All I could think about for the rest of the night was that kiss. How could I not? For the rest of the party, the ride home, and until I fell asleep, the only thing on my mind were the sparks I felt. Did he feel them?
I dreamt of it, too.
I never thought someone could take up so much of my thoughts. I had spent more time thinking about Brad then I probably have anything else in my life.
I wonder if I should ask Lauren about it. I'm sure she had to know something about relationships... and boys. I know she would help me.
I took out a piece of paper and wrote down Bradly Simpson.
A thought crossed my mind, and right below it I wrote Tristan Simpson, only to immediately cross it out.
I ran my hands over my face, taking a deep breath. This is ridiculous. Brad was not gay. In fact, he was probably the straightest person in our entire school. But the little voice in the back of my mind wouldn't go away. He kissed you too softly for him to be straight. That kiss meant more to both of you than you might think.
I needed fresh air, to get out of my bedroom.
I crumpled up the paper and threw it at my trash can. I frowned when I missed. I properly threw it away on my way out the door.
I crept down the stairs, not knowing where my step-dad was. I was still on edge about his behavior from the night of the party. He has never acted anything like that before; at least not a time that I can remember.
I safely made it to the door uninterrupted and slipped out into the cold air.
I decided on walking to the park close to my house. It was a fun and safe walk.
I smiled when I rounded the corner and saw the metal structures. I hadn't been to this park in a long time. It felt good to come back.
I made my way over to the swings and sat down in the one on the right. This one was my swing. James always had the middle and Levi would have the one on the far left. I frowned. Those were memories that I wanted to forget.
My whole life fell apart because of those two. They ruined everything for me.
I hated them.
I scraped the toe of my shoe in the snowy wood chips, pushing myself back and forth.
I was sitting by myself for a long time. I'm not sure exactly how long, but it didn't matter. My step-dad didn't care if I was home or not.
I heard a rattle next to me and looked down at the ground. There were a pair of shoes on the wood chips next to me. I looked up just in time to a cigarette getting lit.
Brad looked down at me, already staring at him. He smiled and took a hit, looking away. He looked... sad.
I turned my head to look forward again, too. We both sat on the swings, silent.
"Life can really suck, Tris." My head snapped back up at him. I was immediately concerned, and it showed on my face.
He let out a cold laugh. "Don't worry, Trissy. Nothing's happened." He put his cigarette between his teeth and picked at his nails. "I'm just speaking generally. Like those guys at the Christmas party," I felt my cheeks heat up. "what they did, humiliating you like that, it wasn't cool."
I felt myself scoff, but was too distracted to hear it. My eyes had found themselves focused on Brad's mouth, watching them wrap around the small paper cylinder before they traveled down to his neck, focusing in on the tiny movements there when he inhaled.
"Hello? Tristan?" He waved his hand in front of my face. "Is anybody home?"
I shook my head, snapping myself out of my daze, embarrassed for getting caught staring. "Sorry."
Brad gave a small smile. "You have a nice voice."
My face turned bright red. I was glad it was dark.
"Can I sign your cast?"
I looked down at the heavy bulk around my hand. I had almost forgotten it was there. I nodded.
What is going on?
He smiled, holding his smoke between his teeth, and leaned down to grab his backpack from where he had discarded it. He dug around in it for a moment before pulling out a think pen. "I hope this will work. It's all I've got." He took one more hit before grinding the end of his cigarette into the ground and flicking it away. He stretched his hand out to me. When I didn't move, he slowly reached out and gripped my arm, hand wrapped around the skin just above the cast. He placed the pen in his mouth, using his teeth to pull the cap off. I couldn't take my eyes away from him. He placed the tip of the pen to the hard plaster.
Brad
"There we are!" he said, recapping the pen and tossing it back in his backpack. He then gently brought my arm up to his face, catching me off guard. Brad blew on the ink, his cool breath hitting my skin sent shivers down my spine and the constant contact of his hand on my made my stomach do flips. "Would hate to see it smudge."
He finally let go, lacing his own hands together around his knees and staring forward, a small frown on his face. I cradled my own arm, starting down at the small name written just below my thumb.
"You know, something is telling me there's a lot more to you than what people see." My head snapped up at him, staring at him stare forward. The flips moved from my stomach to my heart. Brad then heaved a deep sigh and stood up, throwing his backpack around his shoulders. He stretched a hand down to me, and I accepted it quickly, allowing him to pull me off the swing and to my feet. We both stood there, him rocking back and forth on his feet, almost as if he, Bradley Simpson, didn't know what to do. Both of his hands gripped the straps of the backpack, lips pressed together.
He looked up at me, sighing again. His big eyes were soft.
Unfamiliar feelings swirled around in me. I had been waiting so long for someone to look at me like that.
"I wish you would talk more. You deserve to be heard."
Before I could react in any way, Brad was walking away. I felt frozen, listening to the quiet crunch of his shoes on the wood chips. I turned around just in time to see a movement of hands, a flicker of light, and a puff of smoke disappear into the night.
*
I have abused this story and I forgot how cute it is and all of the ideas I had for it. I haven't logged on in a long time good gravy. Does anyone still read this?
