[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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I start walking slower once my eyes meet with his house. His voice. Here it is. Just like I imagined it. Big, expensive, lavish, but kinda comfortable. Anyway, I hate looking at the houses if any other building, so let's just finish the fuck this, and go back to my poor and small house that can be multiplied by 3, and still couldn't be able to be compared to this white house in front of me.
I sigh, wanting to put my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants, but I soon realize that I put jeans on. Why did I put jeans on, again? Oh, because I wanted to dress well for him. No, I wanted to dress well because his parents might be home, and I don't want them to see their good, shy, also super-duper kind son with this girl who looks like she was sleeping on the street.
And I wanted to put some make-up on, too, to cover my dark circles, but I don't have anything except for red lipstick, and some really old mascara, and an eye pencil that would only make my face look worse, considering how it always ends up on my bags, and mot on my eyes, where it should be.
I'm standing in front of the house, swaying back, and forth, biting my lip, and asking myself what the fuck am I actually doing.
When I agreed to this, where was my mind?
Oh, wait. I never agreed to this. He didn't give me a choice, what a fucking surprise.
No, I'm going, screw this. He can do this alone. On Monday I'll tell him that I caught a cold because of the rain. Rain. I remember yesterday so clearly.
It was... Everything he said, how he touched me, how I was so close to... kissing him, and I would really kiss him if it wasn't for that storm.
But, it, thank God, came as a warning and saved me from doing something that I would definitely regret later. But, I regret not kissing him, too.
While I was running through the rain, that spared me washing my hair (okay, no, I really washed it with shampoo, later), I couldn't stop thinking about his hot breath on my face, and I was hoping that the cold air that overtook the city yesterday afternoon could cool me down, but it couldn't. I could feel that irritating breath the whole night while I was writing this assignment we have.
Okay, so, Luna, now you are gonna show up, chit-chat a little, try to act nicely if his parents are home, give him this assignment, and then run, lying how your grandpa is sick, and you have to take after him. He can't be mad because of that, right? Why do I care about him getting angry? Okay, knock at this door for God's sake, and finish this torture.
You know you can't leave now, right? You promised him, and you don't break promises.
I clear my throat to make sure my voice won't come out raspy, once I have to talk.
Okay, now knock, will you?
Okay, okay.
I knock once too gently, so I knock one more time, stronger and I step back, waiting for someone to open the door, while I squeeze the strap of my backpack, and try not to concentrate on my heavy breathing. Why is my heart beating?
