This is something I wrote for my Writer’s Craft Class and I just really like it.
There we were, in my purple and green childhood bedroom. The hard surface of my dumpster-chic twin bed sagging under our weight. The sound of an obscure movie playing on my laptop is a constant. A curious scent of pizza wafted up the vent from my stepbrother’s basement apartment. He, the boy that I magically tricked somehow into becoming my boyfriend, looks at me with his big, brown doe-like eyes. I see the strange dimple on his forehead twitch. The smile that accompanies it could be radioactive. My stomach ties itself into a knot and drops to my feet. Naturally, I start blabbering meaningless words to fill the silence. In a desperate attempt to keep myself occupied on other things than the gorgeous boy sitting on my bed, I start to tidy my dirty clothes pile into a more organized dirty clothes pile. Having something to busy my hands with helps to differ the tension elsewhere. I hear him chuckle behind me at this ridiculous cleaning ritual and hear him leave the bed with a creak. His hand crosses from the small of my back up to my shoulder and he turns me around. A pleasurable prickle shoots up my spine. Both his hands are on my shoulders, I can practically hear those mahogany eyes of his burning my face like the hiss of a summer campfire, a comfortable burn. One of his hands moves from my shoulder, past my collarbone, and rests on the back of my neck. The subtle weight of it tugs at my copper strands. His fingers move smoothly, just a hair’s width away from my skin but somehow the electricity from them is igniting my soul, a flame that has been put out for quite a while now. His other hand moves to my hip. His cool grip rests on my warm body, just underneath the soft corner of my Ed Hardy t-shirt. One final glance and it’s like I’m vinegar and he’s baking soda. The kiss explodes into it’s full glory, an intoxicating touch of his winter-chapped lips crash against mine which are bitten raw. I deepened the kiss, it was not new, this feeling awakened something older and more powerful than the pyramids themselves. I moved my hands to his face and felt the familiar scruff of his stubble underneath the palm of my hand. I would say my heart skipped a beat, but at this rate it was more like my heart had gone and run a mile. The rest of my body just hadn’t caught up yet.
Hey, so it’s over.. tell me if you guys (guy.. there is one of you, I keep forgetting) liked this something a little different from me and I think I’ll continue posting things I like from my Writer’s Craft course.
Be gentle, I am trying something new. Please don’t slaughter me where I stand.
Alicia, (your overlord).