Jake POV
Aaron is sooo done. I found out that he's actually a major foot pervert. Gee, all I had to do was compliment his shoes a few times and he was all over me. I'm not ready to go that far yet, to show him my bare feet. I am saving that for when I find my soulmate. And I think I've found him.
His name is Julian. Aaron broke up with me after he saw Julian and I kissing in the hallway. What's the context behind that? Well, Julian and I have been developing crushes on each other's fingernails for a while. I do not remember when I started finding fingernails attractive. It's like my attraction has always been a part of me. I remember, as a young child, I would oftentimes watch DIY videos on making bracelets and other small crafts for the sole purpose of getting close-ups of different fingernails. All my favorite YouTubers were my favorites simply because they had fingernails that were on my 8-10 scale.
Once I started middle school, many kids were expressing their own fetishes. One girl has a fetish for smelling fresh dog poop, and even Ms. Destinie knows about it. The girl claims again and again that Ms. Destinie made up the fetish and branded her with it, but I've seen her around dogs, I know the truth. Because of this, I wasn't ashamed to have feelings for Julian's fingers. What I didn't know is that Julian also has a finger fetish.
On that lovely day, Julian got the guts, or fingers, to walk up to me. All he said was a simple, "with your fingernails, Jake, I just can't" whilst furiously blushing, his face the color of my sister's blood when I put her in the blender.
At that point, I was so completely flooded with emotion that a kiss was the only way of expressing my feelings. So I did. I grabbed his face and pulled him in, his lips tasting like the mac'n'cheese that was served for lunch today. My senses were overstimulated, taking in the strong cheese & chemical mix. I was reaching for his hands at this point, to bring his fingers up to my lips so I could kiss them as well. As I was doing this, I was breathing "your fingernails are soooo attractive, Juliannnnnn....." into his face. But then I heard a loud, piercing, and intimidating whistle. Ms. Destinie's whistle.
Immediately I knew that I was in deep, deep trouble. I turned to Ms. Destinie and looked into her deep, cool eyes. Wanting to spare Julian's fingernails, I screamed, "it was me! Please! Julian didn't even want to be kissed! I was...uhh... raping him!" Ms. Destinie gave one glance at Julian, looking flabbergasted and bright red, and grabbed both my wrist and Julian's. At least she didn't grab Julian's hands and possibly hurt those handsome fingernails of his.
She then dragged us into her classroom, and the frog stuffed animals in her room didn't look so cuddly anymore. I stared into their cold, glassy eyes. The eyes stared back. They showed no mercy or empathy, expressionless, oblivious to the torture that they were about to witness. Ms. Destinie shoved Julian and I into two seats and said one stern word. "Stay." We did. She reached into her closet, pushing past sheep brains, goggles, and binder clips. And out it came. The Pool Noodle, red and foamy as ever. I had only heard rumors of it, concealed whispers coming from the terrified mouths of previous victims of its wrath. It was still wet. (TRIGGER WARNING) The water dripped down Ms. Destinie's arm as she held it high above our heads, prepared to strike. She then brought it down with one slow but steady strike. It didn't make much impact, but that wasn't the point. What made Julian and I scream the ear-splitting scream that we did that day was not the fact that the blow made much of an impact, but that once the water made contact with our skin, it made us wet. Our uniforms would never recover. I would never recover. Contact with water was an unforgettable and frightful experience in our desert home. Veterans from war would often describe with terror in their weathered faces the experiences they had with the swimming classes they were forced to take as army training. They said that the encounter with water was more terrifying than war itself.
Such an encounter with The Pool Noodle bonded Julian's fingernails and I in a way that nothing else could. We were inseparable, having experienced the greatest horror known in this world together, as a consequence of our kiss. I will never leave the curvy keratin that covers the tips of Julian's fingers. We've simply been through too much together to not be a couple. I love Julian's fingernails, and Julian's fingernails love me.
