The Monster Under the Bed || Kickthestickz

Awkward Drawings

By the time we got back it was 4:15 and no one had noticed we were gone. When we had jumped through the window, my hands started to burn with the contrast in the temperatures. Pj had gone in the shower a few minutes later, so I pulled out my doodle book and started to draw.

"What's that?" Pj whispers over my shoulder, jogging me and making the pencil draw a hard, jagged line across the page. I scowl down at the shiny graphite on my paper and ignore the curly haired boy. I sigh and lean to pick my rubber from the floor. My fingers run along the slightly lumpy, cold surface of the wooden floor before tapping against the rubber. It's worn down sides feeling normal in my pencil blackened hands. "Oh, I'm sorry! Hey, these are really cool!" he murmurs as he slides the pages over one another looking intently at all of my drawings.

"They're only little doodles" I reply as I take a grab for the book but just for Pj to stand up, raising his long arms high into the air. I sigh, defeated and let him flicker through the thick pages, and sit on the bed, him looking at doodle after doodle. "They're rubbish-" I begin.

"No, they're not... draw something," He places the book back on the crinkled bed, in front of me, pressing a pencil through my fingers and sitting down beside me. But this isn't normal. He sits too close. And what's even weirder, his hand rests on my thigh. I take a long steadying breath. Too many thoughts running through my head to even contemplate moving my pencil.

Finally, my thoughts gather themselves, and I glance at Pj's face. His brow is furrowed. He's thinking about something. "Oi! Earth to Pj. Come in Pj," I grin and poke his cheek. Flipping his head around, curls bouncing and mouth stretching to form a smile on his face he watches me lift my hand and draw. "Now don't ask me what it is supposed to be." When I finish he grabs the book, looking at me in amazement!

"Liar," he accuses.

"Wait. What?"

"You told me you were rubbish! This is perfect! It's not even a doodle. It's a masterpiece. You truly are brilliant, you need to know that!" We sit there for a couple more seconds, just taking in each other's faces.

"Uh, I'm going in the shower," I say, lifting myself off the bed with a soft swish of the fabric and grab the towel hanging from the door. Taking one last fleeting look at the drawing in the skinny boy's lap, I close the door behind me. The image of the boys, one straight haired, one curly. Their arms around each other, their faces close. Pj and I, but he doesn't need to know that.

Turning the shower on, too hot, I step in. Trying to scald the memory from my brain.

As I shut off the water steam swirls around my head and I step on to the usual creaking floor of our dorm room. Rubbing the towel through my hair, I walk over Pj's mess on the floor to open my drawer and pull out more uniform for dinner. "No, I chose not to go with Jonah. Yeah, we're getting on great he's really nice," Pj's voice travels over to my ears. "Here he is now. Say 'hi', Christopher" My head darts up and Pj flicks the camera round on his iPad, giving whoever he was skyping an extreme shock. Next thing I know, his laughter roars through the room, vibrating through my eardrums and connecting my brain with happiness. "No, mum. He isn't only in his boxers." I am most definitely only in my boxers. He pauses, looking at the screen, obviously listening to a reply I can't quite make out. "Muuuum! No." His cheeks flush crimson as he does everything his power to avoid my eye contact. "Yeah, talk to you later. I love you, too, Mum."

I turn back around and bend down, rummaging through my drawers for a spare shirt. "Where is it!?" I growl, slamming the drawer closed, the bang reverberating against the walls.

"Here, I have a spare one," Pj outstretches his hand, a crisp, white shirt hanging from his grasp.

"Thanks," I murmur. Glancing up I notice something. His eyes rake my body, up and down. Finally landing to rest on my torso before looking sternly back at the screen of his tablet and closing the call to his family.

"Here, let me help." His voice coos through the air as he stands up, removing his own shirt from my hands. I follow his lead and feel the cotton slide against my arms as he drags the shirt over my body. "Christopher, you really are cute. You know that, right? What I mean is that, compared to other people. You know you've got, um, nice features."

I smile slightly and watch his long, delicate fingers push each smooth and circular button through its allocated button-hole and move onto the next. Once he is done, I swipe my trousers off the floor and pull them over my legs. The tingly feeling still on my thigh, from where his hand rested earlier. Finally, I pull my tie tight around my neck and tuck the last piece of white cotton into the top of my trousers.

*

Again, I sit alone at dinner, wolfing down my cauliflower-cheese as quick as I possibly can. The sauce burning through my throat and chest on its journey to my stomach. All the time, I could hear Pj laughing with his friends. The sound making my insides squeeze with something, of which I wasn't too sure. That's the time when my brain ticked over and I finally knew.

I have a crush on Pj Liguori.