Alone

Chapter: 9 // save yourself •

Dear diary,

It happened months ago, before Carl and Enid and Ron and Judith and Alexandria.

I had what was sort of a diary, just an ink pen and my arm, it didn't come about until after we had first kissed in Gregory's liquor cabinet.

My parents were asleep in our trailer, Jesus was up and about checking in on the citizens of Hilltop and helping out with whatever it was. I watched him from my window, he'd glance at the trailer and I'd pull the curtains back, hoping he didn't see me.

I finally mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation with him, him calling me out for watching him from the window.

He was teasing with me though I was terribly embarrassed anyways. I always thought of myself like his biggest fan and he was a superhero, too superior for my abnormal teenage hormones. Yet I'd taken a liking to him, not only because he was the first attractive male I'd seen in forever, but because he was mischievous and chivalrous at the same time.

He was a thief with a winsome smile and a loud charming nature to him, a freaking ninja. He did anything for me- for anyone, and so I did everything for him.

We went in the mansion, Gregory was bedridden from a cold that Dr. Carson had been tending to all week at his bedside until that morning. You could hear him hacking and wheezing, from the door.

Jesus made me stay downstairs while he checked on him, and I got bored of waiting and poked my head wherever it wasn't supposed to be. That's when I found Gregory's liquor cabinet, it was locked, and I was so stupidly curious why and I picked it with with my knife.

Boxes and crates of bottles of liquor ranging from scotch to vodka and names I couldn't pronounce filled the shelves, I knew Gregory was a drinker but that was outrageous.

Jesus crept up on me, he grabbed my waist and pulled me aside gently, I squealed definitely. Both being because he touched me and he startled me.

"Gregory's feeling better already. He's demanding I get him a glass of scotch." He said and brandished the bottle of scotch. I suggested that he refuse him, and his response was, "you simply cannot refuse Gregory. Besides, I'm not the one with the drinking problem." And I didn't understand that until I wrote this down.

Before he left, he inquired how I got the door open and I told him I picked it.

"I'm impressed," he said, and he stepped inside the closet and closed and locked the door. "Show me."

It took me two seconds, because my hands were shaking and sweaty. Before it took barely a second.

I was not prepared when I opened the door, though. He shut the door with his one hand and the next minute my back collided with the wall and his lips and mine were together moving quietly, madly, perfectly.

I tasted the salt on his lips reminding me of when I was a little girl, I used to drag my parents down to the Miami Beach when we lived there for a while and I could've swam for hours, the salt water splashing in my mouth and I was so euphoric and oblivious of the world. I was the happiest when I swam, and just like that I was happiest when he kissed me.

It sent waves of chills down my spine that I still experienced when I wrote this.

The kiss, alas, didn't last very much longer. Gregory called him in rage for the glass of scotch he asked for, threatening that he'd come downstairs and pour it himself.

Jesus told me to run, as Gregory was already approaching the steps. Later, he found me by his trailer waiting on him, scribbling on my arm about the kiss.