16
SCOTT HATES THE carnival. He hates the sounds, the dizzying rides, the people in his face, trying to get him to play some rigged game for a crappy prize. He just doesn't fit into the environment, and that's understandable in many cases because he's Scott Akers. The thing is, Camille West, one of the most important people in his life, absolutely adores the carnival with everything in her tiny being. She loves the smell of funnel cake and popcorn, and the lively chatter, and the enthusiasm that everyone never fails to give off. She says that she feels younger every time she goes, and Scott completely respects that.
But he is not necessarily happy when she still drags his ass to the carnival grounds, especially when he told her several times on the way that he'd rather punch himself in the face -- repeatedly -- than go to some kiddish event. So, Scott forces himself to ignore Camille and brood in silence as he follows her around. He happens to look very menacing with his arms crossed, lips tugged into a frown, and green eyes narrowed. His girlfriend just rolls her hazel eyes and says that he's the one acting like a child, and that he surely belongs here for having such an attitude.
"Cam," he finally says with a small sigh, dropping his demeanor, "I absolutely can't stand it here."
"Scott," she starts, "Please? It only comes around once a year, and I want to be here with you and just have fun."
He takes in her expression and caves in, saying, "Fine, but you owe me."
"Anything you want."
He smirks, bad mood somehow already gone, "Anything?"
"You're so perverted, but yes, anything."
"So, if I asked you to give me a blow—," Scott starts but backtracks when she turns to glare at him, "Kidding. Can't take a joke?"
"I can, but you're crude, not funny ," Camille retorts, still grabbing his ring-clad hand and pulling him along before he can respond with a comeback.
Side by side, they walk towards the first ride of the evening. It's some weird contraption that circles them around in an area and goes up and down at the same time like they're on a wave. Thankfully, Scott doesn't feel sick and almost enjoys the ride. Almost. Afterwards, they head to the classic teacup ride that spins them in a circle as they spin in a larger circle. Camille excitedly asks to go on it again, but her boyfriend refuses to go on a second time and says that he'll watch from solid ground. After that, well, it just never stops, but he doesn't complain at all. Props to Scott, yeah?
But it's still hilarious to imagine. A punk guy with an annoyed expression, fists clenched, barely reacting as he sits on the rides that burst with color and laughter and screams. Of course, he's the odd one out.
"Can we go now?"
"One more ride," she assuredly states, but for reasons unknown, there's a slight hint of nervousness in her tone, "Just the ferris wheel, and then we can leave. I promise."
"Okay," Scott warily replies, squeezing her small hand as a sign of reassurance.
On the other hand, he's completely fine with the ferris wheel. He absolutely loves heights. He grew up in fucking New York City, practically spending most of his childhood on rooftops. Besides, it's the best place where he can watch the sun rise and set because one, stars are overrated, and two, they're actually not bad, but he can barely see them with all the pollution in the city. Also, it's one of the most exhilarating things he's ever experienced, and he loves to get an adrenaline rush simply through this method. So, he's pretty comfortable when they're both sitting the barely rocky compartment.
"Oh, my god," Camille groans, looking at her feet as they begin to move upwards.
That's when he puts two and two together. "You're scared of heights, babe? What-- how?"
"They're frightening, okay?"
Scott widens his eyes, almost exclaiming (which is very unlike him, if that wasn't obvious at this point in time), "You go on fucking fast rides that make me want to vomit, and yet you can't stand heights? Why are you even on the ferris wheel? How the fuck do you live in New York? Wait-- Camille, does that mean you've never been on top of a building? Damn, you're missing out on so much."
"Oh, god," she whines again in complete fright, completely ignoring majority of his rant, "I just wanted t-to try it out, but I want to get off now, Scott."
"Hey," he says in a soft voice that he really didn't know he was capable of, "Babe, hey, look at me. Just focus on me, okay? I'm right here, and I'll never let anything happen to you."
Her hazel eyes connect with his green ones, and there's complete love and devotion and trust in them. He's overwhelmed with the emotions, but not in a bad way. Scott feels like he's on top on the world, even if neither of them said the actual words. The feeling is definitely present, whether absolute or the state of just getting there. He experiences something close to love, and he's willing to take that risk -- whatever it is. It's only the matter of taking one step at a time.
So, as cliché as it is to kiss a significant other on a ferris wheel, Scott still does it to mostly distract her from her fear of heights. He connects his lips with hers, nipping at her bottom lip in a sensual manner. In return, Camille tugs on his lip ring, eliciting a sound from the back of his throat. Fuck, every time Scott kisses his girlfriend, he never wants to stop, but he reluctantly pulls back. But thank god, nobody else seemed to notice their steamy kiss.
"Anything?" Scott asks again, referring to her promise of making it up to him. Just for reassurance.
Camille immediately understands, although she looks flustered, "I promised, didn't I?"
❀❀❀
SCOTT'S SHIRT IS off the moment the two of them stumble into his bedroom, revealing his beautiful body of tattoos. Thankfully, his parents aren't home at the moment, or else he would never live this down. Besides, he doesn't intend to have, well, sex. Scott believes that they still need time, and he honestly told her what he thinks before they started making out. But now, holy shit, Camille's hands are on his chest, taking his attention away from his inner monologue to the feeling of her skin on his.
Scott squeezes her hips and pulls their bodies closer together. Camille seems fascinated by tugging on his lip ring, and he always seems to respond by groaning from the back of his throat. The heat between them is intense, shutting down his brain and letting his desires take over. Scott walks them backwards to his bed and then cages his girlfriend between his arms. The pure ecstasy of their lips connecting and lack of space between is enough to send the punk wild. Scott's with the most beautiful girl ever, and fuck, he's so aroused right now.
They disconnect for a moment, just enough time to let Camille pull her shirt over her head. His breath is taken away when she sexily looks up at with him with her cute tan-colored bra. His ring-clad hand skims the swell of her breasts as he places feathery kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Camille moans, gripping his dark hair, and that's almost enough to do him in. Then, in a daring move, he presses his lips against the valley of her breasts before moving just above her bra. Camille tightens her hold on his hair, biting her lip.
"Scott," she gasps loudly before guiding him back to her lips.
Hell, this is enough for him -- for them.
___________________________
This was supposed to be an innocent chapter, but whoops. how was that writing? Idk, i'm blushing.
ALSO, SORRY FOR THE WAIT. ALSO, CHECK OUT ABOUT AXEL. ALSO, I'M WRITING A NEW SHORT STORY, WHICH I THINK YOU'LL LIKE!
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