You are quite lovely today. Thanks for getting this far with me, and keep in mind that this chapter is in Tweek's POV.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Step three was not specifically mentioned in the last chapter. It happened behind the scenes because I'm trying to switch up how these steps play out. :P If it's too confusing, I can go in and change it.
"Thomas, I'm being dead serious. Stop laughing," I ordered through the phone. My best friend didn't listen and continued to laugh at my situation regarding Craig. The guy was loony- dead fucking weird. Thomas thought it was adorable, though. I could tell by the way his laughter chimed with a pleasant note.
"Okay." He tuned his giggling down a fair notch. "I'll pretend to be serious this time. Tell me again what happened."
Frowning, I answered. "He sang to me. Like, legitimate singing." Recalling the instance, I retold the moment as I saw it plague my memory reel. "He got all awkwardly close, put his chin on my shoulder, and sang right into my ear." Except I didn't explain the gravel-like tone of his octave voice or how the shell of my ear had warmed under the influence of his breath, even though I recalled it perfectly. "Weird songs, too. Like shit from School of Rock. You know the movie with Jack Black?"
On the other line, the golden blonde stifled a snicker. He hummed an affirmative. "His favorite is Legend of the Rent," I continued. "I know it by heart he sang it so much, dude. He even sounded out the instrument solos, exactly like Jack Black. He's a nerd." And here came the part that got Thomas the first time around. "He made me sing back up. Seriously, he threatened me when I didn't want to."
All I heard was laughing. This time it was loud and obnoxious, a sound full of rippling waves that practically busted my ear drum. I had to hold the phone away, scowling at it in the hopes that Thomas could see it. By the ruckus coming through the speaker, he didn't.
"Oh man," he wheezed. I imagined him clutching his chest as a form of release from his gasping hilarity. "Okay, okay. Whew, alright. We're good. We're good, Tweek." I didn't appreciate his reassurance as I didn't find it as funny. And the horrible problem was that it wasn't because Craig singing to me wasn't humorous- Jesus, I wanted him do it all the time just so I could laugh at him; it was because I didn't want to share the quality time I spent with Craig with my best friend. I knew that my thoughts were unfair, but I didn't want to encourage Thomas's plot to get the niorette.
There was no excusable reason as to why I was being selfish. Honestly, I was a hypocrite for being so opposed to Craig when it came to Thomas, yet when it came to me I liked him just fine. My thoughts were scattered enough when I was in the seclusion of my own company, and they only seemed to get further disfigured when I talked or was with my friend. But when I hung out with Craig, everything pretended to be peaceful. My riled brain would simmer down to the point where I didn't even have to think anymore. Being with Craig just was.
I'd forget all about Thomas... obviously. Had he been in my mind I wouldn't have betrayed him. It was Craig's fault, though. He tempted me in the most horrible way and I was falling ill to exactly what Thomas was a victim of; what everyone was stupidly a victim of. Nobody could have Craig, not only because he was asexual but because he was the type of person who would always be alone and would never have a need for company.
That was the way he was going to live and I wanted what I couldn't have. I wanted to be a part of that.
And then I'd remember The Plan and everything would bombard me like an avalanche. That stupid, stupid plan. Part of me believed that it was because of my best friend's idiotic idea that I—I internally winced at this revelation—that I was such a dick to Craig.
I'd get mad at him when he teased me, probably sometimes for no reason. Then I'd do things like- Oh God. My memory backtracked, trying to rummage through my collection of the past for any moments when I flirted- especially after throwing a tantrum. I was a bipolar monster. Sweet Jesus, Craig had an obvious reason to think I was crazy. I bitched at him countless times, I made him take off my boots, I manipulated him into giving me a massage. Why did he take my attitude? Was he an idiot?
And then I'd caved and talked him into kissing me. Thomas could never ever know. Not to mention the fact that the whole kiss idea had occurred to me long before I had asked for it in person. My bad seed of an idea had been sprouting since- fuck my life. The thought had always been there. Who was I kidding? Craig was an attractive beast of a man and for all I knew I've wanted to kiss him since third grade.
This was supposed to be for Thomas. Why was I jeopardizing his happiness? I was betraying my best friend and for what? So I could get my first kiss? Well, thanks to Craig I already had that, so why wasn't I stopping this- this kissing stuff?
I was a horrible person. I didn't deserve the title of Best Friend. How was I going to live with myself? If Thomas ever found out I would have to fake my death, create an alias, live by a different motto. Move towns, maybe to San Francisco where all the gays were accumulated. I'd have to shave my head, never drink coffee again, get a tattoo to blot out my most noticeable features like my bigass eyes.
No, I needed to talk to Dr. Norris. Today was Wednesday, two days away from the closing of the second week of Winter Break. Also two days away from my permanent Friday-appointment with my psychiatrist. The permanent Friday-appointment I had ditched two weeks ago- but only to tutor Craig so he could pass the first semester of his senior year! It was a reasonable excuse.
I just had to make it until tomorrow and then I could figure out the possibility of me having to rearrange my entire future, supposing Dr. Norris would tell me to be a good best friend and tell Thomas the truth. Tweek Tweak might just be done for. Come tomorrow I could be John Doe.
Damn it. I was just starting to like myself, too. That was Craig's fault also. He was getting my hopes up, making me believe that I held some sort of meaning. Why else would he kiss some crazy fucker like me?
Fuck, I needed my psychiatrist now. I didn't want to call him, though. Even if I could. He probably had more important patients to help, people that needed to be talked out of suicide or something equally infinite. I wasn't suicidal, not yet. If Thomas ever found out, then I would need consolation about the importance of my life.
How did I even manage to put myself in a position like this? For someone as superstitious and careful as me I hadn't thought it possible. There was no way I could dig myself out, either. Not without shoving myself down deeper. I could never take back that first kiss or any of the others. The multiple others.
Did I really even want to? That was the scariest question. Perhaps even the most foreboding.
Finally, I realized that there was silence on the opposite end of the line. "T-Thomas?" He didn't answer, and the connection came across as dead.
Removing the phone from my ear, I clicked the end call button only to see that it had already ended. The golden blonde was either very impatient—which he wasn't if his waiting so long for Craig was any sort of proof—or I had been in a thought-hole for longer than necessary. A text message was waiting for me with an answer. Two, actually.
One was from Thomas: I think our connection broke or something. Don't worry about calling back, I'm going out with my parents. Stupid lunch ): I still think you should've agreed to come with us. Anyways, just be sure to get started on step four. (:
Yeah, because step three hadn't been good enough. As instructed, I had mentioned Thomas countless of times, just like he wanted, and each detail had been immaculate. Who would've thought that Craig would be the type of person to pass up hints like: Thomas likes tall guys; Thomas's Tourette's is actually pretty cute once you get used to it; Thomas has a pretty nice shlong.
I did! I fucking called that shit.
The other was from Craig: If you're not awake, then you better wake the fuck up. I'm coming over to get you and we're going to get Stripe a new add-on to his home (:
All of my previous thoughts stashed themselves away to some forgotten place in my brain that I didn't want to find ever again. And they stayed there, much to my chagrin. I received another text from him: I'm so excited. He's going to love it. Unintentionally, I smiled.
I was going to go ahead and admit it: Craig could be cute when it came to Stripe. But that was like a well known fact among everyone so it didn't mean anything to me personally. Really, it didn't.
He didn't even call Stripe's cage a cage; he called it a home. His room belonged to both of them. It was sweet and made my heart ache because I've never seen somebody care so much about something so small. In a physical sense, that is. It was obvious how large of an emotional impact Stripe had on the noirette.
Texting back a quick That's fine, I noticed the time his first text had been received. Craig was probably already minutes away. Jesus, how long had I been thinking over an uninhabited phone call for? Embarrassed, which was even more ridiculing because I was flustered while alone, I scrambled off my bed and tugged on a famished, hooded sweater. The weather was less furious today so not much protection was needed.
Sadly, I hit a roadblock in my quick get-up when I couldn't find my boots. Actually, I had plenty of boots but not the ones that I wanted to wear. My mood began to flare when I pushed aside the pairs I didn't care about at the moment in search for the ones I did. Double checking, they still weren't there. I was peeved as I threw on some of Thomas's Toms, but I guessed it was fine because they matched his pants with the rolled up hems, of which I was wearing as well. What wasn't fine was how I'd lost my boots. I never lost anything.
At the front door, the bell rang continuously. Irritated at Craig's annoying antic, I started toward the house's entrance with an agitated beat to my steps. At the door, I flung it open and slapped his hand away from the bell. He stared down at me like he suddenly wasn't as excited as he had been and said, "You're already pissy."
"Yeah, well I cant find my boots." And he looked good today. God damn it, he looked really good today.
He was leaning against the wall, appearing much too cozy in front of my house as though he lived there himself and had just forgotten the key so he was waiting around until someone came home. Dark jeans accentuated the length of his legs through their slim fit, and their rolled hems allowed for a mild attention to be brought to a pair of worn, ebony boots. A skinny leather jacket clung to the wide shape of his torso, overlaying a plain black shirt. His look was very simple but sleek. He reminded me somewhat of one of those old punk rock anarchists, except I didn't think Craig was a 'punk rocker' or for anarchy.
I envied how he made his look so masculine. I mean, we were both wearing rolled pants but mine were just flat-out gay. His skin looked washed out due to all the opaque shades, and yet his pale complexion was an attractive contrast. He had a way about knowing exactly what to wear to make his eyes stand out. My heart beat hard when I focused on their intense color, so much like the snow piling upon the ground. It shouldn't be natural, their pale blue irides.
When he smirked down at me, his lips stretched with an impossible amount of fluidity. "The ones you left in my car?" Relief plowed through me as he reached around to pull me against his chest. My arms moved of their own accord to tangle around his neck. It was now a reflexive gesture, our hugs. I liked them, because the stretch I had to pursue in order to successfully hug him felt amazing. It was just one of those stretches that made everything perfect for about five seconds.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, exasperated. He shrugged, leaning his head back to align his mouth with my forehead. The warm press of his lips made me shiver. Involuntarily, my arms tightened around his shoulders. I realized that he liked to do that. Kiss me on my forehead. It probably wasn't okay that I liked it too.
"I knew you'd get them eventually. Maybe I wanted to fuck with you, just a little." I pouted, glaring up at him. I would've told you if you had left your boots in my car. Even though I didn't have one. "No pouting. You're not allowed to be pissy anymore." He kissed the tip of my nose which had already turned a bit frosty from the weather. His lips warmed it up before leaving it to be assaulted by the cold once again.
"I wouldn't have to be pissy if you'd just be nice to me for once." I tilted my head up, knowing exactly where I wanted those lips to go next.
Craig raised his brows in a silent challenge. "I'm always nice to you. You wanna see me be mean? I don't have to kiss you." He blew teasingly against my parted mouth, and I felt the cold air hit my teeth. I wet my lips, glancing up to see the sorry amount of conviction in his ice-like eyes. He didn't meet my gaze, staring down at something more interesting to his eye.
"You don't, but you will."
"Yeah," Craig agreed. "I am." It was strange, I thought, how both of our mouths twitched up into a small sort of smile and smirk. I took a step closer on my tip-toes, our chests flat together. One of his hands slid from beneath my shoulder to my waist. Why had I worn a sweater? Why was I wearing anything?
He leaned down as I turned my head higher. Our noses brushed when we tilted our faces, and his lips were as warm as they'd been on my forehead. My eyes flickered behind my lids before opening in a lazy slant. I couldn't see anything beyond my nose, so I raised them to Craig's own instead after passing his pale cheeks with no color. I'm sure mine weren't as pallid in comparison.
It must've been a coincidence how his blue gaze was staring right back at me. We connected on that level, and Craig's eyes blinked languidly in quiet recognition. The action looked like a tired five year old's, but I thought it was cute. His teeth nicked my bottom lip, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh. My mouth parted further to allow him to do this, and I wondered how prominent my breath was against his face. Feeling heavy, I closed my eyes.
The hand on my waist disappeared for a few short seconds before I felt it cup my cheek. His palm was warm and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to lean into it or remain where I was so he could continue nipping my lip. He decided for me, removing his mouth. In its place came his thumb, the pad of it running across the length of my wet, pink skin. My breath hit it once, twice, ricocheting back to where it came from. The tip of his digit touched my top teeth, as well as the ghost of a touch beneath my upper lip.
On instinct, my mouth opened the slightest amount, but it was enough to capture his thumb. I bit down gently, instantly reminded of the incident that had taken place just before my first kiss. Wanting revenge, I rubbed my tongue against the pad of his thumb and wrapped my lips around his skin. Craig chuckled breathlessly. It was a sound that harnessed my heart, making it pump faster.
He plucked his digit from my mouth and I swear I almost whimpered as he did it. "We should go." His voice was deeper, a vibrating tone I've heard more than once. It still sent shivers down my spine. "Otherwise I think I'm going to ask you to show me to your room." My eyes flew open and my cheeks felt much warmer.
When he saw my face, he laughed, because he'd been joking. Of course it was a joke, but it was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. It was just a goddamn joke, I told myself, but with Craig's body still so close I couldn't think of it like that. My imagination loved to do terrible things to me. Quickly I dropped away, forcing myself to take a step back and close the door. It shouldn't have had to be forced, though. What the hell was wrong with me?
It wasn't like he hadn't been in my room before. Just not for a period of time beyond five minutes. Still, it was the undertone of his suggestion that had gotten to me.
"So do you not actually have parents?" Craig randomly asked as we started down the path from my house. It was littered with snow and I could see his previous tracks leading up to my door.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I questioned guardedly. "Of course I have parents." My parents were at the coffeehouse, as usual. Actually, I should've been there with them but since they were doing some renovating, they didn't want me to get in the way.
"I've just never met or seen them." He remarked, offhandedly. "We've been hanging out religiously for the past month and a half or something. I was just curious."
"O-oh," I mumbled, feeling bad for snapping. There went my bipolar tendencies again.
As we walked, our hands clanked, knuckles brushing together briefly. I snatched mine away, cradling it to my chest as though it'd been hurt. Strangely, I didn't feel too bad about snapping anymore, and made another move to leer at him from the corner of my eye.
Craig passed me a glance, using it to take in the placement of my hand and disgruntled aura. "Don't start doing this to me," he sighed. I didn't think he actually cared, though.
"Sorry- sorry, I just..." I didn't have an excuse. The apology was useless. I could be so embarrassing sometimes. "I have parents. They're usually at the coffee shop. If they're there, I'm here. If they're here, I'm there. I don't know why you haven't seen them, yet. They know about you, though. I put in a good word for you." Because That Tucker Boy just hadn't been working out for me. Now they called him the Tall One, but I didn't think I was going to tell him that.
"Oh really?" Now he was interested. Great. "What did you say?" We stopped at his car and he leaned against the door like he had the outside entryway. I looked at the ground, wanting to have anything but him to stare at. He was still in my peripheral, so my attempts were pretty much useless.
"I-I don't know." My feet shuffled around the stems of green that were peeking up from the snow. "I might've mentioned that you're tall." Deciding just to own up to it, I lifted my shy eyes to him. He had his head cocked to the side, hair like a dark halo around his face. A wolfish grin was staring me down.
"You like that, don't you?" His tone was conniving. A squeak fell from my mouth at his inquiry. His lips spread wider. "How tall I am," he emphasized.
No, God no, no I didn't. "Good one," I tried. It was apparent how hard I'd failed. Craig chuckled, the cold breeze carrying the devilish sound straight to my ears. "How tall are you?" The question was out before I'd even had a chance to censor it.
Craig looked egotistical as he responded, "Six, three. An inch shorter than my dad."
Oh. My eyes nearly bulged. I was five, five. He was nearly a foot taller than me. I really shouldn't have found myself liking that fact as much as I was. Thomas would like it, too. But right now Thomas wasn't here. I guessed I'd just like it for him, then.
He'd appreciate that, wouldn't he? I shuffled my feet against the ground again, diverting my eyes from Craig's six-foot-three body. "Want me to open the door for you?" He asked, gloating at my reaction even though I'd tried to hide it. Keeping myself hidden must've been one of the many things I wasn't good at.
I nodded my head, "Yes, please." He drew himself out of his leaning posture and sauntered around to the other side of his car. Following bashfully, I waited until the door was open like he was my chauffeur and got inside. My boots were on the floor, waiting. When the door never shut, I took the risk of glancing outside. Craig was resting his head in his arms, his arms on the open door. A blush adorned my cheeks when I saw that he was staring at me.
"You wanna know the size of my dick?" He teased, snickering when my blush burned brighter.
"No," I shot back. "But I do want to know why there's a bottle of alcohol in my boot."
He raised his hands in mock surrender, choosing that moment to shut the door. My glare was hot on his trail as he backtracked to his side of the car and got inside. The first thing he did was turn the radio off, although I caught a snippet of aged tunes. Hot air flushed my face as the machine had been ready from previous use.
"Kenny probably put it there."
"Thanks for inviting me," I muttered, half sarcastic. The other half, I didn't even know.
Craig widened his eyes and gave me the imitation of a pout before dropping it just as suddenly. "Eh, Ruby was having her little party so I had Kenny keep us all company since I was their chaperone. We got a bunch of fourteen-year-olds drunk. It was great. Why? You jealous that I partied without you? Or are you jealous that you didn't get to party with me?" Sly bastard.
"Neither." Leaning across the center console I faced him and puckered my lips. I didn't even know where that had come from, but I guess I wanted a kiss. Craig dropped his act and planted a wet one against my mouth. My stomach felt alight with a beautiful sickness at his reciprocation. Maybe I hadn't expected him to actually do it. "One more," I ordered. The niorette pulled back to smirk down at me, before returning his mouth to mine.
"Don't think that these things are indispensable," he mumbled against my lips, lightly placing a third. My pulse jogged, and I didn't even know when it happened, but I was smiling. Craig Tucker was a liar, I thought, biting my lip to keep from asking for more. My silence didn't keep him from knowing what I wanted. Smirking, he brushed his lips against my cheek, placing a delicate kiss against my tinted skin. "We're not going to get anywhere if you keep doing this." This time it was my turn to pout.
"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy to boss around, then." Craig immediately straightened at the loosened leash I'd given up. "Wait!" I panicked. "I take that back!" Except he stopped listening to me. Contentedly, he put his car into drive and started to back out my driveway. "C-Craig! You cant do this! It's not fair!"
"You just said so yourself: you boss me around. What's not fair about saying no to you every once in a while?" He glanced at me with an uncharacteristic playful glint in his icy eyes. "Put your seat belt on."
My lips pulled down at his order, but I listened and put my seat belt on. "That's the only thing I have on you," I explained, desperate to get my control back. "You always beat me at everything-"
"But none of that matters if you can tell me what to do and I'll do it? Great argument, Tweek. I can feel myself falling back to your every whim already." His sarcasm wasn't funny. I wouldn't laugh at his stupid sense of humor until he let me boss him around again.
"Please?" I asked, reverting to pleading. He stopped at a red light, taking the chance to glance at me again. I kept my downward lips in place and stared at my hands in my lap as though I didn't sense him staring. "I'm really sad today."
"You're such a bullshitter, dude!" Craig divvied out, smart for not believing my fake excuse.
"It'll make me happy!" I tried one last time for the gloomy jest, but my mask was cracking when I saw Craig staring intently at the road. He was actually contemplating it! Even out from under my control he was having a hard time not listening to my commands. Perhaps I had a split personality who was a mastermind, because I definitely hadn't thought that I'd be capable of this. "I'll be able to help you pick out an add-on to Stripe's cage," I was a cruel person for using the love of his life against him, "otherwise I'll just mope around and be useless all day."
"You dirty son of a bitch," Craig growled. A smirk twisted my features as his face screwed in agony. He sped through a yellow light, seeming to blow off some of his steam at the speed he was going.
"If I'm happy, Stripe will be hap-"
"I have a trunk for a reason. I'm going to tie you up and throw you back there if you don't shut up." My mouth zipped shut and I sat back in the seat like I should've to begin with. Unfortunately for him, the seed had already been planted. Craig would give in before the car ride was up. All I had to do was wait and enjoy his torture.
"Alright, you little shit." We were parked in front of the Petsmart about five minutes later and Craig had made it longer that I'd expected. I wasn't going to commend him, though. He'd get cocky if I did that. "Don't think that this is over by a long-shot. Just for today, maybe until Christmas break is over." My nose scrunched in fondness toward his reassessed condition. I liked this game; it was was fun. He leaned across the center console, much like I had just minutes before. "But I get to boss you around one time before I go back to being your bitch."
Nodding, I could feel the drop that my stomach was taking. He was making it obvious as to what he was going to tell me to do. I honestly couldn't say that I'd mind if he bossed me around just as long as that was going to be what he ordered every single time. The niorette let his head hang to the side, raising one hand to noiselessly motion me forward. Removing the seat belt, I turned around in my seat and followed his instruction. He puckered his lips, identical to how I had.
Another smile worked its way onto my lips and I reached my hands out to hold his face. I tried to make the same expression he was, but my smile kept getting in the way. A snicker tumbled and fell against his mouth. Craig frowned, offended at my less than formidable kiss. "That sucked, I want a real one." I tutted at his declaration, cupping his cheeks and squeezing them together. "Okay, I'm pissed now." His words were jumbled in the scrunched nature I'd forced his face into. To make him feel worse, I laughed at his distorted features. "Bitch."
"It looks good on you," I encouraged. "You look like a pug. It's cute." Proving myself right, I dug myself deeper into my hole of betrayal.
"If you kiss me, I'll believe you." Looking down at his dumbly smooshed lips, I declined my head and pressed a chaste kiss to them. I took one more look, snickered, and let his face go. He returned to normal, nerves and muscles reconstructing his handsome features. I smoothed his cheeks out anyways, just in case. His skin was soft and warm against my palms, but near the back of his jawline was the barest hint of stubble. My fingers traced over the slightly blemished areas as my stomach bunched up tight.
Craig wet his lips, a slow, tempting run of his tongue. The enticing movement had my eyes glued to his mouth. My hands cupping his jaw dragged him toward me, and he moved just so. One of his arms curled around my shoulders, bringing me forth. My elbows pressed against his chest as my limbs locked between us. We breathed the same air and his hand began kneading into my sweater, working at my skin, causing me to sigh in. He nudged our mouths together, but didn't kiss. I was still stifled by his fingers, receiving memories of the night he'd given me the massage.
Now I was craving another one, but more than that, I wanted to take him up on his offer and give him the massage. For a few days I'd been contemplating the idea and if Craig was tempting, then the thought of touching his body was just something I couldn't pass up.
He flicked his tongue out, slipping it between my parted lips. I inhaled sharply through my nose, encompassing his tongue in the walls of my mouth. I rolled mine against his, the slick wetness initiating me to clutch his head firmly. He had such a prominent jaw line. My pinkies dipped with the protruding bones on the underside of his chin. Enthralled, I felt his skin ripple as he moved his mouth and tongue. Bodies were so strange.
In the back of my mind, a niggling thought asked me what the people walking by were thinking as they saw us. My pulse plummeted and I pushed Craig away. Eyes frantically searching the parking lot, which was near empty, I saw no derogatory looks pinpointed our way. Probably because nobody was out there. Still, I was shaken by the idea of passerby catching a glimpse. Their negative outlook was the only possible reaction I could imagine. But since when was South Park homophobic? We condoned murderers and pedophiles for god sakes.
The niorette didn't seem bothered by my off-putting shove. He just took it and turned his car off, lips curled in amusement. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. We got out in unison and met at the trunk. Craig started walking while I stayed put, waiting until he noticed that I wasn't following. It didn't take long, and when it did, he scrutinized me to figure out what my deal was. I felt self-conscious under his intrusive observation as his eyes raked like cold steel across my body.
I wanted to know what he saw, how thin or fragile I looked in his eyes. I wanted to see what he did that made it okay for me to kiss him. Certainly I wasn't ugly as I was quite aware that I had some rather... unique features. Maybe that was it. Maybe Craig liked 'unique'. It seemed too generous of a word, though. 'Weird' was probably a better description.
Recognition took over the majority of his stare. "Okay," he relented. "What do you want?"
There was no way I couldn't not smile at that. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he actually liked being my slave. "I don't want to walk all the way up there. My legs are tired," I lied.
"Man-up, then. What am I supposed to do? Go grab a cart and stick you in it?" He was giving me a skeptical glance, but there was a hint of validation stowing away in there. Raising my arms, I reached out for that weakness glowing in the depth of his eyes. His skepticism turned into exaggerated disbelief. "You're really going to make me carry you?"
"No, I just want a piggy-back ride," I corrected. His face didn't change.
"I'm going to have to exert a huge amount of strength to lift your fat ass up. What are you going to give me in return?" But he was already starting back toward me despite his misleading insult. For that, I definitely wasn't going to give him a kiss.
"I've got a quarter in my pocket, I think." It was actually Thomas's quarter. He'd be honored to know that it belonged to Craig now, I assured myself. "Now get on the ground, you tall fuck. I'm too scared to jump that high." The niorette almost looked proud at my retort as he dropped to his knees.
"Good enough," he said, accepting my exchange of the quarter. "Isn't this what you've always wanted? Me kneeling in front of you? Except I'm in the wrong direction," he teased over his shoulder.
My fist connected with the back of his head for that one. He snickered, so I hit him again to shut him up, except it didn't work. I thanked God that he wasn't facing me, otherwise he'd see how pink my cheeks were. Humiliation wasn't really of interest for me today. To appear nonchalant, I braced myself by slinging my arms around his neck and hugged my elbows. His back pressed flush against my chest and the back of his ribcage expanded as he took a breath. Hesitantly, because I was a piggy-back virgin, one of my legs lifted shakily.
Thigh splayed flat against his hip, he grabbed and held it to his side with a firm grip. My leg felt safe in his hold, locked between his waist and his large palm. All I had to do was lift my other leg, but I was as scared to do that as I would've been having to jump. What if I lost my groove and fell, cracking my head on his car's bumper? The paranoia and the plausible accident that could give me amnesia culled any of my lingering courage.
"Is this going to be a one-legged deal or what?" Craig asked when I was taking an irregularly long pause in my actions.
"No, I just- I'm scared, dude. I've never done this before. I don't want to crack my f-fucking head or something, you know?"
"You're not going to crack your head," he scoffed. "I've got you. Just give me your other leg." Even though his solace was less than emotionless, it made me feel a wee bit better.
Bending my knee, I clung tightly to his neck and kicked off the ground. As Craig grabbed my opposite thigh, he stood up, and suddenly I knew what it was like to be six-foot-three. I hated it. Sweet Jesus, the ground was too far away. The sky was too close to my head. My stomach lurched and an embarrassing squeak flew from my mouth.
Craig laughed, an action that vibrated against my chest and made me wish that there weren't two layers of clothes between us. He started moving, evoking me to the realization that he had a swagger to his walk. It was something that I'd never noticed before, but indeed, since he was lanky with gangly limbs, his legs performed a natural amble. Wrapping my legs closer to his waist I locked my feet together for the extra security.
"So this is your first piggy-back ride?" He asked, and I shouldn't have shivered when he slid his palms back and forth across the length of my thighs.
"Y-yeah. So don't ruin it for me." I couldn't see it, but I felt him grin from ear to ear.
"I'm on a roll with this whole taking-your-firsts thing, aren't I?" My skin exploded in a hot blush when one of his hands veered backward, smacked me on the butt. A yip careened out of my mouth and my hips unconsciously jumped forward to run from his sneaking hand. Sadly, there was no forward to escape to, resulting in me successfully humping his back.
My only luck was that Craig couldn't see my face. He laughed snidely, obviously enjoying my embarrassment even if he couldn't see it.
"Stop making everything so sexual!" I cried, undoing one of my arms so that I could pinch his ear. He shook my offending fingers away, turning his head enough that I could see his grueling smirk. I would've slapped it from his face, but that would only help his case.
"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy to tease, then." He'd used my own wording against me.
"I'm like, five seconds away from giving you a wet-willy."
"Yeah, because Clyde doesn't give me enough of those already."
"I wonder why," I sneered.
"Yeah, me too," he replied with mock concern.
Strolling up to the automatic doors, Craig paused as he waited for them to slide open. A whoosh of cool—slightly warmer—air collided with us, pushing the hair back from our faces. After a second set of doors, we were officially inside the pet store. It smelt like animal feed and little critters. Near the middle of the store were two petite buildings filled with windows and cages. From here, all I could see were the birds but I knew that there were mice and lizards and other small rodents and reptiles as well.
To the far left was the fish sanctuary, and to the far right was the cat adoption center. A training ring sat in the back for the dogs, and in between all of that were aisles of supplies ranging from tanks and homes to food and clothes. Craig asked if I wanted to be let down, but there was no way I was jumping. "Excuse me," he started toward one of the registers where a girl with a mop of brown curls was standing. I might've seen her working at Raisins one time or another, or maybe I was just being stereotypical because she was very pretty. "I'm going to borrow this for a second."
I tried to intervene, utterly against using her counter as a leverage to get off of Craig's back, but he wasn't paying attention to my revolt. The girl didn't appear put off, she was more confused than anything, when the niorette positioned me on top of the counter and plopped me down. I quickly pounced off of the table, practically sliding down Craig's body for he hadn't had the chance to move away, before rushing off with a shy apology. He stalked after me, following me until I tried to turn down the cage aisle.
Grabbing the hood of my sweater, he dragged me backwards. I choked, grabbing for my neck to keep from coughing. Craning my head back, I stared up at him for an explanation. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the critter building. "I always look at the guinea pigs first." He could be so- I wasn't going to use the word cute again. I really needed to stop that. It was very... sweet.
"Okay," I mumbled, voice just a whisper. He dragged me over to the few large tanks closest to the ground by my sweater, as though he didn't trust that I'd follow. I stumbled after him, tripping over my feet, probably looking rather sad. I just hadn't been born with grace. No, two left feet was what I'd been stuck with.
He let me go and crouched down to his knees. His shirt and jacket rode up, exposing the elastic hem of his boxer-briefs. I thought about giving him a wedgie, but he was being extra sweet at the moment. My ears picked up his quiet cooing as he wagged a finger at one of the brown spotted guinea pigs peeking out from its dome. Sidling down next to him, our knees brushed and I leaned my shoulder against him for balance. Through the veil of his hair, I saw his placid expression. He looked calm and euphoric, watching as a few of the small animals traded places around the tank.
One of them had a white body with one brindled spot on the side of its head and itty-bitty muzzle. It stared up at Craig with beady black eyes, and twitching nose and whiskers. Under his breath, the niorette said, "Hello". For a moment the guinea pig just sat there. Then from behind, it was pushed out of the cover of its little dome. Craig smiled, waving his finger again. The critter came forward, wiggling its precious baby nose against the glass. Animal instincts must have told it that Craig was a good guy.
"I'm going to own a guinea pig farm before I turn thirty," he randomly stated. "Or I'll be a vet specially for guinea pigs. Maybe I'll be a scientist and clone Stripe a thousand times that way a thousand people can have a Stripe of their own. He'd like that. He's a conceited asshole."
"Sounds like you." I grinned when he shot me a glance.
"I don't think you want a thousand Craigs."
Contrary to his belief, I rebutted, "Why wouldn't I want to have a thousand people who'll do my bidding?"
"Be careful what you wish for. I might end up raping you a thousand times." My expression was horrified. Craig saw it and winked before standing up.
Pink in the cheeks, I repeated his action and played as his shadow as we walked into the aisle with the bedding, tanks, and cages. There were some on display, metal and plastic cages full of colors and creatively designed running wheels. Their sizes varied, smaller ones for gerbils or hamsters, larger ones for guinea pigs or rabbits. I recalled seeing a few of them in Stripe's collection of houses.
"We need to make sure that I don't get one I already have. Stripe likes to explore new things and gets pissy when I buy doubles." I loved how he talked about his guinea pig like he was an actual person. To Craig, he probably was. He certainly knew every aspect of the critter's personality.
"Are you sure you have room for this, dude?" Not that I wanted to be a party-pooper or anything.
"If I don't then I'll make room," he threatened. I didn't doubt him in the slightest.
Patiently waiting, I watched as he inspected all of the details pertaining to the numerous different cages on their information charts. He looked to be making mental notes, sifting out the good from the bad. The ones on display were checked for their durability, forced to endure the rough-housing of Craig's experimenting. As for the ones in the boxes, they still didn't stand a chance. If at all possible, he'd crack open the boxes to check for quality.
At one point, an employee came by and asked if he needed help. I cowered behind him, afraid that we were about to be kicked out for Craig's impulsive searching. He didn't even look up as he responded with a curt, "No thanks." We were left in our own privacy, and I exhaled slowly to release my nerves. Glancing down at me, he smirked at my shy nature. My eyes averted to the ground, resistant to feeling the brunt of his tease.
A spindly limb circled my shoulders, luring me against his chest. Using the movement to my advantage, I hid my face against the fold of his jacket. It smelt like leather and Craig, of vanilla and mint and cigarettes. The urge to curl my arm around his neck hit me hard, but I fiddled with the zipper of his top instead. His hand hung limp from his wrist resting against the bone of my shoulder. I wondered if it was normal for two friends to act like this around each other, so touchy and comfortable.
Thomas and I often acted the same, I guessed, but Craig wasn't Thomas and I just felt different with him than I did with the golden blonde.
Thank God. That would've been weird if I wanted to kiss Thomas all the time. Or smell him all the time. Or boss him around whenever I had the chance. What if I actually had some creepy control complex? Jesus, I needed Friday to come already. Dr. Norris would know what was wrong with me.
"We've got three choices. I'll let you pick which one." He raised his hand and drummed his fingers against my cheek to lift me out of my stupor.
"Well aren't you sweet?" I jeered, tossing my eyes up to see him staring down at me humorlessly. My nose crinkled in distaste. He mimicked the action, oddly resembling an angry puppy dog. "I'm just going to pick the most expensive one."
"One day you're going to wake up and your feet are going to be missing."
My features grew stricken. Did he just threaten me? "What the hell is that supposed to mean, man?"
"It means you better pick out a formidable cage for my guinea pig, regardless of the price." I nodded vigorously, touching the tips of my toes together as I was now conscious of the importance of their presence. One side of Craig's lips quirked up crookedly. If we'd been alone, I probably would've kissed him. The lopsided grin fit him much too well. "Nobody is looking," he persuaded, catching the direction my eyes were going.
And risk somebody walking by? I'd already taken that chance in his car. This time I shook my head, ducking out from beneath his arm. He called me a pussy, but let it go by pointing out three distinct cages. I looked at them closely, examining their attributes. They were each very spacious and all three came with their own toys. One had two stories with a ladder, another had a curly-q tube, and the other came with a snazzy food hanger. I demanded that Craig get the two story cage because, strangely, Stripe didn't have one of those yet.
That's when he offered me what I believed was my first ever compliment that wasn't ridiculing. "Good choice." It was disappointing, even to me, that that was my idea of thoughtful flattery. But I took it graciously, tucking it away safe and sound in my head.
"Your sisters not going to come in here and ravish me, is she?" I asked, worriedly. Half of my face was peering through the crack of Craig's bedroom door, on the lookout to see if the coast was clear. To be honest, she pretty much scared me shitless. Her infatuation with me, her brother's gay friend, set me on edge. Had he not told her that I definitely liked the dick? The thought of her vagina made me want to cry and, my god, if it ever got close to me I was going to book it out of the state of Colorado.
The niorette chuckled in the distance, somewhere behind me, presumably setting up Stripe's new home addition. "I sure hope not. The least she could do is wait until I getting this thing built. She can have you all to herself after that." No. That was not a good plan. Craig was a traitor because I knew that he was dead serious. He wouldn't bat an eye if she barged into his room and dragged me out screaming. I wanted to punch Thomas for making me associate with this asshole.
Shutting his door, I turned on my heel to face him. Waiting on my face was a displeased frown. My plan was to make him stare at it until he caved and promised guardianship over my safety when his sister was near. I never got that far though, and my scowl fell away completely. It was hard to swallow as I stared at Craig, physically feeling my eyes devour him. Dear God, yes, I wanted to massage that body. With my mouth.
He was bent over his bed, working on opening up the large box which held the pieces of Stripe's cage. I had absolutely no idea why, but for some crazy reason he had to take his clothes off to do that. All he wore were his jeans, now rolled down to cover his ankles. The muscles of his stomach were contracted due to his leaning posture, and his arms flexed when he tore through the tape securing the box. Some of the tape stuck to his fingers and he whipped his hand around in annoyance. Straightening, he grabbed the tape and slapped it against his wall.
His hip bones were razor sharp, poking out from the waistband of his boxer briefs as his jeans had sagged too much to cover them. He has V lines. Jesus, he had godly V lines. They made his hips appear bold, accentuating the thin line of hair leading from his navel to his uh—I beat myself over the head with a pickax—crotch area, yeah that sounded innocent enough. My mouth grew dry and I didn't have to worry about swallowing because I didn't have any saliva to do it with anyways. He bent over again, and the curve of his back caused his spine to extrude.
"So did I get a rise out of you?" Craig asked, voice mocking. The question was so startlingly unfamiliar that I had to think it over a few times before I even understood that he'd said something. He glanced up, pale eyes piercing, even from across the room. I knew my cheeks were rosy, and I wanted to hide them, but I couldn't figure out how to look away. That crooked smirk tainted his lips. It intensified his half naked appearance in the most attractive way. "You're too easy. Turning you on isn't even a challenge."
Now my body conveniently knew how to pivot my gaze. Quite quickly, too. I bit my lip in mortification, shuffling backwards to forge a farther distance between us. "Come on, dude," Craig continued. "I haven't even put on my sex appeal yet." Yet. God, I just wanted to run out of there and let his sister have me. Anything was better than this.
"J-Just put your cage together," I grumbled. "And stop looking at me."
He laughed at my attitude, and almost continued doing his task, but he held out his hand instead. "Hand me one of my shirts. Your gayness is fogging up the room. I wouldn't want Stripe to suffocate on your cooties."