Shelby P.O.V.
"Get out here Shelby!" I heard Carly shout from within the studio, and I did as I was told. I hugged Carly and Sam, as was scripted and smiled for the camera. That Carly was a good kid.
"What, No hug for the technical Producer?" I smiled as soon as I heard him; I had never met a guy as sweet as Freddie.
"Aww, Come here Freddie!" I ran into his arms and embraced him. As he pulled me in close, he put his head up to mine, inhaling deeply and smelling my hair. That was all I ever wanted in a guy, until I realized we were on camera. I acted like I thought it was weird. He pulled away, and muttered an apology as I rejoined Carly and Sam center stage. Then, to consummate our friendship, we did grape-juice-spit-takes in slow motion! It was awesome; there was a huge fan blowing our hair back the whole time!!! I'm just surprised none of the grape juice got in our faces.
Then, all of a sudden; "RANDOM DANCING!" we shouted and laughed and danced around; it was the time of our lives! I went to go pull Freddie in to dance with me, but then realized he had to do filming. Soon, the web show was over, and Freddie said: "And, we're clear!"
The four of us looked at the floor. Grape juice was EVERYWHERE.
"I'm out," Sam said. They had told me that after each web show they went to a place called the groovy smoothie. I was excited to go there, but I wondered if we would get in trouble for the grape juice. "You guys coming?"
"What about that grape juice?" I asked, pointing to the floor. "If we don't clean it up, it'll stain."
"It's ok," Freddie piped up. "You two go ahead, I'll clean it up."
"Really?" Carly asked, looking at him. "Thanks, nub," Sam said nonchalantly, walking into the now-open elevator. "You coming, Shelby?"
I looked at her and tried to hide the contempt from my gaze. That Sam annoyed me so much. I tried to keep my cool, and replied, "Actually… I'll help Freddie clean up."
Freddie looked up at me, and I was tempted to smile at him, but instead I just looked at Carly and said, "It's cool! We'll just catch up to you guys there. Freddie knows the way, right?"
I looked down at him, my eyebrows arched expectantly.
"Yea, I do," he said, and before I knew it Carly and Sam were down the elevator and out of the picture. I bent down on my knees and picked up one of the pieces of toilet paper Freddie was using to clean up the juice.
I looked at him and for the first time in a long time, I felt kind of nervous. "Hey umm," I started, and he looked at me with this dejected look. His whole face was slouching and he looked completely dead in the eyes. It was disturbing to see someone like Freddie with that kind of facial expression.
"I just wanted to say… I'm sorry I acted kinda weird when you smelled my hair." I looked at him sheepishly. It had sounded stupid the way I had said it, and I half expected him not to accept my apology. "It was nice," I blurted out before I could even think. GOD, why did I say that?! I've never felt more stupid in my life.
He looked at me, and put the paper towels down. "What?!" he said, eyebrows arched and staring at me like I had three heads. I may as well have, I was already on a roll for looking foolish.
"I…" I had no idea what to say. I just kind of kneeled there, looking at him. I was so confused with myself; a boy had never made me feel this way before!
"You can go," he said, looking away from me.
"What do you mean?!" I asked, genuinely shocked, until I realized that I had made a complete fool of myself. But he had a different story to tell…
"I don't need sympathy. It's fine. You can go and catch up with them now if you want. I'll meet you there, but don't worry; I won't make you talk to me. You can just go."
By now all the juice was cleaned up. "I wasn't… That's not what I…" I feebly attempted, unsure what the right thing to say would have been. I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered loudly, not even looking at me anymore, heading towards the elevator. I could not bear to let him slip away. I ran after him before he could walk through the doors, yelling "Wait!" and I took a hold of his arm. But there was something strange about his arm…
Freddie P.O.V.
There she was, the sexiest MMA Fighter in the world, and she wanted to help ME clean up grape juice. Whoop-dee-doo, get ready for another exciting installment of "Gullible Freddie." She looked at me, and she had this innocent look on her face as she tried to speak. She mumbled something, and I looked her in the eyes, and for a split second, I saw a faint expression of surprise pop behind her eyes. But as soon as I noticed it, it was gone, and she was talking again.
"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I acted kinda weird when you smelled my hair." She looked at me with a grin I had seen a thousand times from countless women in my life, the infamous "I'm sorry that I don't like you and think you're a creep" look. I didn't need it today. "It was nice," she said, pushing the fake smile harder than I had ever seen anyone else push it in my life. I literally could not believe what she was trying to say, nor could I hide my shock as I raised my eyebrows and my voice at her, saying, "What?!" She looked around, nervously, innocently. I could not help but notice her innocence; it was one of the many things that attracted me to her. The way she could bring anyone down with a single kick, but then prance around in a short skirt with the most innocent little girl look in the whole world. God, maybe that was why women think I'm a creep.
She stuttered for a little, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't hurt my feelings; I could just tell. Watching her squirm there, lost for words, no doubt noticing that I was staring at something other than her face, and it was like watching an animal die; a beautiful, innocent animal, dying a slow and painful death. I couldn't watch it any longer, watching her suffer like this. I decide to put her out of her misery.
"You can go," I said nonchalantly. It was the truth. I didn't need anything from her. All I needed was to just clean up these paper towels left from the juice and get a move on with my pointless life.
"What do you mean?!" she asked with surprise in her voice. Damn her! Why was she making it more difficult than it had to be?! I was putting her out of her misery; isn't that what she wanted? Isn't that what everyone wants? For it to be finally over?
"I don't need sympathy. It's fine. You can go and catch up with them now if you want. I'll meet you there, but don't worry; I won't make you talk to me. You can just go." I had never felt less alive in my life. She stuttered, tried to say something perhaps, but I couldn't take all the pain anymore. "IT DOESN'T MATTER!!!" I shouted at her, as loud as I possibly could. At least it felt loud. All I wanted was to be away from her. To see her, with her innocent face, her tiny waist, and her other features, so round and full, and knowing how she felt toward me; it was going to kill me if I didn't kill myself first. Her voice was so high pitched as she yelled, "WAIT!" and chased after me into the elevator. And then she did the worst thing anyone in the world could do: She grabbed my arm.
Shelby P.O.V.
As I held his arm tightly in my hand, I remembered how my parents told me that I shouldn't grab people tightly because sometimes I hurt people without meaning to. But I could not let go of Freddie Benson's arm, because there was something underneath his shirt sleeve that felt strange. I felt his arm, wrought with curiosity, as I explored countless rough calluses on his arms, as if he had tree bark growing out of his skin. I had only moved my hand just slightly, however, when he ripped his hand away from me, and gave me a look I had never received before. His eyes were filled with so much hatred and violence; he looked like he was ready to kill me. Little did I know, he was ready to kill himself.
"Freddie, I…"
"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" He thundered at me, and ran towards the elevator. I was not letting him go like this. I grabbed the back of his shoulder and dragged him back towards me. But then I remembered what my parents had said about hurting people, so I loosened my grip significantly, but kept strong enough a hold on him to swivel him around once to face me. As I looked at his facial expression, he was, if this is even possible, even angrier than he was before, but I also noticed he had started crying. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head; it looked so wrong for him to be crying. As I looked into his eyes, all I could think about was wanting to comfort him. He tried again to break free of me, and this time I multi-tasked; I kept a firm enough grip to keep him facing me, but I tried not to hurt him. I pulled him in close to me and whispered in his ear. "Freddie," I said, but before I could continue, he broke down, sobbing onto my shoulder.
It was so emotional, just standing there, letting him pour out all of his emotions, without even having a single clue why he was acting the way he was. I allowed him to stay there for a few minutes, until he received a txt from Sam asking where we were. We looked at it together, and I looked back again into Freddie's eyes. "Don't go," I pleaded with him. I would do anything, I would lie to anybody, I would headlock and bulldoze anybody, I would lock any door and I would put myself through any pain to see this boy healed. I could not understand why I felt so strongly this way, but I knew for sure that I would help him if it was the last thing I did. He stopped crying for a second, and started to speak. "I…" he sighed. "We really should," he tried to tell me, but I didn't care. I took his cell phone and txted back that he was showing me tech stuff. He looked at me nervously, but before he could say anything I took him by the shoulders and led him to a beanbag chair. The beanbag chairs were spaced approximately 3 feet apart, so I took the other one and dragged it over so the two beanbags were touching, and I sat down next to Freddie and held his hand. He tried to pull away, but I didn't let him.
"Stop trying to run away," I instructed him, looking into his eyes. I loved him, and I was going to help him, that was for sure, but we were going to do it my way. "Trust Me."
Freddie P.O.V.
I had never expected that she would touch my arm. Why should I have? In any normal situation, there should never be a reason for someone to touch my arm. But when she did, it was the best pain I had ever felt; he hand was far too strong for my constitution, and her manicured nails dug into my skin, almost causing me to bleed. Her Hand felt searing hot against my skin, but maybe I was just imagining it, as she jerked my body toward her like a marionette. I enjoyed the sensation for a split second; the pain from her hurting me had caused me to die in agony, and the sick pleasure of it all caused me to go straight to heaven. But as her grip loosened, I could tell she had noticed the innumerous cuts, scabs, scars, and calluses littered across my arms. I took advantage of her loosened grip and jerked my arm away from her as fast as I could. I had never in my life hit a girl, nor had I have I ever planned on it, but I could never anticipated this situation as I conditioned myself to follow the rigid standards of etiquette and taboo that were practiced in this culture. It took everything in me to face Shelby, and I was so sick of being pushed around my whole life by the same, attractive women who toyed with my emotions and manipulated me into doing whatever they wanted. That's all I ever was, was Freddie the puppet show, and I was sick of it.
I had barely even noticed she was trying to talk to me when I yelled in her face: "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" and with all the strength I could muster, I ran away from her towards the elevator, the tears escaping from my eyes against my will as I focused only on my destination. However, A fresh set of tears were jerked uncontrollably out of me as I felt my shoulders both get snagged in Shelby's iron grip, and like all the other women in my life she controlled every muscle in my body as she wrenched me back towards her and spun me around to face her. I was so used to the feeling of having my decisions made for me that I almost didn't mind it any more. As I was forced to face Shelby, I looked into her eyes and for a split second, I could see in her the look that she had right before she finished off her victim in an MMA fight. But suddenly, her eyes softened, clearly surprised by the fresh, hot tears rolling down my face. I could not take that look that she gave me any longer; that innocent, sympathetic, "pity poor Freddie" that her eyes shot into my soul, but when I tried to get away from her, I was once again powerless over her trained muscles and abnormal sense of balance. We locked eyes again, and this time, her eyes penetrated me soul farther than anyone else had ever gone before, including me. She pulled me in close to her, and as our bodies were pressed together I felt an intimacy with her that was so foreign to me, it felt like white hot snakes were slithering across my skin, especially on the cuts on my arms. She tried to say something into my ear, but before either of us knew it, my head was down on her shoulder, and I was so emotionally lost that for a minute or two I lost all sense of where I was, or what I was doing, or what time it was, or if I was even alive anymore. I was interrupted, however, by a new txt from Sam, wondering where Shelby and I were. We read it together, and I summoned up every last nerve of consciousness that was left in my body to respond to the situation. I tried to mumble something but Shelby just took the phone and took care of it. She took care of everything for me, and that was all I ever wanted, and before I knew it we were sitting so close together in beanbag chairs and I wondered how I even got on the floor. I felt her hand touch near my cuts again, and instinctively, I pulled away.
However, Shelby pulled me into her gaze without touching any part of me but my hand, and, looking fiercely into my eyes, said the three most powerful words anyone could have said to me at that moment; "Stop Running Away." There was something stirring, almost sexual about the way she said it, and for once in my life I enjoyed being controlled. The way that she looked past my eyes and her hair fell around my face as she looked at me and said, softly, yet firmly, "Trust Me," enticed me to think about things I had strictly told my brain never to think about, for reasons of keeping myself pure and innocent. But I could not control how rampantly my thoughts ran as my imagination was unleashed over the canvass of her deep, dark brown eyes.
"I, I…" I tried to stutter out a yes ma'am or something like that, but all I could think about wanted to be controlled by her, wanting her to somehow telekinetically dictate my every move. I felt an intimacy, a trust with her that I had never felt with anyone ever before, and for a second I could swore she felt it too, for in the split second between her instructions and my shapeless words I felt that we had shared something psychological, almost telepathic.
"I will," I finally managed to say, feeling like a child because my voice sounded so high pitched. Our moment, our intimacy continued for another second, and I could not have been more disappointed in my life when it had to end. I felt the cell phone vibrate inside my pants, and I reached down to pull it out of my pocket, but Shelby had other plans. Her hand shot past mine and into my pocket, and my arm jerked involuntarily when she touched my arm for the third time that day. But that was nothing compared to the squirms I gave when I realized where exactly Shelby's hand was; within my pants, closer to a certain part of my body than any girl had ever been in my life.
I felt like a serpent, slithering and writhing and thrashing uncontrollably as Shelby's soft hand slid across my thigh through my pocket, and she almost lost her balance as I squirmed beneath her, and she muttered, "What is wrong with you Freddie?!" before she flopped onto her beanbag again, holding up the phone to read the new txt from none other than Sam. Again, they read the txt together:
"God Fredward, stop being such a nub and get your ass down here! Shelby doesn't want to hear you yap on about dumb shit like that"
Shelby P.O.V.
"God Fredward, stop being such a nub and get your ass down here! Shelby doesn't want to hear you yap on about dumb shit like that"
My impatience with Sam grew enormously as I tossed the cell phone to the side onto the floor; out of sight, out of mind.
"My phone?" Freddie tried to ask me sheepishly, but I put my finger up to his lips.
"Don't worry about it," I reassured him, his needy gaze sucking me in like a vortex. He was so soft, so sweet, so seemingly lost and clueless and willing that I had to tell myself firmly not to go down on him right then and there. What I was doing was no longer about me; it was about helping him. I made every effort humanly possible to restrict myself to sitting down next to him. I enjoyed the intimacy that we shared, and while he was not consumed with emotion, I got the impression that Freddie liked it too. I looked into his eyes, and he looked back into mine, and for a split second I was lost, but then I remembered my mission.
"Freddie," I said, reaching slowly for his hand, "I'm going to hold your hand. I want you to allow me to do that." I figured that was as simple, easy, non-complicated, and effective as it could be. In that moment, I saw more fear in Freddie's eyes than ever before, and I realized the picture that my brain had subconsciously arranged from multiple puzzle pieces during the events of the night; Freddie was a cutter. It was not easy for me to come to this realization, but I knew that I had to do it if I wanted him to be able to do the same. Freddie was brave, though, and even though he jerked at my first touch, he eased his hand back into mine and we focused on this moment of triumph for both of us. We met looks, and I smiled as warmly as I could and said "Good," Reassuringly. I was almost as afraid as he was for what was coming next, and we both waited in dreadful anticipation for the words that had to come out of one of our mouths. …This thought gave me an idea.
"Freddie," I said, trying to be calm, as I knew he was doing the same, "Do you know what I'm going to do next?"
He nodded slowly, and I could tell he was ready to start crying again, but he held back the tears and instead just said, almost like a little kid accepting a punishment; "Check for cuts."
I sighed, half with anticipation, half with relief. At least he knew what to expect.
I bit my lip, curled my hand around his wrist, and used my other hand to slide his sleeve up his arm to reveal what lay beneath. I sighed again, half in horror, half in disappointment. There was one massive, thick cut that ran all the way up his arm, surrounded by a stationary constellation of smaller slices and bruises revolving around it. I blinked once and looked back into his eyes, and all I could see staring back at me was a 4-year old boy asking his mommy, "Am I in trouble?"
Freddie P.O.V.
There it was, finally. The cat was out of the bag. She knew.
All I could do was look at her. I didn't know what to say. I had never thought about what would happen if I had to explain… my actions to somebody.
After a second or two she returned my gaze. She looked lost for words, but managed: "How long?"
I did not know how to respond. I thought about it, trying to remember. "About… a little over a year." It was my best estimate. She sighed and looked away disappointedly. What had I done wrong? I wanted to ask her. She looked at me again, and I could feel my sadness penetrating her. As much as I wanted to, however, I had no energy whatsoever to reach out to her.
"Who…else?" She asked, bringing her eyes back up to meet mine.
I sighed again. "You… are my first."
Her Eyes widened in shock. "A whole year?! And I'm the first to know?!"
"I, I'm sorry," I mumbled. I don't know why I said it, it just slipped out. She held my hand and leaned in closer. "Why?" she asked me softly. "I, I don't know." That was all I knew how to say these days. "You don't need to be sorry to me, Freddie." I looked into her eyes and nodded. I knew I needed to stop letting me convince myself that everything was my fault.
"Freddie, I need you to promise me something." I nodded, our eyes firmly locked. "I need you to promise me you won't do this to yourself anymore."
"I, I Can't-"
"I know that you can," She cut me off. Her gaze bored further into me and I felt like it was pushing me back down into the beanbag. And the unbelievable pressure caused more tears to leak out of my eyes. Before I knew it she was leaning over me again, practically lying on top of me, and her hair hung around us like a curtain, Shielding off everything in the world except our two faces, the portholes into our personalities and souls and spirits, which from now on would permanently be linked by this irreversible heart to heart. She wiped off my tears with her fingers, so gently it tickled my skin a little. The sensation caused me to squirm again, but not uncomfortably like last time; there was something playful about the way my body shifted under hers, and at this moment I felt more intimate with her than ever before, and the hand she used to wipe my tears shifted slightly to cup my cheek as she lowered her head closer to mine, our noses about to touch.
"I know that you can do it for me." She leaned in even closer, our noses brushing against each other, and our lips about to meet. "For us," she finished, and leaned in all the rest of the way, once again pushing the limits of how far I could be penetrated.
Shelby P.O.V.
Kissing Freddie Benson was better than winning the 2009 International MMA Women's World Championship. Was it strange that I was 16 years old and just having my first kiss now? Whether or not, it was everything I could have ever wanted in a kiss. I had never in my life been as intimate with anyone as I was being with Freddie now. Here we were, having only known each other a few short days, and yet we had changed each other's lives forever. I imagined music playing in the background as our lips flirted with each other, dancing an elaborate Rumba with each other, playing the sweet games of temptation and self control. I pulled away from him, hovered above his face for a second, inhaling his savory, musky aroma. I opened my eyes and he did the same.
We met each other's gazes, and I could tell we were feeling the same way; all I wanted was to be able to trust somebody, to be able to know that there was someone there for me whom I could always lean on. I had never been happier in my life than right now, as Freddie and I caressed each other softly. I returned one of my hands to cupping his cheek, and the other one involuntarily wrapped itself around the very bottom of his waist. His hands were reaching up towards me, embracing me, pulling us closer together. One of his hands, however, was moving back around my front. He grinned at me, nervously, and I felt his hand go somewhere I had not expected it to go. He was pulling me in from the back, with one hand, and cupping and pushing and exploring with the other, and I groaned a little as I lost my balance and fell smack on top of him.
"Freddie I can't…" the self control I had to exert was all-consuming, but I knew what I had to do. "We're…not ready."
Freddie nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"Its ok- Of course you didn't," I finished for him, understandingly; I had been just as tempted to continue with our playful, seemingly innocent little romp as he was, but I knew that preserving our purity was more. Freddie's cell rang again, and I picked it up. I read the screen: INCOMING CALL FROM CARLY SHAY!
"Hmm… Do we want to answer this?" I asked him with a mock-innocent look, showing him the screen. "Or… Do we want to do… this?" I threw the phone against the wall and the battery fell out.
"My Phone?" Freddie attempted to ask me, his face a perfect picture of surprise, his mind trying to take in what had happen, and his mouth trying to form cognitive words, but I put a finger to his lips.
"SHHshhshh!" I said, shaking my head at him and raising my eyebrows. "The time for talking is over."
"Under one condition," He said gently, pushing a strand of hair out of my view. "You can never tell anyone about… my arms." There he was again, sucking me in with his irresistible innocence. It was like staring into the eyes of a new born puppy dog, so young and innocent, and willing to trust.
"Do you promise me you'll never do it again?
He looked at me nervously, with fear in his eyes. "Yes."
"And you'll get help?"
His eyebrows were raised, and his mouth was open; not wide with shock, just hanging open a little, as if he was speaking. He breathed a little through his mouth; softly at first, then slightly more abruptly, preparing to speak. He sounded completely out of breath as he whispered to me: "I Promise."
I looked down at him, and all I wanted was to be one with him. My emotions started silently pouring over him. All of the emotions I was feeling were all encompassed under the umbrella of one huge, multi-faceted, enormous, invincible emotion; it was the beginning and the end, the secret to life, and the reason for it all and I could hold it in no longer.
"I," I started, but I paused when I noticed how raspy and whispery my voice was. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, looking my face up and down.
"I love you," I finished. Finally.