Narrator: Leslie Defiere
I lay frozen under the blankets. My head was under, and I could smell Brent's scent more strongly - that mix of cheap, over lemony smelling soap and burned food. I breathed deeply, in time with the approaching reverberation of his footsteps. I rubbed at my left ring finger, indulging its nakedness.
The door opened, and the lights flickered slightly before brighting up the whole room. Wait for it...
"What the fuck?!" Brent exclaimed in horror at the figure under the bed.
"Surprise!" I yelled in glee, as I uncovered myself from under his sheets.
"Leslie! Aw, babe, you're supposed to be at Juliet's - you need your sleep y'know - you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow!" Brent said as he squeezed my shoulders. Oh, thank God. I was relieved to know that my unexpected presence in his bedroom did not altar his plans for the proposal tomorrow.
"What? I haven't got any plans for tomorrow..." I said, playing dumb.
"Well, babe, I was thinking we could go out together tomorrow - just the two of us. We could go to the Counterstrike convention - I've already got two tickets - and then we can go for dinner... Y'know, me and you," Brent explained.
On our first date, I remembered discussing video games with Brent. It was a ridiculous conversation, really. He had rambled on about World of Warcraft, and due to my boredom of hearing solely about that - of which I knew nothing about - I talked of the one of few video games I actually knew. I had played it once, at the Penningway's, and I was rather good at it, mind you.
Now that I look back on that day - that first time I ran my fingers through his oily hair - it was nothing special. I went out that night on a stupid whim, and gave in on... no basis at all. We were opposites, and everything about this relationship was false. I think the only thing that made me feel good about that February 14th, was the fact that I successfully diverted the conversation to a different subject.
"Oh, wow. Well, I'd love to, Brent," I replied. The Counterstrike convention did not sound appealing, and dinners with Brent were aimless; the boy didn't have the intelligence to talk about much - but I knew an argument wasn't going to do any good to my plan.
I ran my finger down his spine, slowly and gently. I moved in closer to his torso, so that my breasts were touching him. The scent of the laundry detergent was prevalent, and I was glad he'd changed his shirt by now. I fondled at his belt as I kissed him furiously, and led my hands near his hips and felt around his pockets - my fingertips a centimeter away from his crotch, which was now erect.
Aha! I could feel the bump in his right pocket, and registered it into my head. I let my hands ride up the side of his upper-body and back down again, so I could pull of his shirt. He was nibbling at my neck, and was taking control; he pushed my forward to the bed.
His tongue licked my neck, and near my jaw. His mouth soon found mine and I fought playfully with his tongue. My back was supported by the headboard - I wasn't lying down yet, and I needed to get it before I did. His hands were gripping the wooden headboard, and he was on his knees as he went to my collarbone.
"Oh, Leslie... Baby..." He sighed, and I returned his words with a small moan. Now, Leslie. I felt around his crotch for a while, distracting him with pleasuring whimpers and my left thumb and index finger quickly nipped into his pocket, whilst my other hand struggled to single-handedly undo his belt.
Get out, godammit! The denim pocket was stiff, and Brent's hands were no longer on my--
"Yes!" I yelled out as I slipped the ring into my pocket. I froze abruptly, alarmed by my exclamation.
"What?" Brent asked, confused - my lip stick having marked the corner of his mouth.
"Uh, nothing, sorry - just-- just do that again, will you?" I said, unaware of what he had done at the time of my yelp in triumph, rather than sexual pleasure. For the first time, I was relieved to know of Brent's misinterpretation.