Jodi / Wednesday 8:48 PM in August's Car
August's teeth pull harshly at his lip ring while he checks himself out in the rearview mirror. And I am still completely in awe at how gorgeous he is. I pull down the car's mirror and frown at my reflection.
"What does your mom look like? Because I'd like some of her genes," I complain.
"She's not as pretty," he begins, doesn't finish but begins, and starts his car.
"As pretty as who?" I ask. You? That'd make sense, but I've never taken you as the egotistical type.
"You," he pulls out of the driveway smoothly, the same way he talks. How does he do that? Does nothing make him nervous?
I don't know what to say so I decide to say nothing and hide my blush. Ugh, I'm turning into a school girl. I'm Trick for gods' sake.
We were headed to August's Hide Out, the name itself pretty original, and this, us, has become pretty normal. Everyday we will go and drink or smoke, and never has August ever pushed me to do either. In fact, when his friends push it into my face on a day I don't feel like it, August will defend me.
"He said he doesn't want it, damn," and that time he had put his hand on my knee and, even though it was dark and no one could see, it still made my heart race faster than if we were alone.
August's friends weren't my friends so I never took the time to get to know their names. And I don't like them. All they do is smoke and drink, it's like they don't even have a personality. At least August has traits, and a really pretty face. I wouldn't say his friends were ugly but they were definitely not my type. He had a range of 2 to maybe 4 that he hung out with from time to time. But when we got there there wasn't anyone there yet.
This made me excited, maybe I could get him to kiss me again? Ugh, I'm an idiot. He doesn't want to make out with me. That was a one time thing, one time.
But maybe.... I could make it seem like we're just friends, and that's all we'll ever be. I'd be fine with that, getting to be around August and kiss him. Wow. That sounds like a dream.
He stops his car and we get out. Today August was wearing a black hoodie, which usually meant he wasn't in the mood for his friends so hopefully only one or two were coming, and jeans (weirdly). But I wasn't complaining. He still looks fine as fuck no matter what he wears. And I'd tell them that if he asked too.
The Hide Out was an abandoned storage room underneath a highway bridge, but no one ever used it; the bride or the storage room. I don't even know how long it had been abandoned before August found it or what it was even used for. But when you walked in you could tell stoners hung out in here. There were blankets with holes in them from people laughing so hard they dropped the blunt, street signs his group has stole, a mini fridge with munchies and of course the strong smell of straight gas.
The only reason I ever hang out here with August is because he doesn't mind if I don't smoke, and, if I don't want to he puts down the windows and they don't hot box with me in here.
He includes me.
I l- No. He's my friend. I don't even know what that means.
After August has unlocked the door and set his things down he plops on one of the busted couches. Mind you I said one, there are multiple.
I stand there for a minute, not used to being alone in here with him.
"Don't be shy," he says quietly. I've gotten used to his soft voice, and so I practically have 'spidey-sense' hearing now. He pats beside him, "Come sit down."
I oblige and sit beside him, with at least four inches between us. He pulls a blunt from behind his ear and adjusts himself so his head is on my lap.
Everything August does drives me crazy and suprises me by no means. He's the person to do things other people would be judgy about, but they aren't because it's him. How does that make sense? Make it make sense. Why does he make me feel like this? Make that make sense too.
He lights the blunt and offers it to me without a word. I take it and inhale a soft puff, handing it back to him while trying not to touch his hand.
While he smokes I try to figure out what to do with my hands. I don't know where to put them. Is his stomach a safe place? His head? Under my legs? Would that be weird?
Without having to tell him I don't want another hit, he doesn't offer me more. I'm slightly relaxed already and that's all I ever smoke for.
August must've noticed me figdeting because he sits up. That's not what I wanted, but it does make me less anxious. God I wish I was normal around him.
He crosses his legs, sits facing me, and lets his legs rest on mine, "Do I make you nervous?"
How does he ask that so easily? Does he expect me to answer easily? I look at him like he's slightly insane, "Why wouldn't you?"
His facial expression rarely changes, it's always calm. But now he looks a little confused, "I don't know. That's why I asked," he replies simply.
"Well, yes you make me nervous." I avoid his eyes and stare at the dirty floor, holding back the blood that wants to rush to my cheeks.
"Why?" He's not even pushing me, I don't think August's brain believes in shame. He has none. He knows what he wants and what he wants to say and just does it. Teach me how to do that, damn.
"Uhh," I fish for words to explain to him why in a way that doesn't expose my feelings, "Because... I- I don't know."
I look at him for a reaction I know I'm not going to get and he stares back, searching my eyes for answers I also don't know about.
He leans back, putting the blunt out on an ash tray, I watch him with intrigued eyes as he comes back and leans into me. I hold up a hand, "W-what are you doing?"
"You don't want to kiss?"
"And if someone walks in?" That's not what I wanted to say! Why does he want to kiss? When did he make this choice to do this? Why didn't he ask?
"They aren't coming." He waits patiently to make a move.
"Wait. You said they were." I keep my hand up between us, but I'm ready to just pull him on top of me.
"I told them not to come, that I wasn't gonna be here."
I stare at him blankly, he really only answers as much as you ask, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to hang out with you."
I almost asked him why again but I thought I'd be annoying. We sat there in silence for a little longer, waiting for one of us to speak.
"So, can I kiss you now?" He said blankly.
"Now you ask?" I try to joke but he's already leaning toward me, "Or not," I mumble.
When he kisses me, it's different from the first time, everything he does is unexpected. From the sucking and the speed - which is lovely and quick - to the way he still seems perfectly calm and gentle. Like he's practiced this a million times and perfected it just for me. Specifically me.
I try not to think about the fact that were just friends and there's not a whole lot of girls he probably does this with. I let myself just enjoy it. If I don't enjoy it now how will I?
I also try not to think about how beautiful he is; from who he is, to his body and then finally just the way he breathes. I try not to think about a lot of things and just zone in on him and our situation.
I can't help it, and my hand decides to take a proper hold on the side of his face, angling him toward me more. This affects him and he slowly begins to sit up, also slowing our kissing. His hand touches my thigh and I can't help the strained whimper that escapes my slightly parted lips. His lips form up against mine and my brain registers that he's smiling.
I'm closing my eyes so I can only trust that my brain isn't fucking with me when I feel August's thigh slide over my leg to straddle me.
