Information



Waited
Legacy Name: Waited


The Common Experiment #84
Owner: Daley

Age: 12 years, 6 months, 1 week

Born: November 6th, 2011

Adopted: 12 years, 6 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: November 6th, 2011

Statistics


  • Level: 51
     
  • Strength: 75
     
  • Defense: 16
     
  • Speed: 59
     
  • Health: 45
     
  • HP: 45/45
     
  • Intelligence: 4
     
  • Books Read: 4
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


Waited
Waited is the story you forgot you were told. He's the memory that niggles in the back of your mind that you can't quite grasp. He's the letter that you never got a chance to read.
Waited is a collection of stories. He's what absorbs all your hurt and sadness from those times you waited and hoped and received nothing in return. Waited is the one who helps us move on and get through our days.
Waited is loyal.
Waited will always wait for you.

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If the several hundred of my taste buds that just gave their lives are any indication, my tea is too hot. I scowl, eyebrows furiously knitted together, as I put the pale blue mug back down on the marble counter and stare out the window. The steep hill of mud that is my backyard greets me, brightened only by the occasional shrub and the neighbourhood cat glaring at me with its pearly yellow eyes. I stick my tongue out at it. Thoughts of you have a tendency to turn me into a child. The kitchen smells like rain. I realise I've left the window open again and slide it shut with a resounding thud, muttering darkly under my breath as it locks.
Today I feel like yelling at you. Screaming my lungs out till my face turns purple and I'm gasping for air. Truth be told, I guess that's pretty much my default setting when it comes to you. I don't think I'm wrong to want that though. Not really. I sigh and pick up my mug again. The handle manages to burn the palm of my hand.

******

You were out the back the first time I came over. You and your house mates were sitting on a sofa, stinking like pot and staring vacantly into space. The backyard was obviously set up for your usual crowd of friends: cheap seats scattered over the paved area, and a large table, littered with empty bottles of alcohol and home-made bongs. You reached an arm out to me, the other holding a joint out at a distance, so I walked over and sat on your knee. You reeked of nicotine and a hefty dose of sweet-smelling cologne that I assume was to hide the rest. You needn't have bothered. The cloying stench of Mary Jane blocked almost everything else out.
Does the backyard still look that way? Are you still such an obvious romantic at heart?
That night you reeled me in against your chest and held me there till I fell asleep, never once complaining about the dead arm I was giving you. The morning hit us hard that day, both nursing the thrumming headache born of too much alcohol. You woke me by leaning in to kiss me, rousing me from my dreams.
"What are you doing?" I laughed against your lips.
"I dunno. I just... I suddenly felt like kissing you. I can't believe I've got this beautiful girl lying next to me." You shrugged your broad shoulders, not at all apologetic for having woken me. I watched you kick back the heavy sheets and stumble awkwardly to your feet, unable to shake the stupid smile from my face.

******

I hate waiting for buses. This is a simple fact, far more tried and true than any physics you can throw in my direction. I can taste the cold on the end of my tongue. I pull my hands up to my face and blow on them, sending up a puff of pale steam that I'm convinced is just trying to emphasise how frigid it is out here. Even more irritatingly, the lady next to me has bathed herself in Chanel No. 5. I can feel it getting up in my nose and bringing on a sneeze. I'm thinking of those weeks you stopped speaking to me and biting into the side of my mouth, barely noticing the metallic taste that the blood is leaving on my tongue. I sneeze, my hands shooting up to cover my mouth. I pull them back and stare at the blood splattered out across my skin. Chanel lady stares at me like I'm diseased. I bare my blood red teeth at her in a mock smile. I'm in that sort of a mood.

******

"Honestly, it's a pile of crap," you said, crinkling up your nose in a way that somehow made you more attractive.
"Eh. It goes from point A to point B without breaking down and has working air-conditioning. I can't afford anything better. It'll do."
"Well," you declared, sticking your feet up on the dusty dash, "if you stick with me long enough I'll buy you a new one."
I turned and smiled at you. "You are not buying me a car."
I felt a strange flutter in my chest at your implication that you were going to be around for a while. You rolled your eyes, wound down the window and watched the cars go by as the wind flicked your hair back into your face. One hand on the wheel, I used my other to grab yours, running my fingertips along your skin.

******

I'm sitting under a gum tree, enjoying the distant rush of traffic and mixed conversations that murmur around me. My back's against the grainy bark, dragging slightly into my skin, bare feet nestling into the dewy grass that splays out around me. The shade of the tree doesn't shield my eyes from the sight of a couple kissing goodbye at a street crossing, and I feel that familiar little pang that I usually repress. I balance my sketchpad against my knees, channelling my scarcely concealed frustration into something more productive as I sketch out the contours of the faces near me. I decide that the two guys to my left must be brothers, watching as one leans over and hands the other a steaming cup of coffee. I can smell it from here and my mouth waters. I stand quickly. Going home to get coffee is definitely more productive than thinking about you again.

******

The last day. I waited so long. It was our usual spot, but the darkness that used to feel comforting to me was suddenly frightening. The park was deserted and the solitary streetlight flickered uselessly in the distance. Squinting, I tried to see through the night to where you were - but you weren't there.Still, I waited.

******

Found my old journal today and I'm staring at the beat-up pages with a vaguely bemused smile. I flick to a random page, the paper soft against my skin, and laugh at what I find.
"People have an annoying tendency of changing your life. And when we met, I didn't like change. Suffice to say, this is not really a successful plan for life if you intend to do anything other than live in the remote Canadian wilderness for eternity, walled up inside your own little wooden hut eating any unfortunate insect that crosses your path. The reality is that life isn't neat. It doesn't stitch up every loose end and leave us feeling all shiny and warm inside. Most of the time life doesn't let us have the ending we crave. More than anything, that's what you taught me. I'll probably never know why everything changed so quickly, but honestly that's okay." For a moment I feel almost nostalgic, amused by that high and mighty pat on the back I gave myself. My eyes flicker to the next page, a sentence enclosed in swirling charcoal patterns and loosely sketched figures.
"Bottom line, you made me happy and that shits me."
My smile slips. I sip my coffee. It was a good choice, even if I am still thinking of you. I inhale deeply for a moment and take it all in; rain, coffee, my own faint perfume. I stand, place the mug down on the pages, not at all concerned by the faint brown ring it leaves in its wake. I pick my jacket up off the back of the couch on my way to the door, my heels clicking loudly against the tile. A bitter wind greets me like a slap in the face. My feet know where they're going without me needing to think about it. In some secret small part of me, a part I hide beneath the sketches and the coffee and the every day reality that I've turned into a life since you left, I wait for you - and I wonder why you left.
So I follow where my body takes me, barely aware of it until I'm sinking into a swing in a dark, dirty playground surrounded by an equally ill-maintained park consisting entirely of dead grass and weeds. A single useless streetlight flickers momentarily to life in the distance before fading and repeating the process.
Still, I wait for you.

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When we first met, Mia was perfect.
She lived 300 kilometres away in some hick town in the middle of nowhere, but frequented the city for reasons she never bothered to specify. When I asked her if she wanted a relationship, she had just laughed and met my stare head on.
“I live three hours away and work twelve hours a day. What do you think?”
Then she’d licked her lips and tossed back her scotch and I was done.
She wasn’t the kind of girl who threw herself at just anyone. She once asked me why she would want to sleep with someone who made her want to vomit on her own shoes every time they opened their mouth. She wasn’t a prude, it was just that looks weren’t enough by themselves to hold her attention - evidently I didn’t disgust her, and this was apparently rare. There was an awkwardness about her at times that made it clear that what we did wasn’t really her comfort zone, but she followed my lead without hesitation.
What was more important though was that she respected my privacy. My need for control. My need for space.
She’d asked me the first time we met what I did for work, and when I sneered and said I hardly knew her so why on earth would I tell her, instead of being offended she’d raised her hands in an apologetic gesture and changed the topic. She didn’t ask my last name, or my story. She took the information I gave her, but otherwise left it alone. When we were in my bedroom that first night, I noticed she saw the degree hanging on my wall in the half light, but she didn’t bother to read it. Even later when the light was on and she could have had a good look at it to garner some information about me, she didn’t. Just sat next to me on the bed and watched whatever crappy reality TV show I’d thrown on and laughed along with me. She filled the air with noise in the pleasant way she did as she babbled about nothing in particular. She talked a lot. Under the circumstances, that should have annoyed me, but weirdly it didn’t. Her chatter wasn’t inane - most of it actually interested me. She was actually rather… sweet, in her own way.
She wasn’t demanding. She didn’t question why I rarely kissed her lips, and once she figured out I didn’t like it, she didn’t push it except at goodbyes when it didn’t bother me. She didn’t fold herself into my arms after we’d fucked, but rather just leaned in a little closer and lightly took the hand I offered across her stomach as we both lay on our backs. We didn’t hold hands so much as just rest our palms together. She didn’t ask. Didn’t complain.
I never had to ask her to leave. The first time we slept together, she’d told me almost immediately after that she wouldn’t be offended if I asked her to go. I told her I didn’t do sleepovers, but she didn’t have to leave yet, so she’d stayed and shared a scotch with me. I offered her another, but without comment she’d waved me away, pulled her clothes back on and left with not so much as a “see you later”. Just a soft peck on the lips and a swish of her hair as she turned and walked away. I honestly didn’t think I’d even hear from her again, but I wasn’t phased by the concept. Nevertheless, I was pleasantly surprised when a few weeks later she sent me a text with the dates she’d next be in town and asked if I were keen for another drink. The sex was good, and she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship, so I figured why not.
Our meetings over the next few years were consistent. She’d text me, we’d meet up at my place when she was in town, share some vague conversation that gave absolutely nothing about me away, have brilliant sex, then sit around and watch TV whilst barely touching for a while before she’d simply gather up her things and go with a soft kiss goodbye. Never a “see you next time”. Never a guarantee. Never a promise.Perfection.

*************

“I can’t come to your place. Come to mine.” I fired the text off quickly, and could easily imagine the small v that would form between her eyes as she frowned at the screen in confusion. I wondered if she’d ask me why, or if she’d just go along with it. It was always intriguing to me to see which questions she’d try to push. I waited, and a few minutes later my phone buzzed.
“On my way.”
I smiled to myself. She hadn’t asked.

Later, as we were both collapsed with our limbs splayed across my bed, legs still tangled together, she breathed a contented sigh and closed her eyes. I glanced at her, and as if feeling my stare, her eyes snapped open and over to me. To my slight dismay, she pulled the sheet up and over her naked body before rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her arm to look at me.
“So, why not my place?”
I almost laughed. I had no idea why she chose to ask me this now. Curiosity had at last got the best of her, and such an event was extraordinarily rare given her usual respect for my privacy. I suspect it was only because this particular piece of information involved her that she asked.
“Your housemate keeps shooting me filthy looks. I was pretty sure if I kept coming over he was going to end up throwing a punch.”
She scowled, but the fact that she looked up as she did made it clear to me that her annoyance was directed at her housemate rather than me.
“I’m really sorry about that. I’ll have words to him.”
“What’s that about anyway?”
She rolled onto her back and glared at nothing in particular.
“Apparently, he thinks he’s like my big brother or some shit.”
“How does that relate? I mean, apart from the fact that big brothers are kind of biologically inclined to hate the guy banging their sister.”
She smirked, and I was oddly pleased with myself that I’d made her laugh. The smile faded though, and she looked back at me.
“Sure you want to know?”
Now I was the curious one. I nodded and gestured for her to continue. She sighed.
“He’s old school. And has known me a long time - longer than you. He thinks I should be with someone who wants to make love to me, not fuck me.”I was startled. The way she’d said it made it evident that she was almost directly quoting him.
“And what? He thinks he should be the one ‘making love’ to you?” I asked, putting air quotes around the words. She snorted.
“God no. He had that opportunity a long, long time ago. Wasn’t interested. Never has been. But he thinks of himself as a brotherly friend. Wants what’s best for me and all that shit. Evidently he thinks what’s best for me is someone who will buy me flowers and candies and woo me with songs and poetry.”
“Do you want that?”
“I fucking hate poetry.”
It was my turn to snort with laughter.
“So why does he think that’d be best for you?”
This time she didn’t meet my eye. She pulled her arms up behind her head and stared intently at the ceiling. She looked like she was concentrating hard, trying to figure out a puzzle or recall a memory from a long time ago.
“I guess because when he first met me, I thought that was what I wanted too.”
“But now?”
“I don’t have time for that.”
“When you lived in the middle of nowhere, you said it was because you didn’t live close enough. And that you didn’t have time. Surely now that one of those elements is gone it’s easier?”
“Still don’t have time.” She replied firmly, still looking at the ceiling.
“Not just making excuses?”
“Nate.” Her tone was a warning. It was clear this topic was closed. There were things we just didn’t talk about. Normally, however, it was me shutting down the conversation. The only thing she’d ever shushed me on before was when I asked about the scars on her right thigh, and the fact that there seemed to be more every time we met up. Her tone now was exactly what it was back then. There was no argument, no questioning. We were done talking.
Recognising this, I shrugged, flicked the TV on, and turned to some monstrosity of a makeover show. Before long we were both collapsing on top of each other with laughter.
I couldn’t help but wonder though: what else would she not be willing to tell me? And why did it bother me so much that there were things she wouldn’t discuss with me?
Even then, part of me innately understood: it wasn’t just me. She didn’t talk about it at all. Not with me. Not with anyone. Maybe not even herself.

*******************

“And God knows I love this town, but sometimes I’m so sure it’s going to swallow me whole with all the memories and all the bullshit, and all I can think about is that I have to get as far away as possible before it wins and I disappear.”

Her voice seemed to come from faraway, like I was shaking myself awake from a bad dream I wasn’t even conscious I’d been lost in. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, her hair floating in the wind as she stared out at the city lights stretched out below us. I followed her gaze, watching the distant sparks as they faded into the horizon and melted into the stars above. A blanket of light to hide the dark. Without thinking, I reached across and placed my hand over hers. For once, she didn’t flinch or react. It was like she was too far gone to even remember I was there. I felt the strangest urge to lurch out into whatever abyss she was in and drag her back, but I somehow knew that I couldn’t. As usual, the communication that existed between us was wordless. I didn’t need her to tell me I couldn’t fix it, or fix her. I knew. I just didn’t think she needed to be fixed - and wished, above all else, that she would see that too.
Slowly, she turned and looked at me, eyes still locked in a place I couldn’t hope to reach. And it terrified me. Not that she was lost there, but that I felt strangely compelled to lose myself with her. I snapped my hand back to my side, and she barely seemed to register its absence. She continued to just look at me, not speaking, barely breathing. Without a word, she leaned over and placed the softest kiss against my lips. Stunned, I flinched away. At my reaction, it was like she suddenly remembered where she was, and a giggle burst forth from her lips, only serving to startle me further.
“Settle down princess. Come on, let’s go. I want to show you something.” She laughingly reassured me, sliding to the edge of the bed and down onto the ground. I gave myself a small shake and followed her, trying to bring myself back from the gloom that had now found its way around my shoulders. It occurred to me even then that I was probably in way deeper than I ever wanted to be, yet I could not for the life of me figure out what the hell had changed. I didn’t understand at what point I’d started to give a shit. When had I even noticed her pain? And when had I started to feel sympathy for it? Irritated, I resolved to remove myself from the whole situation as soon as humanly possible. Yet, as I slid into the passenger seat and glanced across, I wasn’t so sure. Mia wasn’t looking at me, focused instead on buckling her seatbelt and going through her usual checks before starting the car. There was something about her, in the way she bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder to reverse, the way she slammed the gear stick into position and smiled as she pushed the accelerator and reacted to the pleasing purr of the engine, all the little things that made her who she was that made me immediately forget what it was I had been worried about, and how much danger I was in.

***************

“What difference does it make why we are the way we are?” She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated with my questions and dodges. “A handful of tragic tales doesn’t change a damned thing. We are the sum of everything that has ever happened. Every relationship, every circumstance, every moment of our lives has led us here. Nothing you could tell me, no one major life changing event, is going to adequately explain why you are who you are. We are more than the accumulation of a few big accidents. We are everything. And nothing, short of living our lives through each other’s eyes, will ever be enough to explain what we feel or think or believe.”
I stared at her, mouth open and uncharacteristically lost for words. In that moment, I realised she was right. It didn’t matter how we had become what we were. Ultimately, what mattered was where we stood now. What mattered was that this woman in front of me was clearly as broken as I was, but, just like me, was doing her best to ignore that and make something out of herself and out of life. What mattered was that we were different but the same. The result of billions of experiences and choices and exchanges which had equated to the same conclusion. And in that moment, staring at her with her hair tangled in the wind and her fists clenched by her sides in anger, I realised that I couldn’t let her go. Never again would I find someone who added up the same way. Never again would someone understand me so well without ever really needing to understand me. Never again would there be another moment where a single person and I could veer from our perfect parallels and collide. Mia was everything - the answer to my own personal equation I hadn’t known I was trying to solve.
I reached towards her as she arched an eyebrow in confusion, her fists unclenching as her anger was replaced with uncertainty. I ran the backs of my knuckles across her cheek bone, and her eyes met mine, wide and startled. She had the look of a wild animal that had just been cornered. Sensing that she was about to run, I grabbed her arms and pulled her into me. Mia opened her mouth to protest, but I swallowed her outburst with a kiss which knocked the air from both of us. I had no idea which of us was more shocked by my actions, but as I felt her tremble under my touch, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her in closer. I could feel her hesitation even as she kissed me back - the war of her logic and reason fighting against this magnetic force that seemed to pull us together. I kissed her harder, as though by doing so I could somehow erase the doubt, but I understood, deep down, that things were never this simple, and that years of hurt could not be undone by one moment of epiphany and certainty. She needed more than that. More importantly, she deserved more than that.

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It's already after midnight and they're not here yet. Kira is leaning on me heavily, one hand around my waist and another grasping a bottle of cider. Jimmy, Kira's ex and one of my best friends, eyes me warily but I know it's not because he's worried I'd go there. He just misses her touch. He wishes she were leaning on him. I catch his eye and prise myself out of Kira's grip and walk over to where Stacey and Rich are talking loudly about something stupid Stacey has just said.
"He is TOO the coolest one on the showwwww!" Stacey drawls, staggering a little as she attempts to stamp her foot for added emphasis. Rich just laughs and shakes his head. I join in and we both start our usual routine of teasing Stacey. We do this all the time, even when she's not drunk off her face, but she just laps up the attention. Stacey's not dumb, or vapid, or shallow - but we like pretending she is all the same and she enjoys being in on the joke.
I tune out to their conversation about nonsense for the moment and look around. Kira's place is our usual hangout, and looking around it's pretty easy to see why. The place reflects Kira herself - lots of quirky decorations scattered around the place accompanied by a huge assortment of DVDs, games and consoles. It's essentially heaven to our group of friends, and Kira has long been considered probably the coolest chick any of us have had the privilege to know. Between her and Stacey, who is just generally a fun loving and attractive girl, you'd think we guys had won the lottery.
But in truth, I barely notice either of them.
I hear the door open behind me and spin around to see who's arrived. I didn't realise I was holding my breath until I let it out upon seeing that it's just Derek, the token slight outsider to the group who's still trying to find his space in it. But then Derek moves and my breath catches.
The person immediately behind Derek isn't the one who gets my undivided attention. Sean is another of my best friends, and seeing him is no surprise. It's the person who his presence suggests is coming that stops me dead.
Sure enough, about thirty seconds after Sean and Derek have wandered in, a girl follows awkwardly. She shuffles in quietly, her head bowed so that her hair is hiding most of her face. A six pack of cider is dangling from one hand, whilst under the same arm she balances a bottle of wine as she struggles to open the door with her other hand. She clearly dragged her feet from the car, taking her time locking up and making sure the car was in gear before following Sean in. Sean and Derek would have leapt from the car the second it stopped moving, but her hesitation in joining us is not unknown to me. It's not that she doesn't like being around us, it's just that she's so damn scared of us. Mostly of Kira and Stacey if I'm honest. Sean is her boyfriend, but you wouldn't know it from the way he's bounded off to chat to Kira and Jimmy without bothering to see if she's comfortable where she is. This too is no surprise. I politely extricate myself from Rich and Stacey and walk over to her.
"Amelia, hi!" I exclaim brightly, reaching out to hold open the door for her before pulling her into a hug. The wary look on her face dissolves immediately and she returns my grin, hugging me back with as much enthusiasm as she can manage with her hands full. There was a time where she'd have flinched away from me, but the longer her and Sean have been dating, the more time she's had to become comfortable with my presence at these sorts of things. She trusts me probably more than anyone in the room. A large part of me desperately wishes that she didn't.
"Jake, how are you? It's been a little while." She says, smiling up at me. Her eyes are bright and she stands as though relaxed, but I know her well enough to know that she isn't. She scans the room and I catch her gaze fall upon Stacey and Kira in turn, and immediately she crosses her arms across her body, trying to hide herself from everyone. It's not that she's jealous of them, at least I don't get that impression, but there's no denying that she feels inferior to them and incredibly intimidated. No matter how much I try to convince her she's just as valued of a member of the group as those two are, you can tell she always feels on the sidelines comparatively. On one of the extremely rare occasions she got drunk with us, I remember her saying that it was never that she didn't like the girls - as a matter of fact, she thinks they're amazing. The problem is just how she sees herself. Next to them, she feels boring and unattractive. When she told me that I nearly fell over. It was like she'd never looked in a mirror or heard herself speak. It blew my mind.
Amelia and I make small talk for a while, but we're both avoiding saying anything too deep or revealing. We're always like this. Always skirting some fine line between being best friends who tell each other everything and trying to back away slowly for fear we'll cross a line. She's my friend and that's all, I remind myself firmly, but more importantly than that, Sean's my friend too, and Amelia is the girl he loves.
Eventually, Amelia relaxes enough that we join some of the others. Immediately when I'm in reach of her, Kira swings an arm around me again and leans into my shoulder. I see Amelia take a slight step back from me. Both Stacey and Kira are just affectionate like that, but Amelia has always been different. I see her reach for Sean's hand self-consciously. He takes it, but in his drunken distraction, has soon let go and walked off to laugh with Jimmy about something. I see Amelia bite her lip. She doesn't complain - she hates being insecure and she doesn't want to rely on Sean to be what gets her through these sorts of intimidating situations, but I can tell she's also slightly hurt that he can't see her discomfort.
But I do. I always do.

It's late. So late that I have no conception of the time or how many drinks have been consumed between now and when I started. We're playing a drinking game and everyone is gathered around the small coffee table. With each round that passes, things get fuzzier, but everyone seems to be having a really good time. Kira and Stacey are naturally the life of the party and it's hard not to get sucked in to their good vibes. Even Amelia seems to be enjoying herself. She's seated between Stacey and Rich, and it's nice to see her at ease without myself or Sean beside her. Not that Sean would be really. To him, parties like this are time to spend with his friends, not Amelia.
Sean is telling some rambling humorous tale and the game is winding up. People are paying less and less attention to whose turn it is and more to whatever it is Sean's talking about. It seems like our cue to disperse and we end up clustered in little groups throughout the house. I find myself beside Amelia, which strikes me as a really bad idea, but in my haze I can't imagine why.
She grins as she looks up at me, her bright green eyes glazed over by the long empty bottle of wine and six pack of cider. Amelia rarely drinks, so it's always a surprise to realise she's actually drunk.
"Sooooo..." she says slowly, a mischievous look on her face. My eyebrows shoot up.
"Yeeeees?" I inquire, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.
"Sooo... I was wondering... now that Kira and Jimmy have broken up, are you going to go there?" She asks, giggling a little bit. I stagger back in shock.
"What on EARTH are you talking about?"
"Oh come on Jake," she giggles again, "it's always been obvious that she likes you. And you've often said she's the coolest girl you know!"
I fold my arms and frown at her in irritation.
"And since when, may I ask, have I been known to date girls SOLELY on the basis that I think they're 'cool'?"
"Fair point, but since when have you been known to date girls in general?" She replies, officially breaking down into a huge peal of laughter. I can't help but laugh with her. She's known me for over a year now, and never once have I mentioned a girl I was interested in to her. It's a puzzle that she frequently teases me about.
"Well what can I say? I'm picky." I smile.
"Picky? Gawd Jake you go above and beyond picky. Kira is like... the nicest, most attractive, most fun, COOLEST girl you will ever meet and it's obvious she's into you. Jimmy would get over it. It's not like he and Kira were a long term thing."
"Yeah, Kira is all those things, but what can I say? Just don't think of her that way." I shrug.
"You baffle me. How about Stacey?"
"What about Stacey?"
"Well, why not go out with Stacey? You KNOW she's interested. How many times has she asked you out now? Why turn her down?"
"Maybe because I don't feel that way about her either?" I retort with a laugh. Amelia shakes her head at me.
"I so don't get you. You know, most guys our age who are as good looking as you make a point of dating and/or sleeping with as many girls as possible. But you? I barely see you bat an eyelid at most of the girls falling all over themselves to get to you. What are you waiting for?" She's teasing and I know it, but I can't help but do a mental happy dance at her mention of thinking I'm good looking.
"Well yes, I know I'm awesome and should make my awesomeness available to as many people as possible." I sigh dramatically. She grins.
"Damn right. You're just being selfish keeping yourself to yourself really."
"I shall endeavour to change this then." I laugh. She joins in and mercifully the conversation changes track.

Outside. I'm not even remotely sure how I ended up outside. I can hear the party still going on in the house behind me. Still seems like everyone is having fun. So why am I outside? I squint in the darkness and see a form sitting on the curb in front of me. I can't see who it is in the dark, but I figure there's probably no other reason I'd have wandered out here so I stumble over and plant myself down next to whoever it is. Amelia looks up in surprise.
"Jake? What are you doing out here? Go back to the party!" She exclaims.
"What are YOU doing out here?" I reply, looking her up and down. She doesn't look upset, at least not in a major sort of way. Thoughtful, yes, but not upset.
"Oh. You know me. Just need to get away from the crowd for a little while." She's playing with her hands as she speaks. Even in my drunken state I know that means more than that the crowds were a bit much for her. Something's on her mind, but I don't quite know how to ask so I just sit in silence. She does the same for a moment, still fidgeting with her fingers, before slapping them down on her knees in frustration.
"You know what bugs me Jake?" She's slurring a little, so her outburst doesn't come as too much of a surprise. Amelia usually bottles a lot up, but it doesn't take much to unscrew the cap on the maelstrom.
"Enlighten me my dear." I reply, grinning expectantly.
"I get that Sean and I aren't a touchy feely couple. That's fine. In fact, that's a good thing, cos frankly if he were hanging off me all night I'D get sick of it too. But I hate that he won't even go within six feet of me in public if he can help it. Even THAT wouldn't bother me were it not for the fact he has no problem hanging off his female friends all night. Hell, he's in there right now in a 'cuddle pile' with Kira and Stacey." Amelia glares at the pavement as she speaks. It takes me a moment to gather my wits to respond.
"You know it doesn't mean anything Amelia. You know our group. We're just a touchy feely sort."
"I know that. And I wouldn't mind in the slightest, but it pisses me off that he's perfectly comfortable showing everyone else affection but he acts like it'd be hugely embarrassing to get caught acting like he cares about me. We've been dating over a year. Isn't it sort of time he got over that awkward phase?" Again, I don't reply for a moment, but this time because I'm too busy grinning at her.
"What are you grinning at?" She finally asks, but she can't keep the returning smile at bay.
"So fiery. Like a damned fire cracker. But look at you - you go from pissed off to at ease and grinning in about three seconds flat. You can't stay mad if you TRY." I poke her teasingly. She cracks up laughing before resting her head on my shoulder. I freeze at the contact, every nerve ending on high alert.
"Yeah. You're right. I get pissed off quick. But I also get over it quick. It's usually all in my own head anyway." She sighs. I put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"I wouldn't go that far. Yeah, a lot of it is your whole insecurity thing. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. You're awesome. But that said, Sean should pay more attention. We've all always said it. You just... you gotta be patient with him. Whilst the rest of us are occasionally capable of acting our age, I think Sean's got a bit of catching up to do."
She smiles at this, and the wistful look on her face cracks my heart a bit. I can tell she's replaying various childish things Sean has said and done and thinking of them fondly. Forgiving him for every mistake and instantly turning it instead into something endearing. Just another part of him she'll find to love. Because that's what she does - she hands out her love freely to anyone who asks for it, even when they don't deserve it. She forgives and moves on and just keeps on loving you. I swallow hard and she finally notices the look on my face. Puzzled, her eyebrows crease together in confusion. She can see that I'm upset but she cannot fathom why.
"You know..." I begin, but sigh. I fold her into my chest so I don't have to look her in the eye, and she lets me only because she can see I'm upset and wants to help. I know that to her this is crossing the line, but she's trusting in me and our friendship and my friendship with Sean that this is okay. She still trusts me. Keeps on trusting.
"Jake... hey... what's wrong?" She asks, hugging me close and stroking my back soothingly. I squeeze her tight for a moment and bury my face in her hair. She just lets me hold her for a while before I finally force myself to pull away.
"Let's go back to the party yeah?" I force myself to grin. She's puzzled, but I know that she won't ask if she feels I don't want to be asked. Eventually, her frown of concern clears and she smiles back, standing up and pulling me up with her. I let go and turn away.
"I just need to get the rest of my beer out of my car. I'll join you in a minute!" She nods at me and spins and walks into the house. I watch her go and wait till she's closed the door behind her.
"I just... I love you, you know?" I whisper to the darkness. Guilt wells up inside me, but I shake myself free of it. I didn't say it. I didn't act on it. And I can't change what I feel. I walk down the path to my car in the cold night air, leaving all the complicated overwhelming things behind me. By the time I rejoin the party, I feel like me again.
For the moment.

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Pet Treasure


Collection of Obscene Gesture Photos

Bronze Summit Key

Iron Summit Key

Silver Summit Key

Gold Summit Key

Pet Friends