authors note: don't even ask this took me like a second im so sorry for being a shit writer x x idk i like writing
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What the hell is happening to me?
There's this girl at my school.
She has long blue-black slightly wiry hair and blue eyes and slightly wonky teeth and she has wobbly legs and wears doc martens and big band shirts and spikes on her wrist and a piercing in her nose and her ear and her lip and wears fierce makeup like winged eyeliner and dark eyeshadow and long navy blue sparkly nails and holds her books funny and wears her bag over one shoulder and has a cracked voice and a cute laugh and not many friends and very red lips and I like her. I like her a lot.
This is stupid. I shouldn't like her. I'm a gay guy for gods sake. Everyone knows it. I know it best. But this girl, this goddamn girl has captured my eye. All my life I was never attracted to girls, ever. But this one. This effing one. What's she doing to me?
Electra. Her names Electra Derval and I think she's perfect even though I shouldn't because I've known for six years that I'm a hundred per cent gay. Gay as any gay thing that walked the earth. I'm not a flamboyant drama geek or a closeted jock, I'm just a guy. But I know that I'm gay. Until Electra with her blue-black hair came along and messed up all I know about my sexuality.
We have to get into pairs for science. I'm paired with her.
I'm paired, with ELECTRA.
Why.
'Hey,' she says, in her broken, flat toned voice that I love, dropping her bag beside the empty chair next to me and sitting down. 'Lets do this shit.'
I clear my throat about ten times. 'Yes,' I manage to croak out.
'Now here's the deal,' she says pointedly, 'I want to get some decent grades. This is a joint effort. If, like fucking usual, I end up doing all the work in this, I'll cut you. You have to help me. No one ever does.'
'Thats fine. I was, uh, always going to, uh, help you.' I cough out the last word.
She smiles, a sudden and fleeting expression. Not one I expected. She looks lovely. 'Good.'
We work on our project (chemistry) for weeks. We get to know eachother very well and I, the supposedly gay as hell guy, falls in love with her.
She's sixteen. She has two older brothers called Jethro and Alexander and a dog called Noodle and a cat called Dusty and a father and no mother and she likes good music like heavy metal and rock and always paints her toenails and her fingernails the same color which is sparkly navy blue and has fake eyelashes cause hers are so small and lots of pairs of doc martens and various spiky bracelets and she looks good in leather jackets and she smells musky and her teeth are adorable when she properly smiles and she has an interest in plants and can name every plant we go past. We went for a walk in the park and she just belted out Latin names for trees most of the time. Her mother died in a car crash when she was four and she used to cut herself but now she doesn't which is good and she secretly likes romance novels and her full name is Electra Clementine Amy Derval and she is a good swimmer and runner and basketball player and she really likes hot chips and watermelon and gets grumpy easily and brushes her hair religiously and one nostril is bigger than the other and she ran into a glass door when she was five and has a scar on her chest and used to do tap dance and had appendix surgery when she was twelve and her room is messy but not gross and she likes driving at night and likes the rain and cigarettes and books and looking at the clouds and long socks and spinning in circles and daisy chains and boys and girls and the beach and hugs and blankets and board games and coffee and she couldn't be more perfect.
We finish the project but we still continue to hang out. No objections there.
One day I'm at her house.
'Wanna go out sometime?'
I splutter. Is this happening?
'Do you mean like, as friends or...'
She gives me a mysterious smile with her red lips and winged eyeliner and long fake lashes. 'The latter.'
'Yes,' I breathe.
'But,' she says, confused, 'aren't you gay?'
'If you knew that, why'd you ask me out?'
'I like you. It was worth a shot. So are you?'
'Yeah, I thought so. Until.... until I met you.'
She hides her face in her too long sleeves and peeks out at me from between her long thin fingers.
'Lets go for a walk. On the beach. Tonight.' says Electra, her voice muffled by her hands. I think she's blushing.
'I'd like that.'
We sit in her room laughing and being silly and watching videos and holding hands until it falls dark and we leave the house and walk a little bit until we get there.
We walk along the sand. We sit down. We hug. She starts drawing in the sand. She draws crosses and lines and circles and the starship enterprise and a happy face and a sad face and a girl and a boy and squiggles. 'I've never had a boyfriend before.'
'I've never had anyone before.' I say.
'Well we're eachothers first.' She smiles playfully and leans against me, smelling faintly of perfume. And hopefully our last, I think.
We fall asleep on the beach.
~~~
Twelve years later
'Morning.' She kisses me on the nose. And yawns. Then groans, and gets up, because Oliver is screaming from his cot. He's two. He's practicing for when he joins his screamo band.
'Shhhhhh,' Electra coos. 'Shhh, Oli, shhhh.' She gives him her studded bracelet (the least spiky one) for him to play with. It goes straight into his mouth.
I join her at his cot and slip my arms around her waist. 'He needs a bed. He's too big for that thing now.'
She looks at me. 'You're right.'
I kiss her on the forehead. 'Lets go look with him. He can choose one.'
She smiles, her eyes crinkling and smudging her eyeliner very slightly. She leans into my ear and whispers. 'Science projects. Funny things.'
