courtroom of love that matters, but doesn't say anything. Instead I soak in every curve displayed in her black top and create new fantasies of what to do with her in that white skirt. I shouldn't be focused on what she does to me physically. I should be ready to spew vows of eternal love or some shit. “You look good.”
“I know.” The cockiness is cute. She pushes up her glasses. I love her glasses. They make her look intelligent. Sexy. Some weird hot nerd combination. “What are you doing anyway? Complimenting me? Won’t your pet get fussy?”
I shrug and lean closer. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“Obviously.”
We both chuckle lightly at the joke.
In a whisper I manage to say, “God, I miss the hell out of you.”
Presley leans a little closer. My heart races a little faster. “I miss the hell out of you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
My hand reaches out to touch the skin I know as well as my own. For a brief moment she lets me. Our fingers feather. This is the only moment in the past month that has made any fucking sense to me. The only thing that's satisfied the craving inside she creates.
Sadly, the moment is short lived. Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway, which sends her away like a mouse sneaking away from a distracted cat. “Later Ryder...”
“Later...” On that note, I slip into the bathroom where I dampen my face with cold water to help swallow my pride. Pretending not to care about someone takes a lot more energy than actually caring about someone ever did.
Blowing out fake smoke rings in itself is oddly therapeutic. It's a tactic I'm sure most therapists would frown their pretentious faces at. I don't give a shit. It works for me. I don't hate it.
“The moment you had with Presley-”
“Please don't say her name.” The strength and tone in my elocution is non-negotiable. Firm but filled with enough zeal it would be easy to mistake her as a current love instead of a past one. I'm not even sure she is a past love, so much as the only love.
“Fine.” Doc nods. “The moment you had with Blue Dream...how did it feel?”
I pretend to ash. “Like standing at the gates of Heaven. Light touching your toes. The warmth all right there for you to have.”
“You were robbed of that moment. That security. That high. So what did you do as a result?”
“I replaced it with another...”
“Let’s smoke,” Morgan, Bambi's best friend, anxiously says the second Thomas, one of their friends, locks the front door to her house.
“Alright,” he shrugs as he approaches us sitting in her downstairs living room. “Bong?”
“No,” Bambi whines. “I always fuck that up.”
Morgan giggles and drops down onto the floor so we're all siting around the coffee table, “Sad.”
“You know I'm clumsy.” Bambi pouts at Thomas. “Roll it?”
“I'll take care of you baby.” Thomas insists with a smile that should rev up jealousy of some kind, but it doesn't. I can't even muster the energy to fake giving a fuck about her. Especially not after touching Pres again. I was so close to her today. “You smoke?”
I don't realize the question is directed at me until her fat elbow is in my side. At that point I look up. “What?”
“You smoke?” he repeats removing a bag filled with what has to be weed.
Bluntly I answer, “Never tried.”
“You’ll love it,” Bambi chuckles and kisses my cheek.
With no response, I stare as Thomas starts his process. I watch as he gathers the product. Rolls a blunt. I watch as he lights it, inhales it, and passes it to Morgan. I watch as Morgan takes a hit, giggles and passes it to Bambi. I watch as her two lips suck like a pro before she uses her stubby fingers to pass it to me.
“Come on Ryder,” Thomas encourages. “It'll make you forget about all that bullshit that bothers you.”
There's so much that
“I know.” The cockiness is cute. She pushes up her glasses. I love her glasses. They make her look intelligent. Sexy. Some weird hot nerd combination. “What are you doing anyway? Complimenting me? Won’t your pet get fussy?”
I shrug and lean closer. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“Obviously.”
We both chuckle lightly at the joke.
In a whisper I manage to say, “God, I miss the hell out of you.”
Presley leans a little closer. My heart races a little faster. “I miss the hell out of you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
My hand reaches out to touch the skin I know as well as my own. For a brief moment she lets me. Our fingers feather. This is the only moment in the past month that has made any fucking sense to me. The only thing that's satisfied the craving inside she creates.
Sadly, the moment is short lived. Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway, which sends her away like a mouse sneaking away from a distracted cat. “Later Ryder...”
“Later...” On that note, I slip into the bathroom where I dampen my face with cold water to help swallow my pride. Pretending not to care about someone takes a lot more energy than actually caring about someone ever did.
Blowing out fake smoke rings in itself is oddly therapeutic. It's a tactic I'm sure most therapists would frown their pretentious faces at. I don't give a shit. It works for me. I don't hate it.
“The moment you had with Presley-”
“Please don't say her name.” The strength and tone in my elocution is non-negotiable. Firm but filled with enough zeal it would be easy to mistake her as a current love instead of a past one. I'm not even sure she is a past love, so much as the only love.
“Fine.” Doc nods. “The moment you had with Blue Dream...how did it feel?”
I pretend to ash. “Like standing at the gates of Heaven. Light touching your toes. The warmth all right there for you to have.”
“You were robbed of that moment. That security. That high. So what did you do as a result?”
“I replaced it with another...”
“Let’s smoke,” Morgan, Bambi's best friend, anxiously says the second Thomas, one of their friends, locks the front door to her house.
“Alright,” he shrugs as he approaches us sitting in her downstairs living room. “Bong?”
“No,” Bambi whines. “I always fuck that up.”
Morgan giggles and drops down onto the floor so we're all siting around the coffee table, “Sad.”
“You know I'm clumsy.” Bambi pouts at Thomas. “Roll it?”
“I'll take care of you baby.” Thomas insists with a smile that should rev up jealousy of some kind, but it doesn't. I can't even muster the energy to fake giving a fuck about her. Especially not after touching Pres again. I was so close to her today. “You smoke?”
I don't realize the question is directed at me until her fat elbow is in my side. At that point I look up. “What?”
“You smoke?” he repeats removing a bag filled with what has to be weed.
Bluntly I answer, “Never tried.”
“You’ll love it,” Bambi chuckles and kisses my cheek.
With no response, I stare as Thomas starts his process. I watch as he gathers the product. Rolls a blunt. I watch as he lights it, inhales it, and passes it to Morgan. I watch as Morgan takes a hit, giggles and passes it to Bambi. I watch as her two lips suck like a pro before she uses her stubby fingers to pass it to me.
“Come on Ryder,” Thomas encourages. “It'll make you forget about all that bullshit that bothers you.”
There's so much that
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