Flannel Shirts and Tangled Hair

I Couldn't Be More Screwed

I could smell it. As soon as she walked in. It was like a wave of apple scented body product crashed into me. The scent captured me from my previous thoughts of failed geometry tests and tumblr that was calling my name.

Clutching my can of soda, I tried to remain in focus but honestly I don't know why I try. It's hopeless. I'm hopeless.

Her laugh sounds through the room, as though if I couldn't be more screwed. My head snapped up, instantly curious about what was so funny that could make her laugh.

There she was. Just the same as she did everyday; beautiful, captivating, and ever most thoughtful. Just the same as that day.

Her lips brush against mine as she stumbles, against me, laughing drunkenly. She looks at me as though she discovered the most powerful drug in the entire universe. Her wide hazel eyes scan me over, as if trying to decide what to do next. Her hand makes contact with my hip. She opens her mouth and says-

"Add, Add, Addilyn!" My friend's voice calling my name pulls me out of my memories. I curse her silently before I will myself to join the conversation my friends are having, not surprisingly, about gay people. Which basically includes almost everyone at our table.

I laugh along with them as I stare at her from the corner of my eye. She flips her hair, which is straight as she says she is. I scan over her entire body, taking in what she is wearing. Basketball tee and jeans that hugs her curves perfectly.

My eyes go back to her face, only to see her staring at me with this intense, stern stare. I duck my head so quickly, I almost stabbed myself in the eye with my pencil. My face goes red and pray to god no one saw that. I color in a triangle on my paper out of boredom as my phone dinged, signaling a text. Oh no.

I reach over and pick up my phone. On my notifications list, there's a message:

Stop it. You promised you wouldn't say anything

I don't even have to look to know its from her. I glance back up, then back down. My fingers tremble my reply:

I know. I won't say anything

Exiting from my messages, I tap on the tumblr logo. As my phone clouds up with memes and all things sexual, so does my brain. I peak up and see that she is looking down, as though she is contemplating what to do next.

I shake my head and go back to my phone, as the apple shampoo scent fills up my lungs. I scrunch up my eyes so tight, trying to fight the urge for her. The pull I feel towards her.

I have to. Or we're both fucked.