Look a Little Closer: Chapter One
I smiled and blushed, as Dylan kissed my cheek.
"Go to sleep, will you?" I giggled, as he wrapped his arms around my waist, and held me close to him.
"Oh, I'll go to sleep when I feel like it," he replied.
"Yeah, but we have school tomorrow," I insisted.
"Fuck school. . . Can't we skip?"
"You can skip. But I'm going," I said, rolling over and facing the wall.
Dylan sighed, and leaned his face into my shoulder from behind. "School it is. . ."
When I woke up, I was on the floor, with the sheet wrapped around me.
I stood up, and watched Dylan for a minute, as he slept. He was sprawled out on the bed, his mouth wide open. He wore nothing but his Zelda tri-force boxers, and the necklace I'd given his for Valentines day.
I smiled, as I quietly left the room.
I walked quietly to the bathroom, and took a quick shower.
Stepping out of the shower, I looked it the mirror. I stared at my latest bruise on my upper arm. It was big, and purple, and it hurt.
I went back to my room, where a very groggy Dylan was rubbing his eyes.
"Good morning," I smiled, and kissed him.
"Morning, love," He muttered.
I pulled on a pair of boxers, and a shirt.
Before I could even get my pants out of my drawer, Dylan was behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, his lips on my neck.
"So," He said, still kissing my throat, "I was thinking we could stay here for today. . . If you know what I mean. . ."
"I-I dunno. . . I have an Enlgish project thats due today. . ." I stuttered.
"Oh, English isn't important." He murmered, sliding his hand into my boxers.
My face went completly red, as I whirled around. I stared at him, horrified and stricken.
"Oh, c'mon. You've got to get it over with sometime. Do you wanna be a virgin your whole life?"
"I have to go to school. . ." I said, quietly, returning to my clothes.
School didn't make me feel any better. I was late for almost every class, and sat alone at lunch.
Staring at the so called "Mashed potatoes" on my plate, I heard someone run up to me.
Ella threw her arms around my neck, and layed her chin on the top of my head.
"Hey, you," she said, cheerily.
"Hi. . ." I muttered.
"What's wrong with you? Who stuck a screwdriver down your pants?"
"It's nothing." I said.
She stared at me, as irritated expresion on her face, "Well, fine. Don't tell your best friend!" She snapped, and turned on her heels, and walked away.
I groaned, and dropped my head in my hands. My boyfriend, and now my best friend mad at me. . . I didn't know what was into me lately.
"Hey, faggot," came a farmiliar voice from beside me.