There are some other people I’d like to reply to, but I run the risk of making this author’s note VERY long, so I’ll do it next chapter. Oh and uh... less drifting off in this one. I confess it’s because the chapter is late and I kind of wanted to get it out here soon. There are a lot of mistakes in this chapter, most of them dealing with tense. It is becoming increasingly obvious that I don't edit what I write. Hah.

magalina: I’m a Mikey person. Haha. I’m glad you want to be a part of the challenge! You might just be the only one, which means you’ll win first place and get the prize. But you’ll probably win first anyway, because you have supreme drawing abilities. CatseyeRose: I’m really glad you like Wayne. He’s not really a central character though. I think I just made him to show that even if someone disagrees with the way the ‘in’ crowd acts, they still want to be a part of it. AmorphousHeart: Yes, I love stream-of-consciousness writing because it gives me an excuse to axe proper grammar. Esquirella: An author can’t reveal central plot points! Wait, what? ;D Amindaya: You’re so kind and understanding to my characters! Haha. I’m glad everyone seems to be liking the rambling thing. I thought it’d get annoying. It probably will.

CONTEST!
I’m kind of bored and I really like fanart, so here’s a contest involving it. The only thing you have to do is draw me a pretty little picture involving two or more characters from this story.

Rules:
1. They can be anywhere you want (even on the moon) and doing anything you want (like riding a rollarcoaster).
2. You can upload it to a hosting site and e-mail me the link or you can send it as an attachment. Send all entries to the e-mail address you'll find on my profile.
3.Your drawing abilities will count a little (if you’re amazing), but that isn’t the central focus. You’re allowed to draw stick figures. However, if you draw stick figures, it has to be a comic, in that there’s more than one pane and there’s some dialogue.
4. Be creative. That’s what I’m judging on.
5. Deadline is 10 P.M. (EST) on March 30th

Prizes:
First place - I’ll write you a one-shot, on anything you want me to. Feel free to make it as specific or vague as you want.
Second place - You get to ‘create’ one of the characters in the story. Give me their name, their appearance, and their largest personality trait and I’ll add them to the action.
Third place - I’ll draw YOU a picture and write a little note to you on it and sign it and stuff. x)
Everything else - You get an honorable mention.
I doubt there’s going to be more than one entry, but if there is, that’s what you get. (:

Brainless
iv. ‘The Villain’

While I'm still thoroughly amazed, perplexed, and freaked out that Bradley McCourt is in my bedroom and we're acting like buddies, I think the shock has waned a bit because I’m not thinking as much about what I do before I do it. That sounds really foreboding, but nothing bad happens during Bradley’s visit. In fact, I don’t think it could’ve gone better.

“You’re cheating!” Bradley exclaims, a grin on his face as he points an accusing finger at me. “You can’t spin the wheel again. It landed on five, which means you have to pay me.”

“No way,” I say, not able to contain my laughter. “It landed in the middle of five and six, so I had to spin it again.”

“It’s pretty much impossible for the spinner to land in the middle,” Bradley says, spinning the plastic toy just to prove his point. The multi-colored spinner clicks rapidly before slowing to a stop on the number eight. Bradley looks up from the game board smugly, shaking his tiny car at me which had two blue pegs instead of a blue and a pink one, although I’m not sure he notices because if he did, he would probably change it quickly. Maybe the blue pegs are roommates.

“Well, seeing as how we can’t go back in time and change anything, you should move your piece,” I say, trying to skirt around the situation so that I won’t have to pay him any money. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. He’s winning anyway. He has this big stack of money and Life tiles and I’m sitting here with about twenty bucks and two tiles. There’s probably a possibility that this could all be metaphorical and some higher power is trying to send me a message, but right as I start to think about it, Bradley reaches across the board to snatch some of my hard-earned money. “No!” I yell as if I’m homeless and the money really is my last twenty dollars, attempting to swat him away.

“Yes! Otherwise you have to be put into jail for tax evasion. No passing Go, no collecting two-hundred dollars!” he says, trying to get through my attempts at blocking him.

“Wrong game,” I laugh and he shoves me lightly for it, but that turns out to be a bad idea because without his hands supporting him, he loses his balance and falls over me. “Good job,” I say sarcastically, smiling down at the laughing form sprawled across my lap. Suddenly, his arms are around me and I make an embarrassing squeak as he wrestles me to the ground. I can’t say I’ve ever wrestled before, but I’ve never exactly fancied the idea of it. However, as I fight to push Bradley off of me (which is like a caterpillar fighting a jaguar), I have to say that this is pretty nice. My face is hot and his legs are on either side of me and his chest is pressed against mine and one of his hands is around my wrist and I’m pushing up against him to get him off, but it’s not working and he’s smiling and I’m smiling and we’re both kind of out of breath and he bites his lip in concentration and I struggle a little bit more, but then I give up because there’s no hope and he puts his head down on the floor next to my neck and I can feel his breath as he laughs and says...

“Where’s my five bucks, bitch?”

It’s getting a little dark outside as Bradley leaves. I feel bad that he knew that I walked home from school, but I wasn’t aware that he did as well. Even so, it’s probably dangerous to be walking outside at night, alone, even if you are Bradley McCourt and you have the muscles to hold your own in a fight.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” I ask for the second time, watching him put his jacket on and grab his backpack. All I can imagine in my head is the image of Bradley on the ground, being beaten by some random, faceless gang with bats and then they leave and he’s just laying there with blood coming out of his head. He wouldn’t be found for a very long time because the gang would have taken him to an obscure, abandoned building or something so that they wouldn’t get caught for their random act of violence. Then, when they did find him, everyone would blame me because he was at my house before it happened and I let him walk home alone.

“So I guess I’ll see you Monday then?” he says and I guess I must have missed his answer. I guess it was a ‘no’. I smile and nod, opening the front door for him. He begins to leave, but hesitates.

“Um... we should hang out again sometime,” he says, not exactly looking at me. I don’t really care that he doesn’t make eye contact though because I think my heart has just jumped into my throat and it’s a little hard to speak for a few seconds because it’s just beating there and the words are having a hard time going around it to come out.

“But we’re done with the project...” I say. He smiles slightly.

“I mean... no projects, just hanging out,” he explains. “Unless you don’t want to...?” Honestly, who would turn down Bradley McCourt? He must be delusional.

“Of course I do.”

“How about Tuesday?” he asks. My heart pumps blood through my head and I think maybe my face might be red from it. I’m prepared for the cool, metallic taste to seep into my mouth from my throat, but it never comes and I guess my heart must still be in my chest.

“Sure,” I say. We smile at each other for a second, Bradley waves goodbye to my brother, and then he’s gone. Once the door is safely closed, I sink down to the floor, a permanent smile upon my face as images from that afternoon flash through my mind. I’m so elated and I wish I could do it all over again and I realize that there’s only four days until I’ll be able to do just that.

“Spaghetti,” Jake calls my out of my daydreaming and I blink at him as if I just realized he’s been sitting on the couch the entire time. If he were anyone else, I probably would have blushed considerably, but he’s my brother so I’m not ashamed and I merely stand up to go sit next to him.

“Did you say something?” I asked, still wearing a dreamy smile. I collapse into the back of the couch, sighing as I gaze at the local news playing on TV. Jake chuckles at me, running one of his hands through my hair. His smile fades quickly, however, when his hands reaches to just above my right ear and he retracts it as if I burned him.

“Yeah,” he coughs slightly. “I said... I don’t like him much.” I frown. How could he not like Bradley? Practically everyone likes him. He’s just so incredibly... likeable.

“Why not?” I say, sounding a lot like a little kid but not really caring. Jake studies me for a moment and I try to read the expression on his face, but it’s kind of hard because there’s a lamp on behind him and the light is making his face rather shadowed. He looks extremely handsome like that and I think, not for the first time, how much I’d love to look like him instead of the awkward appearance I got stuck with. I guess I can’t blame Weird Scott for wanting to be with my brother. I tilt my head, feeling a little jealous, but the emotion quickly recedes because I realize just how much Jake deserves it.

“Did you hear me?” he says, pressing his hand against my chin so that my head straightens. I shake my head and he repeats himself. “I said... he just seems like the type of person that’s going to hurt you somehow. I don’t think you should hang around him too much, okay?” He looks like he’s afraid that I’m going to get angry, and I kind of do. He shouldn’t be the one lecturing me on friendships when he’s the one who’s having sex with metal-face.

I don’t mean to say that last thing out loud, but I think I do, because Jake’s eyes widen and he doesn’t say anything further. I sit there for a second, wondering if I should apologize, but I guess it’s good that I finally confessed that I knew and now he has to tell me, so I just get up and go to my bedroom. Jake doesn’t come in for a few hours and by the time he does, I’m too far into sleep to notice if he says anything to me.

Unfortunately, hanging out with Bradley once doesn’t exactly change my life in any monumental way. The weekend comes and so does utter boredom and loneliness, especially since Jake decides to spend most of it out of the house. I’m not sure whether he’s looking for a job or hanging out with Weird Scott, but for the sake of my sanity, I hope it’s the former. Not that I don’t like Weird Scott...

Okay, I don’t like Weird Scott. Can you blame me? He’s so... he’s so...

Well, I don’t know much about him actually. But Jake doesn’t know much about Bradley and he found an excuse to dislike him, so I have all the excuse I need to want nothing to do with that tattooed bad influence.

Anyway, I surprisingly have done most of my homework by Saturday afternoon. I don’t really have anything else to occupy myself with except reading or videogames, but sometimes I’m just too lazy to make any decent attempt at homework, especially when it comes to Chemistry. In fact, that was the only homework I hadn’t completed.

“Spaghetti?” my brother’s voice calls as I hear the door shut. It’s dark outside and I’m hanging upside down on my bed, reading a book I got at the school library. I got it about two weeks ago, but I’m not even halfway through. It’s hard for me to read sometimes because my mind zones out and I have to reread things to understand them. Mostly when I read, I’m just staring down at the pages and thinking of something entirely different or making the words morph and dance to music that only I can hear.

“Hey,” Jake says, coming into the room and kicking off his shoes. He falls back onto his own bed, putting his arms behind his head and looking over at me. I flip over so I’m on my stomach and set the book down on the floor. As I look at my brother, I notice something strange. There’s a giant grin on his face, and while that’s perfectly normal, it looks as if he’s holding something in, something that’s about to make him explode if he holds it down any longer.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I try, raising both my eyebrows. Jake immediately sits back up.

“I got a job,” he practically shouts, throwing his arms up into the air for a moment in his excitement. A smile instantaneously appears on my face. The search for work had really been a damper on Jake’s usually good mood, so I could imagine that finding some felt pretty good. Plus, it would make our mother happy and Jake would feel as if he were finally doing something to help the family.

“That’s awesome,” I say, crossing my legs so that I’m sitting pretzel-style. “Where is it?”

“It’s at this after school activity place, where kids go to do homework and things, kind of like the Boys’ and Girls’ Club.” He goes on to explain how long he’ll work and how much he’ll get paid and I try to listen as best as I can. He seems so overjoyed that it’s hard not to be even a little moody about yesterday’s tiff. The job is going to be really good for him. Jake’s always been excellent when it comes to children. He’s basically a big kid himself. And he’s brilliant too, so whenever the kids need help with their homework... Speaking of which...

“Can you help me with my Chemistry homework?” I ask him, using a break in his long speech about his new job. He laughs slightly and nods, peering over to see if I already have the materials out. I don’t, of course, so I get off the bed to gather my things.

Jake gets to tell the wonderful news to our mother later that night when we all sit down for dinner. He goes about it in a more subdued manner than when he told me, but I figure it’s only because he’s already gotten it out of his system. Nevertheless, our mother smiles when he tells her.

“I knew you could do it,” she says and she reaches over to pat him on the head and give him a kiss on the cheek. She must be in a great mood tonight. I love my mother when she’s in good moods. Well, I love her all the time, but mostly when she’s like this. I shovel some mashed potatoes into my mouth.

“I got my Chemistry homework done,” I tell her through a mouthful of food, hoping for some of the same affection she’d just given my brother. When she smiles at me, it appears a little strained and she merely pats me on the head.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she reprimands, and then turns back to Jake. “So how many hours are you working?”...

Monday doesn’t come soon enough and I find myself hurrying to get to Spanish, something I’ve never done before. I can’t wait to see Bradley, although I’m not quite sure why. I don’t know if anything has changed between us, but I think it might have because he wants to hang out again. What if I become Gary’s friend too? I’m not so sure I like the idea of that, but I guess if I want to be friends with Bradley, I have to accept the whole package and unfortunately, Gary Adams is a part of that.

When the class starts, it’s hard to sit still. Bradley/Diego is sitting so near to me. I want to turn and smile and say hello, but I don’t. In fact, I even avoid looking at him altogether. I’m not sure why, but I’ve suddenly grown extremely nervous. The only thing I can think about through the entire class is Bradley/Diego, hoping that he’ll tap me on the shoulder or whisper my name or stand up and shout to the whole class that we had fun and we. are. friends. None of that occurs though and by the time everyone begins to move around, I’m a little disappointed, but not really because I can’t blame him, since I didn’t make any move either and he might be feeling just as I am, even though I think he’s a little more confidant in himself. He certainly has a reason to be.

“Yo Gaybie,” Gary’s voice penetrates my thoughts. I turn to look at him. He’s perched on the desk in front of Bradley/Diego and Wayne, Brittany, and Jessica are at Bradley/Diego’s side.

“What?” I say, still attempting to keep my eyes off of Bradley/Diego, though that’s a lot harder now because I know he’s looking at me.

“Tell your mom that I want my money back from last night,” he says. “She made my whole room smell like piss.” They all laugh and I frown slightly. “I don’t know why I even pay her anyway. She’d do it for free, since your dad is such a pussy.” I don’t find any way this could be necessary, but I guess Gary finds pleasure in other people’s humiliation. There’s a word for that, but I’m not sure what it is. Anyway, I don’t feel too bad, because I know Bradley/Diego is going to say something now. He has to. And he does, but it’s definitely not what I was expecting.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing slightly. “His dad’s a pussy that likes to get fucked by big dicks.” Everyone thinks this is so hilarious, but I don’t see the humor. My face is red hot and I slump in my seat, wanting nothing more than the bell to ring so I can get out of there. Gary makes some comment about my dad being a ‘fag’, but all I can think about is Bradley/Diego. He must’ve been lying when he said he wanted to hang out again, because it’s pretty obvious that he hates me. Why else would he make fun of my father when he knows he’s dead? He’s acting like an entirely different person and I can’t say I like it too much.

I fly out of the classroom when the bell rings and hope I can just forget everything that happened first period. It’s not that easy though. My thoughts today drift only to that mortifying experience and to the way Bradley/Diego’s face looked as he laughed at me. They had continued their quips basically for the rest of the time we were in Spanish, although I wasn’t exactly able to pay attention to what they specifically said.

My spirits lighten when lunchtime comes around because I know that these people aren’t going to shoot insults at me. I wait impatiently in the line to get my food and then rush to the table. Dorian is already there and he pats the seat next to him so I sit there.

“How’s it going?” he asks, spooning peaches into his mouth. I debate whether or not I should tell him what happened in Spanish, but I figure it’s not worth it to embarrass myself again, so I go with the generic answer.

“Fine,” I say and silence falls over us. I eat slowly, my mind focused on finding something to say, anything to say so that this awkward quiet will lift. However, nothing that comes to my mind is any interesting. I could start up that game they play, but I don’t think it would be right, because it’s kind of their thing and not mine. Luckily, just as Larry joins us, I think of something to tell them. “My brother got a job,” I say conversationally, “at that after school place in town.” Dorian perks up.

“My little brother goes there,” he says with a smile. I didn’t know he had a little brother. “He loves it, but he tends to get into trouble a lot. Your brother had better be careful. Zee can be... eccentric.” He winked and I grin.

“So can Jake,” I say. “Maybe they’ll be friends. How old is he?”

“Eight,” Dorian says. “His full name is Zealand, but he couldn’t really pronounce that when he was little, so we mostly just call him Zee.” I nod.

“My brother calls me Spaghetti,” I offer. Abigail and Corrie give me an odd look as they sit down, Corrie next to me and Abigail next to Larry. I blush slightly, but smile. “It goes way back.”

“I think that’s pretty cool,” Abigail says. “I’ve always wanted a nickname. But then everyone like... assumes I want to be called ‘Abby’, which is totally lame.”

“Well what kind of nickname do you want?” asks Larry, straightening his glasses. Abigail taps her chin for a moment.

“I don’t know,” she says, “maybe something mysterious, like ‘The Villain’.” She waved her hands in the air and made an ‘oooh’ sound. Dorian snorted and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, okay, we’ll start calling you that right away,” he says with a roll of his eyes. She shrugs and takes a sip of milk.

“I think it’s catchy.”

“Look what you started,” he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head at me. “You have to learn not to encourage Abigail.”

“I didn’t start it,” I say. “You’re the one who was talking about your brother’s nickname.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who was talking about your brother’s job.”

“But you asked me how everything was going.”

“But you sat down here.”

“But you told me to.”

“But... you...” Dorian’s eye twitches slightly and when he can’t think of anything to say, he leans heavily into me and makes me fall over into Corrie.

“Innocent bystander!” she cries as she almost tumbles from the lunch table. The conversation moves forward and by the end of lunch, I’m not thinking about Bradley, not even a little.

“What are you doing after school?” Abigail asks me after we’ve all taken up our trays and dumped our trash. I shrug.

“Doing homework I guess,” I say. I would’ve lied and made up something awesome so that they thought I had a ton of friends and did great things, but like I’ve mentioned before... I don’t lie. So I just went with the embarrassing, sad truth.

“You should come hang out with us,” she offers. “We’re going to Paperback Junction.” Paperback Junction is a bookstore near where we live and it’s connected to a coffee shop. A lot of indie types hang out there... like the people that are into underground music and obscure poetry.

“That’s a great idea,” Corrie says. She reaches out to ruffle my hair. “I love spending time with li’l Edward.”

“He’s a boy, not a dog,” Dorian grabs Corrie’s hand and gently pulls it off my head. I laugh and thank him.

“Yeah, I’d love to go,” I say, beaming...

Much like the day I was to hang out with Bradley, I rush from Economics as the last bell of the day rings. Hopefully hanging out with them will be good for me, it’ll help me forget about my slight infatuation with Bradley. I’m starting to think that maybe Jake was right when he said Bradley wasn’t a good kid. He didn’t even look at me once in Study Hall. He just talked to Matt, Rose, and Gary the entire time. He didn’t apologize for that morning... nothing.

“Watch it,” someone says, pushing me to the side slightly. I must not have been paying attention as I was walking and gotten in their way. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. Once I join up with everybody, we pile into Corrie’s car after stuffing our things into her trunk. I think for a second that I might want to tell Jake or my mother where I’m going, but they’re both at work and there’s no way I could reach them, so I decide it’s better if I just go...

“Isn’t this like the funniest magazine you’ve ever seen?” Abigail says, coming back from the magazine rack to sit down with us. We’re all at a round table in the coffee section of the bookstore, sipping at the various things we bought. When we first got here, some of them went off in their own directions to get books they could look at while we talked. Dorian and I chose an I Spy book and it was folded across the table between us. He’s a lot better at it than I am, because the picture blends together in my head sometimes and I lose track of where I am. We look up as Abigail holds up the magazine in her hands. It’s called “X-treme Knitting!” and there’s a picture of a rough and tumble biker knitting what looks like a potholder underneath the title.

“That has got to be the best thing ever,” Corrie says and Larry reaches out to grab it so that the two of them can look at it close up. From beside me, Dorian jumps slightly.

“The second dove!” he exclaims, pounding a spot in our book with his pointer finger. I laugh, raising my eyebrows at him and he gives me a sheepish look. “I felt accomplished. And because of my great accomplishment... I deserve a treat.” He quickly leans over me and wraps his mouth around the straw on my milkshake, sucking up some of the strawberry goodness.

“Hey!” I laugh, yanking on a piece of his hair. Laughter overcomes him and he pulls back from my milkshake, a little of the liquid dribbling on his bottom lip. I reach out to wipe it off and I do, but before I can pull my thumb back, Dorian licks it.

“Goo!” Larry says with a slightly disgusted face, pointing at Dorian who’s smiling. “That was so queer.” I sink a little and become slightly distressed. These guys are supposed to be the ones that I don’t have to worry about. They can’t start teasing... please tell me they’re not going to...

“Guilty,” Dorian shrugs. Larry just rolls his eyes and laughs. Sitting up slightly, I try to study their faces to make sure that none of them are going to start spewing ‘fag’ this and ‘fag’ that. They don’t though. In fact, no one is really paying attention anymore. I breathe a sigh of relief. I was right. I don’t have to worry about them. It’s become a fact, especially since Larry doesn’t even seem to be bothered by it, despite his little outburst. Religious people tend to be more sensitive, and yet Larry has never abandoned Dorian despite their many debates. It kind of reminds me of Wayne and his friends. They fight sometimes and seem to have widely differing opinions, but Wayne never leaves for anyone else. Maybe they just want to fit in, or maybe they see sides of each other that nobody else does, or maybe they really do agree but don’t want to let people kn--

“Red button!” Dorian shouts in triumph at the book...

I’m not sure how long we stay in Paperback Junction, but it’s a long while before we leave. It’s decided that Corrie is going to take Larry home first, then Abigail, then Dorian, and then me. Therefore, by the time we’re dropping Dorian off, the sun is low in the sky.

“I can walk from here,” I say. I recognize where we are and it’s actually not very far. Our town isn’t too big. Corrie nods an okay and I say goodbye to her as I get out of the car and grab my backpack from the trunk. Dorian and I wave as she drives away.

“Where do you live?” he asks, not going inside his house yet. Dorian lives in a regular white townhouse. It has a porch that’s surrounded by a screen and I can see a rocking chair sitting next to a stand with an ashtray on top.

“North Street,” I say absentmindedly, staring at the rocking chair. I wonder who sits there. Whenever I think of rocking chairs, I think of old ladies knitting things and telling their grandchildren about days long past. Of course, the knitting thing just makes me think of that magazine, so now all my head can picture is a muscular biker guy in the rocking chair, smoking some cigarettes while he knits some socks for Zee or somebody.

“Did you hear me?” Dorian says, shaking my shoulder slightly. I blink and shake my head. “I said I’ll walk you home.”

“Why? You live right here,” I say, motioning towards his house.

“Yeah, but... it’s not safe ‘round these parts for a little guy like you,” he says in what I guess is supposed to be a western accent and he slings his arm around my shoulder, walking the direction towards North Street. Our conversation is mostly limited to me giving him directions as we walk, but sometimes he’ll bring up something about school.

“So,” he says, hands in his pockets, “you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” I laugh. Is he kidding? Of course I don’t. I’m not exactly the type who gets girls at the drop of a hat. I’m way too nervous. Besides, I don’t even know if I like girls. Granted, I don’t know if I like boys, but I’ve never had a boyfriend either.

“No,” I say, the laughter still in my voice. “Do you?”

“Nah...” he says, kicking at a rock in the road. I look at him for a few seconds, debating my next question, but I finally decide to ask it.

“Are you gay?” I say, crossing my fingers that he’s not offended. Luckily, he’s not. He just smiles.

“Sometimes,” he says, and I’m not sure I know what he means. “Are you?” I pause, unsure if it’s safe to talk to Dorian about this. I’ve never talked to anyone about this, not even Jake. There was that time that Gary asked me if I was a ‘faggot’, but I don’t think that counts. After all, it wasn’t really a serious question and the one that Dorian is posing to me now kind of is, so I guess I have to make up my mind really quick, but it’s not really something you can just decide on the spo-- “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he says, appearing slightly worried at my lack of a response.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” I tell him. “It’s just... I don’t know if I am or not. I mean, how am I supposed to know what I like if I’ve never even kissed anyone?” Dorian raised his eyebrows.

“Never, eh?” he says and a small blush heats up my face. I shake my head.

“I don’t even know how. I’m probably terrible at it.” I attempt a laugh, but it comes out kind of fake because I honestly think that I probably am.

“You don’t know that,” Dorian says. “You just have to practice. Here.” He stops walking and after a step, I do as well. I watch him, trying to figure out what he’s doing, and he steps up close to me. “First you have to get kind of close.” I blink. He’s not... he’s not doing...

“What...” I start to say but then I look up at him and the way his black hair dangles in front of his face and his lips are pouty up close and I’m freaking out a little bit.

“Then you tilt your head to the right.” He puts one of his hands on the side of my head and helps me lean it to the side. I’m not sure I’m breathing anymore. My head has gone totally blank and I think I should probably stop him, but I’m not going to because I can’t move. “And close your eyes...” He presses a thumb softly against my eyelid and both of them flutter shut obediently. “Lean in...” Even with my eyes shut, I can tell his face is getting closer because I suddenly feel warmer and his breath is against my face and his hand tugs me forward slightly and his nose brushes against my cheek and my heart has suddenly stopped beating and I’m pretty sure the entire world has fallen out from under our feet and I have a tingling sensation in my nose, which I think is a little weird because I didn’t think that was supposed to happen when you kiss, and his lips are almost on mine and they’re actually touching very lightly and I think he’s about to do it but then my head jerks away and I sneeze.

Dorian laughs. “Bless you,” he says, his hand dropping back to his side. I look up at him, blushing madly and feeling so terribly awkward, but he just sticks his hands in his pockets, whistles a tune, and begins walking again. I stand there for a minute, in slight disbelief, and as I jog to catch up to him, I can’t help but feel disappointed.

Damn my olfactory glands.