Help meMature

“Alyssa, will you help me clear up the balloons?” Mikail asked me, smiling; I nodded, slightly nervous that it would be just us two clearing up. I went over to where the hoops were and bent over, starting to pick the ones by my feet. “Hey,” I heard him say from standing behind me.
                I turned and smiled at him, “Hey.” I replied, not quite sure what I what I had to say for myself, and it was obvious he had something to say.
                “When did you first have sex?” His straight-to-the-point question stunned me into silence for a second or so, until I snapped back into my right mind;
                “About 6 months ago. March.” I said. It was. A week or so before Jack’s 16th birthday. We decided we were both ready - although, unbelievably, I had been ready before him. He said nothing, only nodded, and picked up a few more balloons.
                “I want you.” He stated. The bluntness didn’t shock me as much this time, but the statement itself, and how he said it so casually as if anyone could. I turned towards him again, finding that he was already looking at me. “But I don’t just want you in.. there,” He continued when I didn’t reply, “I want you in a bed too. Yes?”
                The question at the end of that seemed out of place, so I assumed it meant ‘do you think you’d like that?’. So I replied with an honest; “Yes.”
                “Do you want me too?”
                “Will you meet me again? At six?” He asked. The balloons filled one of our fists each, and there were no significant bits left on the ground. I nodded, but failed to reply verbally as I heard my Dad call me. He was walking up the path with James skipping a few paces ahead of him. Without looking back; I took the ice cream pot I left by the bench, and my handful of balloon bits, and made my way over to the bin on the way back to the beds. “Did you understand?” I heard Mikail call after me. I nodded again and turned back to walk away, viciously casting the shreds of rubber into the bin.

                The remainder of that afternoon consisted of me going over my thoughts. My thirst got the better of my need for relaxation; and so I decided to get a drink from the bar. Standing up, I saw that a giant connect-4 was being played right in the pathway that was the quickest way. I slipped on my shoes and walked around in the opposite direction.
                Mikail was constantly kept in my peripheral vision as my head remained fixed forward, held high. I decided to get the drink that was bright red, some mix of pineapple/apple/other fruity juices with some red food colouring of some sort in it. I will say that it was the type of drink that had its place in my heaven. I planned to walk the same direction back, but I caught his eye, and I caught him staring. I took a deep breath, and walked towards him.
                I deliberately walked with a little more bounce, and reached up a hand to ruffle the back of my hair as I approached him. “Six o’clock?” He muttered. He had caught me unexpectedly by actually speaking. Making a quick recovery, I raised one side of my lips into a half smile, and lowered my eyes, before returning them to look deep into his.
                “Maybe.” I grinned, and continued to walk away.

My flirty, non-committal reply made me feel a little better about myself. Firstly, he was asking for it, which kinda made it seem like he genuinely wanted me, which obviously made me feel good in itself. Secondly, I wasn’t showing him that I was gagging for it myself. I suppose I wasn’t, I wanted him, but, I wasn’t thatdesperate, was I? I certainly didn’t want him to think I didn’t want it… even though that would be the best thing to feel. My ‘maybe’ was obviously a ‘yes’. I knew it, and he must’ve known it.
                Later, whilst I was sat on the side of the pool, I heard a “Psst.” from behind me. I turned my head to see Mikail walking towards me. He bent down beside me and said whispered quietly in my ear, “Am I seeing you at 6? You said maybe.”
                “Yes, I meant yes.” I answered reassuringly, I didn’t want him to think I was rejecting him, when that was the opposite of how I wanted to make him feel.
                “Okay. Well I’ll see you at 6.” He started to get up, when a thought came to me;
“Wait,” I waited for him to lower back to my level, “I usually go back to my room before 6, I’ll meet you afterwards. After dinner.”
                “Hmm, are you sure?” I nodded. There was no way I could hold that off, they’d know I was waiting around for something, and would be more likely to notice what for. Besides, I needed to get ready, after washing my hair, it needed drying and so forth. “Okay, sexy.” He added, and I overly-noticed his hot breath on my neck as he did, spreading goose-bumps over my shoulders.

As I had assumed, at around quarter to 5, we head back up to the room. I took James and a card-key up first with my bag. I found myself anxious to get into the room at get ready more than the other nights, more nervous than excited. My foot was tapping impatiently the whole 20 second lift-trip to the second-to-top floor where our room was.
                I almost broke into a jog at the speed I was walking to our door, and missed the first couple of times I attempted to put the car-key in the slot. Once in, I put it in the slot inside that activated the electricity, and stuck the TV on for James to entertain himself while I was showering. I almost emptied the entire conditioner bottle that was supplied – which didn’t matter so much as they were replaced during room-service every afternoon. The hair dryer that was in the bathroom had no heat-control, as I had learnt from the nights before; so it was cold to start, and then got painfully hot, thus trying to get it to dry quickly was a huge nuisance. I decided to just leave it and let it curl for once instead.
                I left the room with my parents and James with a pair of my short-shorts and a deep blue vest top. I spent the entirety of dinner wrestling with the moral side of my conscience. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to go through with this a second time. I still had Jack for a start. The thoughts of the side of him I saw in my dream, although they weren’t real events, still seemed to push me towards the idea of seeing Mikail a second time. Who was I kidding? I didn’t have enough strength to do what was right against what I wanted.

The End

14 comments about this story Feed