Mid-Life Crisis (WIP)

Hug The Druggie

         My hand wants to hold his. Our fingertips hover, electricity buzzing between them like opposite sides of a magnet. The temptation grows stronger. I want to go for his hand, but that want is stumped by an amber light that never changes. I feel myself slowly rolling over the white lines, making my cheeks hover somewhere in between peach or bright red, I think my breaks are broken, skidding wheels on pavement. He was sunshine, I felt like a dark cloud. My mind couldn't help but indulge the thought that maybe this was all a stupid dream and I'd wake up soffocating under my sheets. By surprise, his fingertips touched mine, his palm grazed mine, and he was holding my hand for me. This buttscooted me back to reality, the reality that made me so glad it wasn't just a dream. We were in a garden, a beautiful garden that made my heart ache. I loved plants to a solid degree and being surrounded by flowers made me want to inspect each and every petal.
     Roses, pansies, my god the dasies! Jasmine, garinida, Conner! Wait Conner? You see, I could do just that, examine the flowers all day but something was pulling my eyes much stronger, they didn't want to drown in the colours of the pretty pansies-(reds, blues, and purple's!)-my eyes watched  Conner's fingers lace mine like a jigsaw piece. I smiled so much my gums ached. I forced my chin up, my eyes lagging a little behind to check him out, he definitely was doing the same. His eyes met mine, by then I was sure I'd accended to heaven. His grin was magical, a little smack from my own made them slightly less chapped, slightly more cherry, slightly more relaxed. His eyes had spectacular flecks of aubur, his hair a toasted brown, body seemingly whitewashed from the bitter winters. He was madly dashing in style, wore confusing clothing that consisted of hoodies and only hoodies, how he survived in them was a mystery. He stopped, facing my hypnotized stare. I was entranced, he had the cutest damn face... Cutest damn everything. His lips begged for me to kiss them, and that I did. I was the least bit fazed as his hands enveloped my waist which brought me taught to his own. He held me like a newly picked rose, his tongue lapping at rosewater and inhaling the hint of rose on my skin. I guess I was his flower... What did that make him? (Garden hoe!) He took me in his arms and for once the earthly sound of his heart thrumming sung the best tone in the world. All peachy and warm I tore away, his hand still in mine as our eyes met the array of nearly perfect flower bushes. We're dating! Wait are we?
  I could see parents going through files, squinting their eyes at our fine print labels.
  Conner: "Has... Social anxiety, listens to metal, probably going blind and deaf..."
   Me: "Has social anxiety, anxiety, depression, depression in bold, shy, and deserves the world.
  Then Me-me: "Has an amazing voice, can play four instruments, writes amazing stories, has a lot of friends (lies), always happy (depression is invisible)."
     My mind summersaulted back to the kiss on the bench... our first kiss... My first kiss... His too? My mind still wirred on, too many questions, no answers for most of them. The driving gear almost felt too large for my head, the thought that this could all be made up might just make me throw up.
     We took a stroll down the gravel path in our horrible choice of casual footwear consisting of Converse. The sun washed everything with a lovely tint of orange. I'd beg for a picture on a day like this, where's my Polaroid? My acne bumbled on my face, feeling like large gaping pores as I searched my bag. My acne probably didn't look as bad as it felt, the full face of blush hid the blemishes. Conner simply didn't care. He'd touch my face, kiss my cheeks then hold up my chin with his thumb to kiss my lips. My face will be spiting me tomorrow, I can feel the irritation already.
      Snap! I caught him off guard and took a picture of us sharing a peck. He chokes on my tongue and his own cheeks burst crimson, never thought he'd be so surprised. I knew how great he looked, he's assuring me I look even better and I don't disagree as the film develops.
  "Our relationship is kind've like a Polaroid picture," I mumble, half to myself, half to Conner. He tilts his head slightly and takes me by the waist. I feel his hands slip from hips to my back pockets, I'm insta turned on. He's incredibly smooth with his hands.
  "Oh? How so?" Conner guides me backwards to another bench as his lips lash at my forehead.
  "It's like... Snap! We're both instantly turned on and photo ready." Conner raises his eyebrows.
  "A private show is what I want." I hold the Polaroid to my chest as Conner dips down onto me, my knees buckling back and propping me up before him. Tailbone meets park bench and my mind goes soaring, I didn't think I could be this turned on! Talk about romance! I giggle and feel his lips against my neck making me hesitantly invite him to explore a little. He gives me time to feel out what's going on under his non-existent belt, I feel him softly groan along my neck as I do so making me smirk. I'm starting to break a sweat in nothing but a lacy tank top... Conner would gladly take it off me. He stops as I reel him in by the belt loops, looking me in the eyes.
     "Do you want this on a first date?" Conner asks sincerely, knowing all too well that we should probably stop. He tenses up. There's sweat beading on his brow, telling me he's  still nervous as ever. I myself develop a nervous sweat as a guy and his dog passes us and makes googly eyes. We're still tangled akwardly together like two grape vines as the adult judges us from 15 feet away.
 .  "We're as horny as rabbits this time of year, blame it on hormones buddy!" I shout to the sloothy adult in our  midst. He glances around, I'm at wits end with embarrassment. Relief drips off me as his dog finally yanks him away and he's forced to go persue the pooch.
  "Maybe not when people are looking at us..." I bite my lip as Conner obeys and straightens his glasses. He turns back to the innocent, caring boyfriend back at stage one with hand hovering. It's like he shuffled back down his wild card to the bottom of the deck just to work it to the top again, wouldn't be long, just had to take my top off. The guy watching us almost looks disappointed that we stopped making my nose scrunch in disgust. Teenage make-out sessions aren't what parents are into nowadays, right?
  Conner gives me one last kiss and helps me up in a gentlemanly way, I beg for him not to dip the invisible fedora, he refrains hesitantly, slips a hand around my shoulder instead. We're stumbling down the gravel road together, tow-in-tow like two junk yard drunkies, then we see a literal drunkie. It's Jenelle stumbling out from behind a dumpster like a horrible magician. There's a bit of crusted vomit frothing around the corner of her lips as we near, she looks waisted. I can smell tomato and vodka, her weird drunken concoction I'm guessing. She sees us and is instantly mutilated by our looks, scurring around in no particular direction. I'm shocked, Conner might be too. I knew Jenelle, she was nothing like this. She was the prettiest hippie in school, well besides me. Always had a huge, red lipstick smile with henna stained skin attired in patchwork pants and artsy flannel. She was the definition of thrifted, search it up in the dictionary and her 7th grade school picture would be there. This Jenelle didn't look remotely like her but it was her, clothes clinging to her frame all wrinkled and stained. She hasn't attended school in a bit... I guess I understand why now. She attempts to fix up her hair, straghten her sticky looking clothes, and wipe away the remaining vomit with her sleeves.
      "Hello!" Jenelle calls in her ever present Russian accent. She fixes herself up pretty well, I finally recognize her a little more.
       "Hi..." I say a little more akwardly than intended. It's like I just met a school teacher in public shopping for leingere. Jenelle makes my blood boil a little as she looks Conner up and down from torso to junk in several pivots.
  "And who's this Chloe? He's very handsome!" Jenelle must be drunk, I swear she was mostly staring at his crotch. I avoid wanting to slap her.
  "Well he is my boyfriend. This is Conner. Conner meet Jenelle," I do the phoney first grade introductions, Conner hesitantly shaking her hand. Jenelle's body motions screams "oh how wovly" as they barely touch. Tyler and her would be perfect for each other. To my surprise the devil himself stumbles out not too soon after Jenelle.
    "Someone say boyfriend?" Tyler checks out Jenelle's baggy pants with his x-ray vision then scores his eyes along me. The recognition is instant when he catches a look at my boobs, God they're both perverts. No one seems to pay much attention to Conner except for me and drunk Jenelle. Tyler is slowly shuffling closer to my side. He's giving a nasty smirk which makes Conner slip his hand tightly around my waist.
  "Woah, woah! Who's this jock? Conner?" Conner blinks in surprise as his name comes from Tyler's mouth. So Tyler knew him, but how? My eyes shift from Conner then Tyler, they're really going at giving eachother the evil eye.
  "Thought you'd never recognize me," Conner says, ice cold. The feeling is mutual, icy looks of disaster. Jenelle throws a blunt in her mouth and all hell breaks loose. I can't stand them anymore. How could I have missed the smell of weed trailing off of Jenelle like the week old cum stains on her patchwork pants?
  "Okay goodbye," I yell and motion Conner to run. We're running as Tyler waves only at me, Jenelle keeping her eyes on Conner's behind. Shes a chimney by the  time I look back again. I can't believe it... Jenelle, the drunk druggie now hanging with the wrong crowd? How can people look up to thrift goddess now?