Posh Kids (Gen. 4)

Madeleine

Reid sat on the edge of his seat, his head down. The two of us sat at my kitchen table, his hands clasped together.

"You're here for a reason, aren't you?" I asked, licking my lips. He nodded eagerly, his jet black hair bouncing up and down.

"What is that reason, then?" I asked. His mouth opened slightly, and I repressed the urge to close it.

"Er, um, Nash likes you, no, he-he loves you, and I wish for you to stop headfucking him. No, I mean, Nate and I were just good by ourselves, and Georgie fucking ruined that. Now she's snogging and shagging him all the time-," said Reid, his words almost unintelligible.

"Reid, calm down. Think calm," I said, as his breathing got heavier. Reid started gulping for air, and his eyes grew large.

"What calms you down, Reid?"

"Juice. Specifically mango and orange," he said, his breathing starting to even out. I bolted to the fridge, and grabbed a carton of juice, while a presumably clean cup sat on the counter. I quickly poured the thick, dark orange juice into the cup, and placed it in front of him. Reid reached for the cup, and downed the contents as fast as I placed it in front of him.

"Are you calm yet?" I asked, watching the fast rise and fall of his chest slow down.

"Another cup will suffice," said Reid, taking another deep breath. I refilled his cup, and watched him place the cup to his lips, and his Adam's apple bulge as he drank the juice again.

"Ok, Madeleine. Here's what I wanted to say. You're headfucking everyone, and its pissing me off quite a lot. So, I'd appreciate if you stopped, and dropped the mysterious girl act. Because, quite frankly, its fucking creeping me out," said Reid, staring into my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, taking a seat.

"Fuck," said Reid, putting his hands to his head. He pressed his forefingers into the sides of his temples.

"What?"

"Stop it. Stop apologizing. You're not sorry for anything. You've got something, while I'm fucking nothing," said Reid, his hair falling perfectly into his eyes.

"You've got something, Reid."

"Yeah, mental problems, a virginity-," started Reid, who stopped talking as our lips connected. As we pulled apart, he blinked rapidly, as he tried to figure out what happened.

"Was that your first kiss?" I asked, watching confusion cloud his eyes.

"What? A regular flirt like you can't have his virginity," I stated sarcastically. Reid shook his head, and I grabbed his hand, leading him to a big favor.

"How does it feel?" I asked, wrapped snugly in the sheets. Reid laid next to me, his pale chest falling and rising steadily.

"It feels like I took all of my medication at once, I took a peek at one of my dad's magazines, and took a few shots of whiskey with Nate, all in about ten minutes," said Reid, turning on his side to look at me. I brushed some of the hair out of his eyes, and kissed his nose.

"You feel exhilarated?"

"Yeah. Maybe this is why Nate and Georgie are always fucking."

"So, what do you do now?" I asked, utterly confused.

"Second round?" asked Reid, raising an eyebrow. I shot him a death glare, then stared at the ceiling.

"No. I mean, what are you supposed to do now? I usually screw guys at their house, shower, and steal one of their hoodies," I said, pointing to my open closet, with at least a dozen hoodies and sweatshirts hanging up meticulously.

"I have a question. How many guys have you shagged?" asked Reid, who now stared at the ceiling.

"I lose track," I said, as I heard the reverberating click of the front door. Sawyer and Pierce were home, and they would kill Reid for being here.

"Reid, get out," I said, my voice a loud whisper.

"Why?"

"My brothers are home, and if you don't get out, get prepared never to have sex again."

"Why?"

"You'll be having a hard time, that's all I'm saying," I argued, putting my hands behind my head.

"Fuck. You think they'll see me go through the window?"

"Before you go, here's something," I said, unraveling the covers off of me. I walked to the closet, slipping on tights, and a baggy sweatshirt, while tossing Reid one.

"What about my pants?" whined Reid. I pointed to his pile of clothes on the floor, and watched as he got out of the bed, and picked up his pair of jeans. He unbuttoned them, and forced his legs into them, while the sweatshirt remained on his shoulders.

"See you later, Madeleine," he said, walking to the windowsill, and sitting on it. He grabbed the ladder by the sides, and started climbing down. My last glimpse of Reid that day was of him smirking at .