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Adept Writer
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: America.
Gender: Male
Posts: 848
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A Sign From Above
Ashley had to check herself. The summer sun hung in the sky. Gentle strokes of wind swept through the field. Grass leaned this way then that in a seductive tug and pull. She ran her hand through his hair, down to the biceps of his arms, and rose back to his soft, baby-smooth cheek. Conner smiled at her, and she smiled back. Then he kissed her nose.
“I love you,” he said.
Ashley had to check herself. Just weeks back she had been alone, single, insecure and tired, fed up with the day-by-day proceedings of high school, fed up with the way she and her friends had all slowly started to break off into separate cliques. Marian had gone gothic, fed up with seemingly everything, Yuki had decided that girls of her own ethnicity were much more interesting to talk to, and Amanda, now that her breasts had fully bloomed, had departed to the jocks table, where she sat next to Jason Trent, a boy who would get her pregnant two months later.
With the B.F.F bracelets passed out during their middle school years now expired, Ashley had sat back and watched as the friends she used to know grew into people she couldn’t recognize. On her own again, she’d waded.
“I love you, too,” she said, and leaned into him, pecking his lips. They continued like this for seconds until he pressed her mouth open with his tongue, to which she responded by cradling into him. This was them: her hand in his hair, his hand in hers, her right leg over his left, his hand slowly descending past her ear, her neck, down to her chest, running over the cloth of her shirt, groping for her breast. She pulled away. “No,” she muttered.
He sat up. “What’s wrong?” He looked around, but no one was in the field, not the wide plain behind the wall of trees he’d taken her to. “Are you ok?”
“I just…” she smiled. “I just don’t want to. Not yet.” Her eyes pleaded with his. He smiled and lay back down.
“Alright.”
Ashley had to check herself. She’d known Conner for two years, but had never talked to him until two or so months ago. She’d heard of him, his bad boy reputation, his rebellious adherence to the unconventional, his refusal to bow down to authority even when he knew he was in the wrong. They’d met—really met, as opposed to glances passed in the hall—during gym. He’d seemed drawn to her, aware of the gap in her persona she had no idea she’d been broadcasting. The diminishing of her old group must have had a bigger impact on her than she’d thought. Either way, Conner had known.
She remembered it well. The bleachers had been cold, and the gym shorts she’d purchased earlier in the year had been shorter than she originally assumed, exposing more of her thighs than she wished, making sitting down a constant battle of holding down the ends. A ball from the basketball court had come her way, and shouts had erupted. She’d looked up just as the orange assailant was inches from her face, and she closed her eyes and jerked away, braced for contact. Nothing hit.
She’d opened her eyes to see Conner, leaned over and balancing on one foot as both hands held the ball. He looked at her, smiled, then threw the ball back the courts way. Sorrys were shouted, she said it was fine, and the game resumed. Conner had sat down next to her then. The rest from there had only been typical of high school love.
She pressed her forehead against his, and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just…I don’t really want to, yet. I”—
“Hey, hey, it’s cool. You’re fine.” He patted her thigh. Then he stroked it, caressing her jeans. “I understand.” His hand continued this way, up and down her thigh.
Ashley thought about Amanda, what Amanda had said the year before they’d all fallen apart. “If anything’s ever bothering you, don’t let any guy know.” This had been at lunch, and Amanda, then their ring leader, had been nodding empathetically to her own words of wisdom, feeding her brain of ingenuity with a plastic spoon and tapioca pudding. “If a guy senses something’s wrong with you, he’s going to feed on that. He’s going to cradle you, sweet talk you, and then fuck you. Once he has that, you’re just another slut for him.”
Yuki, small-breasted and brace-faced, had seemed the most engaged with these words. Marian had been drawing a picture, head down. Ashley had been busy picking out the tomatoes from her sandwich. “Don’t let a guy know,” Amanda had said. “When you’re suffering something, just don’t let a guy know.”
Ashley stared into Conner’s eyes, thinking of how they met, how he’d soft talked her, how he’d weaved and swerved past the obstacles she’s set up, getting closer to her self, to her core. He’d hit the sweet spot, and yet, ever since then, he’d been more physical. She thought of this as his hand moved up and down, up and down.
“You don’t…you don’t just want me for sex, right?”
His eyes opened in shock. “No. No, of course not. I love you.” He kissed her on the lips. Pulled back. “I love you so much.” His hand went up and down.
“You’re sweet.”
He smiled. His teeth a clear white. “I love you for who you are,” he said. “I don’t want you just for sex. I lo”—
A clammy white eggshell fell from the sky. It plopped into his mouth, open and in the course of words. He recoiled, jerked up, and jittered as his finger shoveled the wet clump off his lip. He began to gag.
Ashley looked at it. It was grayish white with a black, raisin like center, a tint of yellow covering its entirety. She looked up. Yards above her, two pigeons flapped and cooed, flying off into the distance.
She looked back at Conner, gagging as he spit the rest of the pigeon shit from his mouth.
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