Fucking Young (Tyler, the Creator)

18 - 24

Yo, I'm outside wya?

I slung my bag over my shoulder and responded, saying I was on my way. I pushed through the revolving doors and hardly had to scan the parking lot for his car. It was the only car that had two solid red lines that ran from the hood all the way to the bumper, which was fucking cool.

I fastened my seatbelt and smiled at him, arraying my delicate, left dimple, "Thanks, for picking me up. I promise, this'll be the last time this week." I reassured him, watching a lady spark up her cigarette in the car beside us.

His based laugh slightly vibrated my seat, "It's cool. I like picking you up... If that isn't weird."

"Of course not." I smiled.

We pulled up in front of my house and I thanked him once more before hopping out.

"Fuck!" He screamed.

I caught the door before it had a chance to shut, "What?"

"Can I come over? I think my house keys are on the fucking table."

I laughed, "Oh my gosh, dude. Get it together, but of course." I graciously shook my head, grabbing my house keys out of my bag.

I unlocked my door and rashly dropped my belongings. "Shit, I need my bed like now." I kicked my shoes off, hurrying up the steps.

I heard his heavy feet tracking up the stairs as I dolphin-dove into my bed. Pillows and comforters crashed into my face as I took in my own sweet scents.

"Move over!" He slammed the door, causing me to jolt a bit.

"No! Lay on the floor!" I muffled into the sheets.

His arms wrapped around my waist as he picked me up and set me back down on the left side of my bed, leaving the right side available to him. "How about no?" He smiled, pulling a pillow beneath his head.

After I finished scowling at him, I turned Netflix on. I sat criss-cross with a pillow in my arms as I just stared at him without him ever even realizing. Fuck... He's so attractive. He just makes me weak in the knees. Just the thought of him drives me fucking nuts... I hate feeling this way. Especially towards him! It's a six-year difference and that sucks so much ass. I've felt this way for almost as long as I've known him, which was for about a decade (Sounds long, doesn't it?). Our moms were tight as fuck, so we met through them. So basically, I've kept to myself about having any type of interest towards him for about 7 years... Holy shit. I have to tell him, I can't go on with this just sitting on my chest for another ten years. I don't know how to say it, though. Do I just say, "Yo, I fucking like you and you should like me back despite our age difference.". Too frank? Maybe. Fuck, this shit has to come out sooner or later, right?

I cleared my throat in hopes to get rid of this giant lump that had formed in it. "Tyler?"

"Yea?" He responded with his eyes still plastered to the screen.

"Uh... Um..." I nibbled at my pillow case.

He turned his head towards me, "What's up?"

"I like you." I spat out, regretting it the moment it slipped from my lips.

He hoisted his left brow and sat himself up, "What?"

"Ugh, must I repeat it?" I pulled the pillow over my face. Come to think of it, I was super tempted to suffocate myself.

"You like me? Like.. like me?" He sounded overly confound.

"I guess so, yea." I said into the pillow, hoping he wouldn't be able to hear.

"Wow, um... I don't know what to say." He incompetently chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Uhhhh...."

Exactly what I was afraid of.

"Don't say anything. Could you please leave?"

"What?- W-"

"Tyler, please... Just go. I-I'll see you some other time, I guess."

And with that, he left. I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I fucking knew it.