Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real life events or people are purely coincidental. This story is about love and lust and loss, the three most entertaining things in the world! When deemed necessary, there will be sex. If you are offended by sex, why are you on this website? Get out now. If you are underage and reading this... Well, there's worse stuff you could be doing illegally; you should still hit escape though!!! Rebellious delinquents...
Chapter 6 JAMES
The cold winter wind funneled through the tall towers with a speed that almost blew Ryan over. I laughed as I watched his hood fall off, revealing a head of golden hair. His hair had always fascinated me; it wasn't stiff and straw-like, but it also wasn't dark and brownish. It was golden-- golden just like the statue of Prometheus at Rockefeller Center.
I was in Cancun when my parents told me that they had business in New York. We had to cut our vacation on the beach short, but to make up for it, my parents said that me and a friend could go to New York with them. Obviously, I took Ryan. He's been my friend for so long, and we've been so many places together; he's my first choice every time. I only had a day to find someone to go with me, but Ryan's parents were totally cool with the whole situation. I've been taking him places since like seventh grade, or something; I could take him to Africa to track down Joseph Kony, and his parents wouldn't ask questions.
The trip's gone pretty well, I think. Ryan and I have basically spent the past four days exploring the city. I've walked more today than I think I ever will for the rest of my life. It's hard to get from place to place with all the snow and ice, but Ryan refuses to take taxis. He has this whole mentality that he wants to see New York like a real New Yorker, and "real New Yorkers don't take taxis to get everywhere." So yeah, he's fucking insane.
Last night was New Years Eve, and our hotel overlooks Time Square. My parents, Ryan, and I went to to the hotel bar on the tenth floor and watched the ball drop from there. It's even more insane in person. The shear number of people crammed into such a huge area fucks my brain. Time Square looks huge normally, but when thousands of people are sandwiched in between the skyscrapers, it looks minuscule.
When it turned midnight, I turned and made out with this girl next to me. Ryan just sort of stood there. When me and the girl broke it off, he had that look on his face-- the one where his eyes are narrowed but his one eyebrow is raised. I felt a little shitty. I mean what was I supposed to do? Kiss him? As if. No... I don't think so... Anyways...
So today is Sunday, New Years Day, and my parents have their charity dinner thing. Ryan and I have to go. We have to get all biffed up in suits and ties and cologne and fancy watches. My dad told Ryan and me to go to Bergdorfs and pick out ties. He gave us five hundred bucks. Ryan thought it would be too much, but two hundred dollar ties at Bergdorfs are the cheap ties.
Ryan was trying desperately to haul himself though the wind, snow and ice back to the hotel. It was a shitty day, to say the least, and Ryan was trying very hard to stick to his "no taxi" policy. Dumbass. The wind sprayed sharp ice into our faces, and the slush on the sidewalk seeped into our shoes. Ryan kept walking though. He was so thin, it seemed like the wind was going to knock him over, but he just kept marching.
"Can I get us a taxi, already?" I asked as he slumped against the wall of a building to rest.
His face was red from the wind, and his eyes were a frosty blue. He was shivering a little.
"N-n-no. We can m-m-make it," his teeth chattered.
I slouched next to him; his body was shaking.
"Dude, c'mon. This is fucking insane. TAXI!"
"N-no!"
It was too late. I had my hand wrapped around Ryan's skinny wrist, and I pulled him into the taxi with me. I told the cab driver where to go before turning to my retarded best friend. His nose was pink.
"I promise I won't tell anyone we took a cab," I winked.
"Fuck off," he breathed.
The back of the cab was cramped, and Ryan's shoulder rested on mine. He hadn't dressed that warm. He had on a polo shirt, a sweater, and a sky blue coat. It wasn't really a coat, though. It was made of cotton, like a sweatshirt, but it had buttons down the front of it-- he got it at Hollister. The coat was damp with melted ice, and I could feel his legs quivering against mine. It also didn't help that Ryan was skinny, and he was without any insulation whatsoever. His cheeks were still pink when the cab pulled up to the hotel.
"Lemme' get it," Ryan mumbled.
I already had the cab fare in my hand. Ryan stammered something as I payed the driver, but I just tugged him from the car and up to our room. He wasn't shivering by the time I asked him for our room key.
"I'm so tired," he yawned.
We had stayed up really late for New Years last night, and he had basically gone through NAM to get back to the hotel. When we got inside our room he collapsed on my bed. I rolled my eyes.
"Fatass, wrong bed. You're gonna' get it all wet! C'mon!"
Ryan wrapped his arms around my pillow and didn't respond.
"At least get out of those clothes," I complained.
No movement.
I really didn't plan on sleeping in a sopping bed tonight. Should I undress him? Should I just move him? He was fast asleep...
I stood over him, and slowly unbuttoned his jacket, but I couldn't get it out of his arms. It was heavy with water.
"Ry, please," I whined.
Taking off his clothes wasn't an option, so I lifted him from my bed to his own. I let him keep my pillow. He was easy to lift, and he curled up in my arms as I carried him. His clothes may have been icy, but I could feel the warmth of of skin-- of his body-- against my own.
When I had pulled the covers over Ryan, I decides to take a shower. The charity dinner was only a few hours away, and I had to look nice. I took a quick look back at my dumb, retarded, fucked up best friend. His cheeks were still pink.
Charity dinners aren't really my thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not, like, against charity, or anything. I think that the money it costs to put together a charity dinner could be better spent if it was invested in the charity. What a novel idea right? Why splurge thousands of dollars on a night of patting yourself on the back, when the objects of your charity are still suffering? The stupidity of others is frustrating.
My parents are big in philanthropy, and this particular charity protects and rescues children who are victims of abuse. They have shelters all over America. My mom took me to the one in Ohio, and I cried when I got home. The stuff those kids have been through... It makes all the petty shit that I have going on in my life seem unimportant.
Tonight, at the dinner, the charity was going to introduce a bunch of kids who had benefited from the charity. There was going to be a live auction, a few speeches, and lots of high class people. Ryan had never been to a charity dinner, so I filled him in on all the things that go on. The dinner was being held in one of our hotel's ballrooms, and I was waiting for Ryan to finish getting dressed.
"You can't rush perfection," he said from the bathroom.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed flipping through the TV.
"We're going to a stupid charity dinner, not fucking Cinderella's ball."
"Charity dinners are important," he insisted.
"Charity is important," I stressed, "the dinners, not so much.
I heard the door unlock and prince charming stepped out. He was wearing a black, Hugo Boss suit that fitted his slim body perfectly. His pants hugged his skinny waist tightly, and his shoes were shiny and well polished. He had a finely pressed white shirt on, and his tie made his indigo eyes explode with color.
"Well?" he asked, smiling.
His blonde hair was wavy, and his teeth were pristinely white.
"Fine. You look fine. Let's go already!"
The ballroom was already crowded with people. Lots of fat men talking to other fat men, and lots of skinny old ladies talking to other skinny old ladies. The ballroom was decorated ornately. There were hundreds of round tables, and at the front of the room, a stage was set up where the guest speakers would sit. On both sides of the stage was a projector screen so that people in the back could see what was happening at the podium. Because my parents were such prominent donors, we had a table near the front.
The tables were elegantly set up with two forks and five spoons and all that shit. When my parents sat down they remarked at how grown up Ry and I looked. Ryan always handled himself well with my parents. He's very mature and grown up; my parents like that. Not that I don't like that either. I'm not saying I don't like that. I do like that. I like that about Ryan. I like Ryan. But not like that. God...
"Nice tie," he said to me, smiling. My tie was yellow with hippos on it.
"You're jealous. You wish you had this tie."
"You caught me."
"You look like a hippo, kinda. You seriously need to lose weight. I wasn't gonna say anything, but it's gotten disgusting."
Ryan laughed, "I'd throw my drink in your face, but I don't have one. Do they come around and take our orders?"
"No, no," I said, "You have to go to the bar and get drinks. I'll go get some. Pepsi?"
"Coke, asshole." Ryan hates Pepsi.
The bar was just outside the ballroom, and, luckily, the line wasn't too long. Most of the people had gone inside to take their seats. I few stragglers remained, however. There was a fat woman, laden with gaudy jewelry, slowly trying to fit her overweight ass through the ballroom doors. Her husband, an even larger specimen, was trying to chat it up with a skinny blonde babe. It was a very one sided conversation. The frail old man in front of me in line was trying to remember what his wife wanted to drink, and off in the corner there was someone else.
Sitting by himself on a plush, scarlet chair was a boy. A boy around my age. He was... Well he was... I don't know... I guess... Hot? Fuck off, I don't know how to describe him. He made my heart beat faster. His hair was red. Not orange. Not fucking strawberry blonde. Red. It was tussled and pushed up in the front as if he had ran his hand through it a thousand times. He was crammed into a tight suit that clearly defined his muscled arms and chest. His cheekbone had a hard look to them, and his eyes... Damn his eyes. They were green. Green like grass in the summer. They were deep, they were thoughtful, and they were staring right at me.
I must have been gaping, because his eyes narrowed at me slightly, but I was captivated-- I couldn't stop staring.
"Sir... Sir... Sir can I help you?" The bartender frowned at me.
"Wha-- Oh, one Coke and one sparkling water, please."
I took my drinks and turned to go back to the table, but...
"Hi."
I swear to fucking God, if I had spilled those drinks on him I would have ran to the Brooklyn Bridge and thrown myself off. I blinked hard, and tried to swallow my nerves.
"Hi," I said blandly.
"You're hot as fuck you know that?"
The fuck?
"Uhh... What?"
He ran his hand through the front of his hair, and shook his head laughing.
"You got a name?" He said it more than he asked it. It was clearly a formality; he didn't give a shit what my name was.
"James. I'm James. You can call me Jamie or--"
"I like James," he grinned, "You're drop dead sexy James."
"Thanks-- I mean, I don't--"
"What's you're room number? Can I see you later tonight?"
Okay, enough.
"Dude, I'm not into-- into shit like that."
He chuckled.
"Mmmmm, I see. You're not into shit like that."
He reached out with a rough hand and grabbed my now stiffening dick through my thin dress pants.
"Have you even done shit like that? Huh? I bet you haven't big boy. I bet you're all talk. I bet you've never had a thick, smooth cock in your throat. I bet you've never had your tight little ass pounded."
He leaned in close; I could feel his breath in my ear.
"I bet you're a virgin."
I swallowed hard, but he had already let go. He was striding back to his cozy seat where a few other kids were now standing. He didn't even glance back.
I'm not sure how I made it back to my seat. I was dazed. Not so much from the converstaion-- although, the conversation was shocking enough-- but from my reaction. Part of me wanted to... You know... Sleep with him! I still had goosebumps when I handed Ryan his drink.
"Took you long enough," he said.
"Oh-- yeah-- the uhh line was long."
"I guess so," he smiled and took a sip of his Coke.
When the lights dimmed, I was furiously trying to cover up the massive boner that was seeking to burst through my pants. I adjusted my legs all through the opening speech in an attempt to hide my stiff cock. I caught Ryan staring at me, but he just laughed and shook his head. I couldn't help it! I hadn't had sex with Clara since before Cancun! I was horny as fuck!
Yes, that was it. I was just horny. I don't actually want to have sex with the dude; I just wanted to bust a nut. It's natural to feel like that... Right? I mean, sure he's a hot guy, but I wouldn't... He looked so damn strong! His dick was probably huge... No! No! I'm not thinking about that! A twinge of my cock told me otherwise.
"Dude, fucking control yourself. They're talking about kids getting abused by their parents!" Ryan narrowed his eyes at my bulge.
I felt my face redden.
"Now, we are happy to introduce you to some of the children that your donations have helped save. They are alive today because of you! Please, a round of applause."
The whole ballroom was on its feet as, single file, a line of teens and children made their way up to the stage. They were split evenly between boys and girls. I never had time to look the girls over, though. As the kids hiked up the steps to the stage I spotted him. Him. His red hair wasn't as messy, but it still had a careless bounce to it. He looked solemn as he took his place at the front of the stage.
People were still clapping when the host of the dinner began talking again.
"These kids each have a story to tell, and they all are going to tell you one. I would ask you to hold your applause until the end. These kids have been through more than anyone in this room will go through in a lifetime. Their stories are moving, but they are also insightful. This is not Hollywood, this is not a soap opera. Life, for these kids has been hard, it's been rough, and it's been very real. They are the bravest people I know, and I hope they make the same impression on you as they did on me."
A short round of applause followed.
"Hello, my name is Isabel Rainier," the youngest of the kids began, "I'm six years old, and I would say thanks to everyone who saved me, and made my life happy. I love you." She blew the crowd a kiss before being led off the stage.
The crowd laughed through their tears. I wiped away my watery eyes, but the floodgates burst as more of the kids talked. The younger kids mainly just thanked everyone for their donations, but as the kids got older, the details became more vivid. The boy I met was the oldest of the kids. He went last, and by the time it was his turn to speak, tears ran down my face like waterfalls. Ryan had his hand on my leg, and he grasped at my knee whenever something horribly graphic would happen in a story. His face was tear stained as well.
"Hi, my name's Dalton Reid and my dad abused me."
I felt my hear throb against my ribcage. The boy-- Dalton-- he seemed so meek. With me he had been confident and forthright, but as he stood up at the podium, I saw him become more than some sex crazed teenager.
"He had a drinking problem for years, but when I entered the eighth grade, things got out of control. He would come home and beat my mother every night. My sister and I would hide in our rooms, and dread the sound of the front door opening. My mother left when I was fifteen, and my sister and I were left to fend for ourselves. He tried to beat my sister, but I defended her; I got beat instead."
Tears slipped down Dalton's face. They hung on his cheeks like climbers on the face of a mountain. Ryan had his hand clenched on my knee, but I was numb to whatever pain there was.
"One month ago, my sister and I were rescued. We were rescued by you. By everyone of you guys here. I can't-- I can't express how thankful, how grateful, how in debt to you all I am. I try not to think about what would've happened if it wasn't for your donations. God bless you all, and please know that your charity matters."
He walked slowly away from the microphone as the crowd burst into cheers. I was on my feet clapping, salty tears still drying on my face. I could have stayed standing forever, but the host was back at the microphone; he was saying all about how our donations matter. Ryan looked at my with his soft blue eyes.
"I'm happy you brought me to this. I'm happy we came. I'm happy James-- I'm just happy." He hugged me tightly. His arms coiled themselves around me, and I could feel so much in that hug. I was a mix of emotions, but that hug was an anchor. I stabilized my shellshocked mind.
"I'm happy you're here too. I don't think I've cried this hard in front of anyone at school in my life." I sniffed at my tears.
"I like it better when it's just you and me. You're a different person. You're who you really are, and I like who you really are.
I smiled at him, his eyelashes were dark, and his lips were smooth.
"Everyone! Everyone! Dinner will begin shortly, and after, we will be starting the live auction. Please, remain at your seat until your table has been served.
Ryan wiped his eyes and took his seat. I followed him, but not before I glanced-- just glanced-- around the room, searching for a red head boy named Dalton.
Our stay in New York had come to an end. It was the day before we had to leave, and Ryan and I were cramming. I can't believe that I ever thought that we would run out of stuff to do. Ryan and I had spent the past week walking all over the city, but we still had things to complete on our bucket list. We were rushing towards Rockefeller Center as quickly as we could.
For those of you who have never seen Rockefeller Center, it takes your breath away. The shear size of 30 Rock fucks with your mind. It's more than a building, it's a monument to the human spirit. It's a testament of what rugged individualism can achieve. It's a work of art, not just a pile of scrap metal. The whole city of New York makes me think of how far we've all come. We began in caves and thatched huts, and now we tower over the world in high rises and penthouses.
At the base if 30 Rock was Ryan and mine's destination: an ice skating rink in the middle of the busiest city in the world. Now, I'm not some expert hockey player, but I go out on frozen lakes in the winter to scrap some games with my friends. Ryan on the other hand...
"I'm gonna' look like an ass," he complained, staring down into the rink. "Look at all these people! I'll be hitting the ice face first, and they're all gonna' laugh at me!"
"Dude," I laughed, "you worry way too much. You'll be fine."
"I don't know... Maybe we should just go to Central Park and hang there for the day..."
His eyes were nervously greenish blue today.
"I'll teach you! I won't let you fall; I promise."
Ryan grinned, "I don't know..."
But he had already given up. I tugged him by the arm down to the ice rink. We had to rent skates, and I paid with the last of the money my dad had given me. Ryan looked like a fool trying to tie his skates, so I helped him out. Once we were both tightened up, we walked out to the ice-- well, I walked, Ryan wobbled.
"Jamie, Jamie!"
I waited by the gate to the ice, and held out my hand to Ryan. He tottered onto the ice, and his knees buckled a little when both feet made it on the ice. I kept him standing.
"Okay. Okay. Relax. Hard part's over."
His hands were shaking a little.
"Now, just hold on, and follow what my feet do."
Ryan nodded, and I pushed off from the side of the rink. I skated as slowly as I could, and Ryan kept pace. The rink was sheltered from the wind, and the weather was perfect. The sun was out, and only a few clouds hung in the sky. I hesitantly picked up the pace of my skating. Ryan was gripping my left hand tightly, but after about fifteen minutes he had stopped wobbling. His strides were becoming smoother and more natural.
"This-- this isn't too bad!"
"Do you wanna' try by yourself?"
Rather than wait for an answer, I let my had slip from Ryan's grip.
"Holy--"
But he was standing-- more than standing, he was skating! His legs carried him smoothly across the slick ice. He was laughing as he propelled himself faster.
"Dude! Fuck!" he laughed, "I'm doing it! This isn't that hard! Fuck! Fuck! How do you turn."
I watched as Ryan slammed into the side of the rink. I skated over to him quickly.
"Are you okay?" I chuckled.
"Y--yeah. Did you see me, though? I was doing it!"
"I know," I smiled, "Do you want me to help you learn how to turn."
"N--no. I think I got it," he laughed more. He wouldn't stop laughing.
I did a few laps, and watched Ryan try to figure out how to turn. He looked silly. He was so thin and tall. He was wearing washed out blue jeans and a tight red coat. Maybe he wasn't that silly. Kinda sexy, actually. I mean, girls totally loved Ryan. Mind you, he was completely oblivious to any advances girls made, but girls definitely checked Ryan out all the time. I mean, I think he's attractive. I guess... I don't know. I didn't care. The air was cold, the sun was bright, and I only had eyes for a tall blonde dressed in red.
My legs were tired, so I took a break on a bench just outside the rink. Ryan was still skating, though. He had gotten the hang of it, like I knew he would. He drifted on the ice with a tall, lanky grace. He had stopped looking at his feet, and now looked straight ahead. He turned perfectly, and he still hadn't fallen. I had better change that... I skated back out, and followed alongside Ry.
"This is easy," he beamed, "I'm so good. I'm better than you! It's just like running!"
"Woah, woah. Better than me? Really? Let me remind you that I haven't even fallen yet."
"Dumbass, neither have I!"
"Oh, really," I grinned and gave him a little shove.
"Fuck you!" he shouted as I skated around him.
When he had gotten back on his feet, he skated after me. He had a determined look in his bright blue eyes.
"You're dead," he shouted as I skated away from him.
He was too fast; I couldn't out skate him. It only took him a minute to catch up to me. He reached out, desperately trying to push me over. Rather than push me, though, he pulled on my coat. He and I both slid across the smooth ice, laughing. He looked over at me with those eyes, those baby blue eyes.
"Gotcha."
We spent the whole day at the ice rink. By the time the sun dimmed, Ryan was a red blur on the ice. This had been the best trip we ever had. We spent the whole day laughing and smiling, and I had never felt more perfect. His wavy, golden hair, his deep blue eyes, and his tight red coat, that's how I remember New York.
The hotel was a haven from the cold day we had. The sky was dark, but the lights of Time Square were still shining. My parents had taken Ryan out for pizza as our final dinner in the city, but that was awhile ago. Ryan and I both were too energized to sleep; it was only midnight!
"We should go out!" I said to Ryan.
"Nooooo," Ryan moaned, "Seriously? What're we gonna' do? We're not even eighteen."
"You're right... But I'm not going to bed! I refuse! Not a chance!"
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
He raised his eyebrow higher.
"Dude, what? What is it?"
He gave a nod towards the mini bar.
"Holy shit. Shit. Why haven't we done that every night?" I laughed, realizing what he meant. Like most mini bars, ours was loaded with booze. Teenagers and booze always mix well, right?
"Maybe because we're not two teenage alcoholics."
"We are for tonight. Get everything out!"
"Everything?"
"All the liquor, at least. My dad won't give a shit, are you kidding?"
Ryan laughed, "I wasn't gonna' say anything about that!"
"Liar! You're such a pussy around my parents."
I was lying on the bed, as relaxed as I could get. Ryan came over to me with dozens of little bottles of vodka, whiskey, rum, and gin.
"There we go!" I smiled.
"I'm not a pussy about your parents," Ryan said, twisting open a mini vodka.
"They love you, dude! You kiss up so hard." I had a mini Jack in my hand.
"I'm not trying to make them like me. That's all I'm saying."
"Whatever. Let's just get wasted, already."
We both tipped back those mini bottles of alcohol so fast. I don't consciously remember the point where I went from being normal to shitfaced, but there was no in between. It was a quarter to one, and Ryan and I were lying across from each other giggling, talking, and, slowly but surely, flirting.
"What's weed like?" Ryan slurred.
I laughed, "Why?"
"It's like, I know you do it, it's just, I don't, and I wanna' know."
"It's basically like this. Like right now. Like, things are really... You know?"
"Yeah... Yeah... How far-- with Clara-- how far have you gone with Clara?"
The night continued for hours with Ryan asking me questions. How many girls have you slept with? What's sex like? Have you ever had a threesome? Do you want to have a threesome? What's a vagina taste like? His eyes were silvery blue, and his hair looked silky blonde. We were both incredibly blasted.
"Dude, I'm so t--tired," I said, looking at the clock; it was nearly three-thirty.
"I know, I know. I'm tired. I know."
We were curled up under the covers. Ryan's leg rested up against mine, and we were looking at each other. The lights were out, and the room was alit with the faint blue glow of the city.
I had a boner. I couldn't tell you if it was from the booze, the feel of Ryan's leg against mine, or the enigma of his eyes. I had lost myself in them awhile ago; my own brown had been washed away in Ryan's two oceans.
"Can I ask you something?" Ryan blinked. For a second I was released from his hold.
"Anything," I garbled.
"What's it like to kiss someone?"
"Whaddya' mean? You've kissed loads-- loads of girls."
"I mean for real, though."
I was silent. I was too drunk to understand what he was getting at.
"Like, you love Clara. What's it like to kiss her?"
"I don't love Clara." I blurted.
Now it was Ryan's turn to be silent.
"Who do you love?" I asked him drunkenly. It was my turn to ask a question. However, I let my eyes wander away from his eyes. I looked over the outline of his thin body through the flimsy fabric of the sheets.
"I mean-- you. You-- I guess. I-- I love you, Jamie. I love you a lot."
Ummm....
"Oh..."
"Yeah..."
"Do you wanna' kiss me?" I asked, still not looking at him.
Ryan didn't say anything.
I looked back into his eyes. They were hard and steely. They had an intensity to them that I had never seen before. I peered into them and saw myself. Fuck, I was drunk.
I threw myself at him, at his eyes, at his mouth. I felt his lips against mine, they were firm and soft. Our breathing was heavy, the sheets were hot, and the only light we had was the sliver of Time Square that the curtains let in. I felt Ryan's mouth open for me, and I slipped my lips inside. His tongue tasted of vodka. I let my hands run up and down his chest, and I felt Ryan push me on my back, taking control. Our hips were pressed tightly together; the only thing separating his pulsing dick from mine was the thin polyester of his pajama pants. My eyes fluttered opened, and our lips slowly detached as Ryan came up for a breath. It ended then... It all ended.
"The fuck?" I snarled, pushing Ryan's thin frame away from me.
"Wh-- what?"
"You're fucking sick, you know? Fucking-- get away. Get to your bed. I'm not--" I though of Dalton, the red head, "I'm not into shit like that."
"But you-- you kissed me?" Ryan's face was a mask of confusion. His blue eyes were watery. No! Fuck his goddamn eyes!
"Fucking faggot. Just stay the fuck away!"
I heard him sob, "Are you fucking-- you fucking asshole!"
"I'm the asshole? You're-- you're fucking gay, dude. Get away."
Ryan did the opposite; he threw himself towards me, only he wasn't aiming to kiss me. Ryan was pounding on my chest with a drunken strength I didn't expect. His skinny arms beat against me, and I could hear him sobbing.
"You. Fucking. Fuck. You. You. Liar. You. Hate. Fuck. You. I hate you!"
I lifted his skinny body off of me, and threw it onto the other bed. His arms were still flailing, and he punched his mattress in anger. I was breathing heavily, and I was sticky with sweat. I felt dirty. Tainted. He was gay... Right? That's bad. He lied. Why did my head hurt so much?
"Go to hell," I said.
Ryan's breathing slowed, and he steadily grew calmer. I laid back in my Ryan-smelling bed. I could smell his hair in the pillow. I felt tears trickle down my face; what did I do?
Ryan fell asleep before I did, mainly because I never fell asleep. I listened to him cry into his bed sheets, and I felt my stomach churn and my heart deflate. I had realized too late what I had done. I could still taste his tongue, and you know what? It tasted good. I loved Ryan. I should have told him that instead of shouting at him. Confusion and chaos danced arm in arm in my head; my skull was pounding with their footsteps. I looked towards the window, out towards the city; I prayed sunrise would never come.
TBC
Hi! Okay, so shittiest ending ever, right? I originally didn't have it written this way, but I had the worst experience this weekend; I took my anger out on my story. There's this guy who I've known forever, and lately he keeps texting me. I have the hugest crush on him, and I swear he's gay-- I fucking swear. He told me all about how he missed me and wanted to see me and how we'd hang out on St Patrick's Day. Well, he fucking stood me up and I'm pissed and angry and mad and angsty. We've been drunk before where we've almost kissed, but it never happened. So... That's my frustrating life. Sorry to bore you. Hope you liked the story, though! If you were looking for tons of sex, sorry to disappoint. The real world doesn't work that way in high school... At least not for normal people... More importantly, not for me.
I love emails! Please keep sending them! If you've got nice things to say: pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com. If you've got bad things to say: shove your negativity up your butt, I live a hard enough life :) I'm fooling, constructive criticism is the best. Love you guys!!