Whatever She Needs: Devious (7/?) - Degrassi, PG-13

“Today we’ll be discussing the significance of viral video and the role it plays in media, especially politics.” Snake was pacing nervously back and forth across the classroom, but he couldn’t stop. Story of his life lately.

“Can anyone”—just then Darcy walked into the room, fashionably late as usual. She cast him a shy smile and he could feel his face heating up. All of this within a split second—“give me a recent example of this?” A few hands shot into the air; from the looks on their faces, no one noticed how flustered he had suddenly become. “Yes, Derek, go ahead.”

Snake proceeded to space out completely while Derek was talking, zeroing in on Darcy instead. Absentmindedly, he reached up to touch his lips—they still tasted faintly of her berry-flavored lip gloss—and remembered the kiss from only five hours before. It was Darcy who had finally pulled away—just as he had placed both hands on her slender waist, giving himself wholly over. She chose that moment to end it, fueling his shame and fear. “I’m sorry,” he had blurted reflexively.

She had smiled, then, temporarily subduing his paranoia. “Don’t be.” She leaned in one last time to plant a quick kiss on his lips. Snake had resisted the urge to pull her towards him, wrap his arms around her, prevent her from ever leaving. Seconds later, she was at the door, her bright green bag slung casually over one shoulder. “I’ll see you in class later,” she had said, turning, flashing a sly grin before stepping out into the hallway.

“Mr. Simpson?” Like that, he was cruelly swept back to the present, and it was Darcy speaking to him yet again.

“Yes?” he said, though in his mind he could have sworn he squeaked.

“What do you want us to do now?” It dawned on him that twenty-five pairs of eyes were staring at him expectantly.

“Well,” he began, struggling to keep his cool, “I want you all to start working on your next project, which will involve combining your knowledge of news media and viral video on sites like YouTube. You’ll have the rest of the period to brainstorm about what topic you’d like to research.” He said all this while trying to make eye contact with each of his students—all except Darcy. It was just too difficult. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask me,” he concluded, and sat down at his desk, hiding behind his monitor.

Barely five minutes passed before he sensed footsteps approaching him. “I have a question about the assignment,” she stated matter-of-factly. Then, in a much softer tone: “Can I see you after school today?” Snake felt a wave of panic and surveyed the room. Nearly all the students were wearing headphones to hear the sound of their videos, and several of them were chatting with each other at the same time. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, smiling.

“It’s in my nature,” Snake quietly replied. “You’ll get to learn that about me,” he added, then internally kicked himself for the deeper implications of his remark. Darcy only continued smiling in that sensual way that could have knocked him over, had he not been sitting already. He motioned to his monitor. “After school, I’m doing that.”

Darcy leaned in to see, which wasn’t really necessary—and he was certain she knew it, too. Her arm brushed lightly against his and he shivered at the near-contact, wishing her nearer still. “Apartment hunting already?” she asked. He could smell the intoxicating mixture of berry lip gloss and spearmint gum.

“I don’t really see any reason to put it off,” Snake admitted.

She stepped back to a more respectable distance and eyed him seriously before asking in a low tone, “Can I come with you?”

Snake didn’t know how to respond—rather, he knew how he should have responded, or would have responded, in another time when his life wasn’t flipped completely upside-down, when things were boring, but at least they all made sense. So he nodded, and she smiled and returned to her seat and he tried not to think about the fact that he was finding himself in deeper and deeper. The bell rang shortly after that and he barely noticed; the rest of the day drifted by in a surreal blur, nothing worth a damn: only her.

She was waiting for him in the zen garden after school, and he smiled, remembering that this was how it had all began. “Hey,” he said softly, peeking his head through the doorway. “Ready?”

“I don’t know if we can just leave together without anyone getting suspicious,” she admitted.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If anyone asks, I’m giving you a ride home.” She nodded and they walked together out the front doors of the school, down the steps, and across the parking lot to his car, all the while in total silence.

Snake fumbled with his keys before unlocking both doors, and they sat without saying a word as he started the car and drove down the road. After about a minute he turned onto a side street and drove a little bit further before pulling over and turning off the engine. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” he said.

“Do you want to just give me a ride home?” Darcy asked quietly.

Snake sighed. “No.”

They were both silent again. “Do you like me?” Snake didn’t answer, gripping the stirring wheel with both hands even though the car was in park and he hadn’t restarted the engine. No one had asked him that question since junior high. He turned to face her, keeping silent. “Do you, Mr. Simpson? Because I like you,” she said simply. “I like you a lot.”

Her words were bizarre, and he couldn’t help but comment aloud. “That’s just the problem. The words ‘I like you’ and ‘mister’ should never be in the same sentence.”

Darcy smiled; every time she did now, it seemed to grow more devious. “Snake,” she said, and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks once more, “I like you.” She paused. “You do like to be called Snake, right?”

Christine had rarely called him Snake—always Archie. Perhaps it made sense that a grown man shouldn’t be called Snake, but it defined him somehow, and he did like it. “Yes,” he admitted. “It reminds me of when I was young.” Back when his future had seemed hopeful and brighter, even within reach.

“You’re not old,” Darcy told him seriously.

A small laugh escaped him. “Thanks! I appreciate the confirmation.”

“No, I just mean—”

Snake cut her off. “I know what you mean. We’re not going to pretend this problem doesn’t exist. I’m thirty-four, you’re seventeen—”

“It’s seventeen years,” Darcy concluded. “What’s seventeen years?”

“Well, for starters, it’s as long as you’ve been alive. I’m exactly twice your age.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She reached over then to touch his arm, running her fingers gently down its length and stopping at his hand. He let go of the steering wheel and her palm met his. Their fingers interlocked, smooth skin alternating with weathered and freckled. He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. “You never answered my question before,” Darcy murmured, looking up at him.

Snake shifted closer and kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo. Then he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips, lingering there. She squeezed his hand more tightly and he swore he heard a tiny whimper escape her when he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “I like you, too,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers once more.