Brandon

eleven

OCTOBER

Brandon's tongue licked against my neck. My head felt heavy, like I was drunk. I looked at his hands that has disappeared underneath my skirt and my legs twitched when he started pulling at my underwear.

 "Wait," I breathed. He pulled his head away from my neck lazily and I felt shy again. "How do you play the..." I stuttered out. I motioned to the cymbals. I knew you just hit them like all the other things but I was nervous.

I stared at his giant hands as they slid off my legs and on to my hands, covering my balled up fists around the sticks. "Tap it." He said. He hit them lightly, it made a bright loud sound that made me smile.

"You like them?" Brandon asked me clearly confused with how big my eyes got. I nodded, not really knowing what to say. He moved his leg, it rubbed right against the underside of my thigh. My heart started thudding louder at what he was doing. He passed the sticks to me, I felt his hair brush the back of my head and he peered at the instrument. "I've known you for three years," Brandon started laughing. But when Brandon laughed, he wasn't smiling and nothing was funny. "And I don't think I ever seen you sit here and play it."

It being the drums.

"Oh," I awkwardly chuckled. "Yeah." It was true. I didn't play the drums and I definitely didn't go around Brandon. Before now at least.

Now, I was doing more than going around him. Way more. But I didn't like rock music.

Okay, I did. But not loud overbearing sounds, or amp squeaks. I didn't like how drum cymbals rang forever and ever, and I hated how you step on one wire on the floor and a 40 year old yells at you no matter if you turned off the guitar or you turned off the power to a bar.

I liked classical. I like pianos and cellos, and I like Mozart and Bach. 

Sometimes.

Brandon though, he wasn't boring. He was hard, and scary. He was older and fun. I think that's why I liked him. My whole life I've spent sitting on bar stools bored out of my mind watching him have fun. Watching my dad and the band have fun. I wanted to have fun.

With him. Brandon.

But oh my god I was scared. This was the first time I was really around him again and alone. His breath, his rough jeans under my bare legs. I liked it. I knew I've stopped us from doing anything right now, maybe four times, but...

"What if my dad comes?" I turned to look at him, suddenly scared for a different reason. What if my dad walking in the garage right now and saw us. I shot off his lap, standing up and tripping over my feet. "Blue?" Brandon asks.

"What if he sees?" I ask. I moved from behind the drums and stood by the light again. My heart was thudding, because for one, I didn't even think if he was just going to show up. I ran straight to Brandon and was stuck under his spell. Brandon's eyebrows raised, "He's workin."

"Why would he work late?" I asked. Brandon's face turned dark again. "Maybe because I had to pay your tv bill this month." He let out annoyed with a sneer. Oh? So we were doing this now?

Typical.

The haze I was in, the spell I was under, the sweet pins and needles I felt every time we touched dropped dead.

"You didn't have to do that!" I yelled. Oh, I was mad. Why did he think he had to pay the bill, and why was my dad working late to pay him back for it?