𝓔𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷
I ᴅʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ Sʜʀɪᴍᴘ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴍᴜsɪᴄ blasting at the front of the car and all of them singing the lyrics one by one. I hated singing, so instead I just kept driving with the image of me kissing Isabel so hard the other night with so much force that she was moaning into my mouth. The sweetest sound ever. That was my favorite song now.
Since then, we didn't talk. At school, whenever we crossed paths or whatever.
I never kissed someone with so much intensity it was crazy. At some point I was out of air but I kept going anyway because she was moaning into my mouth and just from a kiss and some touching. It was so fucking addicting.
Me and my friends eventually arrived to the town's coffee shop, parked and got out. They followed behind all the time, I was always doing the talking while they talked to each other instead. I was like a mother of a group of not so little boys. It was like this all the time, I was used to it so it was fine anyway. Just the fact that a lot of people had seen me as the only person who did the talking.
Sometimes they would step up and talk for themselves, but other than that, nope. They only talked to each other.
We entered the Starbucks and headed to the cashier, this time instead of being a guy like it was all the time we came here—his name was Theo—it was a girl bent over the other side of the counter, hair up in a ponytail and a green Sherman Oaks Coffee Shop apron wrapped tight around her waist.
She was writing something down on a notepad, stray strands of curly hair covering small bits of her face that from a distance didn't let me recognise the person. The hair was hella familiar.
"Hey." I spoke up, trying to get the girl to look up at me. And she did.
It was Isabel. Working at a the Sherman Oaks Coffee Shop. The Isabel I'd kissed just a few days ago. She was here. In front of me. About to take my coffee order and one for all my friends.
"Hey. Sorry, uh, what can I get you?" She asked, clearing her throat and looking at my friends behind me. We were nine—yeah, it was a mess to get everyone in my car but we managed, mostly by getting some guys to sit on the laps of some others—and her eyes widened when she probably realized how much drinks she had to prepare.
Everything for money.
"I'll take a caramel macchiato, as for them..." I started, placing the orders for every single one of my friends, seeing her note everything down.
Once she did, she tucked the pen on top of her ear, dropping the notebook on the counter and going to prepare our drinks. She did mine first, getting the coffee, drizzling caramel onto the cup and all around the inside, pouring the milk and the coffee one on top of the other, finishing off with the whipped cream and again, caramel.
I'd watched a lot of times my favourite drink being made by someone else, that someone else being Theo, and somehow it seemed like Isabel did it all like a pro. The way she moved her hands, how she held the cup at a certain degree, how she did it all so carefully.
There was a reason I was so drawn to this girl—and no, not just because I made out with her and groped her ass like it was a piece of meat just the other day—but I didn't know why.
I just met her a few weeks ago, and there are so many girls at school asking for my attention. I haven't touched any girl ever since Isabel came into school for the first time, which had been weird for my friends. I mean, I had made out with some girls at the party but not as hard as I did with Isabel the next day in the morning on my bed. Yet she didn't seem to want to talk about it, neither did I want to.
Maybe.
"That'll be...68,75$ for the nine drinks. Please." She muttered, her voice soft but loud enough for anyone to hear.
"I'll pay, they're too focused on talking about random shit." I said, trying to make a conversation. Failing miserably.
"Right." She answered, her hands gripping onto the edges of the counter that she was in front of as I took my wallet and pulled out seven ten dollar bills.
She took them and counted, opening the register and placing the money. She kept her hands in there, probably counting the 1,25$ change.
"Keep the change." I said, she nodded and closed everything, looking at me as I took the bag of drinks and gave her a light nod, leaving with my friends.
Gosh, that was so awkward.
Eventually, my friends left and all I could do was stay home or either go skating, or either smoke something. Or either go to sleep. I needed sleep, so I went to my room and lied down on my bed, not even bothering to cover myself. My clothes were enough of a cover for me.
First party after no contact with anyone. I had worked on myself all during the month of june, even asked my mom if I could go to the gym. Mom didn't have problems with money now that I was a teenager, but she had been in a rollercoaster when I was just a few months old.
She told me that my dad had left a good few years ago, but I didn't get why. I mean, I was only a few months older than four when she told me, the day that I was so confused to why during father's day I had to make a present for my mom and not my dad.
All my friends went home with their dads. They would go to soccer or american football games, go eat to restaurants together. But I didn't. I was the only kid in class that would have to go home with my mom, to make presents for her. She had a benefit out of it.
Basically getting more presents made by her only and favorite son.
Recently, she told me my dad left when she told him she was pregnant. Bastard. Okay, he had the right to be scared but to be a fucking coward at that point? Hell no. If he ever tried to contact me I was going to throw hands. I had gotten awfully good at that, too.
I arrived to Shrimp's party and parked my new car at the front door, getting out of it and locking it, looking into rear view mirror and gliding a hand through the dark curls of my hair, seeing the difference from just a few months ago
Knocking on the door three times, Shrimp opened the door for me and his jaw dropped.
"What the fuck, man? You told me you had focused on yourself for the whole month but goddamnit. I'm not gay, but for you, damn..." He chuckled, opening the door wider for me to come in.
The house was filled with lots of people. Alcohol, drugs, people making out on the couches. Some other people outside in the yard, jumping and diving into the pool, loud music blasting everyone's eardrums.
"Too bad for you, I'm not gay either, so you might want to find someone that looks exactly like this," I pointed at my body, "if you want to fuck a figure like me."
"Don't know what that means but, sure. Go party, pretty guy." He laughed, a smirk on his lips as he hit the back of my neck hard enough to make me wince and for my hand to fly to the spot where had hit me.
I walked my way through the crowd and went to see my other friends who also deserved to see how much I had changed in a month.
While the night got darker, hotter, a girl kept eyeing me and I eyed her back, giving her a smirk before walking over.
Blonde hair, hazel eyes, soft hips and slim body.
A pretty face.
All that I needed for tonight.
I woke up finally at the sound of the front door being unlocked, opened, closed and locked again. A heavy and deep sigh coming from my mother.
How was she already home? Had it been that long since I went to sleep?
Taking my phone from the bedside table and turning it on, I see on the lock screen 10:37 p.m. Usually the same time every day if I expect my mom to get home. She works late and all day, so I understand her side.
I jumped out of bed and walked out of the room, rubbing my eyes and walking down the stairs as I saw my mom sit by the counter, phone in hand as the leftovers of last night's dinner.
"Hey, ma'." I smiled, sitting next to her and turning to look at her. She put her phone down on the counter and turned back to me, a tired smile on her lips.
"Hi, mijo. How was your day?" She asked. Spending so much time asking me about my day was not good for her. I don't remember the last time she shared her work day to me.
"Shut up about my day. Talk about yours, come on!" I chuckled, pushing her back by the shoulder gently, with not much force unless I wanted to get a sandal in my face. Mom didn't care if I was already seventeen.
The microwave stopped heating, signaling that moms food was already hot enough for her to eat, so I got up from my seat and walked over to the microwave, opening it and taking the food from it. I closed the door again and went to one of the drawers, taking a fork and a knife from it then walking back to my mom and placing the plate in front of her with utensils on each side.
She kissed my cheek with a chuckle and took the fork and knife in hand, before for the first time in probably a long time, she started talking about her work day.
"It was stressing, I admit. Some co-workers there are such misogynist assholes." She complained, taking a mouthful of meat and chewing.
We mocked and talked shit about her co-workers all the time she was eating, my cheeks heated up and red from how much I had laughed with her tonight.
The relationship I had with my mom was on top of all the other relationships I had with anyone else in my life. She was the one that had brought me to this world even though she had the chance to abort after her coward of a boyfriend left her. After her dumbass parents cut off every single contact with her and haven't even cared about meeting their grandson.
It doesn't affect me, people like that don't even deserve to know that exist. They don't deserve to have such a strong daughter like mom or anyone else.
Mom sorted it all out on her own with the help of no one, and if one of the people that hurt her in the past come back to her out of nowhere for whatever the fuck they want, I'll be the one standing up for her. Like she stood up for me all the time. How much she showed her love for me. How much she tried to have me happy around her all the time, which I was. If my mom was okay and happy, then I was too.
Because for me, my mom will always be the first love of my life. Nobody could ever take her place and I don't think anyone will be able to anyways.