NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
ALL PERSONS REPRESENTED IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION ARE OF 18 YEARS OF AGE.
Lacey had lived down the street from me my whole life. We had never really talked much, beyond the dialogues we shared at the bus stop, but the fact that we were from the same poor neighborhood must have endeared me to her in some way. I never noticed her interest in me until that day. I was too busy focusing on Char.
Charlotte and I had been dating for a few months and things were going well. Of course, I wasn't getting laid, but I was content to wait until she felt ready. I guess I felt lucky to have a girl like her. She was remarkable in every sense of the word, with stunning red hair, Intensely beautiful eyes, and a well shaped, athletic body. I have no idea what she saw in me.
Don't get me wrong. Lacey was, in her own way, attractive. She had short dark hair that covered most of her face and lent itself to her shy demeanor. Her most appealing feature was her eyes. When not hidden behind her hair, they were large, doe-like and a little sad. With her thin but cute body she and Char were a study in contrasts.
The day began as usual, with Lacey and I making small talk and waiting for the bus. She had been talking at some length about her dog, Joey, who had been rescued from a shelter a day before he was to be "put to sleep." Lucky dog, I thought. The conversation continued in earnest until I said something I thought was quite innocent.
"You know, you really should let people see your face." I said, " You're very pretty."
I thought I was being nice by complementing her, and had I known how she felt about me I wouldn't have said it. It is possible I was a little naive back then.
Her reply was not much of a reply at all. Her cheeks flushed a bit and she lowered her head, allowing her hair to resume it's typical function of shielding her face.
"I...uh, Mark...", she began. The air brakes on the bus cut her short, followed buy the screech of the yellow door opening.
I sat waiting for her to finish, but she rushed up the stairs and into the back of the bus. I followed Lacey and sat down in the seat next to her. She was very quiet and I mistook her silence for anger, thinking that I must of somehow offended her.
"Lacey, I didn't mean to upset you." I said, oblivious to the reality of the situation. And again, in an attempt to be nice, put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her. This was my second mistake, no doubt.
It was then that she kissed me. It was very sudden and a little clumsy , so I was late to react. I pushed her away as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt her. My rejection stung her visibly and her beautiful eyes began to tear up.
"I'm dating Char, Lacey." I said wanting to cushion the blow with logic. Naivety again...
"It's Okay," She said reining in her emotion. "I'm...god, I'm so stupid."
"It's Okay" I confirmed, trying to sound nonchalant.
And I believed it was. No one had seen the kiss ...or so I thought. For the rest of the ride we sat back not saying anything at all. When the bus stopped Lacey hurried off to class...
I wasn't aware that Jenna Albright, a friend of Char, had caught sight of Lacey's advance. By the time I got to homeroom the news had preceded me and, as you can imagine, Char was upset. I saw her being comforted by both Jenna and Ashley, another member of her clique, and went to find out what was wrong. Ashley stopped me short of Char.
"She doesn't want to talk to you , Mark." Ashley spat. "She heard about you and that white trash slut."
"This is a misunderstanding. I...",I began.
"I saw you!", interjected Jenna. " You followed Lacey to the back of the bus to make out!"
"No, what you saw was her kiss me." I reasoned. "I pushed her away."
"Sure, you did.", she scoffed "Didn't want to get caught, I bet!"
"Would you please stop perpetuating this melodrama?!" I said with more bass in my voice.
That's when Char stood up, walked over, and slapped me. The sound , clearly audible to my now stunned classmates, drew the attention of the whole class. With the stage set and the audience at attention Char delivered her closing line.
"We," she said through her tears, "are through!" And with that she exited stage right; right out of the classroom. Jenna followed swiftly, leaving Ashley to continue to tell me off. But it might well have been white noise for the attention I could give it. The first truly wonderful girl in my young adult life had just walked away from me; both literally and figuratively. And I was left there in awkward silence to ponder the implications of the situation at hand. Pain flooded me and then...anger.
This was not the moment I planed the whole thing. I didn't stop and say to my self "You have to pay her back. You have to return the favor." No, I was angry and hurt and damn well confused about the whole mess. This was, however, when I began to blame Lacey. My anger was misguided, I admit, but I was acting on emotion and, thus, not thinking rationally.
Someone in the class, in the background far removed from my thoughts or concerns, muttered some attempt to be clever, and the room lit up with laughter. Filled with cold burning rage I kicked the empty desk next to me, sending it into another empty desk, and stormed out of the room shifting by my homeroom teacher as he entered the class.
"Going somewhere, Mr. Green?" He queried.
"Yea." was all I gave him. Mr. Nesbit made no attempt to stop me as I walked down the hall.
After I had turned the corner to head through the schools lobby I took a look at my foot. It wasn't broken. It may have looked intimidating for me to kick that desk, but it took all my willpower to hide the pain from my face. I had acted abruptly and foolishly, but had committed to the role of the angry boyfriend.
Now away from the critique of my "peers" I took stock of the situation. Charlotte had just broken up with me in front of the classroom based on the interpretation, or misinterpretation, of a melodramatic girl and now believed I was cheating on her with a girl, whom I've never spoken to at any length greater than that which was spent waiting for a bus. Confused? Damn right, I was confused...and infuriated.
I just kept thinking Lacey was the one to blame, and that I needed to confront her about it. But not at school. I didn't need Act II of "Mark Shouting Girls" to occur on school property where it could be the highlight of some other kids day. No I felt it was best to wait until I saw her after school.
I crawled through the rest of the day, deep in thought, and not sure what I was going to say when I confronted Lacey. When the bell rang I got up and calmly walked to the bus. I sat closer to the front of the bus, occasionally glancing at the rear-view mirror to see Lacey in the back. She seemed as shy as ever with her head down and her dark brown hair at home covering her face.
When the bus reached our stop I was still pondering what to say to the girl who had ruined my relationship. I exited and began the walk toward my house. Lacey walked behind me as the bus pulled off down the street. When it had, I turned around to Lacey. I couldn't find the words.
"I'll walk you home." I finally said, figuring the walk would give me time to clear my head for the confrontation.
"O-Okay..."She replied timidly. Perhaps she had heard anger in the inflection of my voice, and thought I was issuing a command. I may have been, in retrospect.
We walked quietly and eventually Lacey strode ahead me. Despite my bitterness toward her I found myself watching her petite figure and it's movements as she walked.
After about 50 yards we came upon her place, which was a small, probably two bedroom, rent house that she shared with her grandmother. Her grandmother's Buick was not in the drive way.
She said nothing, but went inside, holding the door for me and I followed. We stopped in her living room and she turned to me.
"You're mad about the kiss, Mark?" She guessed. "I heard about Char. I'm sorry."
"Sorry," I said, "Doesn't get me back together with my girlfriend! Does It?"
"Mark!" she sobbed. "I...I didn't mean too!"
"Didn't mean to?! You didn't mean to kiss me and ruin my relationship, no?"
"No, I..." She began. But I grabbed her and threw her onto the couch."
At this point I had lost it. I was...enraged. I hadn't planed to do anything but yell at her, but I had just physically assaulted her.
"Mark...why are you staring at me like that?" She asked looking up at me with panic and fear in her big brown eyes.
I was staring at her, I realized. I was lost in my anger...and something else.
You see, when I had spent the day fuming from the thought of losing Charm it had been half because I thought I had loved her, and half because I knew now that I would never know her body. I would never know what it felt like move inside her. I would never get to fuck her. I had been mad more sad about the situation because I was mentally and sexually frustrated.
As Lacey lay there frightened I realized that the shorts she had been wearing had rode up tight against her pubic mound, detailing the curves and lines of her pussy.
Perhaps, I had known what I wanted all along when I walked her home and followed her into her living room. I began a debate in my head about the idea that began as "I can't" and ended as "Fuck, why not",
I had to release the anger, and the sexual tension that now caused my dick to harden and grow.
I held my hand out for Lacey to take, and she did so cautiously.
"Where's you're bedroom?" I asked her, keeping a calm tone.
"Why?" she asked.
"I...want to talk to you." I lied. "Can't do it in here, what if your grandmother comes home and sees me standing here. A boy alone with you in your house. Might look bad."
"Gram..." she began and then stopped. Perhaps wondering if it was smart to finish the sentence. She did anyway. "Gram won't be home till 7 O'clock. She had to take a second job"
"Please, Lacey...I'll be calm now, but I'd feel more comfortable in your room...just in case.
She thought this over for a second and despite her better judgment decided agreed. We walked down the hall to a door with big, yellow wood cut letters on it that read: LACEY.
We stepped in and she shut the door and locked it. Maybe she knew what I wanted, I thought. Or maybe that was part of me trying to justify what I was planning. Her room was, for lack of a better word, cute. It had been made, most likely by her "Gram," to look like the room of a well loved girl, with it's pink walls, and dainty aesthetics. At 18, Lacey was too old for this kind of room. Her bed was even covered with stuffed animals.
I walked over to her and looked her up and down. She wore a sky blue t-shirt which held tight against her small breasts. A larger shirt would have hidden them completely. Her cotton athletic shorts were above the knee, but not so high as to be against the school dress code. She wore simple flip-flops and her toes were not painted like Char's. Lacey again noticed me staring, and moved about the room, uncomfortable in my gaze.
"So, what did you want to say?" She asked nervously.
"Remember this morning when I told you that you had a pretty face?"
"What about it?"
"You kissed me, Lacey"
"I said...I said I was sorry, Mark."
"Kiss me again..." I said
"I...don't want to." She replied.
