No strings attatched

Sing Street

The letter came a week later, enclosed in a baby pink envelope. When he opened it, glitter had exploded across the grubby doormat and buried itself into anything- the stitching in clothes, the cracks in walls, his floppy hair- as his aqua eyes widened in surprise. The writing was exactly like what my mom and dad had when they met each other. The cursive bold lettering stood out from the spidery writing which was wishing us well, and the CEO's crimson stamp on the bottom. I never thought that I would get something like this as a child... well, I guess dreams do come true. 

     James began to laugh, a high pitched squeal, which swooped down into a low, throaty growl. His feet made soft thuds as he hopped up and down, his smile exposing his perfect teeth. I grin back at him as our eyes met, and my heart falters ever so slightly. He pulls me into his arms as I squirm, mainly out of discomfort. My eyes drooped as I felt the warmth from his body, and I lean into his chiselled chest. He clasps my face with his hands, and before I could protest, he pressed his soft lips onto mine. I press back against him, yet a twinge of annoyance is somewhere in my conscience. He then bit my lip gently, as I suppress a groan of shock. He stopped, and placed his hand on my forehead. His brows were furrowed in concern.

      "Do you wanna rest a bit?" He quizzes me, his expression softer as he loosens his grip around my waist. I nod, and began to shuffle my way upstairs. It wasn't sleep, but a call with my parents I wanted. With each step my foot sank into the soft cream carpet draped over the stairwell.

     I stumble, half awake to our bed, buried by the darkness save a strip of golden sun that spilled into the room, exposing the crumpled clothing and scrunched up sheets of paper. I want to call my parents. I blunder around for my phone, tossing away clothes that drifted gently towards the bed, until all that was left of the crisp white sheets were glimpses through the multicolor mountains that loomed over my head. A lump formed in my throat. I needed my phone. I look underneath the oak frame into the shadow that hid below, and I notice the glimmer of green that was my phone charm. I sigh, and begin to extend my arm. The tips of my fingers brushed against the woollen strands gently, as I slink in further and further. I wiggle my hands in despair. 

     Suddenly, I could hear footsteps on the stairs. They were sharp, and fast, unlike the slow, soft thuds that belonged to James. Petrified, I attempt to crawl out from under the frame. No luck. I was stuck. Great. I flop to the floor in defeat, as my legs tense and all I could hear was my gasping for air like a fish out of water. Outside was a slow, heavy panting, like that of a bear. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see. The thuds were closer, now- I could count them in time as they made contact with the floor. I touch my forehead. It was damp with cold sweat. I could hear a growl- high pitched, and like someone I kn-

     A loud clap echoed throughout the entire room as I cry out . I could feel the blood flowing to my face as it warmed up, and I could feel the throb on my arse where the impact had been. 

"Buenos Dias, sucker." 

     My head whips around to make eye contact with Dinah, her dark eyes alight with mischief, with a matching grin to boot. Her black curls were slicked into a ponytail, that swished back and forth elegantly with each movement of her head. You see, Dinah was the one who had handed me her number before dispersing into the night. I tried to reply, but all that happened was that I stumbled and tripped over my words. It was as if i had sticky toffee coated on the inside of my mouth. Her eyebrows were knitted together for a second as she gazed at me, her curls swinging wildly as she titled her head, eyes blank. She suddenly opened her mouth, as if to speak, eyes widened and eager, but then sank back down to sitting on my thighs, the space between her untamed brows once again becoming creased like the crumpled shirts on my bed. This happened consistently for what felt like minutes, until her eyes glittered with specs of light, and she roared out in laughter, as I flinched at the sound of her slapping her thigh.

"Are you... actually... STUCK OhmYgoD PHWAAAAAAHAHAHHA!!!!"

     In the mist of her fit, she extended a friendly paw and grasped my foot. She began to tug and I feel myself sliding across the floor, arms folded and scowling. Dinah snorted at my face. 

"You haven't been answering my calls, honey. Something wrong?". She flops besides me, as she gently caresses my cheek. My throat became dry as my heart thudded in my chest. I shake my head, my hands almost trembling, as my fingers point to where my phone lay in the shadows. With a snigger, she extends an arm weighed down by bangles and withdraws it with the mint phone, as she looks at me with triumph.

"It's been under your bed the whole time? Wow, you're disorganised!" She chuckled. I look down, as a flush of warmth fills my cheeks. She tenderly pats me on the head. "There, there. I'm here for something else though. James left a few minutes ago right?" I nod. She smiles. "Well We'll watch Sing Street then!" she exclaims in a fruitless attempt at an Irish accent. My heart skips a beat. 

     Before a single word escapes my lips, she has bolted down the steps and I hear Dinah's footsteps as she dashes to the living room. I scramble after her, sliding down the steps, and skidding around the corner to leap onto the coal black couch. I dared not say anything as she babbled on about the plot rapidly, and forgot to take a single breath. I giggled as her speech faltered and she gasped for air, and grinned when she burst into poor quality song. After a while, she walks over and switches the TV on, her black tennis skirt rising to show her hot pink thong. She then flops down, so that her legs rested on mine, and wielded the remote, clicking on several icons until the logo of  the studio flooded the screen, and then leaning her head on my chest.