Broken Defender

Chapter Eight ~ Contact

Somehow the hours passed between us in a flash, the light of the sky quickly faded again, like it had the night prior, and I longed to stay with him. As we had no writing utensils for defacing the bridge, we had quickly moved on, spending the entire Sunday roaming about the sleepy town at our own pace. We talked for hours. He told me about some of his adventures in Nebraska, and then some in London, and I so envied him. He had done so much; so many things I had wanted to do, been so many places. He had climbed a mountain. I had so badly wanted to climb a mountain, much in the way I wanted to climb the water tower. I related that to him, and he insisted that if the two of us ever run out of things to, we would make a trek to the water tower, and climb all the way to the top. I loved him for encouraging my foolish fantasy. He had smiled, edging me further into the idea, whereas others would have merely shrugged, claiming it was silly, or dangerous. He had been arrested; something he did confirm after all. When I asked why, he simply laughed at the memory as if it were a fond one, not something to regret. He ducked his head as his dimples dug into his cheeks handsomely. "My friends and me. We were pretty loud. Disturbed the peace a couple of times." He joked. "I guess after enough threats, the cops got aggravated enough to take us in." I didn't find that hard to believe. I figured if I stood in the street with a group of friends, and made enough noise, the local cops would eventually have to intervene.

Our conversations eventually grew thin, and we found ourselves grasping for small strands of information. We were almost playing an impromptu game of "have you ever?" as the day stretched on, slipping away from us. The darkened sky thinned the air into sharp piercing gusts that bit at the exposed skin of my face angrily. I pulled the jacket he had lent me tighter around my trembling body in an attempt to salvage my fast escaping body heat. "Have you ever done anything illegal?" He asked, strolling along the familiar street. Our direction was unintentionally home bound... as if our instincts drew us into the serenity of home. "I stole a tube of lipstick when I was fourteen." I admitted, blushing at the colorless story. He spit out a laugh, clapping his hands in glee. "That's so corrupt!" He jeered. His eyes were slits as his smile dominated his chortling face. I rolled my eyes. He loved picking on me. That was apparent. Everything I did, and everything I said was "cute" to him, or "endearing." Nothing about my lipstick theft read as immoral to him, whereas I myself had felt so guilty for a month after the event. "Okay, sorry." He said, clearing his throat. "Your turn." He pried; his lip still turned up a bit, still stifling a laugh at my thievery. I looked ahead, spotting my house in the distance. The cool October air almost shoved me toward its warm inviting structure, yet I so longed to get to know him even more.

Honestly, I was falling for him. He was so cute. He looked like a tangible David Cassidy, yet amazingly more charming... if that were possible. He was considerate, he was witty, and most of all, he seemed as equally enthralled with me as I was with him. How had this happened? Just yesterday morning, I didn't know his name, and now I knew everything about him. "What's your biggest fear?" I asked, deepening the game a bit on a more mature text. He shook his head, digesting the question. "Hmm..." He murmured, walking a bit slower. "I don't know. I mean, I've never thought about that before." He bit his lip in thought, wanting to make the most of his answer. "Death?" I asked, taking a shot in the dark with a common response. He shook his head. "No. That's not really a fear for me... I think maybe." He stopped again, looking down at me. "Probably being controlled." He said, shaking his head in deeper confirmation. I furrowed my brow, looking back at him in surprise. In all honesty, I had not expected that answer. "You'd rather die than be controlled?" I questioned, stopping as we now stood in front of my home now. "Yep." He stated, not thinking much of the comparison I had thought would have stumped him for sure. He looked up at my house, sadly recognizing our nearing separation.

"I guess I'll see you in school tomorrow." He said, reminding me of the impending week ahead. I sighed, not relishing the ever returning Monday; my face fell in gloom. "Hey." He uttered quietly, lifting my chin under his index finger, smiling back at me. "Don't be like that. It'll be good." He decided, probably shaking off his own nervousness as well. I smiled back at him, impressed by his confidence. "Right." I said, grinning happier now. "See you tomorrow." I said, still standing planted in front of him. His finger remained still locked under my chin, which caused my heart to flutter. His eyes flicked down to my lips, as his own mouth turned up in a warm, and inviting smile. He inched closer to me, testing the water, as I stood frozen. I repelled this action; all of my insides screamed for me to run, and run like hell... yet my body locked, firm, and still freezing cold as ice as his forehead connected with mine. His opened eyes searched mine closely, too closely. Each puff of his breath warmed my lips in a beckoning gesture, as if he were requesting access. I didn't move, still frozen and numb in paralyzed fear of the oncoming contact. Is he going to kiss me? What the hell do I do? He leaned in a touch more, and his lips brushed mine tenderly. The contact sent a shooting warm sensation through my body, unthawing my locked frame as our lips connected. Before I could even register my action, I jerked away from him quickly, my lips quivered in the now moist vacation of his mouth. He stood upright, as I recoiled. His expression read in pure embarrassment. I wandered what my expression was screaming. My heart pounded out of my chest, as I scrambled for words. The now three-foot gap between us left pricking anxiety between our now confused states. "Don't do that." I blurted. His eyes met mine in regret then stared down at the ground in shame. "Just don't." I added, turning and walking up the sidewalk of my home. I didn't turn to see him walk away. I couldn't. I was too embarrassed. Searing tears flowed down my cheeks, but I fought them off, not wanting my mother to see. I slipped through the front door, sniffing, more at the cold outside, then the humiliation I had just experienced. I was able to make it to my bedroom, where I crashed onto my bed, blubbering at my own stupidity. That was undoubtedly the worst first kiss anyone had ever experienced. I should have just let him kiss me. Why did I draw back in hysteria? God. Why am I so terribly awkward?