Lessons from a Rude Boy

Strange and Stranger

It felt like I was floating on air. Never thought I would say something so corny, but there it is. With Mason’s hand in mine as we walked through the school building I felt like I could literally fly. Maybe if I just jumped up a bit everyone else would see that with him at my side I really could defy gravity, but then he turned to smile at me. Why would I want to leave the ground? He was on the ground.

            “Hey,” came out like a stutter, but he smiled.

            “Hey back,” his hand tightened around mine, filling me once again with the butterflies.

            Okay. Stop. Can’t do this anymore…all these silly clichés. Who in the world would want butterflies flapping around in their stomach? Sick person, that’s who.

            Putting aside the floating on air comments and the fact that there were certainly not butterflies in my stomach I was smiling uncontrollably. One truth, I could not stop smiling and it seemed I was not the only one.

            “What are you smiling about?” I nudged him with my shoulder, the book in his hand falling to the desk.

            “Nothing,” he turned his smile on me, “You?”

            “Nothing,” I shrugged and turned my smile away from him. His hands came to my waist.

            “Okay,” he whispered in my ear, “I’ll tell you what I was smiling about, but you cannot tell anyone.”

            “Deal,” his lips brushed over the shell of my ear, shivers raced down my spine. Truth.

            “There is this girl,” my heart picked up it’s beat, “and I really like her.”

            “Do I know this girl?”

            “Maybe,” his warm breath washed over my shoulder as he leaned father in. “She looks like an angel, talks like siren, is meaner than a snake,” I laughed, “but she kisses like a…”

            “Like a what?” I urged him on, fire licking at my belly.

            “Like a nun just escaped from the convent,” laughter erupted from me.

              “I don’t know whether to be honored or embarrassed,” his hands still at my sides.

            “You should be very honored.”

            “How exactly does a nun just escaped from a convent kiss?” I turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “And how did you find out?”

            “Angel,” he kissed me swiftly. “Nuns are the best kissers because they put all of their pent up passion into each caress,” his hand traveled up my arm, raising goose bumps along the way. “And I’ve heard stories…”

            “Stories huh?” he nodded sheepishly. “And who was telling the stories?”

            “Just so guys I know,” he shrugged.

            “Am I supposed to believe that?” it was hard not to smile.

            “Yes,” he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

            “I really don’t know whether to be offended or complemented,” he laughed lightly.

            “I already told you it was a compliment,” his fingers brushed across my ribs as he pulled back.