That's right I'm back and this time I'm going to work my magic for Luci again. She asked for; "New!Dante with a fucked up attitude and issues and I want adorable Nero with a sexy side."
Note: She said slutty but I don't think Nero can be slutty I'll try Luc but he will probably just come out a bit slutty not like how you want.
Sometimes I would walk down the street that housed pulsing lights and booming music just so that I could feel a tad bit more alive. I would breathe in the smoke, cigarette and marijuana alike, just to pretend I was the one taking the drags. I would comb my hair and get dressed up just so I could pretend that I was actually going to step into one of the mysterious clubs that called my name. Hell, I even brought money and an unused fake ID with me; deluding myself into thinking I could ever actually use it. How pathetic have I become?
All the scandalously men would stare at me as I tried to sway my hips confidently, sometimes they would laugh, sometimes they would cat call me yelling 'honey' and 'baby.' I liked the attention though, even when I knew they could see through my charade.
I was nothing but a sad eight teen year old religious goody two shoes virgin. Nothing but a closet reject with a strict father.
My appearance didn't help my case either. I had soft blonde almost white hair that had just a slight wave to it, going perfectly with my baby face and big blue eyes. Jesus, I can't even count how many times I've been called adorable in my lifetime. Girls would coo at me and parents would gush, it made my insides turn with disgust.
I wish for once some one would look at me as if I were a threat, as if they were scared to cross me.
Of course, it's hard to look threatening when you're five foot six inches tall. All anybody wants to do is hug you and care for you, whisper how cute you are and cuddle you. Well I'm tired of being taken care of; I want somebody who will tell me the fucking truth for once!
I want…I want to be abused and used and thrown around. Call me a fucking whore and bang me against the wall. Scream at me and call me names, I'll yell back and we'll get crazy together. We'll break dishes and beat each other up, screaming bloody murder about how much we wish the other was dead. We'll tear up pictures and grow hysterical, choking on tears and trying hard to keep our lungs going.
For those moments, I'll hate you, and you'll hate me, and that….that's where we'll find our common ground. For five fucking seconds the world will stop and everything will make sense. I'll look at you and you'll look at me and all of a sudden we'll break into a million pieces. Tears will be flowing equally and at that moment we'll need everything from one another.
Then everything will turn fully and mere seconds later you'll be screwing me into the carpet. I'll be moaning your name and you'll be doing the same with mine and everything will just…fall into place.
Because that's what nonstop romances were, dramatic and painful but also utter bliss, something I may never achieve if my father keeps setting me up with good wholesome Christian girls that didn't catch my interest at the least.
They all came, hair done nicely, makeup done precisely, and smiles that showed how dense they were. They would all light up at first glance, obviously trying to resist the urge to run up and hug me like insane idiots.
And that what most of them were, complete and utter idiots. They prattled on about college and clothes, occasionally relaying stupid 'comical' story about something they had done with their friends in high school. Most of the time I would forgot to laugh when laughter was called for, only to be suddenly pulled back to earth by the soft giggle from the other side of the table and then a few seconds later accompanied by a scowl.
Honestly, I didn't care. Not because I was completely cold hearted, I wasn't, I just think they could do better then a closeted homo that dreams about wild gay sex every night. Seriously, even if there isn't really anything taking up space underneath all that dye and horrid hair extensions, I still think it would be cruel to lead any one of them on.
So I've taken a liking to basically day dreaming through each date. Mostly I would just drift off and imagine I was sitting across from somebody else, somebody that I had been practically stalking for the last couple months.
His name was Dante, an upper class man at Radiant Garden University. He towered over me, as did everyone, with his lanky built figure and perfect toned muscle that showed nicely through most of his tight black shirts. His hair was jet black and cropped to the perfect length, with the exception of one hair that always seemed to hang out over his forehead. Oh how I wanted to push that hair out of the way, just so that I could feel how silky it was. Though, he'd probably A. Shove me, B. call me a fag, and C. Proceed to make a joke to his friends about how dangerous his sexiness was.
Because that's just the kind of person Dante was, mean snarky and all about being conceited and giving attitude. He was everything I wanted and everything I wanted to be. But most of all, he was all I could never have. He was nothing more then my roommate's brother and that's all he'll ever be. Of course, he would live on as the boy who conquered all my wet dreams but that was another story entirely.
Feeling slightly dejected all of a sudden, I made a retreat as far away from the pulsing night clubs as possible. Everything was making me just….nauseous, I no longer dared to be rebellious, instead I forced my way into my small blue car and warily sped off to safer territory.
Oh if anyone is wondering Lucinda is my Beta and a great person. She's the one that pushes me to update and write for you all.
