Hello, all. It has really been a while, huh? I really do
apologize and I will try to update much more regularly than I have been
doing. My creative juices have been at an all time low and betwixt work,
school, friends, and work, I honestly don't have much time -_-; I know
that's no excuse, but if you will just bear with me, that would be
fantastic. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I adore your reviews,
and I hope to talk to you all once more! Jolly reading!
Disclaimer: Sailor moon is the sole property of Naoko Takeuchi and other such corporative companies. I do not own it. 'Nough said!
____----____----____----____-----___
Charred Chances, Golden Opportunity
It was several hours later that a nagging feeling (that I had, until then ignored so eloquently) flew back into my mind. I jolted upright; coming so fast I nearly toppled off the bed. I looked around wildly for a clock, and gasped when I noted the flashing red numbers. Eleven o'clock? Eleven? Sensing no anvil above me, I knocked myself in the temple. Stupid, stupid Serena!
My frantic search changed to find my now missing boyfriend. Leaping from the tangled covers, I stumbled into the hallway.
"Darien!" I called. His apartment was rather chilly. Looking down, I noticed my clothes were no longer in place. Grabbing the edge of his no- longer crisp sheet, my sprint continued yoga-style into the main room. "DARIEN!" panic arose within my chest, echoing through his silent apartment.
My eyes scoured the room before me; the soft triple seating black couch, mahogany coffee table and matching lamp stands all facing an impressive entertainment system. Over the three steps that separated the kitchenette and dining room from the television area, the stark whiteness of the tiles contrasted greatly with the darkness of the flanking room. Suddenly, though, a head popped from behind the counter. I sighed in relief. "Darien," I chided softly as he approached, a small tray balanced in his arms.
"Dinner, my love?" he imitated the best he could a sultry London accent. There is a reason he majored in science and not drama. Taking a piece of the strawberry fondue between my lips, I smiled pleasurably.
"Wah, fank ooh," He leaned in closely, adding flavour to the already rich chocolate. It took all my will power and the reminder of my awaiting Papa to pull away from is delectability. A cute look of confusion swept across him. I grinned apologetically. "It's eleven," I stated. Disappointment replaced his former appeasement. An idea seemed to illuminate his saddened thoughts;
"You know, you could 'conveniently' spend the night over atone of your friends," I shook my head.
"They'd only agree if they knew who the guy was, and I'm not about to lie anymore than I have to." He understood.
"You haven't told them?" Well, partially anyway.
"Darien," I turned away making my way slowly back to his room. "We've already been over this. My parent's would never let me date a guy, least of all a Bachelor's graduate.If they ever found out..." I leaned down every so often, retrieving misplayed clothes. He said nothing. He remained silent as I dressed, and checked my hair and face. He said nothing as we headed to the door and down the hall. Finally, as we stepped into the elevator, he broke the silence.
"A relationship isn't all fun and games you know, Serena." His tone was serious. I looked to his eyes, and was pained to see such frustration.
"I know that. We both know that..."
"Do we?" he cut, sharper than I had expected. It was my turn to look away. "It seems you're all too ready for the fun and easy parts of the relationship, but when it comes to issues that just might, shake the ground a little," his voice rose slightly. "You pull back." His eyes burned into the top of my head, and I looked up once more.
Shame glistened in my eyes, and tears began to form. Was this all true? I thought back to the past two years we'd been together. Darien was always the one who took on the tougher problems; scenario role-plays of what would happen if...
He was the first to say 'I love you' not because I felt any less, no. I was too afraid of change. He was the one who had been abandoned his whole life; orphaned at a young age, bounced from foster home to foster home until he was old enough to live on his own. It had taken him so long to open up, and how do I repay his trust? By keeping the one beautiful thing in our lives secret. My tears began to fall at this realization.
"I love you Serena, I do. But I don't want to be in a relationship where one person takes action and the other sits placidly by." His exasperation had broken into a cheerless song. The ding of the elevator signalled our exit, and like two wounded soldiers we trudged slowly to the car.
"They know, your friends? They know about us?" I wasn't quite sure he heard me over the grumble of the engine. He nodded. "Please, Dare, it's not that I don't want people to know about us, its just," He ignored my excuses. I would too were I in his seat.
The rest of the trek was made in silence. It was not our usual silence, the comfortable feeling of contentment I usually felt around him. It was tense, and awkward. I was almost glad when he drove in front of Dad's house. I promised to call as I exited, but he remained belted in stony silence.
Darien drove away, and I felt my heart crush just a little. I knew I had to do something soon, lest our relationship fall into a finale chasm. I walked slowly to the door, all the while running plans through my mind, when finally...
Both the door and my mind clicked open, and I knew what it was that I must do.
"Serena," dear Papa bellowed, momentarily knocking my train off track. I turned and faced him.
"Hey dad!" I ran past him. "Bye dad!" I dashed my way up the stairs and knew it would not take long for him to follow. For a man of his age, he moves impressively prompt. The door flew open, revealing my reclined form. I attempted a meek grin. He huffed angrily.
"What the HELL kind of stunt was that?" I pinched the tip of my nose. Not now, I grumbled.
"What stunt, father?" He did not take the hint. He never does.
"Calling me without a moment's notice, popping in this late at night..." he sputtered angrily. He reminded me somewhat of a spectacle- sporting volcano. I bit my lip to hide the snicker.
"I called, didn't I? I said where I was, whom I was with and that I'd return late." He rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. How rude. That action is reserved for the arrogant youths of my time!
"Hmphf! For all I know, you could have been off screwin' some stranger on the street. That's all you kids do nowadays, isn't it?" he muttered the last line contemptuously, marching toward my door. I tried to hold back my comment, I really did. However, I don't allow anyone to reduce the lovemaking between two caring people into some primetime smut.
"No dad, that would be your after-hours activity." He stopped. I kicked myself mentally. He moved so quickly across the room I barely noticed his action until it was too late. His palm connected harshly with my cheek, his strength sending me reeling onto the floor. For a moment, we merely stared at one another, both in shock. I was sure a fleeting trace of remorse crossed his eyes, but I quickly dismissed it. Springing to my feet, I raced past him once more.
"Serena," he started. I ignored him. Speeding to the phone, I picked up the receiver. Punching a familiar seven-digit code, I groaned as Mina's answering machine picked up. She was the only one who lived relatively close. Tears blinded my vision. Unless...
I dialled a new number, praying he was still nearby.
"Darien Shields speaking," I let out a sob. He caught it over the connection.
"Who is this?" he asked. Dad's voice roared somewhere near;
"You'd better not be calling that druggie of a mother, this is my weekend Serena," Darien's tone changed to a concerned voice.
"Serena? What's going on?"
"Dare," I sniffled, desperately trying to keep my cool. "Can you please come pick me up?" I knew this was the exact reason we had fought just moments earlier, but I no longer cared. I needed to get away. There was no argument, no question, just an affirming 'I'll be right there'.
I turned around in time to see my father glowering, his nostrils flaring in anger. To be fair, Papa was a decent guy. However, his temper exceeded his patience by far.
A fair skinned woman stood at his side, long hair dangling over her Hollywood tan. Sheila. She'd been living here with him for a month almost. It was women like her that gave marriage a bad name.
"Who was that you were on the phone with?" The human Barbie asked with vacant maternal care. My face blazed flush and damp. Sniffling quietly, I slammed down the receiver, causing her to jump slightly.
"Just some 'stranger off the street'." Sheila appeared extremely confused. Father received another attack of a regretful veil. A knock sounded, so silent, so cautious that I almost didn't catch it. Dad beat me to the knob, yanking it open uncaringly.
"What?" he grunted. His eyes flashed in recognition. "You're Serena's tutor, aren't you?" Before he could get another word in, I blew past him and grabbed Darien by the hand.
"No," my voice sounded much more certain than it felt. Staring up fervently through tear-streaked cheeks, my last sentence hung like icicles in the frigid temperation. "He's my boyfriend." And we walked on, me leading the way to his awaiting vessel as Dad gazed both openly and bewildered.
Darien drove, yet again, in the direction of his home. Every second or so, he would gaze at me, emotionally conflicted between his earlier anger and his present remorse. I didn't know what to say. My cheek still stung painfully from the strike and new tears found their way down my face. In an attempt to calm myself, I bit my lip, catching sobs before they could form.
The car slowed, and Darien stepped out of his seat, appearing moments later at the passenger side. Slowly easing the door open, I stood on shaky legs. We stared at each other, remaining silent, his finger tracing my dripping eyes and shushing me gently.
"It's ok, its ok..." My body melded to his, muffled cries breaking into his chest. Seconds passed, then minutes, and my weeping subsided. I found comfort in his embrace, suddenly confused by my fear of others knowing, judging. All I wanted was him. "Do you want to talk about it?" Slowly gazing up from his arms, I nodded. I told him of my insecurities, of my mother, my father, Sheila. I told him how worthless I'd been feeling, how everything seemed less beautiful and whimsical. Hunger pervaded me always, and my mind never seemed able to rest. He just listened.
_____----_____----______----
I was flying. Not in the way one suddenly rises and soars; I needed a running start. It had to be a dream; in fact, I knew it was a dream. Yet, here I was soaring above the sky tops, the sun warming my back. Somehow, the logic in dreamland is different from that of the real world. I knew it was a dream, and I planned to enjoy each precious second. Fate, once more, seemed to disagree.
"Mmmph," I mumbled sleepily as the warmth left my side. The sun couldn't possibly already have left; I hadn't told it to go anywhere! Opening a languid eye, I suddenly remembered the events of last night. I kept my eyes drawn shut, not quite ready to face the world. I could hear muffled, erratic movements just feet before me, and I knew Darien was preparing for his jog. Judging from his quiet footsteps and whispered curses, he was trying to put on his jogging suit.
"Mmaaeeen," I drawled. Even with my lids closed, I could see him freeze.
"Serena? You awake?" Half of me wanted to lie, knowing full well he would insist I come along. My other, more ruthless half recalled all the woes of yester eve. I sighed. "Mmmmyeaah." He grinned. I bet my entire Sailor V collection he was grinning right at this very moment.
"Why don't you come join me?" Am I psychic or what? "The sun's just beginning to rise, it's a gorgeous day-" I rolled over to my side and sat oh so painfully up.
"Yeah yeah," I waved him off. I've never seen anyone so wired to be awake, though that might be partly due to my chronic sloth. He quickly pulled a shirt over his head, not even allowing me my morning eye-candy before reaching into his closet and tossing me a zip-up hood and pair of bike shorts.
"Put these on," he winked. "I'll go get you some water." I swallowed away my parched throat and nodded, sleep hovering as a thick fog. I changed quickly, lying back on the bed for temporary sanctuary. We'd stayed up late, too late the night before, talking. Although, I must say- it had done me well.
A quick knock sounded.
"Are you dressed?" I rolled my eyes.
"Would it matter if I wasn't?" He poked his sheepish head through motioning me to come forward. Setting the class in my hands, he gave me a quick peck.
"Someone's cranky." I ignored him, gulping the cool liquid in a couple of swigs. Trudging to the sink, I set it on the counter and followed him out the door.
Why isn't getting into shape easier than falling out of it? I wheezed tiredly behind my boyfriend, who ran several paces ahead of myself. I once read somewhere that each time you work out, it takes three times as long to lose that shape. So, say you work out for a month, then you stop, you should be good for three months. I huffed as Darien turned around, assuring himself I was still there. It's a lie: A terrible, awful, completely fictional lie. My sides cramped, my lungs burned and the long ignored pain of shin splints laughed mockingly at me as each step, my body grew heavier.
Darien had no idea I'd become so 'obsessed' (as he coined it) about my body. I picked my speed even more, ignoring the extreme stabbing of my side, trying desperately to catch up to that Ebony haired racehorse. I remembered his words, spoken so gentle and without judgement;
"I think you're beautiful. Not just out, but every part of you. I suppose, though, it does no good if you can't see it...I'll help you, if you want. You don't need to change, but if you want to be healthier, I'll help...I love you no matter what."
Looking up, a brief moment of surreal contentment overtook me as the warmth from those words startled something dormant. I'm so lucky...
It must have been hours, or possibly only one, later that he started to slow. My entire body had been converted into melted plastic, sweaty and wobbly and very wanting to kill the handsome, sweat free man before me.
"So," he said- not even the slightest out of breath! Show off. "That was a good, light jog, hmm?" Light, jog? A light jog? Had I the energy, a retort would have been certain. He took my silence as approval and lifted me off the ground. Not to patronize women in any way, but there really is something very nice about being looked after by guys. This certainly topped the list.
"I, I, t-thirsty," I panted between breaths, leaning into his side. He grinned.
"Look up," my eyes glazed over, and I suddenly remembered why it was we were together.
"It, it, it's t-the," I could not finish. Drool salivated impatiently in the corner of my lips. Holding onto him for support, I dragged each cramped muscle through the revolving beauty that was the Arcade.
The fresh scent of baked goods, hot dogs and ice cream invaded my starved innards; their gurgling cries sounding over the familiar beeps of the games. I held a tightened hand over my stomach, suddenly remembering the amount of leg that was showing. Feeling me stiffen, Darien dragged me forward.
"So," he started. "What would you like?" I was startled. This was the first time ever we were out in public and doing something 'couply'. Perhaps we really had needed that talk; for both of us. Hearing my thoughts, he reached over and wriggled my hand from my other clenched fist, holding it comfortably in his. I glanced up and grinned.
"Umm," I looked up to the menu. My favourite triple chocolate fudge sundae glimmered at me innocently from the menu's chalky surface. I opened my mouth, and then quickly shut it. No, no Serena. My head shook mentally. We don't like chocolate remember? My stomach growled objecting. "I'll have grapefruit and slice of toast please." My stomach may not be please but my pants will be.
Sending me an odd glance, I wrinkled my brows, trying to look too guilty. "What?" He looked to me, then the menu, then me once more.
"You don't want anything more?" I shrugged.
"I'll have an orange juice too..." his gaze went slightly concerned for a moment before nodding.
"If you're sure," he pulled a goofy face. "You can share my bacon." I stuck out my tongue, wrinkling my brow. Raising his brows suggestively, he leaned foreword, lips inches from my own...
"Are you guys ready for your order?" An irate voice snapped, its depths rolling like sour milk. I peeked an eye to my side and gasped as I recognized the waiter.
"Seiya!"
Disclaimer: Sailor moon is the sole property of Naoko Takeuchi and other such corporative companies. I do not own it. 'Nough said!
____----____----____----____-----___
Charred Chances, Golden Opportunity
It was several hours later that a nagging feeling (that I had, until then ignored so eloquently) flew back into my mind. I jolted upright; coming so fast I nearly toppled off the bed. I looked around wildly for a clock, and gasped when I noted the flashing red numbers. Eleven o'clock? Eleven? Sensing no anvil above me, I knocked myself in the temple. Stupid, stupid Serena!
My frantic search changed to find my now missing boyfriend. Leaping from the tangled covers, I stumbled into the hallway.
"Darien!" I called. His apartment was rather chilly. Looking down, I noticed my clothes were no longer in place. Grabbing the edge of his no- longer crisp sheet, my sprint continued yoga-style into the main room. "DARIEN!" panic arose within my chest, echoing through his silent apartment.
My eyes scoured the room before me; the soft triple seating black couch, mahogany coffee table and matching lamp stands all facing an impressive entertainment system. Over the three steps that separated the kitchenette and dining room from the television area, the stark whiteness of the tiles contrasted greatly with the darkness of the flanking room. Suddenly, though, a head popped from behind the counter. I sighed in relief. "Darien," I chided softly as he approached, a small tray balanced in his arms.
"Dinner, my love?" he imitated the best he could a sultry London accent. There is a reason he majored in science and not drama. Taking a piece of the strawberry fondue between my lips, I smiled pleasurably.
"Wah, fank ooh," He leaned in closely, adding flavour to the already rich chocolate. It took all my will power and the reminder of my awaiting Papa to pull away from is delectability. A cute look of confusion swept across him. I grinned apologetically. "It's eleven," I stated. Disappointment replaced his former appeasement. An idea seemed to illuminate his saddened thoughts;
"You know, you could 'conveniently' spend the night over atone of your friends," I shook my head.
"They'd only agree if they knew who the guy was, and I'm not about to lie anymore than I have to." He understood.
"You haven't told them?" Well, partially anyway.
"Darien," I turned away making my way slowly back to his room. "We've already been over this. My parent's would never let me date a guy, least of all a Bachelor's graduate.If they ever found out..." I leaned down every so often, retrieving misplayed clothes. He said nothing. He remained silent as I dressed, and checked my hair and face. He said nothing as we headed to the door and down the hall. Finally, as we stepped into the elevator, he broke the silence.
"A relationship isn't all fun and games you know, Serena." His tone was serious. I looked to his eyes, and was pained to see such frustration.
"I know that. We both know that..."
"Do we?" he cut, sharper than I had expected. It was my turn to look away. "It seems you're all too ready for the fun and easy parts of the relationship, but when it comes to issues that just might, shake the ground a little," his voice rose slightly. "You pull back." His eyes burned into the top of my head, and I looked up once more.
Shame glistened in my eyes, and tears began to form. Was this all true? I thought back to the past two years we'd been together. Darien was always the one who took on the tougher problems; scenario role-plays of what would happen if...
He was the first to say 'I love you' not because I felt any less, no. I was too afraid of change. He was the one who had been abandoned his whole life; orphaned at a young age, bounced from foster home to foster home until he was old enough to live on his own. It had taken him so long to open up, and how do I repay his trust? By keeping the one beautiful thing in our lives secret. My tears began to fall at this realization.
"I love you Serena, I do. But I don't want to be in a relationship where one person takes action and the other sits placidly by." His exasperation had broken into a cheerless song. The ding of the elevator signalled our exit, and like two wounded soldiers we trudged slowly to the car.
"They know, your friends? They know about us?" I wasn't quite sure he heard me over the grumble of the engine. He nodded. "Please, Dare, it's not that I don't want people to know about us, its just," He ignored my excuses. I would too were I in his seat.
The rest of the trek was made in silence. It was not our usual silence, the comfortable feeling of contentment I usually felt around him. It was tense, and awkward. I was almost glad when he drove in front of Dad's house. I promised to call as I exited, but he remained belted in stony silence.
Darien drove away, and I felt my heart crush just a little. I knew I had to do something soon, lest our relationship fall into a finale chasm. I walked slowly to the door, all the while running plans through my mind, when finally...
Both the door and my mind clicked open, and I knew what it was that I must do.
"Serena," dear Papa bellowed, momentarily knocking my train off track. I turned and faced him.
"Hey dad!" I ran past him. "Bye dad!" I dashed my way up the stairs and knew it would not take long for him to follow. For a man of his age, he moves impressively prompt. The door flew open, revealing my reclined form. I attempted a meek grin. He huffed angrily.
"What the HELL kind of stunt was that?" I pinched the tip of my nose. Not now, I grumbled.
"What stunt, father?" He did not take the hint. He never does.
"Calling me without a moment's notice, popping in this late at night..." he sputtered angrily. He reminded me somewhat of a spectacle- sporting volcano. I bit my lip to hide the snicker.
"I called, didn't I? I said where I was, whom I was with and that I'd return late." He rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. How rude. That action is reserved for the arrogant youths of my time!
"Hmphf! For all I know, you could have been off screwin' some stranger on the street. That's all you kids do nowadays, isn't it?" he muttered the last line contemptuously, marching toward my door. I tried to hold back my comment, I really did. However, I don't allow anyone to reduce the lovemaking between two caring people into some primetime smut.
"No dad, that would be your after-hours activity." He stopped. I kicked myself mentally. He moved so quickly across the room I barely noticed his action until it was too late. His palm connected harshly with my cheek, his strength sending me reeling onto the floor. For a moment, we merely stared at one another, both in shock. I was sure a fleeting trace of remorse crossed his eyes, but I quickly dismissed it. Springing to my feet, I raced past him once more.
"Serena," he started. I ignored him. Speeding to the phone, I picked up the receiver. Punching a familiar seven-digit code, I groaned as Mina's answering machine picked up. She was the only one who lived relatively close. Tears blinded my vision. Unless...
I dialled a new number, praying he was still nearby.
"Darien Shields speaking," I let out a sob. He caught it over the connection.
"Who is this?" he asked. Dad's voice roared somewhere near;
"You'd better not be calling that druggie of a mother, this is my weekend Serena," Darien's tone changed to a concerned voice.
"Serena? What's going on?"
"Dare," I sniffled, desperately trying to keep my cool. "Can you please come pick me up?" I knew this was the exact reason we had fought just moments earlier, but I no longer cared. I needed to get away. There was no argument, no question, just an affirming 'I'll be right there'.
I turned around in time to see my father glowering, his nostrils flaring in anger. To be fair, Papa was a decent guy. However, his temper exceeded his patience by far.
A fair skinned woman stood at his side, long hair dangling over her Hollywood tan. Sheila. She'd been living here with him for a month almost. It was women like her that gave marriage a bad name.
"Who was that you were on the phone with?" The human Barbie asked with vacant maternal care. My face blazed flush and damp. Sniffling quietly, I slammed down the receiver, causing her to jump slightly.
"Just some 'stranger off the street'." Sheila appeared extremely confused. Father received another attack of a regretful veil. A knock sounded, so silent, so cautious that I almost didn't catch it. Dad beat me to the knob, yanking it open uncaringly.
"What?" he grunted. His eyes flashed in recognition. "You're Serena's tutor, aren't you?" Before he could get another word in, I blew past him and grabbed Darien by the hand.
"No," my voice sounded much more certain than it felt. Staring up fervently through tear-streaked cheeks, my last sentence hung like icicles in the frigid temperation. "He's my boyfriend." And we walked on, me leading the way to his awaiting vessel as Dad gazed both openly and bewildered.
Darien drove, yet again, in the direction of his home. Every second or so, he would gaze at me, emotionally conflicted between his earlier anger and his present remorse. I didn't know what to say. My cheek still stung painfully from the strike and new tears found their way down my face. In an attempt to calm myself, I bit my lip, catching sobs before they could form.
The car slowed, and Darien stepped out of his seat, appearing moments later at the passenger side. Slowly easing the door open, I stood on shaky legs. We stared at each other, remaining silent, his finger tracing my dripping eyes and shushing me gently.
"It's ok, its ok..." My body melded to his, muffled cries breaking into his chest. Seconds passed, then minutes, and my weeping subsided. I found comfort in his embrace, suddenly confused by my fear of others knowing, judging. All I wanted was him. "Do you want to talk about it?" Slowly gazing up from his arms, I nodded. I told him of my insecurities, of my mother, my father, Sheila. I told him how worthless I'd been feeling, how everything seemed less beautiful and whimsical. Hunger pervaded me always, and my mind never seemed able to rest. He just listened.
_____----_____----______----
I was flying. Not in the way one suddenly rises and soars; I needed a running start. It had to be a dream; in fact, I knew it was a dream. Yet, here I was soaring above the sky tops, the sun warming my back. Somehow, the logic in dreamland is different from that of the real world. I knew it was a dream, and I planned to enjoy each precious second. Fate, once more, seemed to disagree.
"Mmmph," I mumbled sleepily as the warmth left my side. The sun couldn't possibly already have left; I hadn't told it to go anywhere! Opening a languid eye, I suddenly remembered the events of last night. I kept my eyes drawn shut, not quite ready to face the world. I could hear muffled, erratic movements just feet before me, and I knew Darien was preparing for his jog. Judging from his quiet footsteps and whispered curses, he was trying to put on his jogging suit.
"Mmaaeeen," I drawled. Even with my lids closed, I could see him freeze.
"Serena? You awake?" Half of me wanted to lie, knowing full well he would insist I come along. My other, more ruthless half recalled all the woes of yester eve. I sighed. "Mmmmyeaah." He grinned. I bet my entire Sailor V collection he was grinning right at this very moment.
"Why don't you come join me?" Am I psychic or what? "The sun's just beginning to rise, it's a gorgeous day-" I rolled over to my side and sat oh so painfully up.
"Yeah yeah," I waved him off. I've never seen anyone so wired to be awake, though that might be partly due to my chronic sloth. He quickly pulled a shirt over his head, not even allowing me my morning eye-candy before reaching into his closet and tossing me a zip-up hood and pair of bike shorts.
"Put these on," he winked. "I'll go get you some water." I swallowed away my parched throat and nodded, sleep hovering as a thick fog. I changed quickly, lying back on the bed for temporary sanctuary. We'd stayed up late, too late the night before, talking. Although, I must say- it had done me well.
A quick knock sounded.
"Are you dressed?" I rolled my eyes.
"Would it matter if I wasn't?" He poked his sheepish head through motioning me to come forward. Setting the class in my hands, he gave me a quick peck.
"Someone's cranky." I ignored him, gulping the cool liquid in a couple of swigs. Trudging to the sink, I set it on the counter and followed him out the door.
Why isn't getting into shape easier than falling out of it? I wheezed tiredly behind my boyfriend, who ran several paces ahead of myself. I once read somewhere that each time you work out, it takes three times as long to lose that shape. So, say you work out for a month, then you stop, you should be good for three months. I huffed as Darien turned around, assuring himself I was still there. It's a lie: A terrible, awful, completely fictional lie. My sides cramped, my lungs burned and the long ignored pain of shin splints laughed mockingly at me as each step, my body grew heavier.
Darien had no idea I'd become so 'obsessed' (as he coined it) about my body. I picked my speed even more, ignoring the extreme stabbing of my side, trying desperately to catch up to that Ebony haired racehorse. I remembered his words, spoken so gentle and without judgement;
"I think you're beautiful. Not just out, but every part of you. I suppose, though, it does no good if you can't see it...I'll help you, if you want. You don't need to change, but if you want to be healthier, I'll help...I love you no matter what."
Looking up, a brief moment of surreal contentment overtook me as the warmth from those words startled something dormant. I'm so lucky...
It must have been hours, or possibly only one, later that he started to slow. My entire body had been converted into melted plastic, sweaty and wobbly and very wanting to kill the handsome, sweat free man before me.
"So," he said- not even the slightest out of breath! Show off. "That was a good, light jog, hmm?" Light, jog? A light jog? Had I the energy, a retort would have been certain. He took my silence as approval and lifted me off the ground. Not to patronize women in any way, but there really is something very nice about being looked after by guys. This certainly topped the list.
"I, I, t-thirsty," I panted between breaths, leaning into his side. He grinned.
"Look up," my eyes glazed over, and I suddenly remembered why it was we were together.
"It, it, it's t-the," I could not finish. Drool salivated impatiently in the corner of my lips. Holding onto him for support, I dragged each cramped muscle through the revolving beauty that was the Arcade.
The fresh scent of baked goods, hot dogs and ice cream invaded my starved innards; their gurgling cries sounding over the familiar beeps of the games. I held a tightened hand over my stomach, suddenly remembering the amount of leg that was showing. Feeling me stiffen, Darien dragged me forward.
"So," he started. "What would you like?" I was startled. This was the first time ever we were out in public and doing something 'couply'. Perhaps we really had needed that talk; for both of us. Hearing my thoughts, he reached over and wriggled my hand from my other clenched fist, holding it comfortably in his. I glanced up and grinned.
"Umm," I looked up to the menu. My favourite triple chocolate fudge sundae glimmered at me innocently from the menu's chalky surface. I opened my mouth, and then quickly shut it. No, no Serena. My head shook mentally. We don't like chocolate remember? My stomach growled objecting. "I'll have grapefruit and slice of toast please." My stomach may not be please but my pants will be.
Sending me an odd glance, I wrinkled my brows, trying to look too guilty. "What?" He looked to me, then the menu, then me once more.
"You don't want anything more?" I shrugged.
"I'll have an orange juice too..." his gaze went slightly concerned for a moment before nodding.
"If you're sure," he pulled a goofy face. "You can share my bacon." I stuck out my tongue, wrinkling my brow. Raising his brows suggestively, he leaned foreword, lips inches from my own...
"Are you guys ready for your order?" An irate voice snapped, its depths rolling like sour milk. I peeked an eye to my side and gasped as I recognized the waiter.
"Seiya!"