Pleasure (An Andy Biersack love story) ON HIATUS

Ch 5: Maybe he was...

I admit, at this point I was highly embarrassed. I ruined it for myself. He could've been my master with an over exaggerated nudge, nudge, wink, wink. I could've been his master! But noo, I just had to try and be witty.

I nearly tripped on my way off the bus, mesmerized by his mysteriousness. I can't call him a stranger, can I? How is it that I've never bothered to get to know him before? I've had all high school to do so, didn't I? Now was my chance to, and I refuse to fail this time. But he was just so... ugh! I couldn't start that conversation. No, I just couldn't. What'd he do to me? He looks like the type to get angry if I tried giving him sympathy. He'd mistake it for pity or judging. What if he yelled? Or hit? As erotic as it sounds, the thought was terrifying.

Judging was the last thing I wanted to do... In front of his face at least. Behind his back, judging was all I had to comfort myself-- He also looks like the gentle type. Maybe he'd be a real sweet guy, maybe kinda shy and awkward, but all charm when it's worth it. Maybe he'd suddenly turn into a sex god when it came to bed time, and he'd go hard and lose all that sweetness, and for once all you had was nice spice. Dear lord. Maybe he likes taking things fast... Maybe he's a little insecure about relationships and when it comes to them he must have it his way; The relationship has to be perfect, the girl in his scenario must be smothered, and his mind will be clear of all things except for his significant other and perhaps some music and light beer.

Or maybe he really didn't have much to say. Maybe his life wasn't as interesting as I thought it was. Maybe he was a dreamer, and he'd just sit down all day with a broody look in his eyes, jaw locked into place, the pad of his thumb brushing over the bottom of his lip as he thought, staring into space. When he did he probably thought about his past; what really happened and what should've happened instead. Or maybe the future; What's going to happen and how well it happens. Maybe he had these huge ideas, but he just couldn't seem to make sense of them. They sounded great in his head and in his songs, but if he were to explain it to any person on the street, they'd give him a snide look before walking away.

I knew nothing of him. I couldn't tell anything of him. As of now, I was only assuming things, suspecting things, making things up. The truth was buried underneath that delectable smirk that turns me into stone, preventing me to ask questions I've been urging to since day one. All I knew for sure was that he's smart. Incredibly intelligent. And dear lord, is it sexy.

The average human being would look at him once and take him as a druggie high-school drop-out, that has no relationship with his parents, and went to jail ten billion times, where as I saw him as some sort of un-official figure perched up on a pedestal, reminding us that his existence is important to us in someway. I didn't know what it was about him that made him look so astute, but it was definitely there. Was it because he carried around that mysterious aura around with him as he walked around on those slender legs of his? Was it because I'm taking guesses? Was it those eyes?

I stopped mid-step, trying to remember how to walk straight. Man, I really did over think things too much. It took long before I noticed I had an unread text.

I fished a hand in my pocket and pulled out my phone, reading the message on the screen.

'What we were doing earlier, what was it called again? Oh yes, making conversation. Care to try it again over some coffee? I would suggest tea, but I wouldn't want to give you such pleasure.. Ma'am."

Holy shit.