Life of a Mental (No longer writing)

Chapter Sixteen

I shrugged. “My friends.”

“Hey.”  Riley turned towards me as he placed a hand on my knee. The moment his hand touched my knee, I felt a prick under his warm hand. My heart started racing in a way that it never had before.  Against my will, a small smile rested on my lips. “We all have shite friends, trust me.”

I sighed while the smile faded. “Not all as mental as mine.” Riley snorted as he patted my knee. Oh God, there goes those nerves again.  “No, I’m serious!” I retorted, smacking him in the thigh.

“I’m sure you are. And so am I.” He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke. That’s how I knew he was serious.  He was always so serious and perceptive.

I wondered how I would have turned out if fate made me meet him before Cale.  I may have been smart in school, happy...hell, I could be whatever the fuck I wanted. Reckon I wouldn’t have to apply makeup on my wrists, lie as often as I do or put up with rumours about me. But somehow, the world decided to be horrid to me and allow me to meet Cale.

“Do your friends pressure you? Do your friends make you feel insecure? Do your friends-”

Before I could finish my rant, Riley clapped his hand over my mouth, silencing my words. I tried to speak, but he had a firm grasp over my mouth. His eyes were flickering with anticipation. Slowly dragging his hand off my mouth and making his way to my jaw, he clamped his grip over the back of my neck. Before I had the chance to speak, he slowly leaned in close to my face. The smile returned as I leaned upwards, my hand still on his thigh.

“You and this Cale figure have been together for a while now, correct?” Doctor Lippman leaned back in his chair, staring at me while I fiddled with the hem of my yellow pants.

 

Yellow is such an ugly colour. It reminds me of the sun’s rays, happiness in your heart, flowers in a field, lemons acidity and vomit.  I preferred black. Night, darkness, funerals, alone, sadness; me.

 

I sighed, taking my eyes off the disgusting colour of my clothing. I tried looking at Dr. Lippman, but I couldn’t handle his serious expressions all the time. There were no boundaries or sensitive topics; everything was fair to talk about, even if that meant lying to just get him off my back. I knew the longer I stayed, the more mental I would become and end up like Nelly.

 

 I was perfectly fine.  

 

Weight: check.

Wrists: check.

Attitude: check.

 

That is, as far as he should be concerned.

 

On the bright side, the directors keep sending daft nurses to check on me. This becomes easier to get out by the minute.

 

I didn’t feel like responding to his obnoxious question. “Why you wanna know?” I hoped that this would drive his mind away from pestering me anymore. I longed for the days when he went easy on me and every time a fake tear formed in my eye, I was set free for the day. Maybe he isn’t as easy to trick as everybody else here seems to be. c

 

Dr. Lippman frowned. Reckon he thinks I’m mental. “And how does he make you feel?”

 

The moment our lips touched, only thoughts of bliss scampered across my mind. For a moment I forgot about how ditsy Norah was, how cruel Cale was and how right Owen was. Riley was the only word on my mind; he was the only thing that mattered.

He moved his body closer to mine so that our knees touched. He slid his hand down my neck, resting it on the small of my back. I reached up and ran my hands though his dark curls, feeling each curl in between my fingers.

All those kisses with Cale were nothing compared to that sweet moment with Riley. I never wanted it to end and would be perfectly happy staying here all day snogging and skipping class.

After what seemed like a day, a month, a year we finally broke and entered back to reality. It was his choice not mine. His mouth ripped apart from mine with such haste, that it took a second for me to register the specialist kiss of my life had just passes. And I spend its whole duration trying not to think about Cale. Shit, why do I always fuck up about these things?

Instantly, Riley blushed a deep red, staring at the ground. He rubbed the back of his neck, which was also turning a shade of red.  “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. You just got out of a relationship.”

I fought the urge to laugh in his face at his unneeded pleas.  There were times when he was as shy and innocent as a thirteen year old on their date.  Yet, there were many times, like when angers, when a raging beast emerges from his chest, screaming. “It’s all right,” I say gently. I put my hand on top of his and melodiously trace the contours.

At first, a shocked look cross his face but when he saw I was sincere, the shocked expression vanished. It was replaced with a bright smile. Taking my face in his rough hands, he pulled me close to his mouth.