Ripe

Chapter 10

♪Chapter Song♪

"Little Bitty Pretty One" Thurston Harris and The Sharps

(I do not own this song... but I love it ♥)

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CHAPTER 10

I NEVER KNEW that friends kissed like that on New Years, especially in such a fluent way.

They don't. Do they? I mean, I didn't have anyone else to kiss and neither did he, so, I mean, it makes since for us to naturally share a kiss, right? In celebration for the year that we make promises to ourselves to be better?

I pull everything from my suitcase and toss every worn item of clothing into the dirty laundry hamper in my room, consistenly trying to answer my own bogus questions with my own bogus answers.

"It was for the fun of it, so don't hit me," he had immediately said, wrapping an arm around my waist. He wouldn't meet my eyes afterward. "We should get back to the car."

How come I don't even believe that?

When he'd pressed his lips to mine, it was so... weird. Not his lips. No, they were warm, soft, hypnotic, and just simply delectable.

"Wait, what?" I ask myself aloud. I shake my head as if to clear it. It doesn't work but whatever.

Anyway, it was the rush I felt that was weird. It was like a gust of wind had knocked my heart sideways, then picked it up and blew it away. It was short, and I admit— sweet, but I don't think friends should give you that feeling. That's not a friendly feeling, that's an overwhelming feeling that doesn't feel friendship worthy.

I shrug. Maybe if I stop thinking about it, it won't bother me as much. I complete my task of placing all of my dirty clothing in the hamper, rise from my floor, and shove my bag into my closet. Noisily, I lunge all the way back to my bed and settle myself beneath my covers.

School starts back in the morning, and it's already eleven at night. For some reason, I'm not filled with dread. I don't want to go back, but knowing that I have someone to help me through the day, I think it's easier.

The talk of new presents and how much everyone got is going to be challenged amongst many. Most will sulk about getting what they don't like, whilst some people don't get anything. It kind-of pisses me off. Those people have to sit by and listen to the bragging when all they got was a meal and possibly a new pair of socks. I wonder if those kids in the homeless shelter have to go through that. They may have to, which is very sad.

I snuggle into my pillow and check my phone one last time as my eyes become heavy. I go through my messages, notifications, and anything else I can do before nodding off to sleep.

∞∞∞

"I'm not getting off your car," Andrew repeats for the upteenth time in the last five minutes.

"I'm serious, Andrew. Get off my car," I snap, loosing any control I have left. I stare up at him as he stands atop the hood of my car, refusing to let me drive. If I get in and drive with him on top, we're both going to end up either hurt or in trouble.

He stubbornly wobbles his head, a cocky smile on the very lips that I tasted. "Not happening."

"We'll I'll just walk then."

"You won't," he snickers. "It's too cold for you. Your nose and cheeks are already pink, so I know you can't."

We glare at each other for a good minute as I try not to shiver. If I shiver, he'll make me walk to his car instead of my own.