Curse Of The Curves

Curse Of The Curves [5]

I snuggled into the over sized hoodie, which I had coaxed Charlie into letting me keep. We had spent the whole afternoon talking about everything that was wrong with the world. It had all been an elaborate distraction from my real problem. Charlie had noticed the sad look on my face, as he was getting ready to leave.

“Listen ky, don’t sweat it. He’s a boob if he loses you.” I giggled and hugged him.

“Why couldn’t I fall for you?”

“You know you can’t handle all of this.” He gestured to himself.

“Yeah, that’s why” I said shutting the door on him.

“You know it!” he shouted from the other side.

A loud rapping sound pulled me from my thoughts. It was coming from the door. I put the chain on before opening it. I was startled to find Xavier leaning heavily to one side. He had a lopsided grin plastered on his face. The smell of alcohol permeated the air. I closed the door to remove the chain, and reopened it to find him in the exact same position. His face suddenly became animated

“Kyyyyyyyyyleeeeeee. You’re... very preddy... And I want to kissss you... but you want... you want to kissssh Chaarliee... it makesss Xavier sad.”

He slurred, frowning slightly, while slinging his arm lazily around me. I stumbled backwards from the force of his body. My face reddened at his accusation. But I pursed my lips and focused on getting him off my doorstep.

“Come inside Xavier. You can stay here.”

“I... I Shaw youuuu... youuuu and Chaarliee... laughs and... joking.”

“Charlie is my best friend.”

I was getting tired of repeating this.

“I wish... I wish I were youuuur besht friend... I bet youuuu kissssh all youuur friends... it’s okaaaay we arrrrre even... Millie wasssh nice to me... ”

He jeered.

“Can I teeeell you a sheeecret?”

He leaned forward dramatically. I rolled my eyes, nodding.

“Ooooookaaay.”

He was right next to my ear. I shivered as his breath touched my skin.

“Don’t tell Kyyyleeee... buttttt I kishhhhed her milllllliiiiiiieeeeeeeeee.”

I wanted to slap him. I wanted him to feel at least half of what I was going through. And what was I going through? Maybe I was dying. Maybe this is what it means to be truly maimed and torn, because as he told me the end, I heard him as if from a distant place. Like I lay on the floor, like tattered fabric, watching him. I realised he was still in the room. I couldn’t look at him anymore; he was staring at me blankly, wondering why I wasn’t brimming with mirth at his little story. I left the room in search of blankets. Maybe it was the alcohol. But drunken sayings are sober thoughts, right? So that means he wanted to kiss her.

I leaned against the wall for support. Catching my breath. Crying wasn’t going to make him love me, like I so craved. But what else could I do. I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to end this, it was something like I’d never felt before, being with Xavier. I couldn’t (didn’t want to), imagine not being with him. But did he feel the same way. I’d have to make him. I had fallen too deep, to throw it all away. It was only a kiss.

I returned to the lounge, with no blankets but a plan. I found an unconscious Xavier, snoring gently on the couch, his limbs splayed awkwardly around his torso. I slowly made my way to Xavier’s sleeping form. In his slumber, he seemed to retain an iridescent quality. I was powerfully and irrevocably in love with this boy. And he had no idea. My hand trembled as I edged closer to him, my palm outstretched, I needed to touch my angel. I traced the shape of his lips, every curve and contour, I committed to memory. His eyes fluttered open, dazed confusedly, the alcohol still pumping through his veins.