Trailer Park Girl | A Novella| Completed

His house is...

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Mishka

His house is quiet tonight. He says JR is at his friend's house; that's where he usually hangs out on Fridays. He'd usually go there too, but I spoiled that for him. With my spoiled jeans...

"You can use my bathroom. Do whatever you want." He says and sits on his bed. He looks tired as he pops the neck of his wife-beater then hauls it by the dip and lifts it over his head.

I've never seen him shirtless. He has a ton of tattoos on his back. RJ isn't muscular. He's kind of lean. Just a little muscle here and there—not as much as my mum's boyfriends would have. But there is just something...that makes me feel all weird when I look at him. Appeal—sex appeal. Mum says someone can be so ugly yet there is something about them that's more attractive than the most handsome of persons.

Not that RJ isn't handsome. He is. Way past handsome. Too handsome to deal drugs. He should model. Take photos for Vogue or one of those big magazines. He doesn't deserve to be this way, no matter how much he thinks he does.

I make my way to the bathroom. I sort the bag. There's a ton of underwear and bras too. Over a dozen of them. There're socks, a pair of cheap plastic sandals.

The door cracks, and a slender hand with a wristwatch and beady bracelet slips through. A tattoo is inked on the first joint of his thumb—on the back. "Here..." He swings me a clean pair of boxers. "Wear this until...you sort those out. Wash them or whatever..."

I reach out and take it from him. "Thanks..."

He moves back and the door rattles shut again. I stare at the board barrier. It's almost breaking down, some graffiti on it. Just stick men and guns badly drawn with black marker.

I take a shower. He has cool running water. Unlike back home when we have to fill the bucket from our neighbours' tank and fill the bath up. Water spikes from RJ's shower head, and I like it.

I wash off thoroughly, enjoying every moment of it.

After my shower, I leave the room with my hair wet and clumped together like thick straws. The boxers are comfortable, and I took two of the pills with the sink water.

I don't feel so bad anymore.

RJ is sitting on his bed, plucking an ivory guitar.

"What are you doing?"

He snaps his head around, shaking it. "Nothing..."

"You can play?" I sit next to him with a smile.

"My father got me this before he ran away, leaving us..." He says. "Things used to be better back then. I used to have hobbies..." He places the guitar on the ground. Unlike the other old resources in his room, the guitar looks new and untouched. Like he doesn't use it that much.

"Hobbies like what?" I smile, wanting to also keep in my boundaries so he doesn't yell at me and chase me home again.

"Um...drawing..." He stretches his hand forward, and opens the light-board closet. He grabs a sketchpad thrown down among clothes on the closet floor, shuts it back, and begins to skip through the scrapbook. "Look at these..."

I pull closer, peering down at them.

They are sketches. All looking really nice. I love them a lot. They are unique. Mostly portraits of humans but with unusual alien features. Blue skin, red skin, heads too big for their bodies. It's just unique art, that makes him, him.

"These are so good..." I smile.

"Are they? They're mad stupid."

"No, they aren't..." I shake my head.

"Maybe you think that because you're stupid..." he says, and my feelings are hurt.

I look down. "Could you stop?"

"No."

My jaw clenches and I get up, moving to the door. RJ jumps up off the bed, walking behind me, and when I grip the knob and open it, he flattens his hand against it and shoves it close.

He stands behind me, his chest pressing into my back. "I'm sorry."

I stare at the door, not knowing how to feel.

"I'm sorry I said you're ugly and stupid. I'm sorry..."

I turn around to face him, my wet hair lying around me. I peer up from under my lashes. "I've had enough of that, you know..."

He stares down at me.

"My ex-boyfriend. Rico. He used to get really mad at me." I swallow. "He treated me like dirt. He was weird. Made me do weird things. I was only with him...so he could help with my lunch money."

RJ's jaw flexes at my story. "Oh?"

"But his friend came onto me. One night I was at his house. He went downstairs, and his friend tried to touch me. Then he thinks I came onto his friend. He left me..."

RJ chews on his mouth.

"You say you don't trust me. I don't trust men. I don't trust boys..."

His eyes shone with unease.

"But I feel comfortable with you. And it's not because...I want lunch money..."

He looks down.

"It's cause...I think you're...cute." I turn my face to his dresser on my right, staring at the old Christmas decoration pinned there. "And you're...really cool."

For a while, RJ says nothing. And neither do I.

He steps close to me, closing the little distance. I look up at him as he stares down at me.

"You're lucky you're sick..." His voice sounds older; gruff. "I'd give you something for that..."

"For what?" I ask genuinely.

"The things you just said. The things you're doing...the way you're making me feel."

"How am I making you feel?" I whisper.

"You know."

I shake my head. "I don't..."

"I want to show you. What you're doing to me..." he says, "And what I plan to give you will be so hard and good, you'll not want me to stop..."

My mouth falls open.

The door knocks, causing us to jerk.

"Quit backing your fist, I brought food!" JR shouts beyond the door.

RJ swallows. "Go put your slippers on, we're going down for food..."