Never Been Kissed

- FIVE -

 'Cause it's thanks to you I uploaded :D

                                                                         -•FIVE•-

I lay on my bed, doodling stick people at the back of my note-book. It was the most I got up to when I was at home and Opal didn’t have swimming lessons. Either writing poems or doodling in the back of my notebook, just like every other day since the summer began.

But recently, Beck and I had taken to texting one another as fast as our thumbs could type out full sentences. I was really beginning to enjoy the little question games we had, and I found out a lot of things about him and vice versa, that we probably wouldn’t have ever known about each other before. I admired his innovative “get-to-know-each-other” proposal; 20 questions just seemed like the perfect game in my head now. I became more secure than insecure, and I couldn’t begin to explain how amazing it felt to have the weight lifted off my shoulders. Some thoughts were still there, lingering in the back of my head like never ending lullabies, but I could qualm them now, and it didn’t rattle my bones to know that those feelings were still going to be there.

It felt nice to have someone that wanted to know about me; I’d been neglected by it for most of my life and I believed it hindered me, but Beck didn’t want to hurt me, or tease me like everyone else did. I wasn’t that geeky girl in the corner for him. I was a genuine friend, and that felt good too.

Beck hadn’t texted me all day, and I wondered about that. Inhibitions weren’t gone, and even though I knew we were now on the “good friends” level, I knew it must irk him, even though he never said anything about it, that I refused to disclose some things about me. I knew he wanted me to trust him, I knew he’d never betray me with something as trite as a secret, but there was that niggling voice in the back of my head that warned me that he’d think I was a freak. Everyone else thought so. Why shouldn’t he?

That was the bad thing about being a teenager.

Our minds were fine-tuned to think the worst about people. To believe hearsay and lies. Opinions were never formed by themselves. They were formed collectively. During adolescence we were all just a bunch of foolish sheep following after one another until adulthood.

And I knew this all too well.

I really didn’t want our friendship to fall apart like that, because of other people and biting negativity.

Sighing, I checked my phone for the fourth time, only to be greeted by a blank, message less purple screen. I threw the useless piece of plastic across the bed and relaxed on my mauve duvet.

Maybe I needed a nap to take my mind off things. Our game and his inability to text me (as clingy as that sounded) was playing with my nerves and I didn’t like it that much.

Flicking my fingers boredly, I stared up at the ceiling and listened to the birds twittering in the old acorn tree that stood beside the house. Dad hadn’t had the heart to cut the hulking monster down when he first bought our house, because it “added character”, or so he led me to believe.

Further down my driveway, I could hear the whir of bike wheels, the crunch of skateboards and scooters and the giggles of prepubescent kids as they raced up and down the street, presumably enjoying their summer.

Sometimes I wished it didn’t weigh me down like it did. That my disorder stopped me from having a normal childhood. That because of it, mom and dad hadn’t sheltered me so much. It wasn’t something I preferred to dwell on during my spare time, but Beck had shaken the box and tampered with the lock, and lately the memories were rapping against my skull, begging to be heard. Emotions that I thought I’d gotten over rose inside of me.