Roxy's Short Stories

Of A Girl and a Boy [2014]

OF A GIRL AND A BOY

        There is a quiet splashing of waves lapping against the dirty beach shore behind the boy and the girl. They ignore it, perched on a stone bench facing away from the source of the noise, instead facing a hill topped with a rock monument. The pair keeps up a light conversation, the girl very aware of the boy’s gaze fixed upon her and thus, very consciously continuing to move her line of sight around, never stopping to look at one spot for very long, especially not at him. ‘Why is he looking at me like that, he’s going to see way more of me than he needs to and he’s going to realise it’s actually really crap and oh God this is uncomfortable why is he smiling like that.’

        Suddenly she feels the presence of a hand that had snaked around her back to rest on her hip. The touch shocks her, but as she realises the meaning behind the hand’s positioning, the warm feeling spreading through her body battles her initial impulse to flinch away. She averts her gaze to the ground, feeling the flush that reddens her cheeks.

        ‘He actually likes me.’ The thought forms but is instantly overshadowed. ‘He’s going to feel it. Everything. All the fat, the extra squishiness on my hip, on my waist.’ The impulse to move away from his hand returns and she continues to fend it off, but her body betrays her and stiffens. She loves having the hand there, the romantically affectionate touch, but her mind is overpowering her. ‘He’s going to realise what my body is actually like, not what it looks like hidden behind my clothes and he’s going to realise that he doesn’t like me, that I’m not good enough, that I’m not what he wants. That he can do far, far better and that I am actually nothing and definitely not worth his time.’

        “That was subtle,” she comments, eyes flitting around the grassy patch in front of them. There is a lilt in her voice, indicating the sarcasm behind her words but her tone is conversational. The words leave her lips and immediately she realises how obviously inexperienced she is showing herself to be. He already knows about her lack of experience, but still, she could be less blatant in displaying her complete unfamiliarity with situations like these.

        She casts a sidelong look towards him and catches the sharp corner of a guilty smile. He doesn’t have an excuse for his jumpy move. He instead continues to make conversation, talking and asking questions and she, more out of good manners than anything else, turns her head to face him, eyes wandering but not straying far from his face as they talk. She catches his eye line dropping downwards and instinctively does the same, following his. Their eyes continue to flicker back upwards; before trailing back down towards the rosy sets lips that they have both become very aware of. All at once it has become glaringly obvious how their heads are positioned. Only a few centimetres forwards and their lips would be touching. 

        She balks. She takes control of the conversation. She takes the chance to turn her head to look downwards, upwards and outwards – anywhere but at his face, anywhere but his lips. She talks and glances back to see a bemused half-smile spread on his features but can’t bring herself to reassume the proximity. ‘What if I mess it up? What if? I’ll definitely mess it up. It’s me. My clumsiness isn’t limited to just my lower body, no doubt I would be able to create a disaster from just a peck.’ 

        The moment’s gone and he knows it. He stretches and stands, looking back at her only to ask, “Which way do you want to go?” She opts for the right and after only a few steps, she realises the mistake she made. The opportunity to have a perfect first kiss in a tucked away, completely secluded clearing with a boy who seemed to be hoping for just that. ‘When do you think you’re ever going to get a chance like that again, you idiot? Never. You screwed it up. Can you for once stop being so insecure and self-absorbed, you absolute idiot.’

        She’s wrong.

        They move a few more metres when he stops. She stops too and turns to face him, their shoulders squarely facing each other. “Are you okay?” she asks. ‘Why did you stop?’ His gaze darts up to meet hers. An arm snakes around her back again and he takes a step forward. Her body stiffens instinctively, but she makes sure to keep a smile on her face to try and hide her discomfort. 

         It’s not really discomfort. She does love the touch. She just doesn’t love the hypersensitivity that comes with it. ‘Oh God, he can feel it, he’s squishing me, oh God he must be squirming on the inside, thank you so much for not showing it at least, but oh God I’m so sorry for being so disgusting. And oh my God this is way too close to my face, he’s going to see way too much, I’m not even pretty to start with and a view from two inches away isn’t going to make that any better but oh God we’re alone and totally isolated so he can’t escape and he’s stuck with me and he probably really doesn’t want to be here with me because honestly, why would you?’

         His smile grows to be accompanied by a questioning look. “Are you okay?” her question is echoed back to her. Her mouth curves further upwards and she nods in response, raising her eyes to meet his. He presses against her back to bring her forward closer to him until their faces are a hair’s breath away. “Still okay?” His breath is warm against her face.

         “Ye-“ Her reply is cut off when her lips are captured by his. Her hypersensitivity intensifies. ‘Oh God, I’m doing this wrong, this is going to be terrible, he’s going to hate it, he’s going to hate me, oh my God I’m such a waste of time and space and-“ She’s distracted as he pulls her even closer to his body. The mantra of ‘Oh-God-he-can-feel-everything’ starts up again, but she forces herself to ignore it – or to try to, at the very least.

         ‘I don’t know what I’m doing with my arms. They’re dangling. What do I do with my arms? I’m like a jellyfish. I am not supposed to be a human jellyfish, he’s going to think I’m weird, I think I’m weird, this isn’t right, I’m being a screw up, how do I stop this, how, how, how. Maybe if I put my arms up – but what if that’s too forward or what if I position them badly or what if I hit him or-‘ The right arm encircling her body nudges her own left arm outward. He wants her to move it somewhere.

         ‘Oh, screw it.’

          Her arms fly up around his neck and now they’re really kissing.

~*~

A/N: So, the last time I tried to post this it did a thing, so here it is again. It's different to how I usually write so I'd love any feedback and comments and such. Hope you liked it x