We cut sixth, even though I knew my dad would lecture me, my mom would give me that worried look, and my grandma would slug me in the arm. Sometimes, I think my sanity died along with Colin. Sane Bright, Normal Bright, had some semblance of self-preservation. (At least Colin and I always planned these things out.)
I pulled you into the supply closet during passing (—closet, get it?); I thought your lips were too wide to be frowning so often, and the reasoning seemed sound at the moment. You must have said something clever, because I slipped my hands to the white curve of your neck and kissed you so that you'd shut up.
You recalled that I drove my truck that day, and we ended up oh-so-casually stumbling toward the student parking lot. When our knuckles brushed as we walked side by side, it was easy to pretend it was only coincidence. My foot knocked yours in a mock attempt to trip you, and you shoved me lightly in the shoulder and we were just boys being boys.
The lake was just as I last saw it, and I could tell you were thrilled from the curling of your lips, but you did your I'm-a-city-kid-who-doesn't-care-about-nature act. I suppose I expected you to.
And then we were kissing. It was easier than just sitting there, pretending we had things to say to each other. Amy and Colin were our only connection, but we knew them both exclusively.
Not that any of that mattered with your tongue in my mouth and hands in our hair.
Sometime between throwing my leg over yours and reaching for you jeans you asked softly, "Do you love me?"
I thought I misheard you, so I didn't answer. You never said things softly; there was too much of that bitter sharpness in your words. Then you just looked at me, and I knew I heard right. And damn it, it was unfair, and you know it! I didn't even know you; you were still just the weird new kid who ruined Amy and Colin; could ruin me next.
I didn't answer, because I could never remember my lines in our dialogue.
It wasn't too surprising when you staggered out of the car and began to walk back to town. I hoped you wouldn't get lost; people didn't seem to realize how long it took to get back home.
Author's Notes: Yes, I wrote blatant slash. Written mid-Season 2, when Bright was still in high schooland Ephram wasn't a man-whore with bad taste in girls. ;) Feel free to review.
Edit: Thanks to Mandy pwns you for pointing out the typo!