I like to think that I'm not very sentimental. I like to think I hold true to Hemingway's way of life as to- "Hang tough" never let anyone in. But then again Hemingway was the guy who became so depressed that he shot himself in the head with a shotgun.
There's always a downfall I suppose. But what I can't understand is why I'm here. I mean I'm not some mope who mourns over the end of her high school career. But, well, fuck, here I' am.
The graduation ceremony is being held outside. I can hear everyone's voices- parents congratulating and kids soaking it all up knowing that probably nothing in their life will feel this good again for another fifteen years or so.
And here I' am walking down this damn hallway, running my hands over the old lockers. I stop at my locker and run my fingers over the numbers, 307. I turn around and begin to walk the hallway again. I spread out my arms and let my red gown waver. I'm holding that ugly traditional cap in my left hand. The drive here I played with the strings.
I'm wearing a dress my mother picked out for me that I hate and my father gave me a check to start putting towards items I'll need for my college dorm room. I take a good deep breath and then walk out the high school door, I feel a shiver run like electricity up my back as I let go of the doorknob, goodbye.
Who knew ceremonies could be so damn long and boring? In the movies it's always short and sappy. But this, Jesus, this is torture- listening to my brain dead principal talk about how great we are and blah, blah, blah. The only great thing about today is that Miley looks sexy in her prideful blush and tight lavender dress.
My parents are a little uneasy about the trip to LA, currently my mother is hounding Miley's father with questions and concerns. She'll put up a fight about my going, saying I don't know the Stewarts well enough and I shouldn't impose, but then she'll give in. Because who are we kidding, I always win.
I look at my graduating class; I look at my peers who I've known since kindgarden. I've watched them grow into themselves. I'll admit it, it makes me sad but also… excited, maybe? I'm ready, ready to face the world head held high.
"Lillian Anne Truscott!"
I feel the diploma in my hands, the paper proving a point, proving I'm not a failure.
XxXxXxXxX
In her room, my socks and shoes off, her window open and the closet doors ajar. I'm lounging, like a cat, on her carpet- just enjoying the smell, the feeling swelling inside my chest.
She is frowning as she digs through a brown box. I play with her puppy's ears the small fur ball sneezes and shakes his head. I laugh and it catches her attention. "Lilly…" She draws out my name and pushes the box aside, crawling near me. I collapse down on the floor, spreading my body out so I can claim her space as mine too, so I can feel connected with her.
She falls beside me, as a reflex I collect her up and fold my body into hers- my arms wrapped around her waist and her head snuggled up into my neck. We fit, don't you see?
"Lilly…" She says again like before, I'm becoming nervous. "How is this going to work? Because I want it too, more then anything."
I roll my eyes, feeling that marvelous swell in my chest deflate. I breathe out through my nose and stare up at her ceiling- there's a crack…
"Lilly?"
"It'll work, Miley. It's not the end of the world, alright? Just because we're going to separate colleges doesn't mean we have to…b-break-up." I swallow hard almost choking on the last word.
"That's not what I meant, I would never want to… anyway," Miley pulls away and sits up with her legs crossed in Indian style, "All I'm saying is that it will be difficult."
"Can we not do this now, please, I want to enjoy this, I want to enjoy this moment." I snap angrily taking her hands and pulling her back into me. Miley obeys and curls close. "This is better." I say.
"Much."
XxXxXxXxX
Miley is more adventuresome in her bedroom. She is knows these walls, that bed. She is more aggressive; needy is a way I've never known her to be. Especially now, I'm wearing my pajamas (no bra) and currently my hands are settled on her lower hips nearing another area, so close.
Miley is on top, as always, she's still uneasy about being pressed into the bed which is completely understandable… and besides, I like being the femme once in a while. I feel her smiling against my lips. She begins to peel herself away. I play with the hair on her arms as she runs a single finger down my cheek and lightly over my lips.
"I'm excited about tomorrow." I tell her as she continues to touch my face.
"I'm glad, I really want you to meet everyone, see everything…" She trails off lowering her face into mine to kiss my neck.
Aw, fuck. I readjust my position and try to find composure. Miley does not seem to notice my frustration. She keeps right on making me shiver with her hot lips burning into my neck.
"Miley, I think we should-"
"Miley! Jackson's on the phone, he wants to talk to you!" Her dad shouts from the stairs, she kisses my cheek and stands to leave.
"Be right back…" Miley says smiling coyly before leaving me, spread out and panting on her bed, Jesus Christ…
I get up as I hear her running down the stairs and look around. Our duffle bags are lying side by side against the wall, ready and set. I turn my attention to her desk, the book of poetry I gave her for Christmas is out and resting in the corner and then my eyes catch a new book.
I pick up the brown book and flip the pages before fully opening it to a random section. It's a dairy… Miley's diary. I should put it down, walk away and spread back out on the bed, but I don't.
September:
He says it will be good for me, and I know he is right. Since we've moved I have only had the nightmare twice. Every day I feel myself changing, becoming someone new, someone who does not fear the dark and the touch of another's hand.
I have met someone too. Although I'm uncertain of her intentions, she has sad eyes. I'm not sure why they bother me so. But her eyes, my God, they cry out for something, someone. She seems harmless…
December:
I'm so angry! Furious is more like it, my temper is an endless wave that runs ragged through my veins spiting out fire! Why did she have to ruin everything? I was fine! I was perfectly fine! Oh my heart… my very soul.
She saw me weak, tattered and shattered right there and I poured myself out to her in that state. I hate this! I hate myself! She didn't need to know, didn't need to see! This is my secret, my life…
But she never turned me away…
December Part 2:
Her name is a flower. A beautiful budding flower that is flourishing before my very eyes- her golden hair acting like her yellow petals touched my cheek today. Her lips are pink like the flower's center and I want to taste her, I want to know what her lips are like.
I have known only his lips; I have known only his hands and I want to known another's I want to have her smell on my skin, always. I want to know, I need to know. Only then will I feel the release.
January:
I think I love her. My flower.
When I hear her feet patting the carpet, coming around the hallway corner I shut the book quickly and jump back to the bed.
"Hey, sorry it took so long, Jackson can get a little long winded." Miley giggles shutting the door and sliding onto the bed with me. "Are you alright? Your pulse is racing." She questions placing a hand to my chest.
"I'm f-fine?"
She arches an eyebrow. I'm so overwhelmed by everything I have just read, by everything I'm experiencing right now. (Love, love, love.) So I do the only thing I know best, assertively I take her and straddle her and press myself into her skin. My lips press hard against hers and quickly I gain entrance. She tastes like fruit punch at the moment. I'm pushing myself, pushing her deeper into the mattress; I'm attacking every inch of her she allows me too.
I can hear her mumbling something against my cheek, but it is muffled by my breathing, by her heart hammering in her chest. But then I feel a forceful hand to my shoulder.
"Lilly… st-… Lilly!" She shoves me back; I take it hard and fall right off the side of the bed with a lout thud!
"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Lilly, honest, it's just… I…" Her eyes well up and I shake my head.
"My fault, I wasn't reading you like I should have been. Miley, I never meant for you to feel, trapped or… or uncomfortable. I only wanted to show you how much I care." I'm trying to explain, I want to show those words out loud but it is so difficult.
She ducks her head bashfully, but beckons me back to the bed. I smile at her and crawl inside, loving the feeling of my bare legs on her cool sheets. Everything about her room, her body, it all smells overwhelmingly beautiful.
She turns out the light on her nightstand and then rests her head on my shoulder as we make ourselves comfortable.
I'm nervous about tomorrow. I'm scared I'll be homesick, or worse make a horrible impression on her brother and friends. I breathe in the scent of her hair and sigh. She is warm. She is perfect.
XxXxXxXxX
"You take the window seat."
"Why? Don't you want to look out the window?"
"No."
Miley and I are standing in the hallway of the plane. Other passengers are buckling up or finding their seat number. Miley's father has already found his seat, and unfortunately it's not close to ours.
I stand with my hands on my hips as Miley tries to make me sit by the window, I don't get it, seeing the world through that window is like… well it's fucking great to put it simply.
"Just sit." She scowls, cheeks burning and eyes flashing in annoyance. "I don't want the window because I'm scared to death of flying, so please, for once just let it go."
I hold up my hands and sit to please her. She nods and sits, buckles up tightly and clenches her hands in dread.
"You really are scared?"
Nodding she plops a piece of gum into her mouth and begins to chew aggressively. I chuckle a little before taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.
"But flying is so… so sexy," I explain, "That jolt during lift off is exhilarating! It makes me feel so alive so here."
She sighs resting her head to the back of her seat, "It's scary…"
"But I'm here, and I will distract you…" I say winking suggestively. My comment gets a giggle and a light blush from her and I consider the moment a victory.
I hear the plane begin to rumble, Miley's grip on my hand tightens and her face tenses up. Quickly, I kiss her neck slowly, softly. I move my lips- mouthing her name. Her hand loosens and I smile, lips still attached. I feel the plane rolling down the runway. Miley whispers something to me but it is drowned out by the plane's engine as it begins to take off. Here we go.
XxXxXxX
Author's Note: Man oh man! Have I waited too long or what? Seriously, my homework load has been positively insane these last few weeks. But fear not for in the summer months to come I will be free as a bird. I'm sorry if this chapter in low in quality. Leave your thoughts.
