‘What are you doing after classes?’
I gulp, pretending to see nothing now and then. I correct the eye feeling my hand shake, the lines crooked, the lines now drawn by the blonde. If it was impressionism it would do but academic is upon us, with the borders we can easily break if knowing. I could feel my hands shake, as the blonde laughs into my ear. I can see Lola sit on the desk, smirking, playing with her skirt, as she takes me by the scarf, even if the name isn't hers and tries to kiss me, as I close my eyes to french the air.
Lola asked the same. She stood there, her head against the lockers, books in hand clutching them close to her chest so hard, that I’d give my soul now to be that book. Who needs a soul when you can press yourself against a girl's breasts? But back then, the algebra seemed to lurk in my mind as well when the teacher had no ruler to punish with. I looked up, confused, algebra fighting with boobs. She opened her mouth and repeat, a lovely repeat, a light tint on her cheeks, as she looked at me straight.
We were both in this literature project, basically we were partners in literature class, but asides from that it was it. I would glance at her whenever I’d be single, but never really counting her a girlfriend possibility. When I was single, she was taken and otherwise. I guess I have been single for too long. Then her lips moved a muted ‘so?’ I never felt an urge like that to press her lips against my own.
I pressed my own head against the lockers, feeling a grin build up on my lips, as I watched her grow impatient. I had an image to maintain so I shook my head, boosting up her feeling of failure. But soon enough when she was about to turn away, I captured her lips. Was I the ice queen?
Push me hard, love and she did.
"Yes?" I asked or rather confirmed. Tease from my own, as I still had no idea what a date was or what it should be, when parents seem useless if to be honest, as it's your mistakes which count.
“Anyway. Seven thirty. Brand new chick flick. You blew your chance for the new action film.” She smirked, walking away, stuffing her books into her bag, not looking back. She never did, that was what I wanted for myself, because I always looked back, afraid that I might've dropped something on the way.
I yawned my way threw out the whole soapy film that made me gag as the couple broke up and made up, that I fell like throwing my dose of popcorn at the Hollywood actors, which couldn’t play. Lola’s eyes never tore off the screen, not even when I made a move on her, when I did she simply pushed my head away, giving the right according to her angle to my head by yanking my chin.
In the end I got so bored that I was counting the seconds to the ending, praying for some explosive to kill them both or a massive meteor or octopus. She didn’t cry when the main guy asked the girl to marry him in front of their countless exes. Instead she grabbed my hand, pleading me to get the hell out before she’ll gag of the soapiness. I showed my tongue at her saying that I wanted to see the epilogue with three billion sons and daughters listen to their parents tell their story.
“Oh, screw you.” She snapped, grinning and sitting back in her chair looking rather bored with the movie she chose. She glanced at me from while to while and in the end she leaned herself giving in. The credits began to roll as we made out there in the middle rows until we got kicked out.
I blinked looking at the sketched invitation.
I couldn’t.
Even if I wanted to.
Chapter 23
I gulp, pretending to see nothing now and then. I correct the eye feeling my hand shake, the lines crooked, the lines now drawn by the blonde. If it was impressionism it would do but academic is upon us, with the borders we can easily break if knowing. I could feel my hands shake, as the blonde laughs into my ear. I can see Lola sit on the desk, smirking, playing with her skirt, as she takes me by the scarf, even if the name isn't hers and tries to kiss me, as I close my eyes to french the air.
Lola asked the same. She stood there, her head against the lockers, books in hand clutching them close to her chest so hard, that I’d give my soul now to be that book. Who needs a soul when you can press yourself against a girl's breasts? But back then, the algebra seemed to lurk in my mind as well when the teacher had no ruler to punish with. I looked up, confused, algebra fighting with boobs. She opened her mouth and repeat, a lovely repeat, a light tint on her cheeks, as she looked at me straight.
We were both in this literature project, basically we were partners in literature class, but asides from that it was it. I would glance at her whenever I’d be single, but never really counting her a girlfriend possibility. When I was single, she was taken and otherwise. I guess I have been single for too long. Then her lips moved a muted ‘so?’ I never felt an urge like that to press her lips against my own.
I pressed my own head against the lockers, feeling a grin build up on my lips, as I watched her grow impatient. I had an image to maintain so I shook my head, boosting up her feeling of failure. But soon enough when she was about to turn away, I captured her lips. Was I the ice queen?
Push me hard, love and she did.
"Yes?" I asked or rather confirmed. Tease from my own, as I still had no idea what a date was or what it should be, when parents seem useless if to be honest, as it's your mistakes which count.
“Anyway. Seven thirty. Brand new chick flick. You blew your chance for the new action film.” She smirked, walking away, stuffing her books into her bag, not looking back. She never did, that was what I wanted for myself, because I always looked back, afraid that I might've dropped something on the way.
I yawned my way threw out the whole soapy film that made me gag as the couple broke up and made up, that I fell like throwing my dose of popcorn at the Hollywood actors, which couldn’t play. Lola’s eyes never tore off the screen, not even when I made a move on her, when I did she simply pushed my head away, giving the right according to her angle to my head by yanking my chin.
In the end I got so bored that I was counting the seconds to the ending, praying for some explosive to kill them both or a massive meteor or octopus. She didn’t cry when the main guy asked the girl to marry him in front of their countless exes. Instead she grabbed my hand, pleading me to get the hell out before she’ll gag of the soapiness. I showed my tongue at her saying that I wanted to see the epilogue with three billion sons and daughters listen to their parents tell their story.
“Oh, screw you.” She snapped, grinning and sitting back in her chair looking rather bored with the movie she chose. She glanced at me from while to while and in the end she leaned herself giving in. The credits began to roll as we made out there in the middle rows until we got kicked out.
I blinked looking at the sketched invitation.
I couldn’t.
Even if I wanted to.
Chapter 23
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