Soundtrack: Heut Ist Mein Tag - Blümchen
Want You Bad
Your shirt is a little too big (or meant to be that way) and it keeps on sliding down your shoulder. (Sensual-ly?). You don't seam to notice much, staring out in space, lips slightly curved into a sort of askew little smile, eyes clouded with thoughts and long lashes covered in purple mascara. They're clumped together and normally I hate that, but somehow on you I find that attractive even though I myself spent fifteen minutes just this morning getting my own perfect. Imperfection thrills my own perfection I guess and I find it hard to sit still when you adjust a few of the lose braids you have in your dyed, teased hair. I want to know what it feels like getting my hands tangled in that, if it's silky-soft, or rough and raw… (I like it both ways).
I've never been especially good when it comes to describing and those adjectives you can twist to no end drive me nuts. I try so hard to find a word that'll fit you, to pinpoint exactly what it is about you that make me be like this. I bite my tongue, and grimace at the pain, trying hard to concentrate on something else, not even the taste of oncoming blood strays my thoughts and instead of hurting myself further (wouldn't want to mess up my gloss with bloodstains, would I?) I pop a bit of mint gum into my mouth and start to chew, actually liking the sting menthol creates on my wounded tongue
The skin you show right now looks so smooth, so, so touch-able… I wrinkle my nose at my stupid choice of word, but can't find another one more fitting and somehow that glimpse of your bra-band makes me excited or wait, that's another one of those "wrong words", they're not good enough for you. Turned on is the next alternative and yeah, that fits a lot better. I shift around in my seat ignoring the heat rising inside of me. How long is this class, how long until I can breathe again?
This is high-tech math, and I'm thinking about everything else, but most of all on your bra-band, don't you know I'm failing class because of it? Don't you know school rules forbid un-appropriate clothing? It's a discrete pale blue and I expected black. I don't know why, it would just seem more like you, more like… you know, sexy?
But then again I don't mind, blue works fine for me, I like blue, it's a calm, cooling colour (except for when it's on you) and yeah, uh… god, you make me so stupid. I try to scribble a few answers done, checking twice that all my lines are neat and straight and that I really erased that little heart I painted in the upper right corner with your name written underneath. What if Eva or Kayla saw? They'd think I was nuts. Judging by my not so newly developed obsession-like crush on you I guess I am. I mean, hello, what about Adam? I don't think he's going to like it when I tell him I kinda-sorta don't like him anymore since he lacks breasts and pout-y lips. I am so clichéd it makes me smile in the middle of it all, I'd be the perfect high-school drama queen, a movie about my life would be a box-office success and I'd be clad in all the most expensive labels, making friends with Christina and Britney, travelling all around the world in my Mercedes, smiling and having fun.
It's my time to space out now and when I finally return back (we did dirty things in that Mercedes, oh once more, help me God, because I am going to hell) I catch you smiling at me, with one (very nicely plucked I must say) eyebrow raised like if you're wondering where I go when I get lost. I smile, shrug and can't help myself… I keep eye contact a little too long, it's not so bad that I can say I'm drowning in your eyes, but we're sharing something and it tingles, it's somewhat tangled and if I weren't blonde I'd say it borders on being flirty. I enjoy it, but find myself blushing when you're the one breaking contact, going back to your notes, pretending like nothing ever happened and like if these strange Tuesday afternoons we spend together are normal. Because this isn't the first time we look at each others, it isn't the first time I admirer you from afar (more like two seats away, but anyhow), not the first time you've accidentally brushed my side when you've passed by, not the first time we borrow too many pencils or notes of each others, not the first time I want you bad.
Sadly you must have one fucked up schedule because I rarely see you anywhere else then in this class and it's just once a week. There are those times in the cafeteria of course, but it's noisy there, crowded and those metalhead friends of yours actually scare me. They're big and have pointy things sticking out from everywhere. Planning an approach there would be far too humiliating, because I have no clue whatsoever about whom Slipknot is, and I am ashamed to say I'm one of those that still believe Marilyn Manson eats babies for breakfast.
Okay, maybe I am taking things a little too far, but it's easier that way, it's easier blaming than taking the blame, and besides what if you'd turn me down, what if I'd find out we don't listen to the same music, and that you think I look fat in my new jeans?
I grin, and wish I could see myself right now. Horny like a stupid schoolboy aged thirteen, and making up sad excuses for not daring to take the step and being a little different for once, a little less perfect, a little more flawed.
Eva asks if she can borrow something, a lip-pen or whatever, I simply show my whole bag over to her. No time for that now. She looks appalled over my strange behaviour and I spare her a glance, telling her with one word that her questions can be saved until later. She turns to the girl beside her, the one I can never remember the name of, but she has nice breasts too (obsessed much, yes), I've noted that and starts to whisper something. Probably about me, and probably about the fact that I've put on a little weight, like a pound or two. Size zero can screw my ass (well, isn't that gay?), I'm revolting fast, or not…
Un-intentionally (yeah right) I look your way again ignoring the giggles I used to find so tempting, you're nodding your head along to some music only you can hear and I wonder badly what it is you're listening to. You tap your pen (it's pink with butterflies on it, you must have bought it in the kiddies-section, somehow I find that oddly hot) along with the for me unheard beat, and I find myself with the strange urge for dance. So I decide to act it out.
A few lines on a piece of paper and I toss it in your direction, eagerly waiting for a reaction, a reply, but I guess you're either a tease or simply un-interested seeing as there is none. I return to my math, a little sourer and a lot less turned on then a few seconds ago. The bell rings and my excitement can easily be tamed; this lesson seams to have lost its charm. Tuesdays afternoons won't be especially special anymore. I sigh and wait for the rest of the class to leave, I can't be bothered with them right now, I'm sulky and I won't ruin my reputation with being bitchy just because of you. Later there will be time for me, Ben, and Jerry, for now I smile and kiss Evas cheek telling her I'll see her and the girls later, I need some alone time since me and Adam are going trough a "crisis".
We've had a lot of them lately, it's just poor Adam that doesn't know why he's getting the evil eye from all my girlfriends, but do I look like I care? No, not really and I make it for the door, dragging my feet behind me (rather hard with 3 inch heals) but I am the master of disaster and therefore I can.
A breathe, a whisper, playfully glittering eyes and a somewhat husky voice stops me dead in my tracks. I nearly lose my balance, thankfully though I am trained for extreme situations, two years with the girls' scouts left me with all the knowledge I need for this… or wait that was about fire and how to put it out… but anyhow who am I trying to fool? I nearly faint where I stand, and since you are shorter than me my neck tingles when you ask if I still want to know what it was you were listening to?
Out of habit I am tempted to spit out something sarcastic as an answer since you left me waiting, no one ever lets me wait, it's highly unlikely that you don't know that. But being the sucker for drama and romance I am I refuse to give away for that side, instead I nod and hope my eyeliner hasn't smudged since you made me break a sweat just by standing so close. Heterosexual boys must have is so damn hard with us girls if we make them feel like this. For once I feel sorry for Adam being such a slave under his hormones seeing as I apparently can't control myself either. Is that drool?
Somehow we end up in the girls' bathroom after the teacher literally threw us out, something about needing the room for other things, like what I wanted to ask, screwing the principal on the desk? But I didn't, I have some manners.
Now we're standing here, too close for friends and too far away for my liking. Apparently for yours too since you suddenly have me pressed up against the wall (I deserve beating, my first thought being; ew, germs!). It's warm, I'm hot, bothered and I never thought this sunk-y bathroom could be such a romantic place.
When we kiss, because we do that, bad girls as we are, I don't think about my gloss at all (there's a first time for everything). I'm rather focused on your tongue and if you'll mind if I rip your t-shirt right apart because when you bite my lip like that it drives me crazy. My pulse plays an up-tempo beat in my ears and our breathes can easily be synched into a rather nice melody, if your like your music that way, you know without rhythm and sense.
A while later, an hour or so, we missed biology (not so important, I learnt much more anatomy this way) you give me one of the ear-pieces to your I-pod with a simple; still want to know which song it was?