This Is Our Story Ch. 06

"I don't know why you always stick up for him," Jordan said over the lot of those urging them to get started onto their individual projects.

"Maybe Heather's trying to photoshop Conner into a hottie of her own," laughed Siobhan.

"I'm not... I just... Look, he's done a good job as editor. And maybe he's a little awkward sometimes, but he says he was... Well, whatever he says, I believe him. Way more than I do you, anyway, Jordan."

But Jordan was still riffing on Siobhan's taunt. "Oh man, please do not switch me and him - I couldn't handle future generations seeing my name next to that pasty, skinny, pussy's face."

As Jordan's cronies in the yearbook howled at his use of invective, Conner finally rounded the corner into the room. There were some snickers, some mumbled insults that he chose to ignore, and he was even pleased to see a few people seeming to look relieved his arrival had put an end to the discussion.

"Sorry I'm running late, everybody. Now, let's talk assignments, and we can get to work."

He ran down his list to make sure everyone knew their roles. Photographers for the cross country meet after school, someone to cover the jazz band concert Saturday afternoon, and so on. Like always, the meeting ran smoothly. Whatever he might think of their loyalties, Conner's staff was attentive to detail and did what was asked of them. Maybe Miss C was right and he didn't delegate enough, but he was at least pleased that when he did, they rose to the challenge.

"Anything else for the good of the order?" he asked in his usual fashion.

"Oh, actually," DeShaun spoke up, "Miss C had a meeting, but she said we need somebody to start getting the yearbook staff spread ready."

"It's kind of a big deal," said one of the underclassmen.

"It sure is - I'm on it," said Conner. This was always one of the most important spreads, not so much for the yearbook itself, but because it was what the staff used at the end of the year to reminisce over their struggles and achievements, to relive the process of the process. He remembered last year's end of the year party, sitting down with the old staff to watch "Fond Memories of Fond Memories," a long and richly detailed series of photos from the year. With the tech now available, they were even holding on to those pics for class reunions years down the road.

"Actually, Miss C said you should assign it to one of us," DeShaun said. "You got enough on your plate, right man?"

Conner looked around, waiting briefly for a volunteer, but privately he didn't want one. "Seeing nobody else begging for it, I'll take it off your hands. All right, everybody knows what they need to do - get to it."

Nobody fought him on it, so the meeting concluded and the staff went their separate ways. Most settled in the computer lab to work on a spread in TIOS, Marissa and Danielle headed off to the darkroom to develop some film, while Jordan, Don, and Caitlyn checked out cameras to go get some candid shots. (At least, that's what they said; they may well just go roam the halls. Conner tried not to worry about it.)

Conner himself hunkered down in the editor's office, leaving the door into Miss C's room open to invite anyone who needed help to come in. He double-clicked the TIOS icon on the computer's home screen and logged in. From there, he immediately opened a new spread, smiling as he tentatively entitled it, "The Story of Our Story." In minutes, he'd dredged up some photos from the past few months of work and began tagging them. He was relieved to be creating something with TIOS that, for once, held no promise of changing the universe. The thrill of stitching memories together was enough to let him forget the names Hailey and Hayleigh and Angelica altogether.

Adding quotes was trickier, of course; he'd probably have to do some video exploration for that, and do some asking to see if anyone remembered particulars. Conner uploaded a picture of him, Miss C, and Heather clustered around a table looking at the results of Heather's photo shoot for flag girl tryouts. A little grin stole over his face as his mind went back to that day, to how he'd been trying his hardest to not look down Heather's shirt as she bent over the photos. With breasts like those, it hadn't been easy. Size-wise, she put Hayleigh McKnight to shame, though she didn't flaunt it nearly so much.

He's a good editor, said her voice, echoing into his mind.Whatever he said, I believe him. He went ahead and added the quote, though TIOS responded with a suggested revision.Look, he's done a good job as editor. And maybe he's a little awkward sometimes, but he says he was... Well, whatever he says, I believe him. Way more than I do you, anyway, Jordan. Conner shuddered at the reminder of what whatever it was that empowered TIOS, and trimmed the revision to the part he wanted to remember. TIOS apparently agreed with Miss C's policy on quote editing - if it arrives at the same point, it's probably the same quote.

There it was, in a small text box in the margins.He's done a good job as editor... Whatever he says, I believe him. Conner smiled. There was no compliment as high as one given behind your back. She'd actually defended him to Jordan! Could it be that dating Heather Blake wasn't such a pipe dream after all?

Entering the quote, however, ended his brief hiatus from thinking about recent events in his love life. Did he still want to be with Heather? After all, Hailey was proving to be willing to satisfy all of his sexual needs and then some. She was incredibly attractive, and submissive in a way he'd never thought a woman could be. He had little doubt he could ask for something and have her deny him. Hell, she'd boasted as much herself.

So why did he still find himself thinking about Heather?

Physically, she was easily a match for Hailey, at least in Conner's book. Undeniably pretty, a classic blonde-haired blue-eyed bombshell. She was fairly short and a bit rounder, which some guy's might find unattractive, but she wasn't actually fat. It was just dimpled cheeks and soft curves for days - to say nothing of those breasts. Whether or not a given guy was into her, he would concede that those things were a living legend. Owen had told him once that he had it on good authority she had to custom order her bras on the internet because lingerie stores didn't carry her size. That her cup size was close to being in the second half of the alphabet. Conner took it as an exaggeration, but they were definitely more than merely big. They were living monuments to the female form.

But it wasn't just the physical. If the goal was simply to hook up with a hot girl, he'd done that. He could do it again as soon as school was out. But Heather Blake had always been his ideal. She was sweet, intellectual, had a big heart. She volunteered with the special ed kids, was on good terms with the popular kids but best friends with her own kind. She was churchy, which his family was not, but she didn't thrust it in anyone's face or exclude people who were different. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, and as he'd just seen, wouldn't sit idle and listen to those who did. The past week with Hailey had been great in a lot of ways, but Heather? She was...

Standing in the doorway of his office. He quickly hit the save button and gave her his attention.

"Conner, you have a minute?"

"Sure, come on in - have a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch. The very same couch Miss C had found Hailey's panties on the other day. He knew everyone was curious, but naturally nobody had owned up to it. She settled onto the couch, and from the way she inspected her cushion before doing so, he knew she was thinking about the incident. "I think it's safe now."

She laughed. "Yeah, just... ew, right?"

"Seriously," he agreed, though his own feelings on the incident couldn't be further from the truth. What could hotter than watching Hailey in her hot new body quivering with pleasure on the end of his fingers?

Heather lowered her voice, glancing at the crack she'd left in the door. "Do you know who it was? Does Miss C?"

"Beats me," Conner lied. "For all I know, it was Miss C and she's just pretending to be mad as a cover."

Heather giggled. "A teacher? Oh, yuck. Can you imagine?"

Conner could imagine. Miss C was one of the prettiest teachers in school, and he was far from the only student who'd treated himself to a daydream or two about what she'd look like in her panties. He laughed away the thought. "No kidding. But no, I haven't heard anything. Have you?"

She shook her head. "I have my suspicions, but nothing concrete. I'm glad she cracked down though. That's really gross. You... you didn't actuallyhear anything about it being Miss C, did you?"

"Oh god no," he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to happen was have that sort of rumor get out. Miss C was easily his favorite teacher, and would be even if she didn't look like she did. "I'm sure she had nothing to do with it."

Heather looked relieved. "Thank goodness. That'd be just too... yeesh."

"Definitely. Anyway, I assume you didn't come in to gossip about the mysterious couch undies. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing big. Miss C popped in - and back out - and told me I should work on the yearbook staff spread with you. Just to 'broaden the input,' I think she called it."

Conner forced himself not to frown. This was a priority for him, and he was notoriously possessive about his pet projects. "Really? Oh. Well... sure. I mean, yeah, why not, right?"

Heather instantly discerned the source of his trepidation and rushed to empathize. "I know you don't like having anyone looking over your shoulder, and I'm sure that's not why she asked me to help. I think she just figured we get along, and if we put our heads together..."

As always, she knew how to say the right thing. "Yeah, totally. And with heads like ours, right?" Was that flirting? He wasn't sure if complimenting her head counted. Maybe later he could try it on Hailey and see how gaga she went over it.

Flirting or no, he was rewarded with that smile. "Right. So did you wanna get started today, or save it for next week?"

Conner's eyes darted to his monitor, where the spread was already begun and her quote was center screen. She couldn't quite see it from her angle, but how embarrassing would it be if she knew he'd been eavesdropping? "Let's do next week? I gotta finish doing Miss C's taxes."

He'd meant it as a joke, but Heather's eyes widened. "Seriously? Oh my gosh, she has you doing her taxes?!" In a blink, she was out of her seat and at his side. "Is that even legal?"

"I was, um, kidding," he stuttered as she took in the screen. She was bent over the opposite side of the desk, leaning on her palm. Her face was no more than six inches away from his; even at the end of the day, his nostrils were still filled with the soft floral aroma of her lotion. "I was just getting some... you know. Basics."

Heather blushed to have been so gullible. "Oh gosh, I feel so stupid." Then she processed what she was seeing. Conner wanted to delete it, but she'd already seen it. No going back now. "Oh. Um... You heard that, huh?"

Conner couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. "Yeah. I didn't mean to. I was in the hall and I heard you guys, and I... I dunno. I'm sorry."

She was quiet a long moment. "I remember that," she said finally, gesturing to the picture. "That was the first week of school, right?"

He nodded. "Yep. Flag girl tryouts."

"I remember that." She gave him a lopsided grin. "I remember you were totally checking me out, too."

In an instant, Conner's cheeks were on fire. "No I wasn't!"

Like that, her grin vanished. "Oh. I'd have sworn... well, nevermind." She stood back up; with her no longer so close, he could breathe again. "Well if you heard that, then hopefully you heard the rest. Be careful after school, OK? Jayce can be kind of single-minded when it comes to Hayleigh, and for whatever reason, she's decided she has it in for you."

"Thanks. Don't worry about me - I've got a blackbelt in bully evasion."

"They have...? Huh. Well good." She walked over to the door. "Don't feel weird, Conner. I'm OK. Are you OK?"

He forced a faint smile. "I'm OK."

"Good. So, um, you have a good evening, all right?"

"You too, Heather."

His head hit the desk before the door even closed.

He did not, in fact, get jumped by Jayce after school. The fact that he stayed a whole half hour late hiding out in the editor's office probably helped. In uncharacteristically understanding fashion, both Angelica and Owen said they didn't mind. That whole time, and the many hours that evening spent staring at the ceiling over his bed, was devoted to replaying the whole mortifying scenario in his head on loop. Heather had caught him red-handed nursing his crush on her. The quote, the picture, the lie... It was all too much. He couldn't even make himself answer Hailey's increasingly needful texts. Every time he glanced at his phone, Heather's voice was there to pull him back through the wringer.

It was on about the seventieth time that he saw past his shame and to the stranger issue. Namely: Heather had been acting kind of... stupid.

For many people, he'd have just chalked it up to sarcasm he hadn't caught, or just having a so-called "blonde moment." He'd had a few himself. But Heather didn't. She especially didn't have them one after another. She'd had to make sure he was joking about the panties belonging to Miss C. Her reaction to the taxes joke. How as soon as he'd said he hadn't been ogling her, she dropped it in an instant. After the week he'd had, he was primed to look for TIOS in all the oddities of life, and this one was more obvious than most.

Whatever he'd said, she'd believed.

Could it be that simple? Could a piece of software really take a few words out of someone's mouth and make them part of their behavior henceforth? It had swapped two girls' bodies and brought his stepsister from college to high school. Why not this too? Only, if his putting that quote in a spread had rendered Heather utterly gullible to him...

Angelica.

"Son of a..."

It was well after dark when he heard her make up a story for their parents about her plans for the evening; her dad quoted her a curfew, which he had never before done. But she was a high schooler now, and high school girls had curfews. Conner peered out through a crack in his blinds, and was relieved to see her hop in her car and drive off.

He was less relieved when, not two minutes later, he saw her jogging down the sidewalk on the far side of the street and dash into Owen's back yard.

"Son of a...!"

Conner grabbed his shoes and hurried to the door, telling his parents he was going to Owen's. Same curfew warning. He darted across the street, making his way around to the back of the house and leaning down to peer in one of the basement windows, the one he knew would afford him the best view of the downstairs living room.

There she was. There he was. Conner watched in a combination of rapt fascination and horror at the events unfolding before his eyes. Owen, however, happened to look up just then and caught sight of his friend peeping in the window. Conner couldn't hear him, but he didn't need to.

"Son of a bitch!"