hillary off guard.
Bill gently touched her face and slowly turned her head so that they were looking at each other again.
"Hillary, you are strong and independent. You always do things alone, but it doesn't mean it has to be that way always. You have your family, your friends, your classmates. You can run to them. And if you'll allow me, you can run to me too."
Hillary gulped. She was overwhelmed, unbelieving even. Did…did Bill just say what she thought he said?
“I…I…” Hillary struggled to formulate a response. Had she been looking forward to this day for three years? Of course. Fantasized it even. But now that it had finally come, she wasn’t sure what to make of it, or if she even wanted it anymore.
Recognizing the hesitation and uncertainty in her eyes, Bill’s face fell. He withdrew his hand from her face, feeling the sting of her rejection.
“I see,” Bill suddenly became cold.
“No, no, no, no” Hillary cupped his cheek with her free hand. “I don’t mean it like that. But I need you to understand that so much had happened since freshman year. We can’t just pick up where we left off…”
“But here you are, staying with me in the hospital while you could have been with Joe and Betsy and everybody you love,” Bill said.
“But…I…” Hillary was about to tell him that she loved him too, but she was not going to let that slip.
“Please, Hillary, give us a chance. I know I have to right to ask you that especially I hurt you after the online incident.”
“Don’t beat yourself up for it, Bill,” Hillary offered an olive branch. “I have forgiven you for everything. And I hope that you have forgiven me too.”
“Of course, I did! I couldn’t harbor hatred against you even if I tried,” Bill said.
Hillary chuckled softly. “So the past three years wasn’t hatred, huh? I wonder how worse things could have been if you indeed had hated me.”
“I guess it was just a mechanism to shield me from my guilt. Again, I’m really, really sorry, Hillary.”
“Again, I forgive you,” she replied, the anger she felt against him completely gone.
“So, what do I need to do to make up for what I have lost?” Bill askes desperately. “Please, I want to know. There must be something that I can do.”
“Bill…I…” Should she tell him? Should she tell him how she really felt? Well, she did tell him exactly how she felt for him a long time ago. But what did she end up with? A broken heart and a diminished ego.
But he will not fail you this time, her inner self told her. Believe in him. He will be there for you this time.
Before she could answer, the two of them were surprised to hear a knock on the door. The door squeaked open, and the warm, uplifting form of Pappaw appeared in the doorway.
"Pappaw!" Bill happily called from his bed, stretching his arms to welcome his grandpa.
"Oh, Billy!" Pappaw walked closer and hugged his grandson as tightly as he could without hitting the latter's arm. Hillary backed away a bit to give the two men a little privacy. However, she was heartened to witness the reunion of the old man and his grandchild. She had never seen Bill so delighted. Not even when he won his first football championship two years ago.
"Pappaw, you're here," Bill said, his voice muffled against the old man's shirt.
"There, there, sonny. Pappaw's here. You feeling well?"
Bill nodded happily. "Yes, Pappaw. Hillary here has been helping me recover." Bill pointed to Hillary, who suddenly felt shy to be introduced to Bill's grandpa.
"Hi, Mr. Clinton," said Hillary.
"Cassidy. I'm the father of Bill's Mom," Pappaw smiled at Hillary and extended a hand to her. "You must be the famous Hillary."
"Famous?" her voice squeaked as she took Pappaw's hand and shook it. "I never joined American Idol, if that's what you mean."
Bill was silently chuckling at how Hillary was being reduced to a nervous pile in front of Pappaw. Wow, what a sight to behold. The ever-eloquent debater and future President (he'd always thought of it that way) Hillary Rodham was no match against a local shop owner from rural Arkansas. Clearly, she wanted to make a good first impression to Pappaw, and she was failing spectacularly at it.
Bill resisted the urge to pinch her cheek, but she was so darn cute in her nervous jibberish in front of Papaw.
“So, what are you kids doing here?” asked Pappaw.
“Oh, Hillary was just feeding me dinner. Our friend’s dad invited us but seeing that I can’t go, he sent us food instead,” Bill replied.
“Hmmm, good friend,” said Pappaw. “What about you, Hillary? Aren’t you tired of taking care of my grandson?”
“It was a bit exhausting, to be honest,” Hillary confessed, “but I am sure that he would have done the same for me if the roles were reversed.”
Bill was surprised to hear that from Hillary. Delighted, but surprised nevertheless. He could not have brought to say that in front of his face. Or maybe she was just saying that in front of Pappaw?
“I’m glad the two of you are getting along,” Pappaw smiled. “Son, I think I should tell you about your mother and stepfather.”
Pappaw’s friendly voice suddenly turned serious, and Hillary felt she was intruding into Bill’s private affairs, so she stood up and immediately excused herself. But before she could go far, Bill caught her.
“Wait, Hillary! Please stay. I need you by my side,” he pleaded. He did need her.
“Okay,” Hillary blushed as she returned to his side. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was embarrassed to be listening in to a private Clinton matter, or if it was because Bill told her he needed her.
“I just went down to the police station before I came here. It seems that your mother won’t be out of jail soon.”
Bill frowned. “How come, Pappaw?”
Pappaw sighed. “It seems that your mother had been using the money your stepdad is giving to her into her drug business.”
Bill’s eyes widened. “What?!”
Hillary silently gasped beside him.
“She had been selling drugs to the local customers. She did so to support you kids and also her lover. Your stepdad outed her to the police. When I talked to her, she confessed. She told me that she had been using the money to support you since your stepdad can’t support you alone.”
Bill was outraged. “But what about Daddy?”
“He was seeing another woman. He had been supporting her for a year now. That’s where is money is going,” Pappaw replied sadly. Hillary could see Bill clenching his left first, his face scrunching in anger and pain.
“Bill, your left hand…” Hillary warned Bill.
“Calm down, Son. I know you are angry at your parents…” Pappaw tried to soothe Bill’s anger, “but harboring hate at them isn’t going to solve anything. At the end of the day, they’ll still be in jail. They’ll still be your parents. Nothing can change that.”
“He’s right, Bill,” Hillary agreed, “Don’t make things harder for yourself. Don’t do things that you know you’ll regret.”
The combination of Pappaw’s and Hillary’s calming words helped Bill keep in rage in check. Hillary fought the urge to come closer and hold Bill in her arms, but she kept her feelings to herself in front of Pappaw.
“You’re both right,” Bill conceded, “I shouldn’t have been reckless.”
“Being angry is okay, Bill. But harboring hatred is not. You of all people should know that” Hillary reminded him, referring to the three years that they spent hating each other so much that it almost destroyed them both. “You can talk to me if you like. I’m here to listen,” she added as she laced her fingers over his.
Pappaw smiled as he reveled at the sight of the two youngsters in love. If anything, the scene in front of him told him that Bill would well win over Hillary’s heart in a cake walk. She clearly loved him. She just needed a gentle nudge in the right direction. And Bill too was very much in love with Hillary. Pappaw made a mental note to himself to remind Bill that he wanted a great grandkid before he died.
“Thank you, Hillary,” Bill smiled, his face warm like the sunshine in the dawn. “You’ve done so much for me now. I owe you a lot.”
“Nah, it’s nothing,” replied Hillary, leaning her forehead on his. “I would gladly do much more for you.”
It was Pappaw’s turn to feel a little comfortable. It seemed that the two youngsters had forgotten that he was still in the room. He cleared his throat, and the two jumped in surprised, suddenly reminded that there was still a third person in the room.
“I’ll be leaving for a while. Your attending physician is at the nurses’ station. I’ll go talk to him. See you two in a bit,” said Pappaw.
“See you, Mr. Cassidy.”
As Pappaw left, the remnants of their interrupted conversation lingered again. Bill was looking at her intently, but Hillary dared not confront the issue. At least, not now.
“Bill, I’ll just finish feeding you dinner and then I’ll go home right away. Is that okay?” Hillary made up the excuse pronto.
“Oh yeah, sure,” replied Bill with a crestfallen face. “Pappaw’s here anyway. I can manage.”
“Okay,” Hillary said with a guilty smile.
When Bill finished his dinner, Hillary quickly said goodbye, leaving him disappointed. She did promise to come back the next day and study with him. That alleviated some of the disappointment that he had.
As she was walking down the hall of the hospital, a new yet familiar voice caught her attention. It was Pappaw. Hillary looked around and saw him talking on his cellphone to someone Hillary presumed as Bill’s grandmother. Hiding behind the corner, Hillary stopped by to listen.
“Bill’s fine…he’s with his girlfriend…she’s sweet. She’s very pretty too. Bill chose well.”
Hillary couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough. It seemed that Pappaw also jumped on the ‘Billary’ bandwagon (as Joe called it).
“Bill’s wound is pretty bad. The doctor told me. Checked with the billing section. We’re already at a thousand dollars…”
Hillary couldn’t believe what she just heard. Despite the distance from Pappaw, she heard the gasp of indignation at the news Pappaw just brought. She herself was in denial, but Pappaw’s distressed reaction seemed to confirm what she just heard.
Without another word, Hillary left, her heart burdened with the revelation she just uncovered.
"Jesus Christ, a thousand dollars?" Joe almost spilled the Betsy's and Hillary's milkshakes as he handed the girls their drinks. It was the first time the three got together on their own ever since they made up before the camping trip. Betsy, after their heated argument last night, managed to finally convince Hillary to take a day off from taking care of Bill.
"Yep," said Hillary as she sipped her milkshake. How she missed drinking these delicious concoctions. She was getting tired of the stale food being served in the hospital cafeteria. Bleah. Another reason why she never liked hospitals.
"Do you know how he's gonna pay for it?" Betsy asked with great concern.
Hillary shrugged. "I have no idea. I just heard his grandpa talk about it. He seemed distressed."
"Do you know if his mother had any money left?" Joe asked.
"I don't know. All I know is that his mom is involved in drugs and she was using the money to support Bill and Roger. And her lover too," replied Hillary.
"Fuck, they're so messed up," gasped Joe.
"Tell me about it. They're worse than my Uncle Dirk and Aunt Beverly. And Aunt Beverly blew Uncle Dirk's face off," said Betsy.
"How?" Joe and Hillary exclaimed in unison.
"Well, in a nutshell, Aunt Beverly caught Uncle Dirk cheating so she blew his face with a gun."
"Oh shit," said Hillary.
"No kidding," added Joe.
"Yeah right," Betsy continued to sip her milkshake. "At least they're freaking rich."
"True. I feel really bad for Bill. The guy has incredibly bad luck," sighed Hillary.
"Okay, this feels fucking weird. Hillary Rodham is sympathetic to Bill Clinton. I feel like I'm on Mars," Betsy shifted in her seat.
"Oh come now, Betsy. We saw them eat each other's faces," Joe winked at Hillary.
"Uh, guys. I can hear you," Hillary rolled her eyes.
"Alright, I'll back off," Betsy conceded.
Hillary sighed again. "Is there anything we can do? We can't just let the guy go bankrupt because his parents are bonkers.
"Ooh! I have an idea!" Betsy said excitedly.
"Tell us," replied Joe.
"What if Hillary joins American Idol and then she, with her terrible, terrible voice, makes an impression on the judges and she would go popular on the internet and some studio will hire her as a talent and sell thousands or even millions of albums?"
Joe was howling with laughter at Betsy's suggestion, while Hillary's face was scrunched with annoyance.
"Oh fuck off, Betsy," Hillary shoved her friend playfully.
"That is genius." Joe had tears in his eyes from the excessive laughing.
"See? Joe approves!" Betsy laughed.
"Oh, get away from me, you two," Hillary waved her hand, dismissing her two friends.
"You know I'm just kidding," said Betsy as her laughter subsided. "Okay, back to square one. Any ideas?"
It so happened that Hillary just had one. "I know!" Hillary exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.
"What is it?" Joe asked, all ears on Hillary.
"What if we do a bake sale? Like we sell treats at school and in the neighborhood and then probably we can raise enough money to cover the some of the costs of Bill's expenses. What do you think?"
Joe and Betsy simply stared at each other.
"Hillary, I don't know if it's just your affection for Bill or something, but, nobody would buy cookies from that bake sale," Betsy threw cold water at Hillary's idea.
"You seem to have forgotten that Bill Clinton was the biggest bully at school, second to Kellyanne Conway," Joe reminded him.
"But he's a popular guy! Everybody likes him!" Hillary insisted.
"Well, the Hillary Rodham of two months ago would have disagreed with you. You did draw a penis on his face for being a dick," said Betsy.
Hillary sighed. "You're right. The bake sale is a long shot."
Betsy and Joe's reasons really took the wind out of Hillary's sails. She really thought it was such a good idea. Perhaps it was her affection for him that clouded her judgment.
"Hey, don't worry, Babe. We're sure we'll figure something out," Betsy consoled her friend, rubbing the latter's back.
"Thanks, Bets," Hillary smiled appreciatively.
"And whatever that plan is, you can count on me and Betsy to help you out. Your future boyfriend is our friend too,” Joe joked.
“Hey!” Hillary playfully slapped Joe’s arm.
“You’re wrong, Joe. He’s her current boyfriend. She just doesn’t want to say it out loud,” Betsy teased.
“Bill and Hillary sitting on a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
“I wanna be your bridesman, Hillary!” laughed Joe.
“Oh fuck off you two!” Hillary told them off, stifling her giggle.
As Hillary watched the two of them make fun of her, she distinctly remembered the small savings she had for the supposed trip to Cancun. Years of part-time jobs, gifts and frugal lifestyle (if one didn’t count the milkshakes at The Chocolair) accumulated to that small fortune. She had been looking forward to using that money for her Cancun trip, but it seems that a more just cause was calling.
Better open the piggy bank later, she thought.
WHEW I MADE IT! I am so distracted this week, because of work and...some other things. Hahahahaha. I am bad at multitasking and I won't even pretend to be otherwise. Hahahaha!
The end is very near. Just three chapters left (I think). And the smut will come in one of those chapters (duh). Hahahahaha.
Anyway, thank you for all the love you've given to my fic. See you soon!
Chapter 22: Date I
Bill nervously approached the center hallway, combing his hair and straightening his jacket. Whew. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this was his constant mantra. A few people would throw in an occasional hello to him, but he didn't care much to respond, other than a mumbled "Hey" or "Hi". Good God. He thought his heart could rip itself from his chest from the way it was pounding. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why the hell was he given the moniker Pretty Boy anyway? Wasn't it because he's a player or something? Because judging his extreme nervousness at that moment, he couldn't believe he used to be around girls all the time.
And finally, he caught her.
Hillary. She was happily humming as she fixed her locker, ready for the afternoon class. Betsy and Joe were nowhere in sight. Good. He had her all to himself.
After Bill had been released from the hospital, he spent almost a month recovering from his injuries, and with a month left before school ends, he had a lot of catching up to do. Well, not that much since Hillary had been helping him study. She had been coming to his house everyday to lend him her notes and study. He never thought he'd say it but he enjoyed every second of their study sessions, even though most of the time were devoted to, well, studying. Oftentimes, Pappaw would cook dinner for the two of them and they would eat alone in the dining room. Sure, that looked a lot like a date but neither admitted that it was. He even spotted Joe and now a visibly pregnant Betsy spying on them. He and Hillary had to run after them when the two sneaks were caught.
Yes, their three years of animosity were completely gone. It was like they were back to their same spot on their first week of freshman year, where they were circling around each other, never knowing what they really were, except that today, they already knew what they felt for each other.
But things even went crazier when Pappaw accidentally told Bill last week that it was Hillary who paid his hospital bills and not Mammaw. This came as a complete shock because Pappaw told him that he got the money to pay his bills from Mammaw's savings. But then, thanks to a Freudian slip, Pappaw revealed to Bill that it was Hillary who paid his hospital bills.
Shame engulfed him. He had no right to even shine her shoes. After all he did to her, she could have let him be drowned in his predicament. But at the same time, he felt his heart would burst. She cared for him. She cared for him deeply.
And the time had come to show her how deeply he cared for her too.
So that's how he found himself in the hallway a couple of days later. With his injury and all, he had forgotten about his plan to win back Hillary. The flowers were the first step, and it was done. Time to do the next step.
"Hi Hillary!" Bill nervously greeted her behind her locker door.
She almost jumped when he heard his voice. Surprised, but pleased. "Oh, hello Bill?" She smiled back, and the twinkle reached her eyes.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. Shall I ask her now?
"Hey. Been busy lately?" He rubbed his nape gingerly.
"Yeah. The planning for the seniors' bash is hell. And you know, schoolwork," she admitted.
"I see. How about on weekends?"
Hillary looked up. "Let's see. I usually study on Saturdays. Unless Mom has errands for me. Then Sunday is church day."
Alright. Now...for the kill...
"Hillary, I'd like to ask you something."
"Sure." She seemed more interested now.
"I'd like to-"
Hillary's intense gaze on Bill was totally wrecking his nerves. Oh shit. What was she thinking? Was she expecting something?! Oh,God. What should he do???
Just as when Bill was about to go for the kill, he suddenly swerved.
"I'd like to walk you to chemistry class," was what Bill ended up.
Hillary blinked. That was...weird. And anticlimactic. She really thought he was gonna ask for something big, like a favor or something like that, considering how much he sweats from the beginning of their conversation. Hillary really thought he was gonna ask him out. She was a teeny bit disappointed that he didn't, but it was all good. No fuss.
"Alright. We're lab partners after all," she reminded him, smiling.
"Oh yeah, right," Bill had genuinely forgotten that she was lab partner. Today would have been the first time the two of them would seat next to each other again, as after he was outed as lordofthesax, Hillary chose to sit at the back of the class while Bill remained on his usual seat.
"Shall we?" he smiled at her nervously.
"Sure!" Hillary closed her locker and hold her notebook close to her chest.
The walk to the chemistry lab was more enjoying than anything they both have remembered. They were exchanging banters, cracking jokes, laughing. Students saw them hanging out and they were stunned. They biggest of enemies in the history of their school were flirting in the open! Both of them were aware of the curious looks they were attracting, but they didn’t mind at all. They were far too focused on each other to care for anything else.
When they reached the chemistry lab, they were both surprised that Mrs. Merkel was already discussing their lesson. They looked at the clock and lo and behold, they were already twenty minutes late. Where did the time go? Last time they checked, it was only a quarter until one.
Boy, time sure flies fast when one’s having fun.
The class noticed the two latecomers, and Mrs. Merkel too. The two inadvertently blushed as they took their old seats next to each other. Betsy threw them a knowing look, and the blushing only became worst. Bill’s blushing was worse, though.
“They’re looking at us,” Bill whispered.
“I know. So embarrassing,” Hillary replied.
The two went on to take down notes as they pretended to listen to Mrs. Merkel. But really, they weren’t. They’re playing tic-tac-toe on the paper and sometimes exchanging messages by writing on their notebooks. Hilary would suppress a giggle once in a while because Bill fired the best zingers. In the middle of all of this, Betsy’s gaze was unwavering, like a spy camera recording everything.
When class ended, Betsy called for Hillary, but the latter ignored the call. She was still walking with Bill.
“You’re gonna go back to The Chocolair today?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s my first day back at the job. I miss working in there,” he replied.
“The customers missed you too,” she said.
“They did?” Bill was incredibly heartened.
“Yeah, they all missed the klutzy new waiter,” she teased.
“Hey, I’m not that klutzy anymore! I got better in time!”
“I know, I know. You didn’t spill my milkshake on the third try.”
“To be fair, your milkshake had a lot of toppings in it. It’s hard not to,” Bill chuckled.
“Fair point,” she conceded, smiling.
They walked all the way to The Chocolair, slowing down every so often to prolong their conversation. They didn’t want it to end just yet. They had so much to catch up to.
When the finally arrived at The Chocolair, Bill knew that it was time. It was do or die.
“Uhm…I just wanna ask you something.”
Hillary scrunched her forehead. “What is it?”
Bill’s face slowly reddened, and it was hard to keep it from her notice. “I just wanna ask if you’re free on Saturday,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. His head was spinning so fast, he thought he’d puke.
“I planned to study but I think I can manage,” she said tentatively.
“Oh! I was wondering if I could take you out this Saturday. Like…just the two of us,” Bill managed to blurt out without barfing or running away.
Hillary’s eyes widened, unsure what to make of it. Sure, she’d love to go with him, but his invitation still left her some stinging memories from three years ago.
“Please? I’d love to take you out. As friends. After all, you did a lot for me when I was in the hospital and recovering,” Bill begged.
As friends. Those last two words soothed Hillary’s concerns, though Bill wasn’t exactly happy when he said it. He only said those so that she would agree to go with him. Please, please, please…
“Well, sure,” she finally said. “I’d love to go out with you this Saturday.”
As soon as she said yes, the radiance came back to Bill’s face, his smile reaching his eyes. He had never felt so relieved. The air began to fill his lungs again, and his heart was jumping for joy.
“So, I’ll see you this Saturday, then? I’ll fetch you in your house at 9.”
Hillary nodded, feeling a bit giddy. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.” She didn’t realize that she had been batting her eyelids, Bill almost melted when she did. He was so psyched at her acceptance that he absentmindedly kissed Hillary on the cheek before the left her at the door of The Chocolair to start his shift.
Hillary couldn’t stop grinning for hours.
“Betsy, this is too much!” Hillary complained as she stared at herself in the mirror. The halter top Betsy lent her was not an appropriate date attire, at least by her opinion. She didn’t mind the thin straps, but the low neckline was a big no-no.
“But we want Bill to go crazy! And for you two to finally do it!”
Hillary sighed. “This is why you’re pregnant. Other than the fact that you didn’t use the condom I gave you.”
“I have to admit that you got that right with the condom, but I think there’s no reason for you to not boink each other’s brains out with Bill if you’ve got protection.”
“Betsy!” Hillary was used to her best friend’s crassness, and this was no exception. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to happen, even though they got awfully close twice.
“You’ll thank me tomorrow, I’m sure. And face it, Hillary, your mother’s on board with it too. Didn’t she give you the condom at prom?” Betsy reminded her, and Hillary conceded that she’s right.
Ugh, the pressure she faced to have sex. What happened to free will?
“Can we change into something else? The low neckline is throwing me off. I’m not used to seeing my cleavage in public,” Hillary pleaded.
Betsy sighed as she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I guess. You’re probably gonna be nervous all day, and I don’t want to take the fun out of your date. Let me find a new halter top.”
Thankfully, Betsy found another top that matched Hillary’s preferences more: a white halter top that covered her breasts but brought out the color of her skin. It showed a little hint of her flat belly, but not the navel, just enough to make Bill imagine what was south beyond that belly.
“Perfect,” Betsy admired Hillary from behind, looking at the latter’s reflection in the mirror.
“You think so?” Hillary herself was quite pleased, though she didn’t want to echo that sentiment too loudly. She was being uncharacteristically modest.
“Yes,” Betsy straightened the wisps of Hillary’s hair that were out of place. “You’ll sure take his breath away.”
“Thank you,” Hillary replied. Since she accepted his invitation to go out, she had completely forgotten that they were supposed to go out ‘as friends’. And now, it was a foregone conclusion that this was more than a friendly date, which Hillary kept pretending earlier that it wasn’t.
“I’ll head down now, Betsy. Bill might be arriving soon,” Hillary said.
“Wait!” Betsy called back.
“What is it?”
Betsy took something from her pocket and handed it to Hillary. It was a small package of foil. There was no need for Hillary to ask what it was, as she gave Betsy one exactly like it a few months ago.
“Oh Betsy,” said Hillary, overwhelmed.
“Take it, girl. You looked out for me before. I’m looking out for you now,” Betsy said, almost tearing up. “I know Bill had been an awful person to you, but I believe that he will be more than willing to take care of you if you allow him.”
Hillary reluctantly accepted the condom and put it in the pocket of her mini skirt, biting her lip.
“I wanna bet that by tomorrow, this will still be intact,” Hillary quipped. “But thanks. I appreciate it.
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that, Hill. I’m even gonna bet my baby.”
“Betsy!” Hillary was half-horrified and half-amused.
“The writing’s on the wall, Hillary. There’s no way around it,” Betsy declared. “You’ll be having Pretty Boy as your boyfriend by tomorrow at least, and by the end of this school year the latest.”
“And you’ll be voted ‘Couple Most Likely To Divorce Within A Year’ in our yearbook because the rest of us can’t wrap our heads around you to dating. And fucking.”
“La, la, la, la, la” Hillary covered her ears and humming in a sing-song voice.
“Oh, come off it. The bottom line is: you two will be together any moment now, and John and I will gush over the two of you in the corner.”
“Whatever, Betsy!” Hillary dismissed her best friends hope, just to end this conversation. “Shall we go down now?”
“Ready when you are, Miss Rodham!” Betsy exclaimed enthusiastically.
Betsy and Hillary descended downstairs, finding Dorothy in the kitchen, and the boys, including her father, were watching re-runs of the last Cubs’ game.
“Hey, Hill and Betsy,” Dorothy turned around and greeted the two girls.
“Hi, Mrs. Rodham,” Betsy greeted back.
“Hi, Mom. Is Bill here yet?” Hillary asked.
“Not, Sweetie.” Dorothy looked at her daughter and was awed by how beautiful she looked. “You must really like Virginia’s son to doll yourself up like that.”
“It’s all Betsy’s doing, Mom. She wouldn’t let me go out of the room if she doesn’t approve my outfit,” Hillary eyed Betsy amusedly.
“Good job, Betsy,” said Dorothy approvingly, looking at Hillary with every bit of pride. “You’ve been such a doll.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Rodham. You’ve been so good to me,” said Betsy.
“Of course, dear. You’re family,” Dorothy smiled. She then approached her daughter and whispered in her ear. “Have you brought a condom?”
“Mom!” Hillary gasped, scandalized.
“It’s necessary protection dear,” Dorothy argued.
“Well, yeah. Betsy gave me one,” she replied, “but I don’t think I’ll be out beyond 10 PM.”
“Dear, Bill’s alone in his house. His parents are in jail and his grandpa took his little brother to Arkansas,” Dorothy told her.
Hillary suddenly became apprehensive, but it was too late to back out now. No. She couldn’t do that to Bill.
“I’ll just tell him to drop me here by 10,” Hillary said.
Dorothy shrugged. “Suit yourself. But whenever you’re going, just text me or Betsy, alright?”
“I will Mom.” Hillary closed her eyes, smiling, as Dorothy kissed her forehead.
“Awwww,” retorted Betsy. “So sweet. It’s like sending my own daughter off to her first date.”
“Shut up, Betsy.”
“Hey, I know the feeling too,” Dorothy giggled. “Well, this isn’t Hillary’s first date but the feeling never gets old. Moms understand each other, right?”
“Yeah! You get it! High five, Mrs. Rodham!” Betsy quipped.
Hillary left her Mom and Betsy in the kitchen, exasperated but very much amused. Those two get ahead of themselves sometimes, but she loved them all the same. After all, in all her ups and downs, they never deserted her, and she planned to do the same when the roles were reversed.
Five minutes before 9 AM, and the doorbell rang. Tony got up from the floor and opened the door for the expected visitor. On the other side was a nervously smiling Bill, holding a chocolate mud pie in his hands.
“Hi. Uhm…is Hillary here?” asked Bill, his voice croaking.
“Oh, wait up,” Tony said. “HILLARY! YOUR BOYFRIEND’S HERE!”
Tony’s voice echoed through the house. When Betsy, Dorothy, and Hillary heard Tony announcing Bill’s arrival, Betsy and Dorothy looked knowingly at Hillary and giggled.
“See, even Tony gets it,” Betsy chided.
“Oh stop it,” Hillary blushed.
“Oh my God, Hillary you’re blushing!” Dorothy remarked in delight.
“Wait…what? No, no, no, no, no! I can’t let Bill see me like this!” Hillary panicked.
“Just go out there, Sweetheart. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Bill has more things to worry about than his date blushing,” Dorothy said.
“Yeah. If you didn’t have a good time, Joe, John and I will beat him to a pulp,” Betsy promised.
Their encouragement soothed Hillary’s nerves a bit, but not entirely. “Thanks. You guys are so sweet.”
“Well then. Go out there and have some fun you two,” Dorothy pushed her daughter out.
When Hillary emerged in the living room, Bill was still standing in the doorway, holding the chocolate mud pie. Her Dad was quietly surveying at the two kids, while her brothers were low-key spying on them, throwing their glances to the nervous couple once in a while.
When she arrived at the doorstep, Bill planted a soft kiss on her cheek, which made Hillary almost float in the air. Dorothy and Betsy were quietly squealing, while her Dad raised a brow.
“Hi. You’re early,” Hillary said nervously.
“I don’t want to be late,” was his excuse. “By the way, I brought you another chocolate mud pie. Your mother said you loved it so I made another pie.”
Hillary was ready to melt right there, partly due to his sweetness and partly due to embarrassment.
“Thank you,” Hillary received the pie from Bill and asked Tony to put it in the fridge. “Shall we go?”
Hillary noticed that Bill seemed to be as nervous as her, and it sort of eased her nerves.
“So, where are you planning to take us?” she asked.
“You know that arcade a few blocks away from The Chocolair? I’m thinking we could play games there and then grab a bite at the pizza place and then probably catch a movie if you’re up to it.”
“Sounds fun,” Hillary approved. “Let’s get going.”
As the two walked towards the arcade, they slowly began to get loose. The nervousness and apprehension melted away, to be replaced with the usual banter, laughing and affectionate swatting.
And just like that, Bill laced her fingers against hers, and she clasped his hand back.
As you probably surmised, there is still a part II of the date so watch for it sometime next week. As this fic starts winding down, I'm thinking about my next project. As you know, I Can Never Live Without You is in progress, and I am planning to write another fic alongside it. So far, I have three ideas:
- Billary medieval feudalism fic
- Billary Orwellian fic
- non-Billary fic (just Hillary + someone else)
I'd like to ask for your feedback on what I should pursue next. I am really torn. *sobs* And I am still contemplating how to insert the Part II of I Love Mondays in all of this.
As always, thank you for the constant support that you give my fics. This is the longest time I've been writing fics, and it would not have happened if not your appreciation! ^_^
Chapter 23: Date II
Whew, I made it just in time.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Yeah, you can never go wrong with deep dish pizza,” Hillary agreed as she sipped her milkshake from the cup, holding a large stuffed bunny on the other hand. She and Bill had dropped by at The Chocolair for her regular dose of milkshake. For Hillary, no date would be complete without those milkshakes. It was just past 8 pm, and they were leisurely strolling in the streets under the moonlight, completely blissful and unmindful of the rush of people passing by them. Their date had been so much fun so far. After spending hours at the arcade, in which Bill won the stuffed bunny for her, they went for lunch at the pizza place as planned. However, they did not go to the movies. Instead, they went to the rollerblading rink and skated there. After that, Hillary suddenly craved for milkshakes so they grabbed a bite at The Chocolair.
“Did you have fun?” Bill asked.
Hillary nodded fervently, hugging the stuffed bunny tighter. “I did. Thanks, Bill.”
“You’re welcome!” he replied, very much relieved that he had accomplished the first part of his mission today. “I had fun too. I got to say, I love your impromptu skating rink idea.”
“I enjoyed that one too. I missed my roller skates. I can’t understand how they went out of fashion.”
“Exactly! Roller skates are the best thing invented since sliced bread!”
“I know! On my 21st birthday party, I will have roller skates. And Jell-o’d alcohol,” Hillary said.
Bill made a mental note of it. Hopefully, he would be the one to throw her 21st birthday party.
“How about you? What do you want for your 21st birthday party? Hillary asked.
Bill tried to think what he wanted for his 21st birthday party. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “probably a Southern birthday party will do. Like biscuits and gravy.”
“And Kentucky bourbon?” Hillary added. “You got to have alcohol.”
He chuckled. “Yes, the world-famous bourbon from Kentucky. If I had to guess, if you will throw me my 21st birthday, it will have to have alcohol.”
“Why of course,” she replied, sounding indignant. “I will wrestle the FBI if they tried to meddle with your alcohol-filled birthday.”
“Well,” Bill was amused with her enthusiasm for alcohol, “I look forward to it, and you are certainly invited.”
“I’m glad to hear that because I’ll probably haunt you for the rest of your days if you didn’t invite me,” she threatened.
“Ooooh, I’m scared,” Bill said in a mocking tone.
“Oh, this is where we’re at eh? I do shit for you and I’m not invited to your birthday party?” she punched his arm affectionately.
“I just said you were invited. Along with Joe, Betsy, John and their kid, and Donald Trump?”
“Why the hell will you invite that pussy grabbing weirdo?!”
“I mean the piñata. We make a piñata of him and then we whack him with a stick until he barfs candies.”
“You’re so needlessly disgusting Bill, but I like it,” she giggled. “And I also like the idea of a Trump piñata. While you’re at it, let’s make a Kellyanne piñata too so he could have a companion.”
“Thanks. And I will.” Bill wanted to high-five himself for scoring a point on his date.
“So, what are we gonna do next? I’m not in the mood to go home yet,” Hillary said.
Bill took a deep breath. Time for the next phase of his plan. He prayed that Hillary would play along, or else his plan would end prematurely and everything he had built up for this day would have gone to waste. And besides, he felt like this was his last chance to really tell her how he felt about her.
“We can go to my house,” Bill suggested tentatively.
Hillary was quite unsure of what to do.
“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Bill assured her. “It’s just that I have a gift for you, and it’s kinda heavy if I brought it with me. I can give it to you some other time.”
“Oh!” She was even more conflicted than she already was. She was hesitating as to where he was going with this. She feared that she would be forced to sleep with him when she was not emotionally ready yet. She wasn’t even ready to admit to herself (or to anyone else for that matter) that he was her boyfriend, that she cared for him deeper than anyone could possibly imagine, that their connection that was forged three years ago remained strong, despite everything.
That she loved him, and he loved her too.
In the end, she decided to make a concession.
“Alright, let’s go to your house,” she said, “but please take me home at 10 PM?”
Relief flooded Bill when Hillary finally gave her consent. His stomach untwisted, and he gave a subtle fist bump.
“Okay. Shall we walk?”
“Sure.” Hillary was thankful that he chose to walk and not to take a cab. It could buy her more time to change her man and turn back.
But she didn’t turn back. No. That wasn’t Hillary. The real Hillary never shied away from a challenge or a fear, and this was no exception.
She could do this.
There was no need to fear.
She could trust Bill. At least she hoped so.
When they arrived at Bill’s house, he turned on the lights and motioned her to sit on the couch. “Can I get you anything? Water, chips…?”
Hillary shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” she smiled nervously.
“Alright. I’ll just get something. Just wait here,” he said.
For the time, Hillary felt uncomfortable inside Bill house, which had been her second home for the past few weeks. But things were different then. A few weeks ago, he was recovering, and his little brother and grandpa were with them. Nothing could have happened.
But now it was different.
God, how Hillary wished Bill would come out now so she could get this over with.
As if he heard her prayer, Bill emerged from inside carrying a saxophone and a journal.
Her journal. Deedee.
For a split second, Hillary was confused as to why he was carrying a saxophone, and why he had one. She realized that later on that Bill was indeed lordofthesax. God, her time with lordofthesax felt like a lifetime ago when in fact it only had been months. Was it that long already?
“I have these for you,” Bill said, handing over the saxophone and the journal. “Which do you want first?”
Hillary looked apprehensively at the journal. Why is he giving it to her? She didn’t want to read her childish thoughts, thoughts that only got her in trouble and broke her heart.
“The saxophone first, please,” she said.
“Alright.” Bill laid the journal on the table and put the saxophone in his mouth. Hillary thought that he was going to give the saxophone to her, and for a while, it didn’t make any sense. It was only then that she realized that he was going to play a tune for her.
God, it was fucking beautiful.
It was the most romantic, sensual tune she had ever heard.
When Bill had finished playing, Hillary was almost in tears.
"That was very beautiful and moving, Bill. I've never heard of it. What's the name of the song?" she asked.
"It's called Evergreen. And I composed it. Just for you," he replied.
Hillary's eyes clouded with mist. That was the sweetest thing anyone had done for her. She could feel her heartstrings tug gently, her hand pressed to her chest.
"You liked it?" he asked, hopeful.
"I do. I love it so much. And I amazed by your talent. You are an incredible musician," she complimented.
Bill sat beside her and placed the saxophone beside him. "Thanks. I don't get that quite often. I don't show this side of me to other people because people may think less of me."
"Well, I disagree. I think people will respect you more if you will show this other side of you to other people," she replied, resting her hand on his lap. "Thanks for showing this to me. I am glad and honored that you chose to reveal this side of you to me. It means so much to me. It really does."
"You're welcome," he smiled, "There's no other person I'd rather share this with. Only to you, Hillary. Sorry lordofthesax's promise took quite a while to reach you."
"Oh no, no, no. You don't have to apologize. After all, sexyofstate was quite a bitch to you," she said.
"A bitch who saved my life," Bill clarified.
Hillary's eyes could not stop looking at his lips as if she was expecting something to happen. Just inches apart, they were waiting for the other to take the lead, to make the first move. But with uncertainties and what-ifs holding them back, neither made a move. They just sat in there, just breathing, gazes thick as molasses, hoping that the other would simply take that leap of fate that both had wanted to do.
But then, they moved. Simultaneously. They were inching closer and closer, testing the waters as they waited for each other to follow. It’s like they had telepathy. They were drawn to each other, closing the already small gap between. Their lips almost brushing, their breaths fanning each other’s faces.
Hillary’s phone beeped, and the two were jolted back to their reality. Bill scooted away from Hillary as she read a new message from Betsy:
Where r u?
Here at Bill’s. Gonna come home in a couple of minutes.
Hillary slipped her phone back to her pocket, half-thankful that it vibrated at the most impeccable time, half-annoyed because it destroyed whatever rapport she had with Bill, who was not fidgeting beside her, holding her journal.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “Betsy was just asking me where I am.”
“I understand,” he said.
Hillary looked at the journal apprehensively. She was surprised to see it still intact. She thought Bill would have disposed of it because she didn’t want it anymore.
Bill noticed the look that Hillary was giving the journal. “I see you recognize this.”
“I do,” she replied. “I can’t believe I’m seeing that accursed journal. I thought you already got rid of it.”
“Now why would I do that?” he replied, sounded a bit shocked. “This journal kept your memories. You shouldn’t throw it out,” Bill handed her the journal, and she reluctantly accepted. “Go ahead. Open it. You can check it if you want to make sure everything's there.”
She didn’t follow his words. Instead, she placed it in her lap and tucked it with her arms. “Did you read it?”
Bill was hesitant. “Y-Y-yes I did. I’d be lying if I said no. I apologize.”
Hillary sighed. “It’s alright. There’s not much for you to learn about anyway. After all, I practically told you every secret of mine when we unknowingly talked to each other online.”
“And I can assure you they are kept safe, Hillary,” he said. “I don’t want to betray your trust. What you have told me in our conversations, I will carry it to my grave.”
“Thank you,” she replied, secretly loving his declaration. “I promise to do the same for you too”.
“I appreciate that,” he smiled. Then why don’t you look at the contents to see if nothing is missing?”
Hillary sighed, reluctantly opening the journal that became her personal Pandora’s box. Pages and pages online conversations between sexyofstate and lordofthesax adorned the interior of the journal. She checked every single one of the pages loose sheets were the same as remembered it.
Except for the page where she had written her last entry.
When she reached her last journal entry, she saw two neatly folded piece of paper, one was already a bit yellowish because of its age, and the other one looked quite recent. Hillary recognized the older piece of paper, and the memories of that came flooding in.
Fifteen-year-old Hillary happily called Bill from across the hallway, carrying her notebooks in her arms. She had just finished class, and she was looking for Bill all day now.
“Hi Hilly!” he greeted back, his smile so wide that his jaw would almost break.
“I haven’t seen you all day,” Hillary said with a hint of disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Hilly. I was practicing with the football team. I gotta train hard,” he replied.
“Oh, no worries, Billy. I’ll know you do well in football. I’ll watch every game you play!”
“Thanks,” he replied, blushing.
“And by the way, thanks for bringing me to the park last Saturday. I had so much fun,” she said.
“Nah, it was nothing. And I had fun too.”
“So I’ll take it that there will be more strolls at the park?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“You bet!” he said enthusiastically.
Both of them turned around to see the source of the voice. It was the captain of the football team, and behind him where the rest of the players. They happily approached their newest team member, offering words of congratulations and encouragement.
Hillary, meanwhile, took advantage of Bill’s distraction and quietly slipped a neatly folded piece of paper in his locker. She had thought of telling Bill her feelings, but she decided to put it in writing instead of face-to-face because she did not trust herself not to stammer in front of him. Once she had deposited the paper into the locker, she ran away from Bill and hid in the corner, waiting for him to open her letter.
Once the football team was gone, Bill looked around for her, scratching his head. Hillary giggled. He looked so cute when he was confused. Shrugging Hillary’s sudden disappearance off, Bill opened his locker and was surprised to see the letter inside and read:
Thank you so much for becoming my friend. I hardly know anyone in this school. You know how hard it is for a new student like me to cope up. New classmates, different culture and all that. And to this day, I'm still having trouble knowing where all the classrooms are!
If I hadn't patted tapped your shoulder on my very first day, I'd never meet someone as kind and as sweet as you.
You've been so kind to me and took time to in showing me around the school. I know I was already pestering but you were so patient with me. And I enjoyed our time at the park a few weeks ago. I've felt very welcome in this new neighborhood because of you.
So now, I'm writing you this letter to thank you for all the nice things you've done for me. I am thankful that you became my friend.
There is something else I want to say.
I like you. A lot. You know...in that way. I think you're handsome and amazing and you always put a smile on my face. I probably should be discreet about this but it's something that I can't ignore.
I hope we can be more than just friends. :)
Your friend (and hopefully something more),
P.S. I think you're sexy
“Wow,” Hillary gasped as she finished reading the letter, her lips trembling. “You kept this? It feels like an ancient artifact.” Indeed, it seemed an eternity had passed since the last time she called him ‘Billy’.
“Of course,” Bill replied, scooting back closer to her. “it was the happiest day of my life.”
“It was?” she said, stunned.
“Yes. That was why it was very stupid of me to laugh at you in the cafeteria next day. I really regretted doing that,” he replied, his voice sincere.
“What would you have done if the cafeteria incident didn’t occur?”
Bill pointed towards the second piece of folded paper. “Open it.”
Hillary did as she was told.
I’m happy and proud to be your friend. How can anyone not want to befriend a smart, caring, thoughtful, beautiful girl like you? You amaze me, Hillary, with your confidence, resilience, the ability to connect with people and empathize. Every day, I am in awe of you. How can such perfect girl exist? That question will probably never be answered.
I am grateful you chose my shoulder to tap on, otherwise, I'd never meet someone as kind and as sweet as you.
I was an asshole to you for three years, yet you managed to forgive me, take care of me and befriend me once more, even though I do not deserve even an ounce of your kindness. You are a very good person, Hillary. Never let anyone tell you otherwise because I can attest to the goodness of your heart.
Now, I'm writing you this letter to thank you for all the nice things you've done for me. I am thankful that you became my friend.
There is something else I want to say.
I like you. A lot. I thought three years of our feuding will erase that, but I was wrong. I like you now more than I did when you wrote your letter to me. How could that have happened when all we did was fight? I don’t really know, but my best guess was that even at your worst, you are still magnificent and beautiful like no other.
I hope we can be more than just friends. :)
Your friend (and hopefully your boyfriend),
"Wow," Hillary gasped, touched and overwhelmed, "I can't believe you called me 'Hilly' at some point. I really liked it when you did so. I thought it was something special just for the two of us. Just like when I called you 'Billy'."
"I really liked it too," he replied, "you have no idea how happy I was when you accidentally called me that."
She brought the old letter up. "As happy as when you read this?"
"Well, no. I was over the moon when I read that. I was supposed to respond to you but..."
"I know. The cafeteria incident happened," she sighed in disappointment. "What else would have done if none of these had happened?"
"I don't really know. I haven't thought of it exactly. But there's one thing I know I would have done."
"And that is?"
"To ask you out at prom," he smiled, still scooting closer to her. She didn't budge, but she was secretly thrilled that he did. He rested his palm on her thigh.
"Well, that seems to have happened either way? We practically went out that night," she giggled softly.
"Yeah. And afterward too." The blushing on Bill's face was unmistakable. "I definitely enjoyed that night."
"I did too," she seconded.
"Of course you did. You were almost screaming," he quipped.
"I did, I did," she admitted, remembering their heated encounter at the harbor. The memories in the harbor were so vivid that she shifted her legs and her face reddened vehemently.
Bill noticed the change in her demeanor, and it caused him to feel a little bit uncomfortable too. He too remembered the events after that prom...and how soft and tender she was that night. The sweet scent of her skin, the warmth of her touch, how tightly she clung to him...
Like the hormonal teenagers that they were, they couldn't hide the telling signs of their excitement. It was very awkward when Hillary shifted in her seat, and she accidentally brushed over Bill's crotch, in which the tenting could barely be hidden by his denim jeans.
"Sorry," Hillary blushed even further. "I was just...careless."
"I'm sorry too," Bill apologized as well. "If you feel uncomfortable, then I can walk you home if you like."
Hillary was stuck at a crossroad. Bill was offering her a way out of this awkward situation, but now she wasn't exactly sure that she wanted to. After all, the fire in between her legs was threatening to burn her entire body if she didn't let it go.
"I want you to do something for me."
"I want you to close your eyes."
And he did. Hillary took a deep breath, stuck at a crossroad. A little nudge forward, and there was no turning back. Would she do it? Should she?
Will she regret it if she did?
She looked at Bill one more time, his eyes closed, waiting for her to do what she wanted to do. A realization clicked in: he trusted her. He trusted her to not hurt him, to be gentle with him, to take care of him.
So why shouldn't she trust him too?
Maybe she should.
Live a little.
At the slowest pace possible, Hillary inched forward, closing her eyes as well, and pressed her lips lightly on top of his. He responded immediately with the gentlest kiss she's ever experienced in her life. Sweet, tender, full of emotion. Encouraged by his reaction, she increased the fervor of her kisses. He returned her kisses with the same intensity if not more. They kissed like there was no tomorrow. They kissed like the past three years had never existed.
Bill's hands traveled from his lap to her back, rubbing the expanse of her back and pulling her closer to him, letting her feel his thundering heartbeat.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, not wanting to let him go.
Sweet, sensitive, passionate. That was how Hillary found Bill as she probed his mouth more. He was waiting for her to acclimate to the intensity before he upped the ante. Even at that moment, he was making good on his promise to not hurt her again.
"Hilly," Bill panted when they finally broke apart, "That was amazing."
"Say it again," she begged.
"My name. Hilly. Say it again, Billy."
Bill’s heart burst when she called him ‘Billy’. The Hillary he had known and loved for three years had come back, and she was right there in his arms, wanting and waiting.
“Hilly.” Bill leaned forward and tentatively kissed the side of her neck. In response, she softly moaned and leaned against his chest. Elated, Bill's hands and lips remained at play, both on her back and on her neck. As his lips kissed the corner of her collarbone, his hands found the hook of her bra detached it, freeing her breasts. Hillary felt it and turned her head to look at him.
“Hilly,” Bill said, his eyes darkening, “if you want to stop. Just tell me. We don’t have to go anywhere tonight.”
“I want to, Billy,” she finally said. “I want my first to be with you.”
“And I want my first to be with you too.”
Both were daunted by the idea of being each other’s first, but they were determined to see it through.
After all, they trusted each other.
Hillary pulled away a little and removed her halter top, sending Bill into haywire. He then pulled her in so that she was in his lap. His mouth latched onto her breasts and sucked it, his tongue licking and teasing the pink apex until it was erect. He playfully suckled her nipple until she gasped.
Hillary’s throbbing mound was now crying for his touch, if not already. She took Bill’s free hand and placed it in between her thighs, telling him to touch her. “Please,” she whimpered, Bill bringing his mouth to hers once more as she felt his fingers rub against the fabric of her panties.
“God, you’re so wet, Hilly,” Bill gasped in between kisses.
“Only you can make me feel that Billy,” she replied huskily.
Smirking, he let his fingers explore her wet heat. He tugged the waistband of her panties and pulled her underwear down. Hillary stepped out of her panties before she straddled him again, grinding her exposed center against his erection.
“Take it off, Billy,” she said.
Billy took off his shirt and pants in record speed. Hillary smirked when she finally saw his briefs, barely containing his struggling member. She remembered that beautiful cock so well, having sucked it dry in the control room of the auditorium. She wanted to taste it again, so she knelt down in front of him and began to pull his briefs off. He, however, stopped her.
“What’s the matter, Billy?”
“You…your mouth’s amazing, Hilly,” he replied. “I can’t make it last if you do me with your mouth.”
Hillary was a little disappointed, but she understood his concerns.
“Just let me pleasure you, Hilly.”
Nodding, Hillary straddled Bill again and he was back suckling her breasts. His hand was drawing circles on the lips of her pussy, occasionally rubbing her hardened nub.
“Oh Billy, I love it,” she moaned, “please don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he assured her.
And just like that, Bill sat there mesmerized by the goddess that was sitting on his lap, grinding against his already soaking fingers. Granted, they had been in the same situation before, for Bill, it still felt like the first time.
And then…there would be a first time.
“Oh God, Bill…oh my God…” Hillary was cupping her breasts, her hips thrusting violently against his probing fingers. Another finger joined in, and she cried, feeling her body turn inside out as he toyed with her most sensitive point.
“That’s it, Hilly. Let it go.”
Spurred by his encouragements, Hillary let go of the pressure that had been slowly building inside her. She rocked her hips against his fingers at a breakneck speed, moving insanely fast to reach that sweet, sweet climax.
“Billy…Billy…I…Oh my God…!”
Hillary dug her nails into his chest as she hit her orgasm. Her head bent back, her chest stretched out. Bill gazed at her lovingly, pinching her nipples more to extend the throes of her pleasure.
Coming down from her high, Hillary laid on his chest like a deflated balloon. She had expended a lot of energy from that hard orgasm, but she was still going.
“I’m ready now, Billy,” she whispered against the planes of his chest.
“Okay. But if you change your mind in the middle of this, just tell me. I’ll-“
Before Bill could finish his sentence, she silenced him with a toe-curling kiss that made him forget what he was about to say.
“I’m sure of this, Billy,” she said as she broke off the kiss. “I just now realized how much you trust me. I think it’s time I return the favor.”
Bill nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Alright.”
He gently removed her from his lap and flipped them so that her back was against the couch, and he was on top. He slowly pulled her skirt down. But before he could fully do so, Hillary reached for something in her pocket.
“Here Billy,” she said, raising the foiled package.
“I can’t believe you are prepared for this,” he replied.
“I am not, but Betsy gave me one. And my Mother also did, at prom.”
“I can see why Betsy would give you that,” he grinned.
Hillary prepped herself by touching her hard nub, while Bill tore the package with his teeth and rolled the condom over his erect member. She licked her lips, eagerly anticipating his entry.
“Are you ready?” Bill asked.
She nodded, bracing for the imminent pain.
Slowly, Bill pushed himself inside her, his tip gradually breaking through her maidenhead and stinging her a bit. Her faint grimaces were enough to concern him.
"Do you still want to continue this, Hilly? You seem to be in pain."
Hillary nodded fervently. "Yes. We'll see this through. Keep going, but the gentle."
Bill kissed her lips, doing so very passionately to distract her from the pain in her center. His hand snaked in between their bodies and rubbed her clit furiously. In time, she began to relax and Bill felt her became more and more wet below. He knew she was ready when a moan involuntarily escaped from her lips.
Still kissing her, Bill slowly thrusted forward, easily slipping inside her than before. Hillary was still in pain, but not as much as earlier. A feeling of warm, tender, fullness engulfed her, and it had nothing to do with Bill’s member filling her.
It was that of Bill making her complete.
“That’s it, Billy. Go on,” she encouraged him as she watched him disappear inside her inch by inch. When he was completely inside, Bill let out a satisfied grunt. Her center to hot and tight, Bill never felt so good. All of those teenage fantasies about sex? It was nothing compared to the sensation of being inside Hillary.
“Move please, Billy,” she begged.
And so he did, slowly at first, in short thrusts, allowing her to gradually adjust to his girth. She rolled her hips a little as he did so, trying to sync with his movements.
“Harder, Billy,” she said, her body aching for more.
Hearing this, Bill repeated the thrust, moving faster.
Hillary’s hands skimmed up his stomach and on to his shoulders, gripping them for support. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to adjust and sink further. Billy blinked rapidly at this heavenly sensation. He feared he would lose it soon.
“Harder,” she demanded breathlessly. From a steady pace, Bill doubled his thrusts, his hips smacking loudly against hers. He was calling her name softly, eyes closed as he fucked her harder.
He lifted her legs from his waist, moving them up and over his waist. The new angle let him sink deeper into her and allowed him to grind his pelvis against her clit. Hillary's mouth opened wide at the feeling, and she cried his name loudly after each thrust. She was telling him how close she was, and it only spurred him on.
"Ohhhh… oh shit… I'm cumming! Billy!" she cried out, arching against him. Bill's world went blank as he felt the heat around cock intensify to an inferno. Hillary's walls clamped down on him tightly, and his eyes crossed as he gave a shout, thrusting roughly twice before cumming forcefully inside the condom.
Bill gasped heavily, “Oh my God, Hilly.”
Hillary took a deep breath, her breathing returning to normal. She propped herself up into a sitting position. “I know, Billy. That was wild.”
“Wild is an understatement, Hilly,” Bill chuckled.
“Indeed,” she giggled. “But seriously, I am happy that I get to share this with you, Billy.” She scooted next to him and rested her head on his broad chest. “I love this, Billy. And I love you”
Hillary’s declaration surprised them both. Nevertheless, they were happy it was finally said out loud.
Bill kissed the crown of her head.
“And I love you too, Hilly.”
FINALLY. Boy, it took them quite a while to get there, but they did.
There will be a part III of their date, but it will not involve smut. Just tying up some loose ends. :)
I would have finished this earlier if I hadn't freaked out yesterday because I WILL BE SEEING HILLARY IN AUSTRALIA IN THREE MONTHS! Huhuhuhuhuhuhu. I can't wait to see our girl *sobs*
Anyway, just two chapters left. Thank you to all of you who read my fic!
Chapter 24: Date III
I am so sorry for the delay. Huhuhuhuhu. I have already been working on my Australian visa and tbh, the prospecting of seeing Hillary knocked me off my writing game. :(
I hope you enjoy this chapter. Just the epilogue left!
“And then Joe ran and ran until he literally stepped on a banana and slipped. God, it was so funny!” Hillary could not stop laughing as Bill walked her home. It was already 2:30 am but sleep hasn’t taken them yet. Even the exhaustion from their first lovemaking couldn’t expend all the energy from their bodies. After all, if they had three years worth of catching up to do, would they even sleep?
“Joe, Joe, Joe,” Bill chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve always known he’s a goofball, no matter how charming he is.”
“Agreed. He would have probably stepped on my foot ten times if I agreed to go out with him at the prom,” Hillary mused.
“He’s nice to ask you out after Vince bailed on you,” Bill reflected. “If I could, I would smack Vince in the face for that.”
“There, there you hot-headed stud,” Hillary giggled, loving how fiercely protective her boyfriend was, “even so, you’re thankful that I went out alone. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken me out.”
“I did, I did.”
“I have a question, though.”
Hillary scrunched her face. “Did you cheat when you took my name out of the box? You know, we you guys are asked to draw the name of your dance partner?”
“Well, actually, I was praying that I get your name. The heavens listened, and you ended up dancing with me,” he admitted.
“Fair enough,” she said, “but still, of all people to pick, you picked me.”
“I know. The universe is working overtime to bring us back together.
“You call it universe? I call it fate,” she smiled.
“You think so?”
Hillary nodded. “I do.”
A smile crept up to Bill’s lips. “Fate it is.”
“I believe it was fate that brought me to you when I tapped your shoulder. And it was fate that brought us back together,” Hillary mused.
Intrigued, Bill replied. “Indeed.”
Silence engulfed them both. Not that there was something awkward between them. No, not that. Far from it. They just reveled each other’s presence. They walked hand in hand, arms swinging, looking in every direction. Could there be a moment even perfect than this?
In the midst of their silence, the gears of Hillary’s mind suddenly whirled to life. She had always wondered many things about Pretty Boy Bill Clinton she never thought she could ask him. But now things have suddenly changed, maybe she could.
"I've been meaning to ask you this," Hillary hesitated.
"Fire away, my Darlin'" he encouraged her.
She bit her lip. "How did you manage to stay with Kellyanne for so long? I mean, she's a horrible, horrible human being, and I use the term 'human being' in the loosest sense possible," she said and prompted Bill to suppress his laughter. "Hey, it's true!" Hillary said defensively, swatting his arm. "And in time, I just assumed that you've become a horrible, horrible person to be able to withstand her. But you aren't, Billy. So tell me: how did you survive Kellyanne?"
Bill focused his gaze on the pavement, thinking it hard and through. "I don't know how I did it actually. Maybe I convinced myself that I to am a horrible person that's why I managed to survive two years with her. In a way, I'm kinda punishing myself for what I did to you," he said regretfully. "And I too had grown to hate you because that's the only way I could live with myself. But to be honest, picking fights with you had always been such fun. I love it," he grinned.
"Then I shouldn't probably give you any," she punched him affectionately.
Bill's face suddenly gloomed. "Is that for real or...?"
"Of course I'm just kidding!" Hillary giggled, wrapping his arm around his waist. "Fighting with you is like playing a multi-dimensional chess. Challenging, but I love it."
"So does that mean we're gonna be fighting in the immediate future?"
"It depends," Bill shrugged. "I wouldn't mind fighting with you, as long as I get a kiss at the end of the day."
"I think that depends how pissed I am at you."
"Fair enough," he conceded. What if I made you really, really pissed?" Bill loved to challenge her.
"Maybe it's you who should give me a kiss," she teased.
"I'd like that too," Bill grinned.
"I didn't say where I'd like you to kiss me, though," she let out a mischievous grin.
"I'd kiss you either way," Bill said, excited at the prospect. "So, would you like us to fight now?"
"Ha! No, it's too soon."
"Oh well," he shrugged. "Since you asked me a very personal question, I'd ask you one too."
Hillary raised a brow. "Okay..."
"You told me you had a fling in New York. Care to tell more?"
"Aren't you such a gossip man?" Her eyes were reduced to slits.
"Except that I am your boyfriend now and I am going to keep that to myself," he cheekily replied.
Hillary sighed. "Oh well, I guess I should tell you. I haven't event old Betsy about this."
"Okay," Bill tried to calm himself from the excitement and the gravity of what she was about to say.
"Last summer, my Dad's friend heard that I wanted to pursue law school, so he invited me to work for him at his firm in New York. Not very heavy on the legal stuff. Just doing what ordinary clerks do. Typing, filing, transcribing. I even proofread their documents. But it was a very eye-opening experience for me. That summer job cemented my desire to become a lawyer. If you'd read some of the cases they've handled - fired employers against their bosses, poor people who couldn't pay their rent, battered women suing their husbands - you would be very touched. Or at least, I was. I saw the law as a way to help people being oppressed, as a way to level the playing field that was stacked against them."
"Wow. Sounds like a very worthwhile experience," said Bill in awe.
"It was because that's where I met Andrew, a third-year law student from Harvard."
"A third-year law student?" Bill gasped, "he must be over twenty, and you're barely eighteen."
"Twenty-five, in fact. An eight-year age gap. But I didn't mind it at all. He treated me like an adult. He respected my views and opinions. For him, I was his equal. He really made me feel special."
"He sounds like a keeper," said Bill, feeling a hint of jealousy towards the guy.
"He was. I really thought I fell for him. We would always go out for dates and tour New York. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked him."
"And then what happened?"
Hillary sighed. "One night, we think we're ready to take things to the next level, so he invited me to his apartment. I was excited, in more ways than one. I counted myself lucky because I'd lose my virginity to someone I trust. I thought I could handle it. But when I was about to do the deed, I chickened out."
"What do you mean, you chickened out?"
"I backed out. I told him I couldn't do it, no matter how much I liked him. Still seemed to be a big step, you know?"
"I get what you feel. Always feels that way whenever Kellyanne wants to go to third base."
"Ewwww," Hillary scrunched her face. "I get that you don't have a better example to use but it's still disgusting."
Bill laughed, drawing her closer. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, you're the first girl who got to my third and fourth base."
"Do I get a prize?"
"I think the fourth base itself is the prize," Bill winked.
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Anyway, back to my story. I chickened out, and then Andrew was incredibly frustrated, and I don't blame him for it. But I felt guilty, so I told him to teach me how to do oral sex. We were at it all night, but I think I did a decent job. He came pretty hard, from what I could tell."
"Andrew did a heck of a job teaching you, that's for sure," Bill remarked. "You were incredible, Hilly. I don't think anyone can even top that."
"Well, you have nothing else to compare to, so I'll take it," she winked.
"Exactly, you're incomparable." Bill leaned down and closed his lips to hers, his searing kiss made her toes curl.
"Damn, somebody's jealous," Hillary teased when they parted.
"A little," he admitted, "but hey, I am the one who got lucky with you."
"That's true. Keep talking," she giggled. "Well, I'd like to be lucky again," Bill suggested.
Hillary giggled. "I doubt that's gonna happen."
"Why not? Don't I deserve it?" he coaxed her.
"Billy, as much as I wanted to, we already are in front of my house. I don't think my parents will be happy to see me blowing my newly-minted boyfriend, do you?"
"I like the sound of that. 'Newly-minted boyfriend'. But you're right. We shouldn't be careless."
"Maybe later," she said. "So, it's goodbye then?"
"Yeah, I had a fun night. Did you have fun?"
"Let's see. I have a new boyfriend and he was good in bed. Yeah, I had fun."
"I am glad," Bill grinned.
"I'm gonna call Mom or Betsy to open the door for me, okay?" Hillary dialed her Mother's number first. She had patiently waited for someone to pick up but nothing came.
"Mom must have slept. I'll dial Betsy.” Hillary tried again. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Hillary had lost count until a cool female voice said on the receiver: The subscriber you’re calling is busy at the moment. Please try again later. Thank you.
Then, Hillary gave up.
“Both of them are asleep,” Hillary said as she slipped her phone into her pocket. “What am I going to do?”
“I can wait with you until they open the door. It’s too dangerous if you’re left outside,” Bill offered.
“But what about you? Do you need sleep?”
“I can stay up all night,” Bill grinned.
“I swear you meant it in a different context,” Hillary pinched his cheek.
“Guilty as charged,” Bill raised up his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “But I swear, I can stay with you until your folks wake up. I don’t mind losing sleep. And besides, we have a lot to catch up to.”
“Fair point.” Hillary grabbed Bill’s hand and pulled him towards their porch, leading him on to the swing sitting there. She sat on the swing and pulled her legs up into a lotus position. “It’s already 3 AM. Mom would be up in two hours.”
“Alright.” Bill sat next to her. The swing was hung high enough that he was able to swing his legs.
“You look like a kid doing that,” Hillary noticed his legs swinging.
“Do I? I didn’t get much time at the park playing. Oftentimes, I had to help my Mom in working,” Bill recalled.
It was the first time Hillary heard of this. “So you didn’t play much around when you were a kid? What did you do?”
“A lot of jobs. Newspaper boy, mowing the neighbor’s lawn, a bagger at the grocery. Anything to help make ends meet. I always remember jealously looking at the kids playing at the park when I pass by them.”
“So that’s why you looked very happy when we went out to the park three years ago. I remember seeing you so happy in the swings. You were practically glowing. I kinda thought you looked cute being so happy back then but this explains why.” Hillary laced her fingers around his, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Yep,” he confirmed.
“Can I ask you another personal question?”
Bill nodded as he kissed her forehead. “Sure.”
“What’s gonna happen to you now? I mean you, and your mom and stepdad and college…”
Bill sighed. “Pappaw is gonna take care of Roger now. I do not like the idea of living away from my little brother, but I do not have the capacity to support him and I can trust Pappaw to take care of him. That is because Mom and Daddy are looking at least seven years in jail time for the charges against them.”
Hillary was aghast. “Seven years?!”
He nodded. “Yeah. Turns out they’ve been doing pretty bad stuff. Or at least according to the prosecutors. We can’t hire better lawyers because they charge as high as a thousand per hour. I am so frustrated that only rich people can have access to good legal counsel and us poor people can’t. I wanted to sell my stuff to afford a good lawyer but I could probably only buy them for a few hours.”
Hillary was shocked to learn about this. She didn’t realize how much he was hurting when all the while he was pursuing her.
“And that,” he continued, “made me cement my resolve to become a lawyer. To be of help to the poor.”
Hillary couldn’t have been prouder of her new boyfriend. He was a picture of strength in adversity. Life seemed to have thrown everything at him, but he never backed down.
“Then I’ll be with you in that goal then,” Hillary snuggled closer to him.
“Thank you. And I want you to promise one thing, Hilly.”
“I want us to go to law school together. And graduate together,” he said. “No matter what happens, whether we’re still together or not, I want you to be with me on my journey.”
Hillary was deeply touched. “Of course. I’d be glad to be with you.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead again, making her feel warm and fuzzy.
“I have another question, though,” said Hillary.
“Where are you going to college? You haven’t told anybody yet,” she asked.
A small smile formed on his lips.
“Before I left my house yesterday, a letter arrived, confirming my acceptance. And I think I’d go there.”
Hillary was left hanging in suspense. “Where?”
Bill’s smile widened. “Georgetown.”
It took three seconds for the news to register to Hillary’s brain. When it finally sunk in, she threw herself at him, holding him as tightly as humanly possible.
“Oh Billy! I am so proud of you!” she said, breathing against his neck.
“Thanks, Hilly. I’m so happy when I read the letter,” he said.
“You deserve it, Billy! You totally do,” she kept saying. “I am the proudest girlfriend in the world right now.”
“Awwww, shucks, Hilly,” Bill began to blush as he pulled away from her. “You praise me too much.”
“And there’s gonna be more where that came from,” she said, “I’ve got three years of insults that I need to make up for.”
“But Hilly, you don’t need to. I insulted you as well.”
Hillary hugged him back. “I don’t care. I’m still gonna shower you with praises because you don’t get a lot of it. At least from me, you don’t.”
“Alright. I guess nothing could stop you. But I won’t hold back on the praises for you, either,” Bill offered a compromised.
“Deal,” she said. “As long as you stay with me.”
The hours seemed to travel fast, even occasionally, they would yawn or fall asleep. They waited for the sun to rise as they still talked and talked and talked. Their never-ending cycle of talking and yawning was only broken when Dorothy emerged from the front door in her nightgown.
“Hillary! How long have you’ve been here?” said her mother, aghast.
“Since two or three?” Hillary rubbed her eyes.
“Hi Mrs. Rodham,” Bill greeted.
“Hi, Bill.” Dorothy then turned to Hillary. “You should have called.”
“I did. I called you and Betsy, but nobody was answering.”
“Oh,” Dorothy feigned her ignorance. In truth, she and Betsy turned their phones to silent mode so that Hillary would be forced to stay with Bill. In a way, this was a test for Bill, and Dorothy was secretly glad to fight out that he passed with flying colors.
“Ah, well. Come inside dear. Better take a shower before your father finds out.” Hillary obeyed her mother and hurried towards the door. As for Bill, when his girlfriend was finally inside, he stood up from the swing and prepared himself to go home.
“I’ll be taking my leave, Mrs. Rodham,” Bill tried to suppress his yawn. “It’s been a long day.”
“Naturally,” Mrs. Rodham chuckled. “Why don’t you sleep for a couple of hours and then join us for breakfast?”
Bill’s face reddened. “Oh! It’s not a bother, Mrs. Rodham. I am good.”
“Oh I insist,” Dorothy said. “And then you kids can all go church afterward. Hillary and Betsy will be thrilled to have you join them”
“Oh well,” Billy scratched his neck bashfully, “I’ll be up for breakfast then. Thanks, Mrs. Rodham.”
“Call me Dorothy, for now on, will you?”
“Alright. Thanks, Dorothy. I’ll be going home now.”
“See you for breakfast, Bill.”
As Bill left the Rodham house, he tried to remember what he did in the past life to be this fortunate. Sure, he was still in deep shit, but he had a new girlfriend who’s nothing short of perfect, whose family liked him and a budding future.
Or perhaps, he was just lucky.
It is well at every given moment to seek the limits in our lives.
And once those limits are understood
To understand that limitations no longer exist.
Earth could be fair. And you and I must be free
Not to save the world in a glorious crusade
Not to kill ourselves with a nameless gnawing pain
But to practice with all the skill of our being
The art of making possible.
The class of 2004 stood up with a roaring applause when Hillary stepped down from the podium and shook hands with all the school officials and guests in the stage after she wrapped up her inspiring and challenging speech. Her speech buckled the tradition of heart-warming and congratulatory speeches delivered by commencement speakers, all class valedictorians, through the years. Her speech, instead, focused on challenging their class to break the norms, to the leaders and agents of change, to speak out for what they believed in. It made several people in the room squirm, including another speaking at their graduation, but Hillary didn’t care. The class was with her, and it was all she needed.
When Hillary went back to her seat in the audience, Bill caught her eye and the first thing he did was to mouth, “Congrats. I love you,” to her. She prayed that she didn’t blush in front of her classmates and parents. Good thing she was a shortie and the heights of the other students obscured the view of the parents who were sitting at the back, some of who were shaking their heads and clicking their tongues for her speech that they thought was radical and subversive.
When the graduation ceremony concluded, the students ripped their mortarboards off their heads and threw them up in the air, watching them fall to the ground like snow. Hillary, Bill, Betsy, John, Joe, Jill, Al, and Tipper all converged to a corner of the school grounds for their last group hug as high school students.
“I love so much guys,” said Hillary.
“Me too,” seconded Betsy.
“Me three,” concurred Joe.
“You guys are the best”, said Jill.
“Spring break again, next year?” asked John.
“Definitely. And I’ll be joining you this time around,” said Bill.
“Cancun pleaaaaase,” begged Hillary.
“YES PLEASE,” said Tipper.
“If we can bring our baby,” Betsy rubbed her huge belly. She was due in five months.
“You can leave your baby with Mom. She’s excited to have another baby around. It’s been too long,” Hillary assured.
“Yay!” exclaimed an excited Betsy.
“I must say, Hillary,” Joe said, “you were amazing in that speech, Hillary. You blew me away!”
The girls, except for Hillary, were uniformly horrified by what Joe had just said, and Bill, John, and Al jumped in front of Hillary like Secret Service, intimidating Joe.
“Heh! Sorry,” Joe squeaked, sweating bullets.
“Uhm, guys, what’s happening?”
“Let’s just say Joe’s a pervert,” Bill said with gritted teeth.
“Ewwww, Joe!” Hillary remarked in disgust, blissfully unaware of Joe’s ‘offense’.
“Anyway,” Bill tried to change the topic, “let’s get changed and then party at my house later?”
“Yes!” the group roared in delight.
“You all know your assignments, right?” Bill reminded them.
“Cookies! And cake!” Hillary and Betsy raised their hands.
“Mac and cheese!” Al said. “My mom makes the best pasta!”
“A truckload of chips and a variety of dips,” said Jill.
“Popcorn and fries!” Tipper volunteered.
“Condoms!” Joe joked.
The guys held on to their girlfriends, and Jill backed off from Joe a bit.
“Heh? Sorry again?” Joe squeaked.
28 years later, Hilton Hotel, Washington D.C.
“Most likely to divorce: Bill Clinton and Hillary Rodham. Now where did that come from?!” Bill, now President Clinton, read passages from their yearbook as the audience, comprising of his classmates, howled with laughter. They were having their reunion in one of the poshest hotels in DC, and everybody was present, except for Donald Trump, who was in jail for orchestrating Ponzi scheme in New York, and Kellyanne Conway, who was just indicted for lying to the FBI to protect Trump. Her minions, Tomi and Ann, were still blond and practically indistinguishable from each other. They went viral on the internet when they posted a video of themselves crying when Phyllis Schlaffy died. The video got ten million hits, with the majority of the viewers laughing at them.
“You just voted us to piss us off!” said Bill on the microphone.
“BECAUSE NOBODY COULD BELIEVE THAT YOU DATED HILLARY RODHAM, YOU ASS!” Joe shouted from the back.
“Hey, shut up, Joe. Like you’re the one to talk!” Bill called out Joe.
“We still can’t believe she hasn’t left you!” another classmate shouted from another corner of the room.
Hillary silently giggled in her seat. True, true, she hasn’t left him. Or maybe she would. She had always told people that she would live Bill after he finished serving his third term as president.
“Hey, you and me buddy, you and me,” was Bill’s response. Indeed, he couldn’t believe that she still hadn’t left her. Through ups and downs, he had still been with him. There had been episodes that they thought they couldn’t make it, but in the end, their love had always seen them through.
The crowd roared with laughter, lifting their glasses to toast to their most famous classmate.
“To Bill,” said one of their classmates.
“To Bill!” everybody followed. Hillary, who was sitting on the table closest to the stage, was beaming at her husband, bursting with pride.
As she gulped her red wine, she couldn’t help but reminisce for far she and Bill had come since that fateful day at the cafeteria. Never in a million years did she think that after that incident, she could one day be his wife, let alone the First Lady of the United States. Each day with Bill was filled with a different adventure. Never a boring moment with him. She as proud to stand alongside him every step of the way. She wouldn’t trade a second away from Bill even with all the gold in the world.
Once Bill’s speech was done, he went down from the stage and stood next to her, kissing her on the cheek. She was looking at him the same way she looked at him during their wedding, and every day since. The passion, the desire was never lost. And Bill, he never failed to make her feel special. He was her President, her Chief Counsel, and Secret Service all rolled up into one. And not to mention, her very own chef. Even with his duties as President, he had always seen to it that he had ample time to listen and attend to her. Constant communication, he thought, was the key to a long and lasting marriage.
“That was amazing, Billy,” Hillary whispered in his ear as the crowd went to the dance floor for a 2000’s style prom dancing.
“I’m glad you liked it, Hilly. I thought I came off too smug,” he said.
“Nah, you deserve it. You’re the President after all. Presidential privileges,” she teased.
“I figured out as much,” he chuckled. “Say, why don’t we go to the dance floor, for old time’s sake?”
“Do you need to pick my name from a box or something?” she giggled.
“Nope. I think I’m good,” Bill rubbed his hands. “Shall we?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Hillary raised a brow.”
Bill buttoned his tux and rubbed his palms once more. He stroked his belly, creating friction against the cloth of the coat. Once he felt that his hands were warm enough, Hillary extended her hand to him. At the slightest touch of their fingers, static electricity surged between them, causing them both to jump.
“See Hilly? We still have spark,” Bill quipped.
“I know,” said Hillary who was shaking the last traces of electricity off her hand. She was a little shaken but very much amused. “God, Billy. You rubbed your belly extra hard this time.”
“Yeah. Or maybe it has extra stored energy from all the fat deposited in there?” he joked.
“Oh, that is a very likely explanation. Good thing nobody has mistaken you for being pregnant instead of me,” she retorted.
“Why would anyone mistake you for being pregnant?” Bill asked indignantly. It took a full three seconds for him to realize what he just had said, and when he did, his eyes were huge as saucers. Hillary was smiling as if she was hiding something.
“Honey,” Bill was already shaking. “Are you pregnant?”
Hillary shrugged, still smiling. “Oh, I don’t know Honey. I just have a vague recollection of us having unprotected sex on our first night at the White House. I don’t know what to make of that.”
Amused at Bill’s reaction and enjoying his torture, Hillary left for the dance floor, but not without sneakily leaving a pregnancy test in his hand.
When Hillary was gone from his sight, it was only then when Bill had the courage and faculty to look at what Hillary just handed him.
Bill’s heart stopped.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of who have read, gave kudos, commented and asked me regularly for updates (you know who you are!) I cannot believe this story is over. I'm going to miss it because it's so much fun to write.
Special thanks to these people:
- to medeanotdido for being such a wonderful teacher and rant partner. LOL
- the Hillippines GC on WhatsApp (you know who you are!) for the endless everyday fangirling
And before I end this, I'd like to mention that the sequel to I Love Mondays is underway, and so are the third chapters of I Can Never Live Without You and The Spoils of War. I just need to decide which I should finish first. Or maybe you can tell me in the comments. LOL.
P.S. Please pray for me so that my Australian visa will get approved. I won't be able to see Hillary if I don't get my visa approved. :(