Dork Diaries: Next Generation

Post This on Youtube

I figured this little video I was supposed to do is long overdue. I switch off the television and pull out my MacBook.

"Make the bed look really, really nice. We've done nothing, understand?" I tell Taylor.

He's still clearly confused, but he nods. I pull up the camera.

"We're setting things straight. Don't say a word unless I tell you to. We gotta get the press to get their facts straight, and what better way than to upload a video to my Youtube channel?" He nods. I press record. "Hey, Branded." My fans are called Branded, you know kind of like what farmers do to their cows and horses? It sounds pretty morbid, but some fangirl said it one day and Bam! There goes the name of the Brandy Roberts's fans. "This is Taylor, the cashier guy."

"Hey, people," he says and waves at the camera with a small, nervous smirk on his face.

"So I just want to let you know that, yes, Taylor came to my house, but I assure you there was no funny business. We all need the one friend to lean on, and Cashier Guy over here is one heck of a teddy bear." I throw my thumb in his direction. He blushes.

"Our relationship status?" he quietly whispers to me.

"We are together. No, he's not exactly famous, but you'll definitely see him playing in either the NFL or NBA very soon."

He chuckles at this. And despite how scared I feel at the moment, I smile at him. Boy will Rick have a fit about this...

"Now before we go, don't forget to go see my mom and pop's movie." I'm pretty sure they'll watch this video, so why not advertise for their sake? "Sorry the vid was a little short. I had to clear some things up. Love you. Mwah!"

Not even a second after the video uploads do I hear both of my parents call my full name in unison. "And bring the boy with you!" Pop-pop adds.

Taylor and I hang our heads either in shame or in despair, both equally as terrified of what's about to happen. When we reach the kitchen, where most of the scolding takes place, Mom crashes into me with the strongest hug and asks a million questions. "Please tell me you guys didn't have sex! Did you use protection? Oh my God, are you pregnant!? Brandon, I told you she should have been homeschooled!" she says a mile a minute.

"Momph, calm down. We fidn't to anyfing," I say, her shirt muffling my words.

"Oh, thank God. I just couldn't let you get pregnant in high school because believe me, it's not fun at all."

And just to exceed my expectations for tonight, Pop-pop is the one to be scary, not Mom. He is glaring at Taylor, shooting daggers- no- machetes at him.

As if sensing my father's anger, although it's really hard not to, Taylor speaks up as best as he can. "Um... So, Mr. Roberts-"

"Hurt my little girl and I'll castrate you so fast, you won't even feel it until I ship you nude in a boat to Mexico, understand?" he demands.

"Y-yes, Sir," Taylor whispers.

"And you," Pop-pop says with a pointed finger in my direction,"If you don't take advantage of the free food you can get from this kid, I will personally date him myself." My face turns red at the statement, but I nod. "That's all."

The both of us turn on our heels and run up the stairs. What surprises me most is that Pop-pop doesn't even tell Taylor to leave or spend the night on the couch like I expected him to.

"Well at least we know how they feel about the situation," I say despite how embarrassed I am.

Taylor nods. "As long as I somehow manage to keep my hands off you and give you discounts on burgers we'll be fine."

I laugh at that and kind of marvel at his humor even though I know for a fact he's sheepish about this entire night.

"You know, Taylor, I haven't really given you a proper kiss. I mean, sure, we had that one time in the car, but-" I hint to him only to be interrupted my his own words.

"Say no more." His lips come crashing onto mine, and thankfully, the only person I have on my mind is him and just him. No second thoughts about whoever I usually worry about.

Since we're in the hall, we awkwardly shuffle back to my room without breaking the kiss. Taylor ends up tripping repeatedly over my feet, so I can't help but laugh at him. He trips again, but we land on my bed, thank God.

Taylor's hands are everywhere: on my cheeks, on my waist, in my hair, on my thighs, sending warmth and electricity everywhere. I can't over describe kisses like other girls do. I just know there's a difference between good and astounding. And this kiss... Oh, boy... This kiss is none of the above. It's hungry and passionate and soft all rolled up into one, and it surprises me that I can even decipher any of that from just holding Taylor close and locking lips with him.

His hands move to the hem of my shirt, and that's where I stop him. "No, don't," I tell him. He stares into my eyes, I'm guessing to ask me for a reason why. "Well first of all, both my parents are downstairs. Second, this is as far as I want to take it right now. I'm not emotionally prepared to remove clothing, as much fun as that would be."

He pulls away, and all of the warmth that I'd felt pulled away with him.

"I want to know everything about you," Taylor says, "I want to know everything starting from the first memory you made to the reason why we can't go farther than making out with each other."

And besides my family members, I have never met anyone that considerate for my feelings. I've had my heart broken before. It wasn't by anyone I know now. My heart was broken by someone who said nearly the same thing as Taylor but didn't truly mean it.

"If I tell you everything, there won't be much of anything new to learn," I say amusingly. "And if I tell you everything, you can never leave me, no matter how far this relationship can go down the drain."

Taylor held out his pinky. How juvenile. I grasp it with my own pinky and tell him about that one day when I was an infant, and my parents officially claimed me theirs. And we were up all night with the words of my life story filling the air.