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Bonding Trip
Story By StormDancer
Chapter Two
She’s not beautiful, I can see that. I’m not love blind. She’s a bit on the plump side, and her skin is too pale and flawed with cuts and scars. But that just makes her interesting. Perfection is boring, and I just realized that today. She hasn’t, I would assume, or else she wouldn’t have fled.
That really was stupid of her, thinking on it. I expected better, but I guess she would be a bit flustered at my sudden change of heart. In running, though, she just made me want to chase her. I’m sure she knows that, she reads enough. Maybe there’s some hope, and in denying me the first time she just wanted to test my feelings. I suppose she’s justified in that. I wouldn’t anticipate me to like her either, but love is never rational.
And maybe I came on a bit hard and fast, although it didn’t seem like that was what scared her. It could have been, though. I have to remember she’s not as popular as me, isn’t as experienced in relationships as I am.
The next day, I saw her stealing covert glances at me. I only caught her because I was doing the same, looking at her I mean, not me. It was really classic, how our eyes kept on meeting and we would both look away, her blushing. I guess it’s a good thing, I mean I’m proving to her that I do like her still.
But it didn’t seem like she was only playing hard to get. She seemed honestly embarrassed by my subtle attention. It wasn’t what I was expecting, when I was planning to confront her with my feelings. She was supposed to fall gratefully into my arms, and we would ride off into the sunset. If I could ride, which I can’t, but it’s the thought that counts. She wasn’t supposed to run. I wasn’t supposed to have to prove anything.
If she did fall into my arms though, I guess I wouldn’t want her. It would make her seem like all the other bimbo’s I’ve dated, without a will or a thought in their head. It’s part of her appeal, the innocence and cynicism. It’s a challenge. I want to, scratch that, have to, break through and make her realize what she’s missing.
I walk up behind her as she leans over the railing on the dock once more, our last night on the trip. I settle into place next to her, and snake a hand around her waist. She begins to lean in to me, but stiffens and pulls away.
“What are you doing?” she spits, her words recalling those said on that night 3 days earlier. I don’t answer her directly.
“Why are you avoiding me?” I respond.
“I’m not,” she replies defensively.
“Jenn, we had a competition and you didn’t even look to see where I was ion comparison to you. That’s called avoiding.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” she asks, avoiding the question.
“What don’t I get?” I know she’s side stepping, but I’m intrigued, so I let her.
“Why I’m ignoring you. Why I’m not swooning at the honor the Great Kevin is giving me.”
“You’re right; I don’t,” I tell her, “Do you? Or are you just scared?”
“That’s why,” she says softly, “I am.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I reassure her, “You’ll get over it.”
“No,” she says, meeting my eyes for the first time, “It’s not directly because I’m scared, though I am. I’m beneath you, Kevin, and you know it. You’ve been infected by nature, by something in the moonlight. Once we get back to civilization, you’ll be long over me.”
“I won’t!” I protest, but I hear a faint ring of truth in her words. Is it just the thrill of the chase I’m looking for? She presses on.
“And even if you do like me,” she continues ruthlessly, “You won’t for long. The teasing you’ll encounter will sour you. Teenagers can be frighteningly cruel, and friends are worst of all. Once I’m caught, my appeal, whatever it is you see in me, will be gone. And you’ll dump me back at the bottom of the ‘food chain’, back to where I am now. And you know what, Kevin? I don’t want to be known as another one of Kevin’s ex’s.”
“Come on, you know that isn’t true,” I argue, “It’s not just the thrill of the chase.”
As I say those words, I feel their truth. There’s something more about this girl, this deer poised to spring if I make a wrong move.
“Really?” Jenn asks, “Because I’ve seen it happen before. Not with you,” she continues as I open my mouth with a disclaimer, “But with other kids in your crowd. My friends have been dropped, and I’ve nursed their broken hearts. I don’t want to be the one with the broken heart this time.”
AS she speaks, I remember. She has some very pretty friends, and I know some of the guys in my crowd like to pick up innocent girls and dump them later, not innocent anymore. I know it happened to some of her friends, but if she thinks I take part in those things, she doesn’t know me at all.
“Do you really think I would treat you like those guys did?” I spit, angry that she would even think such a thing.
“No,” she admits, “Not on purpose. But you’d forget that I’m not like you, that I don’t go through a boyfriend every week.”
“Do you even pay attention to me,” I ask her, “I mean at school. Have you noticed that I don’t act like that, that all of my girlfriends have lasted at least a month?”
“I’ve noticed,” she confesses, “More than you think. I’ve noticed you lose interest in them after the first week, but you don’t want to drop them because it would ruin your rep. You know that you aren’t as secure in the popular crowd as everyone thinks, so you cultivate a reputation as the nice guy, the one who’ll treat a girl right. But me? It wouldn’t hurt your reputation to drop me. No one would care.”
“That isn’t creepy,” I manage to say. How could she now that?
“I don’t stalk you,” she informed me, laughing. I liked to hear her laugh. It was nice, and soothing. I didn’t hear it enough. Or I had never listened for it.
“Than how do you know that?” I ask. She laughs again.
“I watch, Kevin.”
“Does that work? How much do you see?”
She laughs out loud, long and hard.
“How much do I see? Oh, the things I could tell you. I can tell you who Max is in love with. I can tell you that one of your very close friends has a crush on you. And yes, it is a male friend. Oh, the things I see.”
“if you see all that,” I begin, seeing an opening in her words to prove my character, “Why can’t you see that I’m not like them. I know I’m not as popular as I would like. I’m too smart. Do you think I couldn’t change that if I wanted? It’s very easy to dumb yourself down, but I never did. If you observe, haven’t you seen who I am when I’m away from my so-called friends? That’s who I really am, the one who will argue with you about religion in English for no reason, who banters with the teachers.”
“Is it?” she asks, “I’ve been told that you are what you pretend to be. I don’t care to see if these words are true.”
She says that, but I see her weakening. Her eyes widened with my confession, and I could see her trying to maintain a cold façade. In her eyes and flush, though, I see her softening and nearly begging me to convince her. In a single, all or nothing ploy, I swiftly grab her arms and pull her into a kiss.
She stiffens, but I don’t pull away, trying to infuse that single kiss with all of my too real feelings and passion. Despite herself, she begins to melt into my embrace. I can feel her resolve weakening. She starts to respond, and I let the kiss go on for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds, before I pull away.
Maybe she wasn’t the best kisser, but something in that kiss was more fulfilling then any I’ve ever known before.
I face her. She meets my eyes, confusion warring with passion in her gaze.
“But isn’t it worth the risk?” I ask hoarsely, pulling her into another kiss. She doesn’t respond.
