Oh, Pineapples.

23: Auto-play.

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" your lips, my lips, apocolypse..."

- ciggarettes after sex, 'apocolypse'

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"Where are we going?" I breathed a laugh as he stuck his hand out to help me get up from the rug.

"Well I haven't been to a lot of sleepovers but I do know that they usually take place in the bedroom, yeah?" He threw a glance at me.

"Yeah, right. The bedroom," I chuckled nervously.

Besides the fact that we had just had one of the heaviest and hottest make out sessions I've ever participated in, going to his bedroom made me feel even more nervous. There was just something about being in his bedroom, alone with him, locked away from the rest of the world, seemingly being in a world of our own.

I glanced up at him as our feet creaked on the staircase we were walking up, and then he gave me a small smile, which showed that he was a little nervous too, causing me throw one right back at him. And then after walking through a long corridor brightly lit by a huge chandelier, we were finally in front of his room.

He opened the door and stepped in ahead of me. The room was not as starkly modern as the rest of the house, rather, it was warm and pleasant, but in a more masculine way, if that makes sense.

The first thing I noticed was the large Nirvana poster plastered on his wall right above a gray desk, which matched his walls, with a bunch of papers scattered on it which I guessed had to with transactions from the business he was co-running.

A television, mounted high on the wall with a long speaker was above a plethora of hard cover books stacked on a narrow wooden bookshelf and a dark green velvet chair. The bedspread was done in the same heavy velvet and at the foot of it lay a black fur fleece, folded neatly.

"Wow, your bed is made so neatly. I feel the need to mess it up, I'm gonna mess it up." I declared, as I threw myself on his bed and tossed a grey pillow in his face.

"No, we're gonna mess it up." He lay on the bed, right next to me.

For a moment, we just sat in silence, the air between us weighed tonnes, until I reached for the remote that was on the bedside stand and switched the TV on.

"Do you listen to Steve Lacy?"

"Who is Steve Lacy?"

"Oh, my gosh. You don't listen to Lacy? Okay hold on," I stood on his Californian king-sized bed in an attempt to level the TV as I typed in Steve Lacy's 'Dark Red' on the YouTube search bar.

As the symphony started I mimicked it by clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth and Javadd just watched me and I gave him a smug smile.

"Something bad's a-bout to ha-ppen to me. I don't know it but I feel it coming- might be so sad might leave my nose ru-nning, I just ho-o-pe she don't wanna leave-e," I sang loudly, with no care in the world as I knew Javadd had been staring at me.

"Ba-a-aby,"Javadd stood up, and sang too, catching me by surprise.

"DON'T you give me up! Ple-ea-se don't give up, only I belong with yo-ou only you ba-baby,"

I gasped in disbelief "but you said you didn't know the song!" I yelled over the song, laughing.

"Shush, this is my favorite part!" He waved his hand in dismissal. His arm snaked around my waist, grabbing the remote from me and used it as an imaginary microphone causing me to laugh.