Disclaimer: I wish I owned. I don't.
So, here's a new little story idea I came up with tonight. It's short, but it's a beginning, and I hope you like it. Reviews make my life a prettier place to be. I would really appreciate them :)
Chapter One: Deconstruct
Dear Zex,
I know it's stupid and desperate and covered in cheddar. You don't have to tell me that. But here's how I remember it, beginning to end. This is how it started, how it came to a crescendo, and how it faded to black. This is the story of us, Zexion, and don't skip to the end, like I know you always do; you have to read this, all the way through, because even though you've heard it before, you've never heard it quite like this.
So. Anyways. The beginning.
We had just met. This was the something before anything, the boring part you have to go through to get to the good part, the exciting part, with magic-stained kisses and star-ripened love that makes your skin tingle and heart palpitate.
But like I said, we had just met.
When I woke up that morning, I wasn't expecting anything out of the usual to happen. Shower, school, music store, practice, bed. Maybe some food in there. I stumbled out of bed, still partially stoned from the party at Axel's the night before, and somehow I managed to get to the shower. Standing in the tub, with the scorching water pounding against my shoulders, the steam cleared some of the residual marijuana-and-beer stink from my skin and pushed the muggy memories of the previous night of my mind.
I stepped out of the shower and into my bedroom, ready to pick out yet another grungy band T-shirt and another pair of raggedy jeans to toss on over some Chucks when I heard a muffled buzz. Rummaging through the colossal mountain of clothes on my floor, I somehow managed to located a sorely abused, half charged cell phone eagerly buzzing to inform me of One New Message. Nothing uncommon. It was probably just Axel, texting me to let me know he was going to be late to get me for school (he's such a lazy asshole).
Except it wasn't.
Instead, there was a single text, with a single word on it. Hey. That was it: nothing spectacular or exciting in the least. Except there was a name on there I didn't recognize, which was odd. I never got numbers of people I didn't know. But the caller ID picture was of a very drunk me with an arm slung around a very hot, slate-haired guy with one eye hidden and an impish smile.
I wondered if I'd fucked him the night before. If so, I wondered if I enjoyed it enough to do it again. If not, I really wanted to.
I'm sorry my initial thoughts weren't romantic. I'm sorry I didn't look at the picture and automatically remember the odd name printed across my phone screen and turn to mush at the idea of having met my one true love. I'm sorry the most clever and witty thing I could think to do was text back a lame Hey there, Zexy ;).
This wasn't the good part. Like I said, we had just met.