Hey Carly/Freddie shippers, just wanted to write a little somethin somethin for y'all that y'all can enjoy. Forget my username, I know what it says, this story is just for you.
Soul meets soul on lovers' lips. Percy Bysshe Shelley
And this is the part where you hold your breath because you're going into unknown territory.
Because, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you know what a school's restroom smells like.
When entering one, you catch a whiff of that smell. Smells good, doesn't it?
NO.
It smells like someone, just for fun, bottled up the scent of urine and feces and menstruation cycles in a glass container. And then, just for fun, accidentally dropped the bomb in the restroom. And sure, they might've picked up the glass and everything, but do you think they bothered to, at least, leave some air freshener lying around so that we wouldn't have to die from all of those toxic fumes? Nah.
Neat, huh?
I'm sure some of you don't even go to the restrooms at school because you'd like to avoid that smelly smell. Or maybe you just don't want to have to sit in the stall and listen to others pee, and all the while, you're waiting to drop your load.
Well, let me take you back to a time when you didn't care about who heard you taking care of your business.
Kindergarten - elementary school.
Goood times.
Or maybe you didn't like peeing in school then. Maybe you actually peed your pants in class because you couldn't hold it in any longer. Because you didn't want to go during recess or lunch or whatever.
That's what restrooms are for, kids. So you don't wind up being the laughing stock of the whole school.
How convenient.
And then there are those luxurious public restrooms in malls or whatever. Have you taken a look at them? They've got fucking couches! And carpets!
Ain't that something?
But for the most part, most restrooms stink.
Well, sorry to disappoint, but that's not what the girl's restroom in Ridgeway High School smells like.
It smells like sunbeams and lilies and grass and vanilla bean and caramel frappuccinos.
Kidding, kidding.
It smells nice. And that's about as descriptive as I'm going to get.
And so, this is where we find ourselves at the moment. In the restroom.
Ain't that something?
And this is about as happy as I'm going to get when talking about restrooms.
'Cause there ain't no love in them and there really is nothing exciting about toilets.
Back to joy, joy, joy, joy.
According to the plan, boy and girl were supposed to meet in the restroom at 11:10, just because it seemed like a convenient time.
And because that's when fourth period starts.
They didn't like their fourth period class.
Entering the restroom, you notice just how hygienic it is. The squeaky-clean, white, tile floor. A nice supply of paper in every stall. Strong smelling pink soap in their containers. Bright lights. Spotless white walls. The kind of faucets that you don't even need to touch.
Whatever.
Boy and girl were in the third stall because it was the prettiest one they could find.
Freddie had Carly pushed up against the door with her legs around his waist. Her arms were around his neck, holding on to him tightly. His right hand was currently underneath her shirt, splayed out against her pale back.
You could hear the sound of lips moving against lips if you listened closely. You could hear shallow breathing that can only be brought upon by some serious making out. They were friends who were together, but not really together. To be honest, though, there was no love. They were just carrying this moment out because of their selfish, teenage desires. They both knew that this was wrong, that they were just supposed to be friends. But sometimes, you just think about yourself. You figure, "Hey. I'm young. Sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. That's how I'm going die."
Yeah. Way to go out with a bang, kid.
With their lips against each others, and with their hearts racing against time, they both knew the consequences of their actions. Maybe one day, someone would figure out what they were doing.
Maybe one day, they'd both get tired of this.
Maybe one day, one of them would spill the can of frijoles with salt and cheese and tortillas and even more frijoles.
Maybe one day, one of them would want something more.
But, hey, no one was complaining just yet.
Freddie buried his face against her neck. His breath was warm and moist as he panted softly against her. Because he liked the contact. He liked the feeling of her body being pressed up so closely to his own. How her stomach would quiver when he ran his hands down her back. How her supple lips brushed against his jaw.
Her hands pulled gently at his hair, her eyes shut tightly. She felt so warm.
And then she felt something wet.
She squirmed.
"Freddie…? What are you doing?" she asked, tightening her hold on his hair.
He smiled and continued to press his tongue against her.
"Nothing."
Their voices reverberated against the walls, the echo dying down after a while. It sounded… creepy and erotic and a whole slew of other things all at the same time.
"I'll give you your 'nothing,'" she growled.
And the only reason as to why she was complaining was because she wanted more.
More, more, more, more.
But she wasn't about to pull a Britney and demand it.
Kidding.
So she just decided to be quiet.
Because, well, she is a teenager.
And this is a once in a lifetime chance! Letting this boy do things to her.
Sometimes, when you're alone with a boy, it doesn't matter how pretty he is, you want something to happen. You want him to put his hands all over you, you want to feel that feeling. That feeling that all of your friends talk about because they have boyfriends.
And you tell yourself, "Someday. Someday, a boy will look at me in that way."
Well, that doesn't apply in this situation.
'Cause, you know, they still think of each other as friends.
Friends.
Friends.
Ain't that something?
And here you thought that they were together!
Nah; we don't play like that.
His lips kissed her neck, making her skin feel all warm and tingly. Her breathing was shaky and insecure. Her stomach did that quiver, quiver thing. Her heart did that thump, thump thing. Her fingers did that pull, pull thing with his hair. She practically melted in his arms.
"Carly?" his warm, breezy voice reached her ears.
His voice had a sticky texture to it. It was nice and soothing and romantic and passion filled, etc. etc. etc. Anyone could fall in love with it.
"Yes?" she asked, her eyelids replaying the time they'd spend together so far.
And when she opened them, she was surprised to find his face right in front of her own.
His brown, wide, beautiful eyes were looking into her bright brown ones. They were round and curious and dark as he continued to look at her, a smile on his face. His soft arms were around her waist, holding her tightly against him.
He kissed her nose.
"We know what we're doing, right?"
He kissed her cheeks.
She stared off into the wall behind him, perturbed. But the answer wasn't spelled out for her in black gangster letters. There wasn't an angel on the wall that could possibly say, "Yes, Carly. You know what you're doing."
They did know what they were doing… right? …Right.
They did know the consequences… right? …Right.
(They did know that at some point they might fall in love with each other… right? …Right.)
Of course. There was no way that they could get hurt.
No way.
No love, no wrong.
She nodded slowly against his lips, her eyes muddled.
"Yes. Yes, we do."
In that moment, she couldn't help but notice his perfect perfectness. The way his dark hair managed to achieve that windblown look. The shape of his eyes: small, mysterious, almond shaped. The arch of his eyebrows: thin, but not too thin, flawless arches. The manner in which his nose was set: small and strong. The softness of his cheeks. His pretty, pink lips. His rounded chin. The contours of his jaw. The curve of his neck.
She could go on and on and about Freddie Benson.
He went back to snuggling into her neck, his breathing slow and soft. His long, dark eyelashes tickled her skin.
And then came the sound of a dull, boring bell ringing across the entire campus.
"Oh my god," she slapped a hand to her face as hard as she could, hoping to knock herself out. But nothing happened, except for the color of white flashing in front of her eyes.
The last thing she wanted to do was get caught.
In the girl's restroom.
With Freddie.
"What?" he asked, his echo just as confounded.
"Pull your pants down, Freddie." she instructed, thinking far, far, far ahead and ignoring the widening of his brown orbs.
"Wow," stupefied, "I never took you to be the type-"
"I said pull your pants down, Freddie!" and then remembering the most important part, "Oh! Put that paper thingy on the top!"
He shot her a nasty glare.
And so, a disgruntled Freddie roughly grabbed the paper covering. It had this delicate crinkling noise to it as he placed it on the toilet, hardly as gently as he could have done it. He began to unbuckle his belt carefully.
He tried to look down so that he would know what he was doing, but all he caught was an eyeful of b00bzzzz.
"Whoa, did you just touch me?" Carly asked, shocked out of her mind.
Well, not really.
Freddie shook his head, frowning.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled, none too apologetic, "It's kind of hard to do this when someone's throttling you."
He unzipped his pants, and let them fall to the floor. The belt buckle clinked against the floor, the small, light sound bouncing off of the walls.
"Wait!" Carly hissed, looking down at his legs, which was kind of hard to do since she had to look over her backside.
He sighed tiredly.
"What nowwwwww?"
"Pick them up, pick them up!"
"You just told me drop them."
"That was before I remembered you were a boy!"
So, as Freddie struggled to pick his jeans up, Carly kind of slipped.
And she kind of unhooked her legs from around his waist.
Oh, and her feet kind of touched the ground.
As the entrance door opened.
Hooray.
You know when you're surprised? You feel like throwing your arms up, or something? And whatever you're holding, it somehow comes to land 30 feet away from you?
Well, that's how Freddie felt. If Carly hadn't been clutching his neck like some scared cat, and if he hadn't been squatting down, trying to pull up his pants, he would have dropped her on the floor and left her there as he ran out.
But, you know, that never happened.
What did happen, though, was that he backed up a bit and almost slipped.
Hurrah.
Small, big, fat, dainty; feet of alllllllllll shapes and sizes walked across the floor, some making their way to unoccupied stalls, others going straight to the mirrors.
Doors slammed shut. Zippers zipped. Water ran. Laughing. Sighing. Talking.
Gossip, gossip, gossip.
"Pick me up, pick me up!" she frantically whispered, attempting to hoist herself back onto Freddie.
She hoped and prayed and wished that the Chucks to their right and the Nikes to their left hadn't seen a thing.
"Jesus Christ, woman!" Freddie growled quietly, adjusting her legs on each side of his body as she recklessly, frantically, hurriedly wound her legs around him again.
He peacefully sat down on the toilet, the paper making that sweet crinkling sound. He held his pants at his knees, hoping that Carly wouldn't ask him to do something else.
He sighed noiselessly.
"This would have been a lot easier if I had chosen to make out with some other girl."
"Yeah, well, at least I did it for free. Now, hush up before they get suspicious."
She tightened her hold on his neck, bringing her lips dangerously close to his ear. The surrounding girls wouldn't hear a word because of their irritatingly loud chitter chatter.
"Here's the plan," she whispered, "When all of them leave, we scram on out of here. Got it?"
She could practically hear his brown eyes rolling.
"What a wonderfully detailed plan."
Why was it that people were always criticizing how much detail she put into what she said?
"I thought so, too."
Meanwhile, he could comfortably look through the crack in the stall and see who was standing in front of the mirror, dolling themselves up.
But all he could see was Valerie Daniel's behind sticking out as she leaned in closer to fix her lip gloss.
"Bah. He wasn't in class today."
"Who wasn't?"
"I was supposed to talk to him. And… ask him out."
"Strange… he seemed fine in first period."
Someone smacked their lips.
"Who are we talking about?"
There was a slight exasperated noise coming from someone.
Flushing of the toilet, and a door opening.
"Freddie!"
"Oh. Him."
"Isn't it strange how he always hangs out with that girl?"
"Who? Carly Shay?"
Flushing of the toilet, and a door opening.
"Didn't we have this conversation yesterday?"
Rustling through makeup bags. Zipping of backpacks. Water running.
Eyeliner pencils being slapped against the counter.
Paper dispenser dispensing paper.
"Hey! Wait for me!"
The entrance door opening, letting in some more talk into the girl's room. And then muffled voices.
Door shutting closed.
Toilet paper ripping.
"I mean, isn't it weird?"
"That they're friends?"
"Tons of boys and girls I know are best friends."
"That's besides the point! He's gorgeous and she's-"
"Pretty. Really pretty."
Flushing of the toilet, and a door opening.
Paper dispenser dispensing paper.
"Mmhm. Have you seen her skin?"
"It's to die for! She's so pale. And it's-!"
"Boo. My pores are humongous. And my skin is dry. I need some of that lotion, Jessica."
"Oh, sure."
Rustling through Gucci bag. Falling items tinkling against tiles.
"Can you get that, Wendy? Shoot, hold on, Valerie."
"Thanks."
Silence.
They were the only girls left in the restroom.
It was extremely quiet, except for the sound of people breathing. And then the shifting of feet. The tapping of fingers against the counter.
Breathing.
"She's taking an awfully long time in there." Jessica murmured, extending her leg in the direction of Freddie and Carly's stall.
Breathing.
Not breathing.
Holding it in.
Tightening of muscles.
Racing hearts.
A light tapping at the door.
"You okay in there, girl?" Wendy's sweet voice asked worriedly.
"…Yeah, I'm fine."
Guess who it came out of?
Awkward silence.
"Did that sound like a boy to you?"
"… I don't know. Maybe it's just your imagination."
"No. I swear, that sounded a lot like-"
"Okay! I'm done fixing my makeup! Let's go, girls."
"Wait!"
"Now, Jessica."
The shuffling of feet in the direction of the door. The opening of it. Rushing air into the room.
The silence.
There was a slight buzzing in their ears. Not the kind where a fly gets so close to your ear, and it's buzzzzzzzzing and moseying its way into it that you have half a mind to karate chop it into pieces. But it was the kind of buzzing that didn't build up or wane as the seconds ticked right on by. No; it was consistent.
And then it stopped.
She let out a breath that she must have been holding in, her heartbeat still out of control. She could have sworn she heard her heart thumping so loudly in her ears, that it would have burst, and then blood would have oozed out of them, dripping onto the floor. Her palms were sweaty. Her muscles were aching. Her legs were shaking.
And who did she have to thank for this?
So she took in a deep breath and glared at him.
And I mean glared.
"If I could kill you right now, I would."
"For what?"
"For opening your big, fat mouth."
Carly disentangled herself from him and unlocked the stall door, making her way over to the sink. She placed her hands underneath the faucet, waiting for the water to come gushing out. And when it did, she gathered some of it in her hands and patted it onto her face.
She lazily looked up into the mirror, expecting her reflection to look like that of a madwoman.
And it kind of did.
Her hair was a complete mess, shooting off into different directions. It looked flat in the back since she had been pressed up against the door. Her cheeks were flushed red, her lips were swollen. Her shirt was wrinkled.
In other words, it looked like she'd just been manhandled.
Freddie was reflected in the mirror, too.
His wild, unruly hair didn't look any different. But his cheeks did have a rosy hue to them.
And he was still seated on the toilet, his pants around his ankles.
His head was tossed back, facing the ceiling, the muscles in his neck taut and firm. His pretty little eyes were closed.
She smiled softly, her anger slipping away. He was just too cute to be mad at. In all of the years that they'd been friends, she had never been mad at him for more than a day. Problems were resolved quickly and then they were forgotten the next day.
So it came to be not much of a surprise when she found herself wondering about why she had grown furious with him.
"It looks like you're sleeping." Carly said, amusement tied into her voice.
"Well, I'm not." a ghost of a smile graced his face. He knew he was forgiven.
Her eyes trailed down his body, from his head to his toes.
He was slender, but not too slender. He had muscles, but they weren't that big. And it wasn't like he was some big athlete, but he did keep in shape.
And there he was, in his boxers.
This wasn't the first time she'd seen him in them. But she still got that shocked feeling when she actually got to witness him in all of his glory. His pale, smooth thighs. His strong calves.
She could just talk about him forever. They were best friends, after all.
"Pull your pants up, Freddie. We need to get out of here."
He wearily opened his eyes and got up, squatting down to grab hold of his pants. He then pulled them up slowly, as if there were rocks weighing them down.
His zipper zipped.
His belt clicked.
And he flushed the toilet, making sure that the protective sheet went down. His shoes squeaked against the floor as he moved to stand in front of her. And then he kissed her cheek, a silent apology. And then her cheeks turned red.
Again.
Wordlessly, unhurriedly, they sauntered on over to the door.
And then they just stood there. Like they didn't know how to open a door. Like they didn't know what a door was.
Like they didn't know what to expect on the other side.
And the silence was broken by none other than… Freddie.
"So we're just going to get out of here willy-nilly?"
She nodded her head once, just staring at the door handle. Another plan was already working its way into her mind. She turned her head to look at him.
His hands were jammed in his pockets, his eyes on the floor. He was teetering and tottering on the balls of his feet.
She punched him in the shoulder to get his attention.
"I'll stick my head out the door and see if anyone's looking our way. And then we'll go out willy-nilly."
"This is another amazing plan."
"That's the only kind I come up with."
Carly stealthily opened the door, slipping her head through the crack.
The hallway was empty. Which was an uncommon thing, seeing as how lunch wasn't over. Maybe all of the kids had gotten attracted to the cafeteria because of an ongoing fight.
Figures.
She withdrew her head.
"Well?"
"All clear." she reported, opening the door all of the way and stepping out into the hall.
He cautiously followed behind her, hiding behind the door, his head the only visible part of his body. He looked to the left. He looked to the right. He looked all around.
All was well in the halls of Ridgeway High.
He sighed and slipped through the crack he had made, the door closing behind him with a small thud.
"Phew."
They began to walk in the direction of the cafeteria, a comfortable silence between them. Their feet scuffed against the floor.
They both looked like they had gotten frisky. With their shirts messed up. With their hair messed up. With a slight reddish tinge to their cheeks.
My, oh, my.
"Let's-"
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, BENSON!" A loud, harsh voice spoke from behind them.
Both boy and girl froze mid-step, their poor hearts beating wildly once again. All of the color drained from their pretty faces. Their eyes widened, one size away from exploding.
My, oh, fucking my.
Just thought this was a fun little diddy to write.