- a oneshot -
Cute idea I came up with. There is a bit of mature language and ideas in here, so if you don't think you can handle it, then don't read. But I think you all will like this a lot :) Reviews highly appreciated.
"Sometimes you can be such an idiot, Ria."
"Sometimes you can be a real dick," I replied bitingly, swiveling in the chair until I could glance over all the pictures on his side of the dorm room.
Jason's breath caught, and I could hear him grumbling. I knew it would take him a minute to calm down and cave to my point yet again, so I contented myself by running a hand over the pictures he'd thumb-tacked over his desk. There was one with Jason and his mom when he was no more than six; they actually looked happy, something I'd always envied him for. There was three or four pictures of girls he'd dated throughout high school - ranging from emo to a Kid's Bop freshman he'd entertained for three weeks. I didn't bother remembering the names of those girls, because they never really lasted. Jason was too much of a player to ever really stick with one girl.
Except for me. We'd been inseparable since kindergarten, and I smiled as I saw all the pictures of us together. It took up about three fourths of his "scrapbook space" - as his loveable roommate called it.
"There we are in the horrible braces stage," I commented, pointing at a picture of us smiling with those pink and green bands coating our teeth. "Still think the color pink brings out your feminine side?"
"Don't change the subject." Jason's tone was tight, but his eyes were soft. I tugged on his pink shirt with Billibong scribbled on the front, trying to get him to smile at me.
Poor boy; can't hold a grudge.
"You're still a dick sometimes," I said at last, running a hand through my long hair, "but I honestly can't even remember what we were fighting about."
Jason rolled his eyes, "You said that my girlfriend was a blonde bimbo, remember?"
"Ah yes." I laughed to myself. "Triple D Bra cups, bright red lipstick...you certainly catch the most interesting women."
His face turned red with rage, but, being as pushy as I was, I plodded right ahead.
"She'll be gone in a month, tops." I unconsciously began to mess up the pencils on his desk that he'd arranged so nicely. He always got mad when I did that, and there was something about him being irritated with me that was just fun.
Jason's hands landed on mine, pulling them away from his precious pencils.
"You're wrong," he mumbled through clenched teeth. "I happen to really like Marissa."
I cocked an eyebrow, "Jas, her name is Malissa. Plus, she's not your type. She goes to a Catholic school and attends all of those freaky confessional meetings at the chapel on campus. She gets straight D's. You, on the other hand, enjoying smoking in the bathroom, stealing lunch money from freshman at the high school campus -"
"I don't steal money from little kids," Jason interuppted, tugging me to my feet. "How do you know all that about her anyways?"
Tilting my head just to the right, I smirked at him, "I know all."
With that, he pulled our heads together and gave me a soft peck on the lips. Everyone thought we were dating; it wasn't such a bad guess, considering we kissed each other on occasion and held hands in the hallways at school. But really, it was just a mutualistic agreement between us. In simpler terms: this was just how we were, like brother and sister, really.
"Do you remember when you taught me how to kiss?" Jason asked casually, his hands still around my waist.
"Uhuh," I said, squirming out of his arms and turning towards their bunk beds. "Told you I know all. Your first girlfriend didn't even know how to kiss. She kissed like a slobbering honey badger." I climbed up the steps on the side, then catapulted onto his bed, messing up the careful way he'd made it this morning.
A cough sounded from below, and Jason was glaring at me, "Get off my bed, Ria."
"Not until you say I'm right." Oh how stupid we could act at times.
He sighed, tapping his foot rhythmically against the floor. Counting equal beats, etc, helped Jason to concentrate. It seemed to get those brain cells functioning at high capacity.
"When aren't you right?"
"Exactly," I said, flipping my dark hair back and chuckling as Jason stormed out of the dorm room, having had enough of my peevish attitude.
"Leave me alone, Jas."
"I thought we were going to the skate park."
"We were," I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, knotting it securely, "until I found out that I'll fail English if I don't ace this midterm." I groaned to myself as the words in the textbook swam before my vision. Studying while lying on my bed probably wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but I was too lazy to get up and drive to school just so I could use the library.
"Thought you were a good student, Ria," Jason said, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck.
I shivered involuntarily, "You know I'm a logical person. This crap isn't logical." I gestured frustratedly at the book.
The bed quivered as Jason sank onto it - all one hundred and sixty seven pounds of him, the lean freak.
"Would you like me help?" he asked softly.
"Someone's super sympathetic today," I taunted, but the effort was flat from lack of sleep. "Fine, you can help." I hated accepting help, had absolutely refused to show my parents any of my homework, even if I didn't understand it. I had started taking and hiding all of my report cards so my mom and dad couldn't see the lines of C- and D+.
Jason leaned over my shoulder, his chin resting nearly in the crook of my neck, "Ria, this is easy stuff."
"Easy for you to say," I said with a growl. Sometimes - okay, all the time - I was jealous of how easy Jason had it. He didn't even have to study barely at all and he'd ace every test placed before him. His perfect SAT scores had reflected it, and I'd been surprised when he had chosen to attend a Cal State with me. After all, he'd had a huge stack of acceptance letters from Stanford, USC, Berkley, etc.
"Just look at it this way." His face turned pensive, handsome in the thin veil of light. "Emily Dickinson wrote many poems with a sense of meter. All you have to do is find the meter, the syllables and amount of words in each line, and you've got logic."
I pursed my lips, squinting at the page and trying to see it from his point of view. It seemed to make sense, a little.
"Why do you have to be so damn smart, Jas?" I asked, turning under our faces were inches apart. "Makes me feel like an idiot at times." It was the first time I'd admitted my insecurity out loud, being as nonchalant about it as possible. I hated admitting weaknesses of any kind.
"Ria," Jason said, voice soothing, "do you have any idea how smart you are?"
I glanced around my bedroom, at the report cards I'd framed with the Ds highlighted in bright red. My teachers had not been happy with me senior year, as I had only participated just enough to get Ds and graduate. Of course, it meant that practically no school wanted me as a student. My mom had offered to bribe them; that was her way of dealing with her delinquent daughter.
"Do the report cards mean anything?" I asked him, gesturing at all of them with a wistful sort of fondness. "I'm crummy at school. Let's just accept me the way I am."
A sigh, and Jason touched my cheek with gentle fingers. I snuggled into his palm, breathing happily.
"No," he said, making me bristle a bit, "because I know you can do so much better."
Our feet tangled together under the covers.
"You've been eyeing that guy in your calc class," Jason said.
I scraped my spoon against the edge of my bowl and thought of who he was referring to, "Yeah, I guess. Can't help it if the boy's hot." I shrugged.
A moment passed in which Jason simply watched me eat. It was a bit creepy, and I tried not to feel self-conscious as I took a bite of Cheerios, finishing it off with a squirt of whipped cream.
"How can you eat that?" Jason asked, pointing to my bowl of cereal doused in milk, honey and whipped cream.
I shrugged again, wiping my mouth off with my sleeve and smirking as it made him wince, "You know I hate plain things. Guess I had a sweet tooth moment."
More silence, and Jason's fingers worked against the table.
"So, you just like to stare at him?"
I glanced casually up at him, wondering why he wouldn't let it go, "So we're back to that, are we?"
He only nodded, neck stiff.
"He's eye candy," I said, taking another bite of my morning creation, and mumbling through the food. "It's no big deal, Jas."
"He's been staring at you," Jason said, getting up and heading towards the cabinets adjacent to the fridge.
My kitchen was pretty small, just big enough to hold a table for two - it was only my mom and I now, on the few occasions that Jason wasn't here - and the fridge. The fridge jutted up against a countertop and, if you turned to the right, you'd be at the sink. There was a window in front of the sink that overlooked the front lawn with the few sparse flowers my mom had attempted to plant; that was about the only view we got from this run-down apartment.
"Then he's been staring," I said. "What, do you think I'm ugly or something?"
It's not like I thought I was ugly. I looked decent, with my green eyes and dark brown hair I'd dyed with strands of honey blonde. My hips jutted out, slightly bony, and I surely wasn't shopping for maternity sized clothing.
"No, you're gorgeous." Jason flushed as he said the words without thinking.
I grinned at him, semi relieved that he'd actually gotten that off his chest. I mean, I found him attractive, and we were practically like siblings, so it was fine for him to find me pretty.
"Why thank you, sir."
Jason glowered at me, "Be serious for a second, please."
"Have some fun every once in awhile," I begged, reaching out and taking his hand. "Look, he's just eye candy. Besides, you'll be there if anything goes wrong." That seemed to molify him, as his face slowly returned to its normal, slightly pale color. He ran a hand through his immaculate blond hair, messing it up a bit as he thought, then immediately flattened it out again.
"Ria, if he knocks you up -"
"Please," I snorted. "I haven't let anyone in my pants yet, and I don't feel like starting now."
"Everyone thinks you're the bad girl," Jason pointed out.
I rolled my eyes at him; sometimes he could get caught up in a situation, and there was no pulling him out until there proved a logical solution. He was much like myself in that regard.
"Let them assume." I pulled him closer until I could gather him in a hug. "You're the only one who knows who I really am."
"Someone's feeling affectionate today."
I resisted the urge to punch him in the gut, "Don't get used to it."
"You're not the boss of me, Jason Trent Beckman."
"Since when do you call me by my full name?"
"...you're so dense." I sighed through the phone, and grabbed my stomach as it began to ache again.
This was one thing I never talked about with my best friend. My dad had always been grossed out by my mom's period, and when I had started - the eve of my fourteenth birthday - he had begun complaining about the recess of tampons in the trash. It had made me feel ashamed of my body for awhile, and I'd take out the trash anytime I was bleeding, used the trash cans at school when I could. It'd almost been a relief when my dad had taken off one day with the promise of "making some money for this family."
It had just been his excuse to get away from my mom and her moodiness.
Jason sighed on his end of the line, "You could get really sick."
I took another step onto my porch, tugging on my hoodie I'd kept from junior year cheer team. No, I hadn't been on the cheer team; I'd simply stolen it from some girl who'd left it on a table outside. Finders-keepers, losers-weepers, I always said.
"It feels nice," I insisted, sticking my hand out and sighing happily as the rain pounded against it.
"You sound depressed," Jason said.
"You're really dense." With that, I hung up on him, and flung my cell into the house, shutting the front door behind me and locking it.
As soon as I stepped out into the rain I could feel it beating against my body. It almost felt like a massage, and my shoulders relaxed unconsciously. I'd always loved the rain as a child, though my mom tried to keep me inside. She had always gotten really sick from even the slightest things, and she didn't want the same thing to happen to me. But I'd ignored her, and sprinted out to create mud pies and get blasted in the face by the world's biggest squirtgun - aka, the sky.
The sidewalk felt slippery under my sneakers, and more than a few times cars slowed down and honked at me, probably offering rides. Half of them were most like pedophiles, though, and I didn't feel like getting raped. So, instead, I hung a right and began stomping through the bushes like Indiana Freakin' Jones.
"Ria," a voice called out, whining, "these are my new shoes."
"I told you not to," I replied, turning to face Jason. He was dressed in some of his fanciest clothes, which I found odd, and his once shiny loafers were coated in mud.
"I beg to differ," he said, lips quivering. "You told me not to boss you around, not that I couldn't follow you."
"Big difference, smart guy." My response was edged in sharp sarcasm. "Run along home n-" I cut off as Jason held out a Snickers, my favorite chocolate bar in the whole word.
"Knew you weren't a Hershey's girl," Jason said, waving the chocolate bar in front of my face as I stepped towards him.
I stretched a hand out, "Give it to me."
The wrapper felt slimy as I caressed it with prunish fingers.
"Let's go." Jason took my hand without even asking me if it was okay, and began pulling me in the direction of the road. My fingers tightened around his, trying to pierce his skin.
"I don't wanna," I complained, tearing into my chocolate. The combination of rain water and Snickers was heavenly, and I moaned as the caramel melted onto the roof of my mouth. But I still let him lead me towards his car.
"You could have told me you were on your period," Jason said, his voice surprisingly warm.
I looked at him through hooded eyes, "You're not grossed out by it?"
He shrugged, "Only if you are." With that, he dug into the compartment between our seats, pulling out two movies. "The Last Song, or The Notebook?"
I laughed through chattering teeth, "Miley Cyrus is a slut."
"That's harsh." But he tossed the DVD to the back, nearly hitting the glass.
Our hands found each other over the armrests, and I leaned into his shoulder as he drove.
"I have a surprise for you," Jason announced as we walked towards my room.
"I don't like surprises," I said, crossing my arms. "You know, unless it involves your dick and -"
"Must you be so crude?" Jason asked, shaking his head in exasperation as we approached my door. Before he could stretch out a hand I was already there.
"You've been in my room without me?" I asked him, not sure why that thought made me feel weird. I guess it was because my room was my personal space, and to have him in there alone was just wrong. "You haven't been jacking off or anything, have you?"
His face turned red, "Are you trying to suggest something?"
I shrugged, smiling devilishly, "Maybe." I glanced around my room a couple times before noticing the cans of paint on the floor. "Paint? Really?"
Jason had been obsessed with interior design lately - due to some project his art teacher had assigned - and had been trying to convince me to paint my room for weeks. I always said no. White was the status quo, and since no one but Jason saw this room anyways, I would rather not go through the effort of painting the walls.
"Please?" He batted his eyelashes at me.
That's when I saw the smudge of yellow paint on the wall where my bed was. The bed was covered with a tarp, and I felt my mouth drop open.
"I don't want your dick anymore," I said with a growl.
"Did you ever?" Jason asked, a bit cockily.
"Not really," I said, touching the wall beside the paint smudge. It looked like someone had sprayed mustard on a pristine white tablecloth. "Is this your way to criticize my eating habits?"
"Hadn't thought of that," Jason admitted, picking up a paintbrush from the floor and handing it to me. "C'mon, try your luck."
I stuck my tongue out at him before opening one of the paint cans with the screwdriver beside it. After doing so, I dipped the brush in the paint - it was a bit lighter than the shade of mustard, at least - and beckoned him towards me.
"I have one condition," I said, trying to contain my smile.
"And that is?"
"Take your pants off."
The victorious look disappeared from his face and he stared at me like I was crazy.
I cocked an eyebrow, "Do it, or I'm out."
"Sometimes, I wonder about you," James said, but he reached down and unbuttoned his pants, tugging them down. "Is there a point to this, despite seeing how well endowed I am?" He winked suggestively.
I laughed, "I don't see how you get so many girls into bed, Jas. You're so socially awkward I'm surprised you don't chase them all away." While I was speaking, I poured a bit of the paint into a little cup I always kept on my nightstand, then started to approach him.
"What is the point of -" Jason began.
In that moment, I tugged on the waistband of his boxers and dumped paint down them. I could see rivulets of yellow streaming down his legs as his eyes grew wide, and it looked like he'd pissed himself. The thought made me bust up.
"Do you know how hard that's going to be to get off?" Jason cried, glancing down his boxers for a second and wincing. "It's starting to harden."
"Too much info," I said, still chuckling as I took the paintbrush and flicked it at the wall. Dots splattered the white, and it actually looked kind of cool. That's when I got the idea.
"Do you think I'm a bitch?"
Jason sat down beside me, eyebrows rising as he registered my question. A soft scent was wafting off of him, and as I looked down at his plate I noticed the warm croissant, just plain, without butter.
"Why would you ever call yourself that?" Jason asked, patting my stomach and silently telling me with his eyes that I needed to eat more.
I snatched the croissant off his plate, ripping off the end and shoving it in my mouth.
"Some of the girls were saying that I was playing with your heart, purposely breaking it," I said, shoveling more food into my mouth in the hopes that he wouldn't hear me. "They called me a bitch for messing with you."
"Do you feel like one?" Only Jason would ask something like that, and I respected his blunt honesty.
I shrugged; I was doing that a lot lately.
"Does this answer your question?" I kissed him hard, on the mouth, tasting that hint of orange on his tongue. When I pulled away, one hand remained resting on his cheek, while the other scanned down my list of contacts.
When I reached his name, I pressed delete.
"Sometime," I mumbled, "and I don't know when, your kisses started meaning something."
With that, I got up, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and walked away. I remembered his shocked expression, wide eyes, and wouldn't let myself cry.
"You're a virgin."
"I think that's already been established," I hissed into my pillow, too tired to turn around and face him. I'd expected him to find me sooner or later. Sure enough, four days after I'd broken things off, here he was. "How did you get in?"
"You never took back the house key you gave me." He was the only one I'd ever given a house key to.
The bed groaned as he sat down beside me.
"Did I mention that I'm not a good masochist?" I said, still not looking at him.
He chuckled, but it sounded sympathetic, "I know."
His arms shifted around my waist, and he tugged me towards him.
"Sleep with me?" Jason asked.
"No." I burrowed my face into the pillow. "Don't love you, sorry."
"I didn't think you ever actually asked girls to sleep with you," I whispered, my eyes tracing the darkness I'd created by shutting the blinds and draping sheets over the bed. It sort of felt like I was in an underground cave.
"You're the first one I've ever asked."
I felt my breath hitch, "And why is that?"
"Because you're the only one who actually means something to me." He wasn't kissing down my neck, or trying anything, which I actually appreciated for once. Normally I'd be the one leaping onto him and kissing him like there was no tomorrow, but I didn't feel like it.
"I see." I tried to dispel the burning sensation in the pit of my stomach. "I'm still not going to sleep with you, Jas."
"I love you, Ria." Jason's voice was softer than I'd ever heard it.
I lunged up and kissed him, having no record of patience. Jason practically fell on top of me as his hands slid down to cup my waist.
"Is that a yes, then?" he breathed against my throat, pulling my lips back to his.
I chuckled against his lips, "Sorry, you're out of luck." I scooted back a little so that I could look at him.
Jason sat there, glaring at me, "Buzzkill."
I slid my fingers through his, liking how it felt, then gave him a look that meant he was being dense again.
"Excuse me for not wanting to get an STD," I said, smirking. "Go get tested."
"Ria knows all," I said, drawing out the 'L.'
With that, Jason fell back on the pillows, a resigned look on his face. Nuzzling my cheek into the crook of his neck, I tugged down one of the sheets so that we could gaze up at the ceiling. The background was navy blue, spotted with yellow freckles and glow in the dark stars. A moon curved in the top right corner. It was our sky, and, from here, it seemed we could rise up forever and never come down.
- fin -