SpringCleaning

I was busy cleaning my room, garbed in a sports bra and some sweat pants. I glanced up to wipe some sweat from when my brow and found myself staring through the window and at the retreating back of my neighbor, the local sex god, Josh Levine. Josh Levine was our town’s tall, dark and handsome, aquatic-sports inclined, charismatic intellectual, or so I’d heard. I my self never got to experience all this tremendous greatness, which is odd considering we’ve been neighbors since third grade. Since the day his overly zealous mother came to “welcome us to the neighborhood” with baked goods, Josh has spoken to me 9 times. That’s right, 9 times. Sad, I know. I’m the only one he doesn’t acknowledge. Everyone else gets a good tan from his sun-shiny personality but I’m so pale, it’s like I'm a fricking vampire. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t talk to me.

Fast-forward to the summer before our senior year: where I’m cleaning my room. Josh’s mother, who began claiming to be a “Good Christian Woman” three years ago (after her husband came out of the closet), was snooping in Josh’s room. (She was probably looking for something illicit). She looked up and saw me and gasped. I gave her an odd look. She stuttered for a bit. “Harlot!” she finally managed to shout out. I was taken aback. Harlot? Me? As if. I think prude was the word she was looking for, but who knew, that woman was CRAZY.

I resumed cleaning only to be interrupted by my mother. “Tricia!” she yelled. “Mrs. Levine is here to see you!” that woman really was crazy. First she called me a harlot, now she wanted to talk to me? What if she wanted talk to me about prostitution? I pondered worriedly as I went down the stairs. “Denise,” she said solemnly, “Your daughter needs to have some discretion!” she threw a look at my attire. “She’s tempting my son!” at this, I began laughing but the sound of a nervous cough, I stopped. And the cougher? Who else? Josh of course. It was obviously punishment for not bothering to change for Mrs. Levine. I ignored Josh and turned to Mrs. Levine. “Mrs. Levine, your son doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, so it’s hardly likely that I'm tempting him,” I stated. “I’m hardly wet dream material, you know?” more nervous coughing. Patricia Serrette: Girl born without tact! Sissies beware! My mother looked torn between telling me off for saying something so “tasteless” or nursing my obviously non-existent selfesteem. Instead, she just stood there gaping. Okay, so I may not be Miss America, but I’m okay looking. I have long, brown hair and bluish green eyes. I train with the track team (though I don’t take part in competitions, much to the coach’s chagrin) and I spend way too much time either in the gym or the library. Just call me Gym Rat the geek girl. I was brought out of my thoughts by the awkward silence that filled the foyer. Not liking it at all, I decided to break it. “Despite all the fun I’m having at this meeting, if we’re done here, I have to go finish cleaning my room, Bye!” I bounded up the stairs before any one could comment.

Back in the safety of my room, I turned on the radio and began dancing outrageously, only to be stopped by common sense telling to close my blinds. No need to “tempt” Josh, was there? I shut the blinds resumed my cleaning when I was disrupted YET AGAIN by knocking. “Come in!” I yelled. I but down my broom and swung around, only to peer into the indigo eyes of Joshua Levine: Patricia Serette-ignorer Extraordinaire. “Hi,” he said nervously. I gave him a blank look. “Yes?” I said curtly. I would have said something witty and clever but I was a bit pissed (eight years of being snubbed can do that to you). He blushed and opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “What did I do to deserve your brushing me off?” I asked quietly. “Is it ‘cause I’m stupid, or ugly, or too smart or something? If it is, then you still have no right to do that!” I was shouting now. “I mean, we’re frigging neigh-“ it was his turn to cut me off. Let’s just say that he used a different method from me. Like his lips. It was the kiss to end all kisses.

When he released me I was in slight shock, giving him the chance to talk. “I didn’t talk to you because I was terrified I’d say something stupid,” he started, pausing to litter my neck with kisses. “And you are most definitely tempting me,” he whispered into my ear. As he leaned into kiss me, I couldn’t resist one last rib. “And the wet dreams?” I asked teasingly.

“Maybe so,” he murmured before lips reached mine.