Now my lips were chapped and dry. He was my first. Logan/Nicole
"The Perfect Drug"
It was at a party. As usual. Teenage girl, teenage guy. Lips. Smackers chapstick. Frilly skirts with flip flops and washed out jeans with sneakers.
"So," he began, siddling up next to me. "I heard you were single."
"So... I heard you were an asshole," I retorted, cocking my head to one side. He probably thought I was a bimbo who'd lead him into one of the upstairs bedrooms and let him have his way with me. Well, he was wrong. So wrong. Totally wrong. I mean, hello! My hair is brown, not blond.
"Why, who told you that, Nicole? Am I right?" I figured he was talking about my name, so I nodded, studying him more closely. He was pretty hot. Not good enough to even get onto my C.L.C. (Cute Lip Chart) yet, but if he worked hard enough he could be placed in the one hundredth spot by default.
"My new friend and roommate Zoey said she heard you were a player. Which means I should stay away from you," I realized, backing up towards a crowded couch and plopping down next to a guy who looked like he had a raccoon sitting on his head. "Hey," I slurred, pretending to be drunk.
"Hi," he said, waving at me like we were in third grade. I think his name was Chance or Chester or something equally stupid and dorky. Or maybe it was the name of a bank.... He totally seemed like Zoey's type, though. "I really gotta pee," he mumbled out of nowhere, ducking his head before standing to his full height. I watched him elbow his way through the crowd. He looked so awkward and gangly it was hard to watch.
When I turned my head, he was already sitting next to me on the couch. "You're not gonna leave me alone, are you?"
"No." He smirked, showing literally of his teeth. All of them that I could see anyway. "I like you, Nicole. I think we should make - I mean - hang out."
"Nice." I fake smiled at him, tossing some hair over my shoulder. He was way too confident, just like Zoey had said. Where was Zoey anyway? And what about Dana? Were they too busy trying to hook up with guys like I was pretending to be? "Um, so... do you wanna dance?"
"It'd be my pleasure," he said, rising to his feet and taking one of my hands gingerly in one of his. He kissed the top of each of my knuckles and smiled at me. He could seduce me with that smile. He had perfect white teeth and everything. If he was that much nicer, maybe I would kiss him. Or hell, maybe even make out with him. Maybe... just maybe, when I turned eighteen I would even have sex with him. Oh my gosh, I thought about sex... with this hot guy I barely know that Zoey told me to avoid. What am I doing?
We walked over to the makeshift dance floor and started grinding. It was really hot at first, but then his hands decided they wanted to take a vacation... up my skirt. We were barely thirteen, what was this guy doing? "Get off of me!" I shouted, pushing him away. I grabbed a discarded cup of punch from a nearby tabletop and splashed it into his face. "Stay away from me, pig!"
"My brother taught me all the tricks," he told me, wiping some of the sticky, sweet juice from his eyes.
I ran off in the other direction, feeling embarrassed for some reason. Surely somebody had seen. And now everyone was going to think I was a total slut. Which I totally wasn't... at least not yet. I'm only a minor slut in training who has barely even opened the book on slutography. He needed to back off and try to pull stunts on older chicks who would think it was cute and laugh. Because I just wasn't ready for those things, especially not with strangers.
In the bathroom, I reapplied my mango chapstick and pulled my skirt down as far it could go without exposing my wannabe thong. Hopefully I wouldn't have to see him again and I could just forget about the whole thing.
I opened the door and he was standing there. "Do you need a tampon or a pad or something? There are probably some in the cabinet." He reached down and tried to open the cabinet under the sink but I kneed his arm out of the way.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you trying so hard?" I yelled, walking back towards the living area. "You don't even know me!"
"But I will soon," he whispered, running his index finger up and down my right arm. I did shiver, but not because I was getting turned on or anything. He had some pretty sharp nails. Maybe he even filed them. Speaking of non-masculine things some males do anyway, his eyebrows did seem to have a little arch to them. Gosh, he probably shaved his legs, too. Could he be a metrosexual....?
"No, you won't," I grumbled, walking in the direction of the kitchen. I knew he was going to follow me.
"Yes, I will. If you just let me." He opened the fridge and pulled out a six pack of beer. "Did anyone ever tell you alcohol is the first step to a male and a female getting to know each other?" he asked me, raising his eyebrows.
"No." I shook my head. "I mean, my dad owns a juice company, but what you said about the booze makes no sense at all."
"So, you aren't that dumb after all." Dumb? Who had told him I was dumb? Sighing, he cracked open one of the beers and pressed it to my lips. It was ice cold and had ruined my fresh coat!
"Gosh, you are so annoying!" I yelled, scratching with him my jagged nails. I'd been biting them ever since I'd first heard about this party. What a mixer this was.
"Fine." He brought the can to his own lips and began chugging it. "If you don't want to try it, then I will."
"Oh please, like you haven't already." I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest matter-of-factly.
"You're right, sweetheart. How did you guess?"
"Because you mentioned something about an older brother... look, can I go now? And have you not follow me like a pathetic puppy dog?"
"Ah, you might wanna stop tossing out insults, honey. This is my house, ya know."
"What?!" I practically screamed. "This isn't a house, it's three times the size of mine! And you live here?"
"Ever heard of Malcolm Reese? He's my pops."
"Wow," I breathed out. I think Malcolm Reese was a movie guy or something. And now I knew one of his sons, who apparently wanted to hook up with me. Score!
"Come on, sugar tits. Take one sip." Thrusting the can into my hands, he slid an arm around my waist.
"What did you just call me?" I asked.
"Just drink it!" he yelled, and so I did. It was bitter, but it didn't really burn my throat. It tasted like what I imagined drinking pee would taste like.
I started giggling ten minutes later. We were sitting on the couch, and now I was actually letting him grope me. Under my skirt, my boobs, pretty much anywhere. I'm not sure if I was drunk or not, but I probably was. "You know, Nicole. I had a great time tonight."
"What time is it?" I sighed. It was probably later than I had thought. There was no more music blaring, much less people wandering around....
"Almost midnight." He stopped snapping my bra strap against my back and really looked at me. Cupping my face with both of his hands, he smiled. "It was great talking to you, getting to know you and all. You're the perfect drug, baby."
"Right." Our faces were really close together. He could probably smell my breath. Hopefully it didn't reek that badly. He kissed me, and it felt so weird. His lips were chapped, and he sucked off all that was left of my mango chapstick. In a way, it was still great, though. I'd lost my kissing virginity to....? What was his name again? At least I hadn't hopped into bed with him.
"Can I have your number?" I pulled an orange Sharpie out of my purse and scribbled '1-800-Ur-a-Jrk' into his palm and shoved it into his face.
"Oh by the way... can I have your name?" I asked, standing up.
"It's Logan. Logan Reese." He smirked for like, the fiftieth time that night. Gosh, he was an idiot. "You know you'll be coming back for more." He turned away and began studying his palm, probably trying to make out the numbers that weren't really even there.
"Have a nice night, Logan." Now my lips were chapped and dry. He was my first. Squee! I had finally a kissed a guy and it wasn't so bad. I think we were both tipsy... I think. I'll never forget it, though.
Maybe Zoey was wrong. Logan wasn't such an asshole. I'd only move him up a level to P.H.I.G. (Pretty Hot Idiot Guy). I just made that one up in my head. Only Logan is classified under P.H.I.G. I might have to unclassify him. There's no way I'd ever want him to appear special, not even in my diaries. Besides, he called me the perfect drug, and how off the wall is that?
Just something quick and short that I've always wanted to write. Please review and tell me your thoughts.