[High school romance]
Bad girl x good boy
"Don't be shy, Boris. If you want me to do something, to do something to you, to touch you the certain way or something else, you should just ask and I'm gladly going to do it. But don't be shy and embarrass...
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"Okay, I prepared everything", mom announces from the kitchen, putting the final touches.
"You mean you bought everything" dad corrects her, and I want to smile, but I can't.
Since yesterday, since she left me, I can't manage to come back to my old chilled self. I've been moody since I watched her little frame scurrying down the wet street, and jumping on the puddles, like a child not even trying to avoid them.
I've been lazy, I had trouble falling asleep, and I couldn't stop thinking about her breath on my skin, her forehead brushing mine, and her little arm pulling me closer, only to push me again. I kept tossing, and turning, thinking how close I was to kiss her, how close I was to show her how much I care about her. And all of that...
"... chocolate cupcakes, and cookies, I wanted to but a cake, but knowing myself that would probably disappear before she came. Boris?" I snap my head to mom. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yeah, um, yeah. You bought a cake."
"No, I've just said I didn't but it." I watch as she rolls her eyes slightly, and approaches me to sit next to me. This time she doesn't sit on dad's lap because he is working, typing something on his laptop, and occasionally sending glances to us. "What's wrong, mili?"
Her hands brush my hair, and I want to scold her for doing that, but I don't really have the strength, nor will, and I bet Luna won't even glance at my hair when she comes. If she comes.
She will. She came to school, too.
Yeah, but she will probably leave as soon as she arrives, and I know that is going to hurt so bad. I'd better not have her here if she is really going to leave me, with this feeling I have for her, that I can't really decipher, and the fact how it feels to have her so close, to hold her.
I can't have her like that, only to let her go. No. It hurts so damn much. I'd rather if I didn't touch her at all, yet to only have this, knowing how her skin, the soft skin of her face feels underneath my palms, how she closes her eyes each time I caress it, how she sucks a breath...
"Borise, dušo?" Mom is looking at me with the worry in her brown eyes that I inherited, but then again dad has brown eyes, too, so I'm not really sure from whom I actually inherited them.
"Dobro sam", I mumble in Serbian, catching dad's gaze, who is watching me through his black glasses that he only wears when he has to write, type or read. Though, he still looks good with them. (I'm okay.)
"Sigurno? (Sure?) You haven't told me anything about that girl. Does she..."
"I'm going to my room, okay?", I announce, getting up. "I'll... wait for her there."
I make my way to the stairs when I hear mother's worried voice, ordering dad:
"Marko, idi vidi šta mu je. 'Ajde tebi se uvek ispovedi. Meni iz nekog razloga neće." (Marko, go see what's wrong with him. C'mon, he always confesses to you. For some reason he doesn't want to tell me.)
