Struggle

Bloody Fingertips Through Trees

The man before me in my arms wept until he slept. I let him do so.

I knew what it felt like. Yet that feeling only made our connection mental. My hands stayed in Harper's hair. I didn't hate him one bit. I knew he was upset. He is thinking he's ruined everything. 

That red hair soon flopped over my shoulder, his forehead resting on the edge of it. I needed to make sure that he knew that I knew I loved him. My hands slid down his back, acrylic paint still on my hands. Redder than ever, yet not brighter than him.

"Harper, Why are you crying?" I ask, his voice is small and buried underneath my shirt. His beautiful light brown eyes make an appearance again, staring up at me with a glossy coat.

"I don't want you to hate me." He muttered and took one hand off, wiping his tears. He had an ugly cry, just the way I loved it.

My hands cupped the back of his head, red fingertips cruising through the strands of hair he had. They made their way to his jawline and pulled his face upward.

"If I'm still here do you think I hate you?" I frowned, then began to press my abs up against him. He flushed a bright pink and darted those eyes away. Harper shook his head, his cheeks brushing against my chest. I smile down at the boy. "Look at me"

His eyes darted up, willingly staring back at me like a lost puppy. I flush a red color as my painted red hands cupped his skinny cheeks. I leaned close and pressed my plump pink lips against his own, He took it gently. I smiled to myself and let our lips mix together, at some point laberous pants coming from him. 

My hands are slowly tugging on his red hot hair. At some point those pale slender finger tips slid up the underside of my shirt. I backed up slightly, knowing this was too much to quick.

"Alright Alright pretty boy" I teased. My hands are staying and still tugging on his hair. 

creeeeak 

BAM

Shit. His gram is home. I sat up quickly as he followed and raced to the door, peeking down the hallway. I flopped down onto the ground and peaked at the red paint on his hair and back, showing our struggle earlier. I remembered he had blue paint on his hands, and he had touched me too. 

I jump back up and run over to his mirror, turning around to see hand marks all down my thighs and a few on my rump. If Dad sees this I am so fucking done. I pick out my phone from my pocket, thankfully having it on me this time than it being hidden in dad's "Super secret hiding spot" he thinks I don't know about.

Checking the time, I realized I had plenty of time despite our recent wrestling. In a blink of an eye, hands were on me once more. That ginger is needy as hell.

Those ghostly fingers pressed against my pecs, feeling them as paint rubbed all over my white shirt. Jackass. Enough is enough.

"Stop, Seriously Harper." I pouted and felt his hands on my hips again. In a split second he turned sweet again. 

We needed to take things slow, not let lust get the best of us.

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Last day before spring break. The air was getting warmer, but still cold as dick. My hands were freezing off. Christian walked to lunch with me today and sat next to me. Harper and I find an awkward thing between us now, as if it still lingers in our heads. But I'm planning on talking to him later today. 

"Sadie Hawkins Dance is around the corner. Who you guys taking?" Ace started up the conversation quickly. I hadn't really thought about taking anyone until Harper's hands grabbed my thighs two days ago. Now all I can think about is that dumb redhead.