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You didn’t even care if they stared anymore.
Okay, that’s a lie. It still bothered you. Why couldn’t people just let you be? It’s not like their astonished gazes would pry your hand from his. But still, it made you feel somewhat uncomfortable. Not that you let it show. You had an appearance to keep up. You were too cool for feelings and pesky emotions. You came off as rather narcissistic to others, but really you knew better. You weren’t as strong as you were made out to be and kept everything bottled inside.
You hadn’t really been able to confide in anybody until John came into your life. By sheer dumb luck, you ended up in the same history class as him. You had seen him in the cafeteria, effortlessly talking to his friends. You wondered how he did that so easily. He got people. You couldn’t help but admire him from afar. Then the scheduling miracle happened, and you sat next to him in history. At first you two didn’t talk too much, just the regular small talk about the weather. Then came the more personal questions. He wanted to understand you. Pesterchum handles were exchanged, and soon enough, conversations with John became a regular part of your days. He laughed at all your jokes, even the shitty ones. You couldn’t tell if he actually thought your jokes were funny or if he was just being polite, but it didn’t matter.
The feelings didn’t take long to grow from platonic to romantic. Being around him twisted your insides into a knot. His laugh was enough to make your day. When he said hi to you in the hallways your brain would go blank. This behavior was so unlike you. You had trouble concentrating on your blog because of him. You just wished you could tell him without risking rejection.
You remember your first “date”. It wasn’t really supposed to be a date. He invited you to dinner at some Applebee’s or whatever. You don’t even remember. You were under the impression that you two were going as friends. You shared one of those “2 for $20” meals with him. Halfway through dinner, you realized you desperately needed to use the restroom. You excused yourself and left quickly. You came back to the table to John staring off into space.
“John?” you tried to get his attention, “Hello? Earth to John?”
“What?” he shook his head, bewildered, “Oh, sorry Dave, I was zoning out, daydreaming if you will.”
You smiled at him, “Daydreaming? About what?”
He blushed, “Oh, nothing important really.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Come on, Egbert, don’t fuck with me.”
“Um, well,” he stammered. Suddenly, you felt his hand holding yours under the table.
Your eyes widened. He looked down and his cheeks turned almost as red as your shirt. You gasped. “John, I, wow, well, um, I just, okay,” you stuttered out. How non-Strider of you. You hated stuttering. Usually you could hide that annoying trait quite well, but John had caught you off guard. “How about we get the check and, uh, head out?” He nodded, seeming a bit embarrassed.
You got in the car and turned the key in the ignition. He looked out the window. “John? Are you okay?” you were worried about him. His usual bubbly self seemed down. “John, I’m sorry, I wasn’t very clear, was I?” He was still looking out the window. “John!” you grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face you. His eyes were wet. “Oh, John, I just—“
“No, Dave, it’s fine, I’ll move on. I understand you don’t swing that way—“ You pulled him closer and gave him a quick kiss. It wasn’t anything major. Just a peck. But his lips fit perfectly on yours. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment. Then you pulled away. He looked a bit flustered. You set the car in drive and rode to his home. The car was quiet, but not the awkward kind of quiet. You stopped in front of his bland suburban home. He opened the door slowly. “Goodnight, John,” you whispered as he stepped out of the car. He walked to his door, stopping to wave goodbye and smile at you before going inside. You drove home smiling to yourself. This night had gone much better than you could’ve ever expected.
That was almost week ago. You two were officially “a thing” now. People didn’t seem to understand how the coolest kid in school could end up with a guy, let alone a somewhat dorky guy. But what did they know? They were all too shallow and couldn’t appreciate the epic irony of this situation. You scoffed. Don’t let them get to you, you repeated to yourself countless times. It became like a mantra. Don’t let them get to you, don’t let them get to you, don’t let them get to you. Soon the words began to run together. Keep your cool, you reminded yourself. They couldn’t see you lose your shit. Think of the reactions. So you just kept going, trying to overlook their raised eyebrows.
Later that night you were watching some cheesy Nic Cage flick with at John’s house – his dad was out for a business trip of sorts. You would never understand his love for those idiotic movies or that terrible actor. He was comfortably snuggled up against your side. You couldn’t help but smile a bit. Your eyes lit up beneath your shades.
One incredibly awful movie and a bucket of popcorn later, he turned to face you.
“Dave, are you alright? Something seems,” he hesitated, “off.”
You shrugged, “Nothing’s wrong, alright? I’m perfectly fine.”
“Dave, I know you better than that. I can tell when something’s bothering you. And if you aren’t going to tell me, well, maybe I’ll just force it out of you.” He flashed a mischievous smile. Suddenly he rolled over on top of you. His legs were wrapped around your waist and his hands were pinning down your arms on either side of your head. Carefully, he removed your shades, revealing your bright red eyes, and put them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He grinned, “So, Dave, tell me what’s bothering you.”
You glared at him, “Get off me, Egbert. Like I said, I’m fine.”
“Nope, I don’t believe you. Spill, Strider.”
You sighed. It looked like you weren’t getting out of this one. “Fine, you really want to know? People bother me. The way they can’t just leave us the fuck alone. They have to constantly judge us and I can’t stand it. They’re just so—“
He cuts you off with a kiss. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being able to control you, but damn he’s a good kisser and the way your lips move together is magical, really. You forget what was bothering you. You forget about everybody and everything else. He slowly ran his tongue over your teeth, sending a pulse through your spine. Your tongues danced together, twisting and waltzing to a symphony of rapid heartbeats and shallow breaths.
It seems like eons before he pulled away.
“Dave. Wow,” he stared into the empty space behind you. You’re speechless. “Maybe I should force you to tell me things more often,” he whispered with a smirk. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that your pants felt rather tight in the crotch region. Surely, he noticed, right? John snuck a quick glance and grinned.
“Tsk, tsk, Dave,” he breathed in your ear, “we should take care of that, no?” He let go of your hands and slid his down your body. You tensed up when he ran his fingers over your ribs and down to your hips. He slowly walked his fingers across the edge of your jeans, never taking his eyes off of you. After fumbling a bit with the zipper, which made you chuckle a little, he opened the zipper.
It was going to be a long, long night.