Thanks in advance for your time.
I hope you enjoy Luke's story.
The guys have stolen two computer chairs out of a teacher’s staff room, off the senior’s common area. It’s not supervised all that much – especially this time of the year – because it’s the seniors common. Apparently we’re supposed to be responsible.
The wanna-be thieves are trying to sneak the goods past buildings we’re done with, the ones that are still filled with middle and junior school students.
If the dickheads stopped with all the whistling and yelling and actually going inside the classrooms, they’d probably find they wouldn’t have to dodge so many teachers.
But then again, where’s the fun in that?
They’re racing up the outer boundary, through the teachers’ car park, across the pothole-riddled oval, to the top of the freakishly steep hill known ingeniously as The Hill, a regular contender on a long list of homeroom topics. Our teachers are constantly warning us not to ride down it and to keep out of the front yard of the house at the end of the intersection. The place belongs to some old dude with a walking stick and pretty decent aim for a senior citizen.
The sun’s bright when it finds its way out from behind the clouds; the breeze fluctuates from the warmer side, too fresh and a little gusty – typical weather for November.
God, I’m going to miss it. I love Melbourne. Granted, I’ve never lived anywhere else, but this is what I know. All my family is here, my friends are here… and she’s here… walking in my direction in the tightest fuucc–
“Hey, Maggie,” I say, tipping my chin all casual-like, as if I’m not thinking about how great her tits look in that top.
“Hi, Luke.” Maggie Bateman, star of my wet dreams and all round hot chick, smiles with a cute as fuck grin that goes all the way to her eyes. “How’s Muck up Day? Looks like you’ve missed out on the shaving cream.” She checks out my clothes. I check Maggie out.
Don’t judge. The chick’s hot. Long red hair, bright green eyes, mouth made for sucking on, or with, or both. A tight body that has it all in the right places.
I wet my suddenly dry lips. “You’ll be the one dodging the foam in a couple of years.”
“I know, right?” Her already big green eyes widen, and then she grimaces. “Got the big one to get through first, though.”
One of my shoulders lifts, shrugging off her comment. “Nah, a girl as smart as you? Too easy.” I’m full of shit right now. The last twelve months have been hard and I’ve had a lot of help. Maggie’s right. She’s a smart chick, but yeah, she’s going to feel it like the rest of us.
“You’re sweet for saying that, but I think we both know it’s not true.”
She thinks I’m sweet? Nice. I wonder…? And what have I got to lose, besides nothing?
Stepping closer – not so we’re touching, but not far off – I put on my best I-want-in-your-pants smirk, the one I’m pretty sure works more often than not, and deepen my voice. “So what are you up for later?”
Her brows cross and her smile falters, thinking through my question. Yeah, I know what I said and the innuendo that goes with it. And yeah, I know she has a boyfriend. But come on, I’ve had a massive crush on this girl for nearly as long as I’ve known what hormones, pimples and spontaneous erections are.
Granted I was in middle school and smiling around braces when I started to see her as part of the opposite sex. And yeah, thanks, I realise that made her, like, really young. But it didn’t seem so pervy at the time.
Unfortunately for me, Maggie came fully equipped with a ready-made boyfriend. Seriously, who starts high school with a freaking boyfriend?
“We’re all headed to the back beach for the weekend. You up for it?” my mouth says before my brain can process anything that isn’t Maggie Bateman related.
“Oh. Brendan didn’t mention anything.”
Brendan hasn’t mentioned it because I haven’t actually organised it yet. I blurted without thinking and now I’m hoping my parents will be easy enough to convince. It shouldn’t take too much begging, after I accidentally remind them how I’m missing out on the end of year trip all my friends are going on because we have to fly out on Monday.
Clockwork Towers, the hotel chain that’s piped so much smoke up my dad’s arse for the last six months that he’s now able to hold a conversation with an Apache every time he farts, has somehow convinced Dad that he needs to start in California at the beginning of December, before the Christmas and New Year’s rush.
Naturally Dad agreed without talking to us first.
Naturally Mum did her silently-angry thing.
He came home that night and tried to cover it up by throwing it out there in the middle of a rushed running sentence. ‘… Wow, you look great. Did you get your hair done? We’re leaving November 28. Is that a new dress?’ Hilarious.
Don’t get me wrong, my old man’s awesome for a parental unit, but such an amateur. Like that was ever going to work. He should have gone the hug-and-hold. That’s what I would have done. The hug makes her melt. The hold keeps her mouth pressed against your chest so she can barely breathe, let alone yell. Cling to her like that long enough and she’s making your favourite meal for dinner – usually with dessert.
Dad knew he’d stuffed up, but he just couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. He was royally screwed when he followed up with, ‘Hey I guess that means we can call in Christmas lunch with your parents this year,’ – big cheesy grin in place like it was the best idea he’s ever come up with.
Mum did that thing where her lips press together until they turn white and get creased at the sides. Her eyes go so big and round that they look like they’re going to pop out of her head. It’s awesome, and a little scary.
I choked on my laugh and immediately left the room. Don’t worry; I wanted to get stuck into him about it, too. But there really are some things a son should never see. Watching his dad get his dick handed to him by his mum is definitely one of them.
So I ran, like the smarter man that I am, and brought it up over dinner later that night. Mum went silent-angry, pinched mouth, big eyed again and I ate so fast I got indigestion.
From then on, whenever I brought up missing out on something all my friends were doing… well, let’s just say that I’d get a bigger helping come dessert time and Dad’s reminded about his expanding waistline and heart disease.
“Is Jon going?” Maggie asks, looking up at me hopefully.
He will be after I tell him he is. We both know that if Jon’s not on-board, it’s not happening for Brendan.
You know what else sucks?
Maggie’s boyfriend’s brother is my best friend. So lucky me, I get to see Maggie and Brendan together, as in to-geth-er, more often than I care to. Brendan’s a great guy – unfortunately. I kinda wish he wasn’t. That way I could’ve made a move on Maggie ages ago. It sucks big hairy ones to see him with his hands all over her.
I’ll give it to him though, if she was my girl, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her either. Or my tongue, or my– shhit; the amount of times I’ve dreamt about having that full mouth of hers wrapped around my cock… damn.
Just because Brendan’s okay and his brother’s a friend, doesn’t mean I like it any less. Jealousy is a horny bitch… and so are eighteen year old guys.
“Yeah, I’m picking him up this afternoon. We’re driving down together. You wanna come with?”
She’s going to say no. My car doesn’t have a back seat. It’s a white, two door ’68 Rebel and seriously cool. It was my grandfather’s car; he gave it to me before he died.
“Oh, thanks, but we all can’t fit.”
Nope, we can’t. She’s frowning, jutting those plump lips out. I lick mine, wishing I was licking hers.
I slowly rub my finger under my mouth, pretending that she’s made a good point, and not just pointed out what I already know. “Oh yeah…” I trail off. “No problem. I’ll see if I can borrow the Old’s wagon. We’ll fit.”
You see, it makes no difference anymore. No matter how much I want it to. I’m done. Outta here. Hopping on the big metal bird to fly my sorry butt to the mighty U. S of A. So even if she did like me back, it wouldn’t matter. I’m not going to be around anyway.
“You’re the best.” She’s all cute smiles, happy and perky, rolling up onto her toes. “I’ll double check with Brendan, but I’m sure he’d love to go.”
A gust of wind picks up, freeing some strands of hair from her ponytail. Without thinking, I step into her space and catch them as they brush across her chin and stick in that lip gloss shit girls like to smear on. I slide the soft lengths through my fingers, thinking I wouldn’t mind a taste of that sticky gloss shit, before setting them behind her ear. I’m close enough to feel her body heat and let me just say… she smells good.
My heart rate picks up and I have to clench my jaw to stop my dick from stirring. I think I may actually hate Brendan Cartwright a little at this exact moment in time. And I don’t know if I would be too shattered if he was the one who had to up and leave Maggie.
I take a small step back.
“It’s windy today,” Maggie says shyly, securing her hair in place after the wind blows it around some more.
“Yeah, it is.” What else can I do? It is windy. “I better jet, yeah,” I say, pointing my thumb behind me, instead of doing what I really want to do. Because what I really want to do is close the space between us, secure her hair that keeps blowing into her face behind her ear and cup her jaw. What I really want is trace the length of her nose with mine and breathe her in, find out if her lips are as soft as they look.
“The guys are racing chairs down The Hill.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head.
“Oh my God. You’re kidding.” She’s laughs and shakes her head like she thinks they’re crazy. They’re more than crazy. Shit she’s cute.
“Nope.” Laughing at her reaction, I hold up the palm size video camera. My parents gave it me to help ease their guilt, and record my last few weeks of home life. This little beauty’s hot off the shelf. It only came on the market a couple months ago – the thing’s got a touch screen and everything. It’s freaking awesome. “After the shit the guys have been shoving in my face the past few weeks, I’ve got to get them breaking their necks on tape.”
We’re smiling at each other. Our eyes lock, Maggie’s stops shifting around, her face reddens. My chest burns. I’ve stopped breathing.
My body gravitates towards hers. Maggie doesn’t move. She doesn’t recoil or flinch or shrink away. She doesn’t leave.
I’m right up in her space, the tips of our shoes touching. My focus is on her mouth. That’s how I see her grin falter. Whether it’s in a good way or not, doesn’t matter. The moment’s become awkward.
We straighten. I feel like I should shake her hand or something, it’s so weird. Instead we both grin like Chucky dolls and turn in opposite directions with our ‘see-ya’s.’
I’m the only one to look over their shoulder, to watch the other walk away.
Okay. So I was watching her tight little arse while she was walking away.