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hola
triple update wow
wowowowowow
i hope you enjoy it thooo
and btw i dont mind (song of usher's on the side) pretty much fits justins thoughts during a lot of certain scenes in this chapter ;)
so so so yeah giggity
really - enjoy this lmao im sorry i had to keep splitting the chapters bc they're so long
ok
enjoy (sorry if this sucks)
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27 | Evening Reminiscences
I lock the front door before going with her, checking up on Sammy as he lays in his bed by the couch.
I first take her into my lounge. I turn on the lights and the modular reclining suite appears in its full corrected grain cowhide, two duplicates adjacent from it. Next to one of the suites is an end table, a lantern holding a candle block inside of it.
“Poor cow,” Ariana coos in pity, her fingers grazing the leather of the suite.
In the middle of them are a Tribeca vintage sofa table holding my Murano stripe vase in red and gold, holding artificial Lily flowers in it.
To just be cute, I poured some water into it.
“These aren't real?” She frowns as I do a grin. She's gasping and pouting at it, gently laying the vase back down. She grabs the other vase next to it, a spring garden miniature one, stacked with crystal and quartz rocks, sea shells, and translucent and opaque gems.
“Sorry to disappoint.” I lean against the door.
“I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty. I've got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs?” She waves her hand over the vase, her index finger springing upward. “I've got twenty! But who cares? No big deal. I want more.” She grins as I applaud at the beauty of her voice.
She then shakes it and my hands reach out, stopping her from doing so.
“Sorry,” she says, looking up.
“It's okay.” I point at the potpourri inside a ceramic white bowl on top of the shelf above the suite, a pop art image of the Canadian flag posted over it, with graffiti art expressing love for the country surrounding it and popping out in three-dimension.
I have an overwhelming devotion to my country.
It's honestly the best in this world, to me.
I haven't been many places, but so far as I know, Canada is an amazing one.
She points at it as I gaze and she does the same. “Beautiful.” She turns around and runs over to the balcony, looking over the view before running back in. She spots out the coat rack, which is tall enough to be a few more inches than her height.
To be honest, I'm not really sure why it's that high up.
“I'm an aspiring stripper,” she jokes, wrapping her knee around the stand and thrusting her hip out to the right as I pretend to throw money at her with my hands. After a while, I'm broke and she removes the back of her knee from the stand and crouches down, closing in her legs and quickly bouncing up and down while balanced on her tip-toes, her heels banging into the ground as she thrusts her hip, panting.
“Work it, work it, work it.” I cheer her on, cupping my mouth.
She tries twerking, but instead of it being with her αss, it's her back, and she pathetically drops down to the floor, giggling at her failed attempt. She unwinds her knees from their criss-cross position and grins with a giddy laugh escaping, stumbling back over to me.
“Nope, nope. Cramps, cramps.” She groans and she puts on a fake smile.
I smile back, yet genuine, and we move on to my bedroom.
“Where do you keep your stash of weed. Hmm?” She squints, sniffing and brushing the walls and kicking behind my trash can.
“It's a secret.” I purse my lips.
I stand in the door frame as she surveys around, running and jumping onto the bed, which is a mess and looks like Hurricane Katrina passed by on it. She jumps on the bed, nearly banging her head on the ceiling and I watch as she spazzes when she pulls a neck muscle, and clumsily falls off of it.
I run over to her, concerned and laughing at the same time.
“Ouch . . . fuck.” She kneads into her neck.
“Wise.”
She flips me off. “Be quiet or I'm going to make you.”
“I ain't scared of nothing!” I talk back like a child, and she begins crawling onto the floor, and for a second I mistake her for Grudgelena.
“Can I take off my shoes?” She rubs her feet on the ground, her legs criss-crossed.
My jaw drops.
“Wait, you just jumped on my bed with your shoes on?!”
How the fυck did I not realize?
“How the fυck do you bounce on a bed with heels?”
She doesn't say anything back to that, just winking.
I allow her to take off her heels, leaving them on my floor.
She goes to my desk, picking up a framed photograph of me and Colton at the fair when we were both sixteen.
So long ago, Jesus.
“Aww, you guys were so cute. Is this before the abs and the tans?” She laughs. “Your hair looks so hot dark though,” she adds, awing.
I've been thinking about dyeing my hair lately, sometime around this year.
I'm not sure what color though; I'm lingering on the choices of either dark brown or black.
I narrow my eyes, grabbing the frame and staring into it. I had my layered, dark brown haircut, my black diamond stud earrings on. Colton had just gotten a buzz cut that day. I remember picking on him about it because he looked like he was enrolling for the military. His dimples are prominent and the crinkles around his eyes are formed.
“Vanessa took this picture,” I murmur, loud enough for her to hear me.
“Ohhh.” Ariana stands beside me as I reminisce.
He and she had just started going out a month before this, and I had gotten angry because he invited her there when it was supposed to be just me and him. We argued about it and I wanted to just break off the weekend plans. I was going to ignore him until I realized he was my best friend and it wouldn't even last too long if I even tried.
Vanessa came with us that day eventually, and I reluctantly was nice to her. We had gotten McDonald's later on, and I'm not sure what else happened after that.
I just know a month later after the event I had first stumbled upon Feliz Navi-thot.
It just amazes me how much I slut-shame her for having sex, when I'm still the same guy who wishes I was the one she did it with.
Pain squeezes at the walls of my throat, and restraint aches it; along with the burning sensation pricking at my eyeballs as I try to suppress.
“Hey.” I feel Ariana wrap her arms around my torso, laying her head on my shoulder as I stay mute, looking at the picture and scolding sixteen-year-old me, and how I thought it was cool to do some KISS shιt and stick my tongue out in photos.
I guess that phase transferred to Miley because she always looks like she's ready to lick something all the dαmn time.
Without knowing her, you could possibly mistake her as a panting Golden Retriever.
Sometimes, I get mad at Colton because he's the one who introduced me to Grudgelena. He's the one who kept pressuring me to ask her out, seeing I had thought she was pretty. He's the one who planned our first date, which was at the movie theaters and we were seeing The Dark Knight Rises.
I kissed her for the first time four dates after, which was in Calabasas, at Red Lobster.
I blame him a lot for the pain that's consumed my life, but I know it's not his fault.
Perhaps it's not even entirely hers.
I go to look down at Ariana, because I haven't been speaking for a while, and she's already looking at me and caresses my cheek, and I smirk at the birthmark on her left cheek.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Thanks for coming here with me, by the way.” I feel like I need to appreciate the joy she's brought me even more today. “It gets pretty boring.”
“Same, at my house.”
“I'm usually just skateboarding or at the beach, or here eating and watching Netflix all dαmn day.”
We high-five.
We cool, we cool.
She runs over to my shelf, her eyes scanning over the several different framed photographs and souvenirs and collectibles, pulling out a stack of photographs from the top of it.
“Who's this?” she asks with the stack laid down on her lap. I take a seat next to her on top of the trunk at the end of my bed. She's pointing at a single Polaroid picture of me and my friend, Promy. We're sitting down on her patio, holding cups of orange juice in our hands. That was the day after I slept over at her house.
I remember how high we got that night.
It was fun, to be honest.
She lives across the street from me, and we met after she saw me playing basketball, shirtless, outside my house with one of my crackhead buddies.
Reminds me of that Crackhead Kid Vine – but anyway.
I look out my bay window, the same old orange tree knocking against the glass as if asking for entrance.
I wonder if she's home.
Maybe I'll hit her up when Ariana leaves or something. I don't know.
I look down back at the picture. I'm shirtless in it, and I had just gotten my cross tattoo a few nights before this. Promy's hair is curly and in a bun, and she's flipping the camera off with a smile on her face, the metal of her braces showing.
She's really beautiful, to be honest.
I have some sort of crush on her, I guess you can say.
“That's Promy,” I finally respond after forever. “She's my weed buddy, I guess you can say. She's cool.”
“Is she Hispanic? She looks Hispanic. Not that it really matters, just curious.”
“Nah, she's mixed; black and white.”
Dichotomy.
That's the nickname I gave her; because she's black and white. Also, because it rhymes with her actual name.
Ariana nods. “Oh.” Her fingers flicker through multiple photographs in the stack. She stops, pulling out a single one of me and Selena with party hats on. I'm lifting her up with my hands on her butt and her legs wrapped around my torso, and we're kissing,
I took this photo on my eighteenth birthday.
This was the same day I had gotten my third tattoo: the angel one of her, on my wrist.
Should've exchanged the wings for horns – but anyway.
This was taken a month before the incident and all truth was revealed.
A month before my turn to depression.
A month before every ounce of happiness I had was shattered like glass.
Ariana looks up at me and then down at the tattoo, and a heavy weight drops down at the pit of my stomach.
I snatch the photograph from her hand and run over to my desk, picking up a scissor and chopping it into pieces that strewn all over it. I bolt over to the trash can beside my bed and sweep the pieces in with the side of my hand.
I look across the room, and she's startled with her mouth agape.
“That wasn't supposed to be in there,” I say darkly though my intentions aren't to. I just guess that side of me comes out whenever Grudgelena is mentioned. I walk over to her cautiously, squeezing her left shoulder apologetically. “Sorry, I just thought I disposed of all of those.”
“It's fine.” She smiles and walks back over to the shelf, placing the stack of Polaroids back. Walking back, she's grinning as if trying to wipe away what just occurred.
Good.
I take a moment to gaze into her eyes as she does the same to me, the moment ruined when My Roomba hits her foot, and she yelps, screaming at it and falling onto the edge of the bed, bouncing back up with buoyancy and falling back down on her butt.
Dαmmit, I was saving that for the trampoline.
We can still play on it anyway.
A Roomba is a vacuum, by the way. It moves around the house, featuring basic sensors that help it perform tasks. It is able to change direction on encountering obstacles, being able to detect dirt and shit.
Sammy likes traveling on it sometimes, it's fun for the both of us.
Her laugh is contagious and sounds more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement when she's kneading her hands into her butt, and I extend a hand out to pick her up. She sighs appreciatively, grabbing my hand, and I purposely let it go once she's halfway up.
“You bitch,” she spits when she falls back to the bed.
“Oops!” I giggle and twist my foot.
I kneel and bend down to turn the Roomba on dock mode, it moving out of my room and I'm laughing and soon falling onto my face, realizing Ariana has decided to get some payback.
I hear her do a phonetic laugh for me, as I pick myself up and groan. She pads across the room, moving across from me. I'm able to grab a hold of her leg, and she trips, falling and landing with her hands laid out to save her from digging her chin into the carpet.
I pounce out, landing my chest against her back and lifting her up. She kicks her small legs and squeals, clawing at my cheeks.
I put her down and her hair is a mess, and I take a second to adore her before she growls at me.
“Tiger,” I accuse.
She lifts her arms up and massages her scalps, her eyes soon popping out and turning around, running down my small steps and tripping over a book thrown onto the floor.
I laugh. “Nice.”
She flips me off as she tugs down the hem of her shirt.
She slides over to my bathroom, kicking the door open and staring into the mirror.
I have a pretty big bathroom. My mom gave me the master bedroom, which came along with a master bathroom. The walls of the shower room are made out of lava rock. I found this pretty cool and this is one of the many reasons why I enjoy showering. In the middle of the room, there's a clawfoot tub with a heated towel rack installed into a wall behind it.
My mom has a pretty cool shower too. It's a cubicle and it lights up.
We had that as a customization though. It didn't come that way.
But anyway, I prefer showers. I only take baths whenever I don't feel like standing for a dang hour.
There's a glass panel window also, with baby blue curtains draped over it. And the countertop for the sink is made out of black concrete, with silver faucets and a wide mirror above it, adorned with an ultra-premium, hand-glided Franklin frame.
I'm surprised she hasn't acknowledged her astonishment over my house yet.
She's different.
“Ugh.” Ariana's hair is frizzy and borders her face, the blonde tips split and against her shoulders. She parts it to the side, squinting at the light. “My hair . . . ew.” She pulls at a lock resembling a curly fry.
I walk behind her, hugging her from the back and laying my chin down on the top of her shoulder. “I like your Mufasa hair.”
I see her twitch in the mirror and she looks up at me. “Fυck you.”
“What?” I act innocent, unwinding my arms.
“You just called me a lion.”
“I'm aware,” I say with a smartass grin on my face.
“I thought I was a Dolphin, then I'm a Tiger, now I'm a Lion. What is your obsession with these zoo animals?”
“It's just that you remind me of so many.”
I back away before she turns around and slaps me with her fin.
We leave my bedroom after a bit more exploring and laughing at embarrassing childhood pictures of me and my stupid haircut, and I then take her out to the pool, it glistening with the outdoor sconces shedding their light onto it.
We stop by the Jacuzzi. The sky adorns its crystal reflection. It's not being used right now, but maybe sometime when she comes over again, we can get into it. I suggest this and she eyes me, looking at me like I'm crazy.
“What?”
She clicks her teeth, scolding me and I roll my eyes.
I dig my hands down my pocket, rubbing my fingers which begin to sweat from the closed heat. “I'm wearing my bathing suit right now, anyway.”
“Yeah, why are you wearing a bathing suit?”
I shrug. “I was too lazy this morning. Who gives a fυck though, I look fly as shιt.”
“Mhm.” She rolls her eyes at my narcissism.
It's true though. My quiff is on point and my muscles are tight as fυck.
She sighs at the ripples that come when skimming her finger across the surface of the water. Turning, she flashes a grin. “We'll see,” she flirts and I grin back at her, winking and we pass by the basketball court. I dunk the ball into the basket, leading her to the backyard where my trampoline stands, the taut fabric flat.
“Now,” I start, holding her hand, “since you want to jump so much on my bed, how about you do the same with my trampoline.” I race over to it, getting up on it and laughing lively.
Wow, I'm really happy right now. This has been a fυcking great time spent with her.
I don't want her to leave, though.
“Fυck yeah!” She cheers, her small legs picking up as she speeds over to the edge of the device, climbing onto the top of it.
When she's jumping, she groans and hugs her lower stomach area. “Dammit, being on my period sucks!”
I've never understood periods.
Like, how can girls just bleed once a month and not die?
I laugh. “Sorry, Dolphin."
“Ju a dumbass for apologizing.” I see her glare.
I bounce up, beginning to realize that our food is probably cold by now, and infectiously cracking up as she jumps in front of me. Her small stature springs up and descends. The sight is blurred as I move up and down, circling around the edge and stepping forward, threatening her by pretending to try and push her.
“Really? You're going to play that game?”
“Yes, I am indeed.” I square up at her frenzy tone.
She sticks her chest out, banging on it like a gorilla with two curled fists. “Come at me, bro.”
We perform vertical cobra poses as we face each other, and she raises her hand out as I flinch with a sour lemon wince though she doesn't do anything.
My eyes open at her, and her dark eyes are close to view; so alluring.
I almost immerse myself into indulgence, until her hands slide down my shorts and I yelp, bending down to pick them back up and her tee-heeing at me.
“You're good,” I give it to her, pulling my shorts up, then tugging them down a little bit so I'm still sagging.
Sorry, but wearing my shorts completely up and tight around my waist is uncomfortable as hell.
She flips her hair. “I know. My eyes do wonders to boys.”
I agree, us circling around and clenching fists like a boxing match.
“It's not like me pulling them all the way down made a difference. Your ass is basically hanging out constantly.”
“But you enjoy the view.”
She nonchalantly lifts her right shoulder, admitting, “I'd be lying if I said no to that.”
Of course.
We circle around for a while until a minute later Ariana's serious about this and starts. “And . . go . .”
I dip my head down like an enraged bull, diving down to try and grab a hold of her legs, but she bypasses me and swerves behind. I hear the coiled springs move as the fabric vibrates, and she jumps onto my back, tackling me down.
I can't see because my eyes are closed and all these movements are messy and difficult to comprehend as I'm reeling around the fabric, blinded by these rapid vibrations. And before I'm even able to open my eyes, I'm soon falling down onto my back and I'm feeling her climb onto my legs and straddle my waist.
I'm shocked at the pressure on my crotch, grunting and moaning at the same time. I try sitting up, but she pushes me back down.
When I'm finally calm and the environment is silent, I open my eyes. The only noise which interferes with the quiet atmosphere is the sounds of cars driving by and other neighbors' dogs barking from over the fence. I gain clarity, and she's hovering over me with a smile crept onto her pink lips.
“Bonjour,” she greets, waving.
“French?” I scoff. “Too bad you're not fluent.”
She raises an eyebrow at me, and I feel the blood rush straight into my dick. “You are?”
I stay calm, nodding. I'm worried I'll get a boner while she's still on top of me.
That's embarrassing as fuck.
I flex a muscle, hoping somehow it'll suppress it.
“Mhm,” I lean up, and she pushes me back down roughly. “Ugh.” I stare at the sky, it still rich in color. I'm exhausted. Maybe the only reason, why she's straddling me, is because she's trying to have me mortified by causing the erection. I blow a sigh out, anxious.
Goose bumps form on my skin, making it rough and I feel her fingernail run down my torso. Eventually, the tip of it is spearing against the skin above the waistband of my shorts, the hem of my tank top lifted up briefly, and I'm throbbing as her finger tugs at it, releasing and my heartbeat accumulating with rate. I feel her hand move down to my dιck, and it begins to rub gently down onto it, and my thighs tremble.
“Do you like that?” she asks softly.
I don't say anything. I just stare at her with my mouth hanging open.
She's so fυcking bad, dαmn.
“Stop it,” I plead though knowing somewhere deep inside, I want more.
“As you wish.” She tries to get off of my lap, but I lean up and grab a hold of her, turning her face to look at me.
I stare into her eyes for a while, until smirking and kissing the tip of her nose.
She furrows her eyebrows, biting her lip at it. “What was that for?”
“Making me happy.” I do a shy smile. “You're a good flirt buddy-friend-girl.” I laugh at my difficulty of saying the title, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Aw.” She smiles back, kissing the tip of my nose.
I sigh. “Tu es belle, Ariana,” I whisper.
She gawks at me, recognizing the sound of the language, but not understanding what I said. “What?”
“I just said, ‘you are beautiful, Ariana.’ See, I told you I know French.”
Her eyebrow arches in a devious manner of expression. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
I move my jaw around, not really sure what to say to that. It wasn't said to impress her. It was said because I meant it. “Um . . . Yeah, I guess.”
She smiles bright. “Well, will you take me to Paris too then?”
I nod, rubbing my thumb against her knuckle. “Yeah.”
“Promise?" She takes out her pinky.
I laugh, hooking mine with hers, which is so small, that I chuckle at how adorable it is, then shaking it. “I promise.”
She narrows her eyes at me disbelievingly, and then shakes her head, blushing. “But wow, thanks for calling me beautiful.” She's quiet for a moment, but then speaks again. “And you're mucho sexy, Justin.”
I raise my chin up, agreeing.
I need my throne and crown, pronto.
“I mean, I've always loved Beauty and the Beast, so.”
I nod at her, tickling her stomach and her sucking it in, giggling and falling back down, then springing back up again.
I like that we're just able to be so casual about our relationship. I like that we're friends and don't care to mess around with each other and act sexual. I like the fact that we don't care if we give each other compliments, and admit about the certain things we find physically, spiritually, and mentally attractive about each other. It's nice to have a friend like that, especially since she's a girl and I like girls and shit.
I just don't want people to start suspecting me and Ariana are dating. I don't really want that kind of rumor flying around the school. It's annoying. If a girl and a girl; or a boy and boy, who are friends can act like this with each other and still just be called friends, then the same should be done with an opposite sex friendship.
I'm serious.
I just want to have fun with my friends, regardless of their gender, and let that be.
Fυck, let me eat this girl's pυssy out or whatever, but it still doesn't mean she's my wife.
And, to be frank, I'm not sure if I ever want to dive into romance with anyone for a long time. But if I do eventually find a girl, and we do fall in love or whatever, then we fall in love or whatever.
What happens is what happens.
Fuck, I can be staring at that girl right now.
Fuck, that girl could be the one next door who spilled her Starbucks drink on my Versace.
Fuck, it can even be Miley.
Fuck, it could even be my dead pet hamster.
I don't know.
I nod when we're not saying anything, my fingers rubbing against her inner elbow. “So, do you want to go back inside and continue this tour?”
Her eyes give me the answer. “Also because, my lower body is aching with this blood rushing down out of me.”
Ironic, speaking there's blood rushing up inside my lower body right now.
By the way – how the fuck is she straddling me while on her period?
Periods will forever confuse me.
We get off of the trampoline, and I thank all good spirits for granting me with this self-control and not getting completely hard. I stay away from her, long enough for it to go away and I'm able to be comfortable.
We go back inside the house, and I take her into the kitchen. We have a short musical session as we both drum on the different pans and pots and other homemade items and kitchen appliances.
“Humdumdumdum,” she sing-songs as she makes out her own maraca with a bottle of different grains and basmati.
We're throwing our own little Mardi Gras.
“Falalalalalala,” I sing out, humming and doing a falsetto.
She gives out a whistle note, and I woo her as I clap with two wooden spoons in my hands. I take a bite out of the baguette, spitting it out and her dodging it because I had accidentally shot into her direction.
She climbs over the countertop and leans over towards me, falling against my chest. We rub noses as she's being shackled in my embrace, and I'm swinging her around before she sets herself down, smoothing the wrinkles of her shirt with her palm, like an iron.
“I felt like a palm tree for a second there,” she laughs.
“More like a noodle,” I add.
“A slithering, slithering noodle,” she says with a lisp, my eyes squinting as I beam laughter.
I've been laughing and smiling so much today, somebody might as well grab out a camera and take a headshot.
Shit, I might as well portray the real life SpongeBob while I'm at it.
“I'm the best at impediments,” she mentions and I nod.
“Why, is that so?”
“I can also mimic the voices of several artists, and do the sound of a crying baby.”
I tap my chin. “Do it.”
She clears her throat, and soon enough I'm gripping her forearms, urging to drive her back into the NICU.
“What the fuck? That is cool as shit.”
She flips her hair, doing a duck face. “Because I am, motherfucker.”
I poke Daisy's dimple. “Is that why we're such good friends?”
“Indeed.”
We fist bump.
“Booyah, bitch!” she chants with enthusiasm.
I take her around, seeing Sammy has fallen asleep. I go to the laundry room, us throwing clothes around and me knowing I'm going to have to pick them back up when she leaves or my mom's going to kick my ass and make me wash the clothes myself. We go into the different bathrooms, the main level, racing up and down the stairwell.
Then we enter the Paranormal movie set: my basement.
I think this is where Grudgelena was born, but anyhow.
The door creaks open, the pungent smell of dust and dirt filling my nose as I see Ariana's figure step in front of me.
“Whoa, this is scary,” she whispers in awe, her hair brushing my collarbone as she leans against me. She moves forward, the sound of the steps squeaking as her foot sets down on top of them, creating an anticipation within this indie horror movie.
I try to hold my breath as she moves down the steps, the lights still off.
“Hello? Justin?”
I stay quiet as I see her body move up frantically, her head bobbing and turning around as I try to hide my cast of a shadow behind a broom on the side of me.
“Justin, where you at?!”
I take a quick inhale of breath, the cruddy smell of the basement making me want to faint. I try not to laugh as she begins to mewl, calling out my name.
“Oh my gosh, where did you go – ?”
“BOO, MOTHERFUCKER!” I pop out from behind the broom, it falling and nearly her, before I catch her and she screams and whines at the same time.
“Fυck you, Justin! Fυck you.”
“Are you trying to tell me you want to have sex?” I smirk and hold her tightly.
“Ughhh!” She wiggles, causing me to shake and fall against a clutter of cleaning supplies. My back aches with the impact, and she's evilly cackling at me before a circulating symphony of rats squeaking against the pipes makes our way.
She looks up. “The fυck was that?”
I spring up, grabbing her hand. “Fυck this shit.”
The hinges of the door squeak and crack against my push, as we flee.
We leave that and retrieve to my cinema, which she informs me she has one herself. I show her my office where I do my homework – if I even try to. She prods at the draft of my mother's book, and I pull her away before my mother comes back home to the printer being in a different angle than she left it and takes out her inspection gloves.
We go into my band room, and I play a bit on the drums and trumpet until I sit down at the piano and mess around with the keys.
Ariana's hand slides over the music sheets on the rack, flipping through O Holy Night, Thinkin Bout You, A Thousand Years, The Power of Love,and a few random children songs I sing to my brother and sister when they're bored. Then she stops at the one being titled, Die in Your Arms.
This is a song I wrote.
“New song?”
I lick my lips, snatching the music sheet and inspecting it. I nod then shrug, unsure. “Well, I started it a while ago. I only have a few chords written down.”
“No lyrics?”
“Lyrics, yes.” I smile. “Wanna hear it?”
She nods, resting her chin on the top of her palm, anticipation living inside the both of us.
I clear my throat, reading from the sheet. I drum my left hand on the side of the piano lid as I sing.
Say you love me
As much as I love you, yeah
Would you hurt me, baby?
I do a sarcastic frown, pretending to draw a dripping tear down my cheek.
Could you do that to me, yeah
Would you lie to me, baby?
'Cause the truth hurts so much more
Would you do the things that drive me crazy?
Leave my heart still at the door?
Ooh I can't help it, I'm just selfish
There's no way that I can share you
That would break my heart to pieces
Honestly, the truth is
If I could just die
In your arms
I wouldn't mind
Cause everytime you touch me
I just die in your arms
I hug myself, swaying left to right.
Oh, it feels so right
I look up and smile.
So, baby, baby, please don't stop, girl
I look up and she's smiling down at me, applauding and asking, “Is that it?”
I nod. “Pretty much. I'll make sure to finish it as soon as possible so I can sing you need the entire thing.”
“Good.”
.
.
We play a little with my basketball, tossing it back and forth until I have to put it back down.
After a while, it's thirty after six o'clock, and I'm in my personal gymnasium; also known as my workout space. Our eyes skim over the treadmill, the weights, my dual exercise wheel, the speed rope, stepper, sit up and weight bench and etcetera.
I take off my tank top, throwing it against the door and mentally apologizing to it.
I'm very close to my clothes, so shut up.
I'm pathetic, fuck.
I see her jaw drop, eyes fixed on my pecs. “Wow, you have bigger boobs than me.”
I try to bounce them, but I'm not even that strong, nor Terry Crews. I turn my back to her. “I'm going to impress you with what I'm about to do, my friend.” I flex my arm muscles as I get up onto the pull-up bar hanging on the top of the doorway. I grip onto it, my lower body swinging back and forth as I pull up and down, grunting and biting down on my lower lip so hard that it hurts.
“One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five,” Ariana counts as I pull up and down.
At my fourteenth, I drop down to both feet, rubbing the callosities on my hands, along with the rest already there. I mind them and go to the set of weights on the floor, trying to lift one up, but my arm muscles begin to falter and lose strength, not being able to handle the endurance and they weaken. A gritty sound escapes my lips as the weight descends down to my feet. “Ouch,” I grunt once it hits the floor and I back away from it. “My shoulders hurt.” I massage them with clammy hands.
“Then you gotta stop lifting heavy things,” she scolds me.
I huff. “Well shit, I guess I gotta start peeing down then.”
You know what has seventy-three teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk?
My zipper.
I immediately do a cocky smirk as she motions towards me, her eyes locked with a fixated leer as her hand rubs against her face with a tiresome expression.
Ariana approaches close, a kind and shy look on her face as she kisses her fingertips and I turn my hand over; she presses them onto the aching pain. “There, feel better?” She does the same with my shoulders – yet altering it by pressing her full set of lips onto the blades and the top of them both, the wet marks lingering on my skin.
As sexy as that was and felt, the pain still mingles with my upper body.
I shake my head, sad to disappoint her try at aiding me. “No.”
She points her chin at the rough streaks around my knuckles. “How'd those get there?”
I sigh, not wanting to remember what provoked the scars but confessing to it anyway, not really giving a fuck at some point. “I punch walls. . .”
When we were in my bedroom, I didn't let her walk into my closet, because that's where the dents are, and I knew if she saw them, she would want to talk about it, which I don't need or have the patience to do.
She seems to be smart enough not to question any more about them, sighing and turning the other way over to the stationary bike. She struggles to step onto it, so I lift her up with my hands, her rough soles and pale feet rubbing against my palms as she sets herself up.
I look out the sliding glass doors giving us a great glimpse of the sky and the Mars scenery.
“I hate riding horses, and doing this reminds of it.”
“Have you ever ridden a mechanical bull before?”
“Yes, I have . . . I fell off it. The harness broke. L-O-L.” She looks across the room, my back against the wall mirror and her glimpsing at her reflection.
“Not able to keep steady, huh?”
“Nope, I'm lame at riding shιt.”
“Besides cars?”
“Yeah.” She rests her chin on her backhand as we talk.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I can't imagine what would happen if you ever rode this dιck.” I thrust my pelvis, signaling down at my crotch area.
“I think it'd be too good to fall off of.” She winks.
I want Colton to come in here so we can do our white boy freak dance again.
She's honestly one of the dirtiest, straightforward girls I've ever met. It's fun because we're just making this something casual, and playing around with it. Most girls I talk to are too scared because they think I'm trying to use them, but I'm not.
If I think a girl is attractive, I'll say it. But I most definitely won't use her.
I hope I don't ever get to that point with mentality.
“You're not afraid to talk dirty, are ya?” I question, taking a step forward.
Ariana bites down hard on her lip, shaking her head and puckering a kiss and flashing a peace sign. “Not at all.”
She rests on the top of the saddle as I watch from afar. Poking at the ergometer screen, she lifts her butt off of the seat and sticks it out, causing it to protrude. Her hands grip onto the handlebars and she stands up with one bent knee, balancing her feet on the pedals.
“Face down, αss up. That's the way we like to fυck.” She laughs and I bite my lip uncontrollably. “Daddy, come over.” She beckons me with a single finger, and I oblige.
“Yes, baby?” I lean over her with wet lips.
“Do I look good?” She bats her eyelashes.
“Yes, very sexy,” I say while my fingers skim across her hip.
She grazes her bottom lip as she runs a finger against my collarbone, sitting down. “Gross,” she whispers.
“What?”
Do my collarbones look too prominent?
Fυck.
“I just did some daddy kink shιt right there. I am disgusted.”
I put on a nervous smile. “N-no, it was hot . . .”
“I love how you're stuttering,” she does a seductive whisper.
I bite in my lip, which keeps on dropping. “B-because you're turning me on.”
I swear if this girl gives me a boner, that burger is not the only meat I'm going to be beating.
I begin to question her, and how I used to think she was this innocent girl who likes to make jokes and say the most random things. But now she's acting all sexy and shιt.
She's my friend right?
Yes, she is.
Just trying to reassure that because the way we're acting is way too cozy.
My eyes hover over her as she stares at them, speechless.
“Your breath stinks,” she blurts.
I pull back, covering my mouth, completely and utterly mortified. “What, it does?”
I brush my teeth ten times a day and basically overdose with mints.
I had eight today.
She jumps off the seat, brushing off her thighs and readjusting her ponytail and bra. “No, I just needed an excuse for you to give me a chance to breathe my own oxygen.”
I heave a relieved sigh, my chest falling. “Oh okay. So it smells good?”
She shrugs. “I guess, I don't know. I wasn't really sniffing it.”
“But does it smell bad? Because my breath always smells good, and that's embarrassing to me if it didn't. I even have a bedside mouthwash for when I wake up.”
She tilts her head to the side with a calm expression. “No, it does not smell bad. But it's going to after you eat. So let's go and do that, okay?” She walks over to me, tapping my pec. “And put on a shirt.”
I roll my eyes, bending over to grab it when I feel her hand on my butt, smacking it.
I spin around with the tank top clutched in my hand, my eyebrows furrowed and my cheeks red.
She waves her hand out. “Smack αss Friday, am I right?”
I shake my head, putting on the shirt and when she turns around, I smack her ass right back.
She gasps and turns around to gape up at me.
I wave my hand in her face. “Smack ass Friday, am I right?”
______________________________________
lmaoo
kk
this was supposed to be chapter 28 as well but i split it again xD (im not sure when ill be able to upload chap 28. maybe tomorrow or something bc i rarely have wifi for my laptop)