You guys know the routine. This stuff is mostly fiction. Any relation to any persons, living or six feet under, is purely coincidental (as in, don't get all worried that I'm talking about you or something, cause I'm not. I don't even know you.) Oh, and the usual rules apply since there will be gay sexual intercourse in this story: if you're too young to be reading this stuff, don't. And yeah, if this offends you...go somewhere else. Alrighty now that that's over with...on with the story!
But first, I would really like to thank everyone who has e-mailed me with their support. It really helps motivate me to write the story. I love all of your opinions, and take them all into consideration. I hope you all love this part, it's my favorite so far, by far!
Finally Landon--Part 3
"Okay, shoot." I was up for anything with this boy.
"Have you ever played questions?" he asked, flashing his smile, white even in the dark of night.
We were lying side by side, facing the ceiling, touching ever so slightly, shoulder to shoulder. I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn over and talk to him more closely. For now, though, staring at the ceiling kept me less nervous, as I would be staring straight into his eyes.
"You mean like questions only? I love that game," for those poor souls who do not celebrate the humor of Whose Line is it Anyway, questions only is an improvisational game where the actors can only ask questions. Wait, that's irrelevant anyway. Just checking to see who the true Whose Line fans are.
"No, you fool," he backhanded my chest, "like as in I ask a question, you answer, then you ask a question, and I answer, and we just keep going back and forth."
"Oh, okay," this sounded exciting, I was finally going to be able to find out more about my dream boy, "you go first."
"Alright, so tell me, what's your favorite color?" he was starting off small, I guess. I didn't mind too much.
"Blue and red," I answered, then added, "together at the same time."
"Whoa, those are two totally different colors," I heard him chuckle.
"I know, but they're both really bold and represent a kind of purity, that's why I like them," I answered truthfully.
"Okay, I can see where you're going with that. Your turn," he nudged me with his elbow.
"What's your weirdest food combination?"
"Hmm..." Landon was thinking pretty hard, I could practically hear his brain churning from my side of the bed, "oh, French fries dipped in ice cream."
"Gross! No, way."
"Yes! It's so good."
"I guess I have to try it then."
"I want to be there when you do, you know, see your face when you realize how DELICIOUS it is."
"Fine, just so long as you stand far enough away so when I PUKE it won't reach you." I was just excited by the way he was talking, he made it really seem like he wanted this friendship to continue past this night.
"Fair enough. So tell me, how many girlfriends have you had?"
"Oh my god you're gonna think I'm a total loser."
"I doubt it. Come on, you said you wanted to play the game," he encouraged as he turned over and started poking me in the shoulder.
"Okay," I turned to face him. I could feel his heartbeat, and I'm sure the whole house could feel mine, "no serious ones."
"None? But you're almost done with your JUNIOR year!" he said incredulously. It was true, throughout my three years of high school, I never managed to find a girl friend. Granted, I was the same age as Landon because I skipped first grade (yes, haven't I already established I'm a nerd? Why are you surprised?) but still, I was pretty pitiful.
"So? What about you?" I asked.
He breathed deeply and sighed, the smile falling from his face.
"None, either," he responded, laughing, "I just made a big deal out of it to see you get all bent out of shape. It worked," he was gloating now, right in my face.
"Ha-ha very funny, dickwad."
"Takes one to know one," he grinned.
"Oh, grow up. See? No wonder you don't have a girlfriend!"
"No! That's not why! It's cause," he paused, unsure of what to say. He pondered a thought, teasing it with his cranium.
"Cause what?"
"It's hard to explain," he reasoned.
"Is it because you're, you know?" my heart was beating quicker and quicker, finally the words escaped my mouth, but very breathily, "gay?"
"What? Hell no! Why would you even think that?" he nearly yelled, abruptly turning away from me, "You think I'm some kind of freak or something? Jeez, I'm going to sleep, Owen."
He was obviously affected by my comment and his outrage shocked me. I hadn't meant to insult him in any way, I was just so sure that those words were on the tip of his tongue. Again, I misjudged a guy.
Might as well add him to the list, I thought, what am I up to now, like five? Great, now he won't ever want to talk to me again because I hurt his feelings, and thought he was something he wasn't.
You can't just call people gay, I chastised myself, angered by my mistake.
Then the wave of sadness struck the shores of my conscience, a tidal wave ravaging me in my vulnerable emotional state. It felt like a lead weight rested on my heart, and it pulled my spirits down to the water's murky depths. It seemed like something was physically pressing on my chest. As I realized I ruined another friendship, screwed up with another guy, I beat myself up psychologically, so disappointed in my lack of judgment.
These thoughts swirling around in the toilet bowl of my mind, I cried myself to sleep, pristine tears running down in rivulets on my cheeks.
As I slept, I dreamt the most glorious dreams. Even though I fell asleep in such a horrible mood, the dream was lovely and wondrous. I was standing alone in a field, a chilly breeze wafting in the scent of rain. It was cold and I was alone. As the rain started to fall, I realized the drops weren't cold, they were warm. They were tears. And then, a warmth close to me. It was like the sun; it emanated warmth yet it wasn't touching me. Then, a bolt of electricity shot through me as I felt something on my arm. Alarmed at first, I calmed when I realized it was merely a butterfly, flitting up and down my arm. I reveled in the sensuous feelings, so titillating and luxurious.
When I awoke, I lay facing away from Landon. For a second, I thought I was going mad; I still felt the butterfly floating about my arm. Then I realized I was awake, and the butterfly was no butterfly at all--it was Landon. He had been using his fingers to caress my arm while I slept.
Although I was utterly confused, I quickly rejected any feelings of perplexity and remained absolutely still, waiting to see what Landon was up to.
He made no other movement for nearly five minutes. He just kept running his hand up and down my arm, over and over again, so repetitive I lost my patience and decided that I would have to make my move, since he wasn't making one any time soon.
I waited for him to run his fingers down my arm, and then, in a slow, gentle, motion, I moved my own hand to place on his. Both of our hands were on my arm, mine on his. I turned over, removing our hands from my arm, and shifted my hand to intertwine our fingers. His hand went terribly stiff and as I turned around, his face bore an expression of genuine horror.
"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. He tried to pull his hand from my grasp.
I gripped it tight.
"Don't be," I reasoned, trying to keep my voice leveled and calm, "just tell me why I just caught your hand rubbing my arm."
"It's just that," he paused, unsure.
"What?"
"You can't tell anyone, promise?" he questioned with such apprehension in his eyes, it was all I could do not to pull him into a tight embrace.
"I promise," I responded calmly, although I was very anxious to see if he was headed in the direction I hoped he was: towards me.
"Well, you know last night? When I yelled at you?" he asked, with a very heavy sense of regret in his voice. I noticed he had bags under his eyes. Evidently, he didn't sleep too well last night, either.
"Yeah, I'm listening," I responded quickly, but hopefully not sharply, I was trying very hard to contain my anxiety.
"Well, I feel bad about yelling at you because," he paused again.
His hand was now returning the pressure, firmly gripping my hand, locked in a tight squeeze.
"I feel bad because," he paused again, my heart was now beating at 100 mph, "because I'm gay, Owen, and I think I like you."
A wave of relief spread clear from my head to my toes, all my fears and sadness and guilt washed away like dirt in a flood. He really was gay! And into me! It was all I could ever hope for. I no longer lay on a bed, no, my bed was a feathery cloud, upon which I rested in the early morning warmth of the sun, which heated me not only externally, but reached into the depths of my soul as well. I was so happy, I let go of his hand. I grinned, then smiled, and then burst into laughter, no longer able to contain my happiness, as it exuded through my bellybutton, no doubt.
Landon, however, lay meek and fearful, as if I were about to kill him. I wondered why, then realized that I was only partying in myself when I could be partying with him. I get so forgetful when I'm excited. Like a bunny.
"What's so funny?" he asked, lines of worry etched across his forehead.
"I'm sorry it's just that," I paused to take both of his hands.
"This whole time," I continued, "I had the hugest crush on you for the longest time, and last night, I was so disappointed when you shot me down. It's just, all this relief is hitting me like a freight train! I like you so much and I've waited so long for you to say that you felt the same!"
I was floating on an epic high, my voice bubbly and excited. He helped to calm me down so we could have a romantic moment. Is he dreamy or what?
"Really?" he asked, hopefully and slowly, his voice heavy with romance. For those of you unsure of what romance sounds like, it's like sexy, cute, suspenseful, and puppy-ish all at once. Go out and experience it. It's fun.
"Really," I assured him, then climbed out of bed, both his hands still in mine, and consequently, lifted him out as well.
We stood facing each other, eyes taking in all that we could, relishing the ability to finally be able to stare all we wanted. My thirsty eyes quenched their thirst for gorgeousness, drinking in Landon's splendor. I gazed deeply into his pools of emerald lust, sparkling with enthusiasm. I searched into them, deeper and deeper, closer and closer until...
Pure magic. Bliss. Magnificence. The most whimsical, enchanting, thrilling, drop-your-jaw-wide-open moment of my measly life: our first kiss.
In the light of the early morning, as the sun rose above the Ko'olau mountains, and lit up the sky, striking its delicate blue with pink and orange, we shared in a splendiferous moment.
His lips pressed against mine, ever so softly. His arms wrapped around me, captivating me with his fiery desire. His breath caressed my cheek.
I nearly had a heart attack.
Slowly, we pulled apart, our lips, those wondrous things that allow us to kiss, separating slowly, as if reluctant to part. My eyes, which had closed their doors and enjoyed the Disney World fireworks show, opened and found his. The perfect moment over, we smiled and embraced, a close embrace of warmth, friendship, and care--maybe soon love would also be thrown in that mix. But for now, being with him, in his strong arms, was all I needed.
We held each other tightly, afraid to let go. I cried, tears of joy, of unpolluted happiness leaking onto his shoulder. We rocked back and forth, just savoring each other's body, my head in his shoulder, and his on mine.
Suddenly, our legs entangled and we tripped over, toppling onto my bed in a heap of laughter. He giggled, and I giggled, both of out anxiety washed away in our closeness.
He was on top of me...again. Remember the wrestling? Yeah, that counts as the first time.
"Wow," he breathed, his face barely able to contain his dazzling, enormous smile, "what a way to start the day."
I leaned up and kissed him again, lip to lip.
"You can say that again," I agreed.
"I could, but it would ruin the moment," he smiled and kissed me again.
"If we keep this up, we're never going to get out of bed."
"Is that a problem?" he questioned, a devious grin spreading from cheek to cheek.
And I'm going to leave you guys hanging AGAIN! Sorry I do that but it's just so fun when the story ends with something exciting. Fear not, though! There will be a continuation, the story has only begun! Again, feel free to e-mail me at crushedbytheworld@gmail.com. I do respond to everyone and love hearing from you guys, the readers. See you next chapter!