Leather Kisses

Leather Kisses. 9

STORY QUESTION: Who would you cast to play the role of Dean, Blake, and Riley? 

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I wasn't able to sleep that night. My mind kept wandering about how everything was going to change. Tomorrow marked a new chapter in my life, and that intimidated me.

Because sleep was out of the question, I searched for something to occupy my time. None of my books seemed appealing, nothing good was on television, and my mind was too overly exhausted to write in my journal. So I decided to do some laundry and organize my closet.

Filling the washing machine with a load of whites, I suddenly remembered Dean's blood stained, white linen handkerchief. I ran back into my room, removed the cloth from the front pocket of my backpack, and headed back into the laundry room. Even with crimson stains, the handkerchief was still beautiful and delicate. My fingers traced along the mysterious BK, still mesmerized by the soft, surreptitious lettering.

At this point, Dean knew all of my secrets, but I was still in the dark about his. Let alone, it was not my place to pry. Dean didn't pry; he just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.

I scrubbed the handkerchief with some bleach stain remover, threw it into the washing machine, and turned it on. Afterward, I went back into my room and started rummaging through my wardrobe.

Productively, I worked my through the closet, organizing it by garment, color, and season. I was almost done when I came across a pair of jeans I had never seen before.

Holding up the dark denim material, I tried to remember the last time I had bought jeans. It had been months, years, since I had last considered wearing something other than a skirt. Examining them, I assumed that Lucy must have left them at my house, and they somehow got mixed into my laundry.

Curiously, I stood up and tried the jeans on. They were too long, so I casually cuffed them at my ankles. Other than that, they fitted like a gem, hugging and accentuating my curves.

And that's when I decided that I would wear them to school. If everything was else was changing in my life, why couldn't my clothes change? Sure, it was just a small attire adjustment, but it was symbolic. For once, Blake couldn't stop me from wearing what I wanted; nobody could.

***

The blare of my alarm clock woke me up the next morning, but it sounded more distant than usual. As my eyes fluttered open, I realized I had slept on the floor, using my cashmere sweater as a pillow and my pea coat as a blanket. Most of my clothes were still scattered in piles around my room, so I must have fallen asleep before finishing.

After my shower, I got dressed, sliding on my newly discovered jeans and my black blazer. Before heading downstairs, I headed into the laundry room and pulled out Dean's freshly cleaned handkerchief.

As I ate my morning bagel, I started tugging at my jeans, feeling out of my comfort zone. I was about to go upstairs and change when Dean arrived. Disappointed, I slugged my backpack over my shoulder and headed out to my driveway.

"Good morning," Dean greeted, embracing the morning sunshine. "It's a brand new day."

"A new day, a new beginning," I muttered nervously, as I approached him.

Dean peered over his aviators and said, "Are you wearing jeans?"

My cheeks reddened with embarrassment, and I felt even more awkward than ever before.

"Uh . . ." I looked down at my cuffed ankles, knowing how stupid I looked. "Yeah, I should probably go change, if you don't mind waiting."

"No, don't," Dean insisted, smiling brightly as he examined me from head to toe. "I think it looks great."