LOOSE ➶ « l.s. »

8: DAZED

« LOUIS »

Since mine and Liza's conversation, all I could think of was just that—the conversation. I'd stare off into the wall of fourth period as I thought over the night at Avery Mills's. Lips on lips, skin on skin—and the feeling of chills running through my body to the touch. These thought raged through my mind during Chemistry, when suddenly I felt my jeans begin to grow tighter. I shuffled uncomfortably in my desk, bringing the tips of my fingers through my hair as I felt my breathing begin to harden. Yet, that wasn't quite the only thing I felt hardening.

I raised a hand, catching my teacher's attention, and having her raise an eyebrow to me. "What can I help you with, Mr. Tomlinson?" she asked me as she continued to hold a piece of chalk between her two fingers like a cigarette.

"Restroom?" I simply asked, attempting not to grunt with my discomfort. She slowly nodded, going back to whatever it was she was scribbling on the blackboard as I stood up with a hand over my crotch.

I rushed to the bathroom, checking every stall to make sure I had been alone, and quickly let myself into a stall. Yanking my pants to meet my ankles as quickly as I possibly could, and placing a palm on the stall wall, I brought my free hand onto myself as I stroked harshly.

I stared up at the ceiling, watching the lamp above the toilet shake back and forth as if it were expressing its disapproval to what I had been doing. I shook my head back, attempting to stroke myself faster. My palm feeling the heat grow stronger from the friction.

My breathing became heavier, and all I could manage to think of was the frustration and shame boiling within the void of my chest. I bit onto my lip, my fingers gripping onto the top of the stall's wall as I felt the pressure build up to my shaft.

A grunt escaped my throat as I felt the top of my hand be accompanied by the warm liquid, feeling the least bit of my frustration relieve, yet my shame only grew larger. I wiped myself with the toilet paper supplied next to me, my breathing showing absolutely no sign of slowing down. One last shaking of my head, and I let myself out of the stall, bringing my hands to wash in the sink.

I brought handfuls of water to my face, making sure to rub my eyes from the drowsiness they had begun to feel. I looked up, staring at my reflection as I felt a pressure build up in my throat. I didn't quite understand the feeling in my gut, but something told me I had to do something about it in order to get rid of it. It was a feeling I didn't know, like accidentally skipping a step on the stairs, or falling from the second story window—which I knew all too well from sneaking out of my room so often.

It was as if my heart kept skipping beats, and it wasn't in a good way—not at all. Mixed with the shame within me, it was a feeling I absolutely despised.

I shook my head to my reflection, drying myself off with a paper towel before hoisting myself up to the small window near the ceiling of the boys bathroom, sitting myself on the conveniently placed surface just before the glass pane. Digging through my jacket pocket, I pulled out a cigarette, and placed it between my lips.

I inhaled the smoke, pursing my lips together as I felt my lip begin to tremble. I coughed out, clearing my throat from the lump I had felt coming up. I looked passed the small crack of the opened window, seeing the sun shine outside of the school.

I knew I had to speak with Harry. But what the fuck was I going to say?

Never in my life had I wished I hadn't existed more than in this moment.

« ± »

Lunch came sooner than I had wanted it to, and I accompanied the rest of my friends at our table which they hadn't seemed to take notice in.