Author's Note: OK, well, you've probably noticed that you got an e-mail, maybe, if you have alerts on this story, from Fiction Press on a story you are unfamiliar with. Something told you to click that button to read this story, and you realize that it's the one you've been pining over for a while. Yeah, I changed the name and the plot. I didn't like the title, "What is Sex, Anyway?" I don't know, it seems so . . . bleh. So, I changed it. The new title is more inviting, I hope. I mean, having sex in the title kind of turns people off. I got this impression already; you don't need to tell me that I'm wrong. So, anyhow, another long chappy! Enjoy.
Chapter 5: Meet Ian
Surprisingly, Ophelia and I got home within ten minutes (when in actuality, it took us twenty minutes to get to Frederick's house). As soon as we jumped out the car, we saw Lars's head poking out the kitchen window, waiting for us. When we got in, we ran upstairs, ran into my room, and busted out laughing. I think it was the most fun we've ever had, sneaking out and getting away with it. Mom came in exhausted, and went straight to bed. She didn't even hesitate to look in my room to see if we were either sleeping or watching a movie together. Veronica must have worked her like a vacuum.
After that night, I began realizing that I had a goal to reach for, which was: man hunting. I started flirting again with the males at my school casually, as if it were a day job. I got a few numbers, even went on a few dates, but I didn't find what I was looking for yet. But on the plus side. . . .
Because of Steven's amazing French lessons, I had actually come close to picking up from where my class left off, which, at the beginning of my tutoring sessions, I was far, and literally far, behind on. Plus, Steven and I began to develop a friendship. Sure, we flirted with each other occasionally (fine, you know me too well. Quite often, we flirted. Two attractive people can't be friends without there being flirting, I tell you), but we still had fun talking about topics that came up. He was someone I could easily approach without getting this queasy feeling in my stomach, though common butterflies were sporadic.
The weather nowadays was so beautiful, it inspired all the girls in school to ditch the pantyhose and roll with the knee highs, me included. The whole student body also started to roll up our sleeves and loosen our buttons (with a camisole underneath, of course. This was a Catholic High School) and ties. Spring was approaching, and fast.
It was a Wednesday morning, and I was just about to enter French class. Mademoiselle Rita was noticing my drastic change in test papers and had lifted that cold shoulder from me and replaced it with a proud shoulder. I no longer gave in tests that were blank or had scribble drawings as answers. But, I had to say that this test was going to be scary.
It was Listening comprehension.
As much as I had learned from Steven, I still did not fully understand French when it escaped the mouth of a human being. Yeah, I was starting to see how beautiful the language was, partly because of Steven, but, it didn't sound beautiful coming from Mademoiselle Rita. In fact, it sounded . . . snooty. I hated snooty.
The chapter was based on past tenses, asking people questions, and sports. Sports! You might as well pull out your revolver and shoot me now, because when it came to sports, my mind turned into mush.
I walked into the room feeling reluctant. After all the hard work I labored in. After all the Tuesday and Friday afternoons I gave up staying in school with Steven (though I wasn't fully complaining). After all the failures I hadn't received . . . I was going to go back to my same roots.
I sat in my seat and pulled out a ballpoint black pen, ready to rue the day. Mademoiselle Rita gave everyone an answer sheet to mark our answers on. There were thirty questions. THIRTY?! Let's hope one of them is based on Sports. And only one.
"Class, this test is for this quarter, so be sure to do very well in it. The listening comprehension always determines how well you know French. Now, the first ten questions are based on sports—"
"Shit!" I squealed in a whisper, but which a few people heard.
"—the second ten are based on your passé composé, and the last ten will be on your questions. Is everyone ready?"
The class echoed in a 'Yes'. I made a mental note to murder them all later.
Didn't she hear everyone say yes?
"The first question is, 'Pour jouer au football, on a besoin d'un BLANK'."
Wait. A light bulb flashed in my head. That didn't sound too bad. Matter of fact, I think I knew what she said. I wrote next to the number 1 on my answer sheet, 'Ballon'.
This was going to be easy.
I ran out of my classroom as cheerful as a little girl receiving a lollipop for being good. I ran to the school yard, where everyone was either sitting on the grass, or playing a few sports. I spotted Millicent sitting under a tree, enjoying the shade, and reading a book while popping grapes into her mouth.
I ran to her in a second flat and collapsed beside her. "Je suis très intelligent en française!"
She looked up at me. "Translation?"
I sighed happily. "I am very smart in French! I swear to you, I passed that Listening comprehension in a jiffy. I've never felt so proud of myself, Millie!"
She placed her finger in the page of where she left off and gave me a smile. "I'm so proud of you!"
I bowed. "Thank you, dahling."
"So, I guess those tutoring sessions paid off, huh?" she popped a grape in her mouth while giving me a sly grin.
I took one from her zip lock bag and shook my head. "It's not like that between Steven and me."
She giggled. "Sure, it isn't. It's only a matter of time! I mean, he is really great looking. And he's a charmer."
I had introduced Steven to Millicent and Janie a week ago. They liked him instantly, which was great on my end. No tension whatsoever, like there was when Torrie came along.
I shrugged. "I guess." I leaned against the tree bark and felt a swoosh of cool spring air surround me. "I haven't seen much of Janie lately."
"Oh," Millicent said uninterestedly. "Didn't she tell you?"
I shook my head.
"Torrie bought her a necklace saying 'I Love You' on the back. Now she's all involved with him completely. Makes me sick."
"Ugh, are you kidding me? She's going to be a walking Torrie machine. Which is so unfortunate for us."
We loved Janie to death, but, Torrie? He was as dumb as a doorknob. Plus their relationship was so high school. Nothing cute or worth admiring from afar. It was just annoying to see. Nauseating, even. He was just so . . . useless. I think it was his looks that really got him by, and the fact that he had football skills in his blood, because if it weren't for either of them, he would be a wreck.
Millicent nodded slowly. "Yeah, well . . . what can we do except deal with it? I mean, she's happy, Giselle."
I made a funny face. "This would be the perfect time to be selfish friends."
Millicent pinched me and we giggled.
"You know what? I'll catch you later. I robbed you five minutes of your reading time." I stood up and straightened my skirt.
"You know I don't mind whatever time you rob from me. Except, if it's with Shane."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm gonna go find someone else to bother."
She laughed. "Don't get into trouble, please?" She opened her book.
I winked, indicating a maybe.
I was in this happy mood that literally could not be broken. If I found out the Ophelia had contracted HIV or something through sexual contact, then sure, I would feel like I deserved to go head first into a vat of magma, but, at this point, I literally felt like I was floating on air.
Not only did I have this feeling that I passed on of the most challenging French test that I have taken so far, but. . . .
I finally had a date.
A real date with a real guy that is really gorgeous. We're talking about Xander Stone.
I never really knew much about Xander except that he was smart. Yes, book smart. Not the sort of guys I usually go for, but, with his looks, he would suffice. He was on the Honors list, took three AP classes, was a senior, and was also on the tennis team. That meant that he had amazing legs ,arms, a tan that was so fresh, it wouldn't look as if he baked in the oven like a turkey roast, and a derriere that was full of muscle, due to the squatting.
While walking away from Millicent in the school yard, he accidently knocked into me while running to catch a football him and his friends were throwing. A simple game of catch, I guess. Don't ask me about sports, you'll get nothing back. He instantly apologized and flashed me a Colgate smile, causing me to melt like an ice cream cone in 105 degree weather. We flirted. Flirted until he said he couldn't forget the fact that he had almost hurt a beautiful girl such as I was, and had to make up for it by taking me to dinner.
Oh, c'mon. Did you really think I would refuse?
So, now, here I am walking down my school hallways with a dazed smile on my face. The kids must think I just came back from smoking a joint, because this wasn't my normal reaction to dates.
It's the fact that this date could turn into my potential boyfriend that had me buzzed.
I heard a voice, but I couldn't. . . .
I felt a hand wrap around my arm and pull me into a classroom. "What the—"
Steven slammed the door behind me and walked over to the desk he was sitting at previously. Before he decided to kidnap me. "What's up?"
I looked at him in utter disbelief. "What's up? You grab me in here while I'm in my sanctuary of happiness, and all you can say is what's up?" I exclaimed angrily.
His eyes roamed the room and then landed on me. "Yeah."
I glowered at him and realized that I was in the science lab. It smelled like alcohol. Gross. Steven was wearing a lab coat, black gloves on, and a pair of goggles suckered to his eyes. I started to smile, which turned into laughter. I walked over to him slowly.
He looked at me as if I were on something. "What are you laughing at?"
I shook my head. "Boy, do you look scrumptious in that lab coat. The goggles really bring out your eyes, dude." I leaned against the opposite side of the black lab desk that he was occupying.
He sighed and picked up a beaker filled with some sort of red liquid. "Thanks for the compliments, but this is the first and last time you will see me in this." He grabbed a dropper, took a sample of the red liquid and dropped it into a nearby test tube, which had a green powder inside already. As soon as the red liquid hit the green powder, it started to sizzle, and the cloud of smoke turned pink.
I watched in amazement. "That is sick!"
He nodded slowly and looked at me with a childish grin on his face. "Does it? I've been trying to get this right for the past fifteen minutes."
"Is the smoke supposed to turn pink?" I asked.
He thought for a moment, and then looked to the far left of his experiment to a paper. After about a minute, he looked at me. "Yeah, it's supposed to."
"Then you got this thing right, Steven."
He wiped a bit of sweat that had developed a bit across his forehead with his arm. "Thank God. I can get that 'A' now." He removed his goggles and gloves and set them on the desk. I pulled up a chair and sat down across from him.
"Were you failing?" I asked peculiarly.
He shrugged. "More or less. I never did the homework, but always aced the tests."
"Aw! And look at you! In a matter of years, you'll be the next Albert Einstein! Did you know he was dyslexic?" I stated proudly.
He gave me a confused smile. "And?"
"And? . . . That gives you more strive, I guess."
He blinked. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about."
I shrugged. "More or less." I smiled at him. I picked up a slide and examined it. "I never told you, but, I actually love science."
He whistled. "Do you, now?"
I nodded furiously. "Yeah. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was a chemistry teacher at NYU. He came to stay with us every other weekend. And on those weekends, when we weren't having fun and just acting all goofy," I slid the slide under a nearby microscope, turned on the light, and glanced into the eyepiece, "he taught me everything he knew. Showed me books, calculations, theories . . . he was obsessed with every physicists, philosopher or inventor known to man. Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein . . . even Carl Benz." I adjusted the coarse adjustment knob and stared into the eyepiece again. "I think that's where my love of science came from." I looked up at Steven. "My grandfather."
He was looking at me, as if he were intrigued. I guess he was. "Cool."
I nodded. "Yeah." I absentmindedly adjusted the knob up and down, until I finally snapped out of it. "OK, I'm bored. Let's play a game."
He laughed. "We were just having a moment, and you want to play a game?"
"Pft! We weren't having a moment, we were having a conversation! Now, it's time to have some fun."
He sighed and gave in. "What're we playing?"
I pushed the microscope to the side and gently closed my hands on the table. "Questions and Answers."
He gave me a look. "Questions and Ans—"
"Questions and Answers. Take it or leave it."
He looked at me suspiciously. "I'll take it for now, but I'll leave it if it gets dumb."
I shrugged. "No problem."
We looked at each other from across the table. He sighed. "Do I go first, then?"
I playfully gasped. "You are smart, after all, Steven."
He smirked at me and sat back in his chair. "Alright. What's your favorite exotic animal?"
I thought for a moment. Boy, did that question catch me off guard. "Uh . . . I'll have to say . . . a peacock."
"Because they are absolutely beautiful and extremely underrated. My turn." I gave him a deep look. "What are your pet peeves?"
He chuckled. "To name a few?"
I shrugged, and he nodded.
"Uh . . . when people chew their gum with their mouth open. When people go through great lengths to prove me wrong."
I crossed my arms across my chest. "Seriously? People have done that to you before?"
He nodded. "My college bound older brother, Ian."
"Also, when girls play too hard to get. Like, they literally know that you know that you know she has got you wrapped around her finger, and instead of ending the misery of finding out if she has a boyfriend, or if she's into you, she just keeps playing that foolish game. It literally pisses me off."
I smiled widely. "You know, I—" I breathed on my fingernails and rubbed them against my cotton shirt, "used to be one of those girls. Till it went fatal. After that, I tell a guy plain and simple whether I find them interesting in whatever, or if I'm just in to jump their bones."
He stared at me, then chuckled and shook his head. "My turn?"
"How many boyfriends have you had?"
I cleared my throat and looked at the pink rose ring that I had bought at Steve and Barry's just two days ago as it sat on my finger. "One."
His eyes widened in shock. "You know I was being serious with the question, right?"
"Steven, I've only had one boyfriend in my whole entire life. My sixteen years of living. Just one boyfriend." I sat back in my chair. "And it sucked ass."
He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. "What happened?"
I sighed and looked at everything except for Steven. "Uh, well, he wanted one thing from me. And, you can guess automatically what that was. So, of course it wouldn't work out."
"Did you give him what he wanted?"
I shook my head. "No. Matter of fact that is one pet peeve of mine. I swear, if I could just . . . see Vincent again, I would make him feel like a mouse in a den full of cats. For that summer, I thought guys were assholes, but, that quickly evaporated. Especially when I had my fair share of hot, steamy make out sessions in September, when school started and guys started to notice how stunning I am." I looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. After a while, I looked back at Steven, who had an unreadable expression on his face. "Me next. Had any girlfriends?"
He nodded. "Sure, I have."
"Uh . . . twelve."
I gasped. "Twelve? You liar!"
He smirked. "I would never."
I stared at him in disbelief. "You seriously have had twelve girlfriends?"
He nodded comfortably.
I giggled. "Steven, you are such a dog."
He squinted at me. "Woof."
I giggled and he watched. "God, aren't you the James Bond of '08."
He groaned. "Don't make me sing the theme song. I am literally tone deaf. I promise you that." I threw a rubber band at him, that he easily caught. "OK, my turn again. How far have you gone on bases?"
I was about to answer him, when he smirked and said, "No, I'm not talking about baseball."
I gave him an uneasy face. "Is this necessary?"
"Scared?" he gave me a sly grin.
"No!" I pouted. "I don't know. I think I went to . . . second base?"
He raised an eyebrow. "With who? You're one and so far, only, boyfriend?" he laughed.
I frowned. "Actually, yes. And even though I regret it, it was quite enjoyable."
He nodded slowly. "I bet."
"I mean, it really isn't harmless. Sure, my mother always said only the husband is allowed to touch you in your places, but, you know. That was then. Nowadays, with teenagers, it's all about the chest on the first date."
He gave me a confused expression. "The chest? Is that what you think second base is?" He shook his head and chuckled to himself. "Oh, Giselle."
I was confused. Majorly confused. And pissed, because obviously, Steven knew something about what I had done more than I do. "What? What is it?"
"That isn't second base."
I nodded. "Sure, it is."
"So, you let him touch you . . . in your most private area, let's say." He waited for my answer.
I gulped. "Well, he tried to, but—"
"That's second base. You only went to first."
I slumped into my chair. "Wow. There's a new discovery."
He sighed and looked at me. "Steven?" I asked.
"Are you a virgin?"
He didn't say anything for quite a while. "It's not your turn."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it isn't."
"Steven, it's my turn," I said patiently.
"Shit." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. I could feel the nervousness. It was funny. I had to giggle. "Don't you think we're getting too personal?"
I waved my hand at him and gave an innocent grin. "No, of course not! It's OK. This question is simply harmless."
"I hate you," he said while trying to sustain a grin.
"I thought you didn't lie?"
"So of course you don't hate me. Just answer the question, Steven."
He hesitated, and a part of me was so anxious to hear him say, "No." Even though Steven sort of had this demeanor of being a rebellious stud, a part of me knew he had a hidden innocence, which included him being a virgin. And there was another reason, but I really, honestly didn't know what it was.
"Would it excite you if I said I wasn't a virgin?" he asked.
"Well, then, I am."
I smiled. "Are you trying to excite me?"
He nodded. "Very much."
My stomach went into full butterfly mode. "Which means you're not a virgin, right?"
He nodded again.
I needed to change the subject, and quick. I felt odd. "Can I ask another question? I know I'm taking your turn—"
He shrugged. "Go ahead. I don't mind."
I breathed in and out loudly. "What's your guilty pleasure?"
He gave me a suspicious look, and then cracked a smile. "I'm gonna say this to you and to you only. Do we have an agreement that if this secret leaves the premises; you get the biggest beat down of your life?"
I held up my arms in surrender. "Sure enough."
He sighed. "I love the 'Sexual Healing' remix featuring Shaggy."
I gasped. "Oh, my God."
He looked down at his hands, but I can see the smile that had developed from ear to ear. "Yeah, I know."
"When I get that feelin', I want Sexual healing." I sang in a whisper that he can hear.
He looked up at me in astonishment and started laughing. "Giselle, stop."
"Baaaaaby! I'm hot just like an oven! I need some lovin'!" I got up and started dancing around the lab. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck, and felt his shoulder move up and down as he laughed out loud. "Baaaaaby! I can't hold it much longer! It's gettin' stronger and stronger! C'mon, Steven. This is your favorite song."
He groaned out loud and I started laughing. "Heaaaal me, my daaaaarlin'!" I sang out loud and grabbed his arms, moving them in front of him. I put them down and whispered in his ear, "I will use this song to torture you forever."
He shook his head. "You wouldn't."
He looked up at me and our eyes locked for what seemed like a lifetime. And boy, did he have pretty eyes. I started getting those butterflies again. Shitty hormones.
Suddenly, my cell phone rang. I noticed that my bag was across the table, where I was sitting before. Before I was behind Steven with my arms wrapped around him. . . .
In a quick instant, I ran to my bag, hoping and praying he didn't realize that we had a . . . moment. Pulling out my phone, I flipped it open. "Hello?"
"What time will you be home?" I heard Ophelia ask me.
"Why?" I looked over at Steven, and noticed that he was fixing the lab equipment he used. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, and that felt peculiar.
"Because I sort of got in trouble and my Dean is going to call home after school to talk to mom."
I sighed and slammed my hand to my forehead. "Ophelia. You attract trouble like a magnet. What did you do this time?"
She sighed. "It really wasn't even that big of a deal. I was texting in class and my math teacher caught me. And I answered her back, and tried to get my phone from her. Then she reported me to my Dean. See? Nothing."
I shook my head. "Toki, it must have been serious if they're calling mom."
"It's because this is the sixth time I've done it."
I growled at her. "Ophelia!"
"I'm sorry, OK?" she really did sound sorry. One thing I knew about Ophelia is that she really did hate to disappoint people that she loved. Me included. When she knew I was angry at her, she felt extremely terrible. This makes it harder for me to be angry at her.
I sighed. "It's OK. Just, calm down. Let me figure something out."
I thought for a bit. Then something came to me. "Where are you right now?"
"Um," she said, "I'm in the office, making this phone call. Why?"
I bit my fingernail. "Is there anyone around?"
It took her a while; I guess she was checking. "No. Why? What're you planning?" she asked, anxiously.
I looked over and saw Steven packing his books. I had to make this quick. "Pass me the phone to your Dean. I'm gonna pretend to be mom."
She squealed. "Oh, my God. I effin' love you right now, Giselle."
I sighed. "Yeah, yeah, just pass her to me." I held the speaker and pushed the phone away from me. "Are you leaving?" I whispered to Steven.
He looked up, sort of surprised. "Uh, well, the bell's gonna ring for dismissal."
"Oh." I gave him my infamous puppy eyes.
"But, I can wait for you, if you want."
Success. I gave him a patient smile. "Thanks." I put the phone to my ear and removed my hand from the speaker. "Ophelia?"
"Mrs. Barkley?" a woman's voice rang in my ears.
I gasped. Steven came up behind me. "Shit!" I pressed the speakerphone button and put my pointer finger to my lips, signaling for Steven to be quiet. I cleared my throat. "Yes, this is she. Who is this, may I ask?"
"This is Ms. Hynes, Ophelia's Dean."
I looked over at Steven and he was fighting back a hoot of laughter. I punched him lightly. "Oh, yes. Ms. Hynes. How are you? I remember that wonderful conversation we had the night of the last assembly meeting for the parents of the students in the tenth grade?" The good thing about our mother was that she always told us about what she did when she had the time, and we seemed to remember a lot of those things she told us. Including the night she told us what happened at the assembly meeting.
Ms. Hynes giggled. "Yes, I remember. We need to catch up sometime, no?"
"Oh, of course. I have all the time in the world," I said.
"Um, Mrs. Barkley, as wonderful as Ophelia is, she has been causing some problems," Ms. Hynes said cautiously.
"Hm. Really?" I asked, trying to sound as curious as possible.
"Yes. See, today during her English class, Ophelia was texting on her Sidekick. Her teacher, Mrs. Fester, caught her and took her phone away. In result to that, Ophelia lashed out on her, which led Mrs. Fester to take her to my office. Mrs. Barkley, this isn't the first time. I know Ophelia is a beautiful, bright girl. But, why she can't follow the rules, I don't know."
I sighed a frustrated sigh that this time, was real. "I don't understand. She never asks this way at home or anywhere else." I was beginning to think a lot of my mother's "mother" instincts were rubbing off on me.
"Well, maybe you can sit down and talk to her, if that will help solve things."
I nodded and pinched Steven in the arm. I was able to look to the corner of my eye, and saw him bending over, laughing. "That would be a good idea. Thank you so much, Ms. Hynes."
I could see her grinning, even through the phone. "You're welcome. Have a good day, Mrs. Barkley."
"You, too." I instantly hung up the phone and gasped a breath so strong; it could have made a hole through the wall. "That was too close."
"That was fine. She obviously didn't recognize you," Steven said, trying to cheer me up.
"I just wanna—" the bell rang. "Nevermind."
I grabbed my bag and swung it on my shoulders. Steven held the lab door open for me as we exited, and the sight of teens scurrying across the halls made me feel comfortable, which was a twist on things.
"Hey," Steven called, "If you don't have anything planned, my mom made these amazing cookies last night."
I nodded my head and expressed a grin. "The new Pillsbury Dough Boy? No, Woman?"
He smiled. "She can really bake. It actually surprises me how I have none of those characteristics."
"Ah, it's OK, Steven. We can't pick how we're made." I patted him on the back. "So, what were you saying?"
"That, if you weren't doing anything, if you wanted to come over my place, and try some of those great cookies that I just bragged about. And maybe we can pop in a DVD—"
I cut him off. "I'd love to . . . try those cookies."
He responded with another stunning smile.
Since Steven's house was a walking distance away, he never drove there, which meant that I had to bring my big truck over there. Steven wasn't used to riding in a car from school to his house, so the ride was a bit quiet. But once I parked in the driveway, I was surprised. His house had two stories. It was a creamy yellow color, and looked extremely welcoming. There was beautiful patio and the flowers surrounding the house were stunning. I was simply drawn in.
Steven and I stood side by side, looking up at the home he lived in. "I am in love with your house."
He chuckled. "At least the outside."
I looked at him. "Should I be worried about the inside?"
He shrugged. "If you want to be."
We stepped onto the patio, and to the door. Steven pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He pushed it open, and led me in. The inside was just as great as the outside. I gasped. "Steven!"
"What?" he asked calmly.
"You have an amazing home." When you first walk inside, you're greeted with the living room, which was clean and set beautifully. There is a flight of stairs to the left and an end table next to it, with a plant on top. There was a TV and a stereo next to that big TV. I saw a hooked up X-Box on the floor in front of the television with tons of opened video game cases next to it. I couldn't help but smile.
"You know, it really isn't that big of a deal," I heard Steven say. He was heading toward two swinging doors, and I followed. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I inhaled. It looked like a beautiful Martha Stewart kitchen.
I placed my bag next to Steven's on the table, which was in the middle of the kitchen. "Isn't that big of a deal? I mean, yeah, my house is two times this size, and is covered with designer prints and stuff, but, your home is so . . . I don't know. Homey. It looks like a dream, I swear to you."
He opened the silver refrigerator and pulled out the cookies he was talking about earlier and a carton of soy milk. "Well, thank my mother. She never really had anything like this before, so, when her and my dad bought this house, she went haywire."
"Her and my mom should talk, then." I giggled to myself and continue to stare at the kitchen's beauty.
"Here." I felt something nudge me at the arm, and when I turned, it was the plate of cookies Steven was holding. He was already eating one. "You won't want to leave this plate lying around." I took a cookie and bit a piece of it off. I instantly felt like I was in heaven. Steven was right. These cookies were amazing.
"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed.
He nodded proudly. "Aren't they great?" he took two glass cups from a cabinet and set them on the table. "Do you like Soy Milk?"
I nodded while chewing another piece of my cookie. "It's the only milk I drink."
"Well," he said while pouring the milk into the two cups, "That makes six of us." He smiled at me, and I gave him a confused look, which changed to kind. Trying to enter the mind of Steven was something you had to ask yourself if it was a smart idea more than twenty times. "C'mon. I've got a museum full of movies in the living room."
I grabbed my cup of milk while Steven grabbed the plate of cookies and his cup. We headed back into the living room and sat on the couch, placing the things in our hands on the coffee table in front of us. Steven got up and opened a cabinet next to the stereo.
"OK. Let's pick something good, shall we? Categorize what you wanna see."
I smiled. "OK. I wanna see something funny." He turned the cabinet, and it presented another row of movies. "Um . . . it has to be an . . . animated feature."
He looked back at me. "Seriously?"
"Um, who's the guest? Don't sass me, boy." He smiled and turned back. He took seven movies from the cabinet and closed it.
Steven sat down next to me and scattered the DVD's on the coffee table. "Take your pick."
I looked over at the movie selections, and one easily caught my eye. "We are watching Shrek."
He groaned. "No, please. Not Shrek."
I crossed my arms across my chest. "Why not?"
"My little brother, Noah—" he began.
"How many brothers do you have?" I asked.
"Two, but that doesn't matter. Noah made me sit down with him and watch this movie over ten times, just so he can write down all the funny parts in his notebook so he could tell his friends the next day when school came."
I giggled. "Aw! He seems adorable."
"Pft. He's a kid. Of course he seems adorable."
"Well," I picked up the Shrek DVD. "I wanna watch Shrek."
"Giselle, you are killing me cell by cell. And it's so painful!"
I laughed. "You lose tons, and I mean tons, of dead cells every day! And you don't feel them, idiot! I thought you were smart!"
He was eyeing the Shrek DVD in my hand and tried to reach for it, but I was quick and pulled it above my head. "You know what? I have more strength than you do. We are not watching Shrek." He climbed on top of me, and I busted out in a hoot of laughter.
"Oh, gee! Steven, you weigh five hundred pounds, man!" I pushed him off and he fell to the floor. I started laughing like crazy, and he joined me.
"Give me that DVD!" He struggled to say as he laughed.
I shook my head, because I knew my mouth wasn't done roaring with all those giggles.
"I didn't know you had slumber parties, Steven," I heard a voice say. I turned around and followed the voice to the end of the staircase and saw something that immediately stopped the laughter that was exploding just a second ago.
He was absolutely stunning.
My heart started pounding so fast, I became scared that it would pop out of my chest.
"Ian, shut the hell up," I heard Steven reply from behind me.
This was Ian? Steven's brother? Steven's amazingly gorgeous brother?
He had dark blonde hair, piercing green eyes, an angular jaw line, and a smile that he was wearing at this current moment that had me at a standstill.
What had me in a head spin was the fact the he was wearing nothing but jeans. No shirt, which revealed the body every superhero in the world would be jealous of. I wanted so bad to rest my head to his God given chest; to slowly run my hands up every muscle that enveloped his arms; to kiss those amazing abs and those lips. To do so much more with this guy that erased every moral my mother gave me. . . .
I realized that I had stopped breathing, and quickly picked up on my breaths.
I ran my hands through my hair as if it were casual, when in reality I was trying to make it as presentable as possible, being messy due to the little battle Steven and I engaged in a short while ago. I stood up and straightened my skirt, while secretly checking to make sure my shirt was unbutton to the point of revealing the cleavage that I did possess.
Ian walked up to us and looked at me. I stared him straight in the eyes, and I could have sworn the expression in his eyes were that of someone in a dream. A beautiful dream. And that expression was one I was going to carry with me forever.
Gosh, I literally wanted to mount this man.
"Who's this, Steven?" he asked, still staring at me. I gave him a tiny smile, but my eyes were giving him the signal: Please, take me to your room and lock the door!
"This is my friend, Giselle. Giselle this is Ian, my brother."
Ian held out his hand, and I grabbed it. "So you are the girl that Steven tutors. Also the one who's name he can't keep out of his mouth."
I looked over at Steven with amusement in my voice. "Steven, I didn't know you liked me so much!" I giggled and he rolled his eyes. I turned back to Ian. "I guess I have that effect on people."
"Hey, if I see more of you, you might have to say the same thing for me."
We were flirting.
Oh, this was going to be interesting.
If you wonder what Ian might look like, look up Kellan Lutz on photobucket. He is Ian, in my mind.
i104./albums/m187/Sachiko02/Celebrities/Male/kellan.jpg --One link.
img./albums/v253/AngstOwen/Drool Factories/KellanLutz11.jpg --Another Link
All you need to know is that he is gorgeous. For the Twilight fans, he's playing Emmett in the movie, if you didn't know already.
Sorry it took so long for me to update. I just finished my senior year of H.S., and I had a lot going for the month of May. Tonight (5/22) is my prom! Whoop whoop! Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!