Have some un-edited angst. I hate finals. I hate everything. I also hate focusing. Instead of killing people I will instead write about stupid people that I have made up in my head. Happy birthday.
"Hey, come closer, come closer," he urges me, and doubtful, I press up against his chest, turning my head to the side so I won't breathe into his face.
Okay, um. How fucking long is he planning on doing this? What is he, a kid? Still, I am taken by the bait enough that I cough into my shoulder as quiet as I can, trying to interfere with the natural ambience of his breathing as little as possible. Maybe if I am completely silent, he won't change his mind this time? Yeah right.
He smiles, a small laugh escaping his lips. No one else would guess that it's nervousness, but I am used to this, my eyes hyper-aware of every shift of his arms, every tense of the muscles exposed by his loose, low-cut tank-top. Every anxious twitch just that much closer to game over. It's a habit that's so deeply ingrained in me by now that I can't turn it off, no matter how hopeless I know it is.
I used to try and come the other fifty percent, but any directness had just scared him into joking his way out of the situation. So now I just have to wait it out and try not to snap, because this has happened way more times than I even know, long past the point where I get excited that he might actually want to take us further than our pretense of perfectly normal friendship. We have chemistry, always have, and both of us know it, but he's too fucking scared to admit it.
I sigh so soft that it doesn't even make a sound.
He grabs my cock playfully, covering up the arousal that floods his face with another laugh as he feels how hard I am.
"Haha, you like that? Haha."
This is what he's been doing the past two years we've known each other. First it was joke hugging, then joke face kissing, then joke cock grabbing…
I bite the inside of my lower lip so he won't see. When the fuck is he going to stop? At this point, I wish he would just choose not to be interested instead of fucking teasing me.
I turn my head just in time for him to lean forward and peck my lips, my best friend making sure to pull back in time for a hedging "haha."
My fists clench up as I let out a tremulous breath. "Robby, just stop."
"Haha," he answers. "Why, getting excited? Haha."
Teeth clenching, I look away, out the window, wishing I was somewhere else. But of course I'm not. A hand paws my ass, and I hear another forced laugh. I'm so tired of this.
"Are we going to study or not?" I bite out, "I don't want to fail tomorrow's test."
Robby gives another soft giggle, before dropping his eyes to the ground. "Yeah, haha, okay, we should study." Then he practically bounces over to the bed, grabbing up my textbook and opening it. My brows lower as I step up to him.
"Where's yours?" I ask, trying to take the book from his hands. He tugs back on it with a grin.
"Left it in my locker by accident," he speaks up brightly, like it's a good thing. I roll my eyes.
"Well, how the fuck am I going to study?"
"We can share," he offers with a smile, thumping the place next to him.
Dropping my head into my hands, I let out an irritated groan. "You read way slower than me, stupid. Just drive back to school and get your own."
Robby's smile drops. "Yeah, okay." He lays my book down and gets up, before looking around quizzically. "You see my keys anywhere?"
"No, dumbass, because they're your keys. How would I know where they are?"
"Yeah, you're right," he admits. "Um, I'm just going to go without them. See you in a bit." Shoulders stiff, he turns, walking toward the door quickly.
"What do you mean, stupid? You can't drive without k—"
Rob has already closed the door behind himself. His feet are pounding down the stairs a second later. Suspiciously loud. Like he's making noise on purpose. Trying to cover something up.
I grit my teeth before slapping a hand down on the bed and getting up. "Fucking idiot," I hiss, "Hypocritical bastard." I slam the door open, something I've mastered since I've known Robby. It's fucking possible when your friend is a clueless jerk who gives you a "pretend" hard-on and then gets all sensitive just because you get pissed like any normal person would.
"Robby!" I shout down the stairs, glad his mom isn't home. "Get up here, I know you're crying!"
"I'm, uh, just looking for my keys," he tells me from his safe place downstairs. I can practically hear him frantically wiping the tears off his cheeks. Ugh. Why.
I tromp down the steps, grabbing Robby's arm before he can walk away.
"Just quit it, okay?" I snap. "Stop guilting me."
Robby's shoulders shake in response. "I've gotta go. My textbook."
"You don't even have your fucking keys, so don't give me that bullshit."
"I'm taking my bike," he answers in a soft voice, sniffing.
"You're not going anywhere," I spit, yanking him toward the stairs. "Come on, we're sharing, just like you want, so stop your fucking moping."
"I'm getting mine!" he shouts, pulling back. "You don't want to do anything with me anyway."
"Seriously?" I grind out, whipping him around so we are face to face. "I don't?"
He chews on his lower lip before making his decision with a furrow of his brows. "Yeah. Just go home."
"This is my fault? What the fuck? You're the one who always—"
I stop myself. I don't go there. I don't say it. I see Robby's face flush.
"Yeah, well, you're always rejecting me anyways," he murmurs.
My eyes flare. I choke. My heart hammers higher and higher until it's thumping in my temples like a bass drum.
"Are. You. Serious," I breathe out, grinding my teeth.
And then I shove him out of the way, stomp to the door, fuck my textbook, throw that damn door open and slam it so hard behind me the whole fucking house rattles.