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Youtopia, Ch.2This story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Sneh =] | |
| Thursday, 10 April 2008 | |
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Share it:      Despite that, I really like working at Kay’s store. She’s a pretty nice boss, and I think she sort of considers us to be her surrogate children. And we’re always asking her for money and **** like that all the time. We’re a pretty tight-knit group, I’d say. Morgue’s a better brother than my own, and I would say I consider Emma a sister if that didn’t make me into incest. But the point is we’re close, we’re bros, we’re tight. We’re tight, but I don’t know if we’re tight enough for me to be asking Em out on a date. Sure, I’m out here on her porch with a bouquet of whatever-you-call-‘em’s, and my shirt’s a bit less wrinkled than usual, and I’m trying to look as casual and serious and cool and hot and nice and assertive and totally dateable as I can but I’m not sure how any of this is going to help me since she’s still not answering her door and it’s been like freaking forever. I could fill the Grand Canyon with the amount of sweat I’ve been gushing out in just the past five minutes. This is ridiculous. Why am I even here? She’s probably just inside with her boyfriend, and they’ve made up, and those red curtains are closed over the bay window because what they’re doing’s not a public show unless you’re willing to pay. Out of nowhere, the front door suddenly opens and there she is, dressed down in a pair of American Eagle sweatpants and a tank top. Her hair’s sort of ruffled and one of the straps of her tank is slipping off her shoulder. I’m worried. “Hey Derek.” She’s grinning at me and I’m sort of forgetting why I’m here in the first place. “You wanna come in?” As I search for words she notices the flowers. Her face lights up and my heart starts to break dance. “Those for me?” “Uh well yeah, I was wondering if we could--” “Ohmygod these are totally gorgeous,” She says, her voice muffled because she has the bouquet right up against her face. “How did you know I liked begonias?” Frankly? Because I check Em’s Myspace page every day. “Lucky guess.” I clear my throat and look into her eyes like the guys do in movies. Okay, cue romantic music, and here we go. “Em, I just came by because I wanted to, you know, talk. I was wondering if maybe we could like...I dunno, hang out some time or something.” She tilts her head to the side, completely unappreciative of my eloquence. “Of course, we can hang out whenever you want. We can hang out right now, I’m not doing--” “I mean, like...go out. Somewhere. On, I dunno, maybe like...a date?” Her lips, as pink as the sweetest cotton candy, form into a little “o” that freezes on her face, making her look like a modern porcelain doll, with eyes coated with black and all. “A date?” She sounds hesitant, as if she and dating are not exactly well-acquainted. “With you?” The begonias slip from her hands and fall with a slight thud onto the floor, as does my swollen heart. “I’m...sorry if it’s too soon, or too late, or whatever...I guess I should go.” I swivel on a lead heel, preparing for takeoff far away from anything having to do with romance and Em, when she stops me with just a whisper. “Wait.” It’s soft, but Em makes it clear it’s a command, not a request, when she spins me around and embraces me in a hug so tight it could classify as a torture method. “I didn’t mean it like that,” She says as she pulls away before I can pass out from the lack of oxygen. “I meant...why didn’t you ever ask before?” “Why didn’t you?” Comebacks don’t come easy to me, so I’m surprised and just a little bit proud that the unflappable feminist we all know and love has nothing to say back. I smile and so does she, and things are good, amazingly good. “So...” She clasps one hand around mine, lacing her fingers with mine as if we always do this. “Where are we going?” “...I dunno?” She laughs– did I crack a joke?– and her bangs brush against my face, she’s that close. “I mean, on the date. Where are you taking me? It better be somewhere nice, I’m not dating some McDonald’s junkie.” Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not getting how we just skipped from ‘Let’s be best friends’ to ‘Let’s date’ without a single glitch. Even the movies aren’t this unrealistic. “Em...so...you do want to go out, then?” Excuse me for being so doubtful; from what little experience I’ve had, relationships aren’t supposed to go this easy. “Of course I do.” Did I mention how her nose and my nose are almost touching, and how her hands are joining together around my neck? Well they are, and it’s making me nervous as hell. “I’ve wanted to go out with you for a long time, Derek.” It’s official, I can’t breathe. No one’s called me by my first name since I was five, so this is a sign that maybe we’re dipping our feet into the deep end of the pool. I mean, I love her, I do, but I don’t want to mess anything up. The other girls I’ve been used to get mad at almost everything I did; they always assumed I was a secret Casanova, which is kinda funny because I have enough trouble holding onto one girlfriend, never mind several. What if Em’s just like all of them? “I think we should go to an ice cream shop, I haven’t had a sundae in years,” Emma whispers into my ear, her arms still rubbing so gently against my skin, and I realize something. This girl’s different. She’s not just someone I’m interested in, she’s my best friend. She won’t care if I look like a mess, or call her fat, or snore when I’m sleeping because I’ve always done that around her. “That sounds good. Yeah, the last time I had one it was my eight birthday. A banana split sundae.” “Those are my fave,” She says, and I know. I just know it. In eighty years, we’re going to be sitting in our living room covered in wrinkles and liver spots and smelling the way old people do, and we’re going to be reminiscing about our lives and even then I’ll still say that this is the very moment when everything fell into place. “Em, I love you.” It’s quiet but I know she heard me because she sighs and snuggles a little closer, as indifferent as I am to the possibility that her overprotective parents or gossiping neighbors might be watching. Emma repeats the words to me, only to me; my heart skips a beat, and I feel sort of dizzy, but if this means I’m sick I hope I never get well. Copyright 2008 Sneh =] |
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| Last Updated ( Friday, 11 April 2008 ) |
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