"I know right? I planned a lot of it, myself," he admires his work, "My mom decided to remodel this room since my dad never used it."
"That is cool, it has been one of my dreams to be able to; so, you are pretty lucky," I wistfully say, and he then replies, "I guess. So, um, I will show you the rest of the house."
After that, he presents the kitchen, where he cooks 'fine cuisines' as he calls it, for his parents every once in a while, the game room, which was filled with a pool table and arcade games, and lastly the bathrooms, obviously connected to the bedrooms.
"This is my bathroom, nothing spectacular," we walk into his bedroom, "Same case for here."
I laugh, I could not help myself. "What?" he blushes, barely, but noticeable.
"Nothing," I say, joining in on the blushing, "It is just your underwear is on the floor." He immediately turns bright red and picks it up, putting it away in his drawer, "I am so sorry." "It is okay, it has happened before, to me," I lie, "My cousin..."
He puts his finger to my lips suddenly, "Um.. I," my eyes go wide. "Shh," he whispers, and I say no more. Without warning he puts his hands on my waist, pulling me into a kiss; I was surprised, yet I do not resist, smashing our lips together more than they already were. His hands frisk up and down my back, going lower then higher.
My heart was rapidly beating out of my chest, harder each second. I knew it was bad, yet it felt to good to be. And good things are not bad, right? But, this seemed to be both at the same time.
A few minutes, or actually, a few seconds later-- though it felt as though it was a lifetime-- I pull away, "We can't do this, Lucas, It is not right." He sighs, "Awh, why?"
"You know perfectly well why, I am with Kyle," I say.
"That douche?" he makes a face at me in disbelief, "He treats you like shit; deny it, you can't." "Our relationship is none of your business," I snap.
"Then why do you tell me everything about him, and how he and you broke up over 12 times this last three months?" He replies with obvious sass.
"Fuck you," is all I can say, or, was the first thing that came to mind, "Bye." I start to walk out the door, but he stops me, putting his hand onto my shoulder, then twisting my torso around to face his. There is a pause, I glare at him with pure anger, wishing fire would rise from them just to show how much; but, I shake his hold from me and walk away.
After I leave the front door, I sit on the steps, letting the sound of the night consume me. Soon, acknowledging that I have no possible way to get home, other than to travel by foot, or by his car, neither being ideal.
Some time later, about thirty minutes or fifteen minutes, I hear sound of his footsteps behind me. Yet, I keep my eyes fixed on the ground below, or else, I might burst into tears, as odd as it seems for me to do. He takes a seat next to me quietly, then brushes the hair from my face to behind my ears, "I am sorry."
"You should be," I try to keep my voice from cracking, almost unsuccessfully. My eyes were already misty, but, he takes my jaw by his fingertips, and makes me look onto him. I try not to, though, at the same time I did want to.
Some of our history, highly confusing, and heartbreaking, other parts of our history, would be one-hundred percent love. And, some should be forgotten, and also forgiven, we do neither. By choice? I am not sure.
It feels as though, I attempt at forgetting, and he always comes back right at the wrong time. Obviously, making all of the feelings I have for him, rush back. Which, can be good, but can be horribly wrong, too.
He has a way of wooing girls. Being their friend, poking them, kissing, then all the way till 'you know what.' Some moments making me think he does it to manipulate. Force them in a way, to wish they had him, when in reality he is cold, and selfish. He hides it by covering it up with the exact opposite.
He says things such as, "You are beautiful just the way you are," or, "I love you, so much, you probably couldn't imagine how much I do," but, behind it, in fights, he can whip me with words ice cold, "You are so hideous, why would I ever date someone so stupid?" and, "I hate you! Go away, bitch!"
Not only these things he does, but so much more. So much things, I can not even list them in one page-- yes, I've tried-- front and back. He makes me jealous, intentional or unintentional, I don't know. He says to other girls that they are looking amazing that day, or something along those lines. Flirting? I don't know.
Being with him messes with my emotions, the one thing that I can control, up to a point. I called it out to him before, told him so stop toying with me. But, he did not listen, and instead brought back, laying out, my imperfections.
"Come on," he puts his arm around me, "Let me take you home." I sigh, knowing I could not-- Or should not-- resist. A ride is what I need, plus, my shoes are not worth losing. With a long pause, I collect my feelings, "Okay."
He gets up, then taking my hand and pulling me up to my feet. Once we get onto the dark road, pure silence falls, all except for the passing object's whoosh, cars, and insect's chirping. I watch the street lights flash by, letting my thoughts consume me, which is what I don't normally get offered. I am a busy girl, now that I have school, work, and dramatic people-- including myself-- to juggle.
I feel like crying, breaking down right there. I could let my emotions leak out of me, tell him every excruciating detail about my life, and how he effects it every time we meet up; how he makes me dread, but wish I could have one more moment with him.
But, crying is not going to solve anything, neither will it change much. To add, I do not want him to wreck noticing I was bawling my eyes out. Staying strong is the best option, it always is, it has to be. Right?
Once we make it back to my house, I hop out of the car. I do not linger around, I make a B-line for my front door. Eye contact, or any communication with anyone would have me sobbing so hard my body would cringe over.
I practically slam the door from behind me, and dart toward my bedroom, locking myself inside. I will not come out, neither shall I reply to my mom, or my closest friend. I choke up, horribly, and begin to change into pajamas and a tee-shirt. After I wash my face, I plop onto my bed. Burying myself in, I cover my head with my pillow.
I begin, and I sob, hard.
Around an hour later, I hear my phone go off. Checking to see who is calling, I turn on the screen. It's Andrew. I answer, trying not to let my quivering voice show through, "Hello?" "Hey, Nicole," he says softly, "Sorry I am calling so late into the night, it's just you know.." "Yeah," I reply.
"Well, how was your day?" He asks, swiftly. I take a moment to respond, "Horr-ible," my voice cracking again. "Oh, would you tell me why?" Concern was there, "Was it that Lucas-guy? Or, Kyle?"
I say no more, and he says, "I am coming over."
