SIXTEENTH

FIVE

                          LEONARD
For someone who thinks before doing something, I was pissed at myself for interfering in Mara's affair. When I got home, I tried hard to conceal the punch marks on my wrist; I had sustained a little injury during the fight.

"What a weakling," I wondered what Mara even saw in him anyway. He was mixed, not as tall as me—not like I want Mara to myself or anything—but I just don't get her taste in boys.

I met the jeweller in the house when I got home, not like we had any occasion coming up where we needed jewellery, but trust my mum to always want anything new in the market.

"Hi Mum, Hi Mr. John," I greeted them.
The sturdy old man lowered his heavy Harry Potter glasses as if it was the first time he was seeing me. He was dressed in black pants and a white shirt, never forgetting his suspenders—maybe he thought it made him look more professional. He should get a stylist.

"Who do we have here? Leo, steadily growing into a fine young man, huh?" he replied to my greeting, bringing me back to earth as my gaze had already settled on his heavy-looking Doc Martens loafers. Who wears shoes so heavy these days? I thought to myself.

I sent a fake smile his way and looked at my mum, picking up a piece of silver necklace from its box and placing it around her neck to see if it fit. It definitely fits—she's my mum, and everything looks good on her, the same way everything looks good on Mara.

Why was I thinking about her again?

My mum raised her head to look at me as if wanting my approval. I nodded my head and went to my room. It was 7 p.m., and I knew I wasn't going to have dinner today. I screwed up, and I hated myself for it.

I took off my clothes and went to have my bath. I turned on the shower and let it run over my head, and images of her pretty face kept flashing in my head. Her pretty set of teeth had their shine when she smiled, her short brown hair danced freely when she jumped or turned her head swiftly, her ocean-blue eyes that I've been lost in since the day she was born. She has a slim figure; she was tall and had a tiny waist that gave way to her round set of butt, her round perky boobs that stood like two mountains. She was growing into a beautiful woman, and I was letting her slip out of my hand? I didn't like her, did I?

I could feel my body going warm, even though the shower was running cold. I couldn't take my mind off thinking about how heavenly she would look without clothes on. The thought of her running her slim fingers through my hair sent shivers down my spine. What it would feel like to have her kiss me with those plump cherry lips of hers. I could feel her hugging me and her breasts sinking into my hardened chest. I could feel her sliding her warm hands down her chest, I could feel her grabbing my already hard dick.
I couldn't help it anymore, I slid my hand back and forth. I couldn't help but imagine what it'd feel like to have Mara do this to me herself.
"Uhhhh...," I started, kept going, slowly at first, but faster now.
"Uhh...fuck...fuck...arhghhhh," I said as I shivered and let out all my want for her. This is the hardest I've been in a long time.

I want her. I want her all to myself. I want to feel her body on mine. I want to own her.

That night, I slept like a baby and dreamt of Mara again. What was she doing to me?

I stood in front of the mirror to adjust my uniform, put on my blazer, and headed out.
I kissed my mum and dad to say good morning, then gulped down the cup of hot chocolate that was set down for me and rushed out, ignoring my parents calling me to grab a bite of other things—maybe add an apple to my lunch pack. Don't they get tired of repeating the same thing every morning?

I was an only child and had the love of both my parents, but sometimes they tend to be a bit too caring. But then, was there such a thing?

I stared at the large letters that spelled "BRADFORD HIGH" as the car slowed down in front of my school. My heart skipped a bit, or maybe bits?

Mara is definitely going to want my head today, and heaven knows she wasn't going to forgive me for yesterday—not like I was going to apologize or anything. It just made matters worse for us.
I took in a lot of air before saying bye to my chauffeur. He has been driving me around since I was 8—very dutiful and always minding his business. One time, I went to a party, had a couple of drinks with friends, and got into a fight with someone. He knew about it and didn't say a word about it to my parents. He hardly has anything to say; all he does is breathe and drive.

I stepped into the hall, opened my locker to check the classes I had for the day. I had history first and maths after that. I was sorting my textbooks when I heard her voice. It sounded like an angel singing, and images of how I'd imagined her last night flashed through my mind. Even thinking about it now was making me warm.

"Get a grip of yourself, man," I muttered to myself, trying so hard not to turn and stare like I always do. Maybe I didn't do that this time because I didn't know how she'd react after last night.
I turned to leave when I almost bumped into her. She was there, right in front of me. She didn't look like she wanted to say hi. For the first time, her blue eyes didn't look like they'd welcome me; they looked like they were going to drown me. Gosh.
"Stay away from me, you psycho, and mind your business like you always have," she glared at me before stomping out with her best friend Leah following closely behind her.

I swallowed. Where was the sweet Mara I have always known?
I must have hurt her real bad this time, and I knew I fucked up.