Jesse

16: Secrets, and Heaven or Hell between

16: Secrets, and Heaven or Hell between

My eyes snapped open, focusing on a light blue wall. I had to remind myself that I was Ian's house. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes, and rolled over seeing Ian comically hanging over the side of the bed, snoring loudly. I could see his face though, and I could lay there for hours just staring at his face, how the bright sunlight played across his skin, his lips.

I wanted to be disgusted with myself for the thoughts I thought right then. I wanted to more than anything. You weren't supposed to think these things. It wasn't supposed to be this way. But it was. Then I remembered the kiss. It had barely happened. It hadn't lasted no longer than a few seconds, but in those moments I had felt something, I had never had. My skin became fiery. My thoughts overwhelmed: something I couldn't describe burning within me.

I wondered if he, himself, even remembered it. He was so wasted. I hoped he had. As silently as I could, I got out of his bed, and drowsily pulled on my pants. I walked to his window barefoot, and saw that Harold's car was nowhere to be seen in the driveway; he had already left for work. From behind, I heard yawning; and, I looked seeing Ian's eyes crack open, him smiling.

"He lives," I teased.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving an arm, easing up, throwing the covers off. He covered his mouth as he sat yawning some more. He ran a hand through his golden locks, grinning at me.

"Remember anything...from last night?" I asked him.

He shook his head, as he wiped his face with hands. "Nah man...I was pretty gone...It's really all a blur."

"You don't remember anything? At all?" I questioned him again, sounding more curious than I should have been.

"No, I don't," he told me. "Should I have remembered anything? Did I do something stupid?"

I bit my lip, as my heart sunk. I knew this would happen. Fuck. Fuck it all. "I better go," I said.

"Why...? We just got up..."

"Well I got to go," I almost whispered, weakly. I was beginning to feel very sick. I suppressed the urge again to punch Ian in his damn face.

"Alright man, just let me know when you want to chill...again."

"Sure," I breathed, and busily collected my shit, before leaving him alone his room, not giving Ian a second look.

I cussed Ian's name for however many minutes I took to wander back home. How could he have just forgotten a kiss? How does someone forget that? He was that drunk? I was beginning to get sick and tired of Ian Greene.

Inside, I slammed the door, and stared through the living room windows outside, thinking. The more I stood there, my mouth creased into a firm line, the more I thought about Ian. His laugh. His smile. His eyes. NO! I wrenched my eyes shut, and turned away.

I didn't want to be here. In this damn house was the last place I wanted to be. I wanted to be with someone. I knew exactly who I wanted to be with, but I was beginning to see the reality. I threw my shit beside the door, and began walking. As I went through the kitchen, I passed by the phone mounted on the wall. I stepped back, staring at it.

It was then I thought of Joann. About what she had said, what she had told me.

"...Give me a call whenever you need to talk. It's my cell. It's always on me. You understand? I mean it, kid."

Was she ready to talk? I was. I made my decision. I hurried up the stairs, scavenged my room, and remembered. So I tore open my desk draw, and saw the tiny, folded scrap piece of paper with the ink on it. I carefully picked it up, and left my room.