Sharpay
When he pushed me against his door, I felt his lips piercing through my skin. He kissed the spot that made me go crazy, but only when he was the one to do it. His touch was electric. As I felt myself sliding upwards against his door, courtesy of his strong arms around my waist, I wrapped my legs around his body. But it was so wrong and it wasn't because of the combination of our family ties with our sexual relationship.
I couldn't help myself when he was anywhere near me. He was too much for me to handle and I could never stop myself from thinking of him, especially late at night. However much I tried to distract myself, I could never prevent my legs from carrying me across the hall to his bedroom at one o'clock in the morning.
Anyone who may read this would probably be thinking they were reading something about a forbidden romance. That I couldn't help myself from giving into my desires for him because we were madly in love with each other. But whoever would think that would be wrong. It wasn't love. He never told me I was beautiful. He never said he would love me forever. He never said he loved me at all. He used to, when we were younger, but as we grew older and our passions grew for one another, he stopped telling me he loved me. He never felt any romantic adoration for me on the inside, but merely a brotherly love. He found me attractive and he wanted my body to be his but he never wanted any emotional attachment besides a sibling friendship.
Up until the end of sophomore year, he was my brother, my best friend and my 'friend with benefits', if you could call it that. But by junior year, everything changed. We came back to school and he wasn't the same boy who would follow me around all day and do whatever I asked. Everything was different about him. His attitude was bold and defiant. He even dressed differently. Never again did I see a flamboyant shirt on his, now more muscular, chest or one of his, previously described as signature, hats perched on his head. He even started wearing jeans on a regular basis which was uncommon for him, the boy who wore matching dress pants and a shirt every day to school.
After his change in appearance, he suddenly acquired a lot more female attention. And he liked it. He would flirt shamelessly with several girls at a time. He would date one for a weekend and by Monday she would be history and he would blatantly throw himself at someone else. It happened repeatedly. Once again he would bring a girl home and take her up to his room. She would, nine times out of ten, spend the night and leave in the morning looking rather satisfied. Then around six hours later she would be sobbing on the other end of the phone to me because Ryan refused to dump her himself. He would tell me to say he was 'kind of a loner' or 'not looking for anything steady' or some other transparent excuse. Any girl with half a brain would be able to tell what a playboy he really was which was why he generally went for the most stupid girls in school, a fair amount of them being cheerleaders. Occasionally he went for a girl with some sense of intellect and he would see through a short relationship with her, but only because she wouldn't put out on the first date.
As much as it pained me to admit it out loud, my brother had turned into the bad boy that so many girls found attractive because of the excitement. But I felt the rush and danger before he turned into a 17 year old Hugh Hefner. I should have broken it off with him a long time ago but after the five years of passion we've had since our first sexual encounter on our sixteenth birthday, I'm still addicted. Five years ago, I never thought I would say this, but I was in love. I am in love. But it's wrong. He's wrong for me. I promised myself I would never get sucked into someone like him. I'd seen it happen and I swore I would never live it. I would never let myself fall for a bad boy. But gravity can be a bitch. I can't help but still love him, even after his drastic transformation. I know I shouldn't but bad boys can pull you in like a black hole. And he hasn't grown out of the 'phase' like Mom said he would. He's still bad to the bone.
And voila. I am done. Inspired by the song 'Bad to the Bone' by George Thorogood. So obviously that last sentence had to be written. Hopefully this whole thing made sense. Might be a bit messy and unorganized.
This is a two shot by the way and I do have the second part almost finished but it will only be revealed if I get some reviews. So if you liked it, tell me. If you didn't, tell me why and I'll try to make it better. If you have some constructive criticism to give, do tell because I'd rather be told if you don't like something than not be told anything. So reviews would be very much appreciated. If you want to find out what Ryan will say in his diary entry then you need to tell me.
Das ist all. Peace out!
lovin-lucas-grabeel
xxx