11/9/05 - I'm sort of doing a cleanup of the story. I'm not changing much, just spelling and grammatical errors. I'm not finished, I just thought it would be a good idea. Sorry if the people on the alert list get a bunch of annoying emails when I really haven't changed anything.
Chapter 1 - It's Clearer In the Dark
Shannon hated his stupid, self- deprecating smile. She hated his attitude, how it was hostile and passive at the same time. She hated the way he walked. And she hated the way she couldn't resist him.
It had begun long before Sydney, long before high school was over and before they grew up. She didn't remember when – somewhere around the time she was fourteen, but it had started like a game. A "goodnight game" occurring in there last few minutes of consciousness each night.
"I dare you to kiss me," she would tell him.
"But Shannon – " he would always object, just a little, but his words meant nothing. Their lips would touch softly and the kiss would last mere seconds – chaste, only bordering on inappropriate, but there wasn't anything quite wrong with it yet. The way she held his hand, played with his fingers, could be considered as just affectionate sibling behavior.
But as they got older, the game intensified. He would lie in his bed some nights, waiting for her to climb in next to him, to brush against his body and breathe baby's breath into his ear, sucking on his neck softly, becoming increasingly friendly with the space where ear tapered into neck. Other nights, she would listen against the wall, anticipating the sound of his feet creeping down the hallway, waiting for him to give her a back massage. She would disguise the shivers she got when she felt his breathe down her neck, suppress her moans when his fingers kneaded her shoulders just right, sorting out the kinks in her smooth skin.
Then it turned into urgent kissing – more tongues and less clothes. Their goodnight sessions would only last minutes, because they feared that his mom or her dad would hear. As their high school years drew to a close, their evening rendezvous became more aggressive. Climbing onto Shannon, Boone would place long, greedy, openmouthed kisses, his fingers would slowly move from clutched with Shannon's delicate hands to the hem of her shirt. Taking a hint, she would tease him, tantalizingly unbuttoning it one or two buttons at a time. She loved watching him try to contain himself, how stressed out he got – all hot and bothered. Eventually, in those humid, melting days before Boone graduated, she would skitter frantically to his room, pounce on him, rip off her shirt as he did his own, grab his hands and force them up her bra, taking her own hands and groping at his crotch wildly in the dark, beads of sweat rolling down their now bare chests.
Some days, many days, she told herself she wouldn't go, and would turn and close her eyes decisively – only to find her feet pitter-pattering down the hallway seconds later. He wasn't a drug, but he sure as hell was addictive.
But he is the one who is in love with me, she would reason with herself defiantly. She was merely attracted to him – she wanted to kiss him and touch him (And fuck him, A pesky voice in her head added). But. She didn't adore him or idolize him that he did her. He annoyed her; almost every thing he said and did made her practically cringe with embarrassment. No, this was most certainly NOT love. It wasn't like she thought of him constantly. Only minutes before sleep claimed her, when he was feeling her up, when she was caressing him neck. It was wrong, but she didn't give a damn, she could stop whenever she wanted. And they were just messing around.
Through her father's death, through all of her boyfriends, changing friendships and interests, her nights with Boone remained relatively constant. But they were growing anxious, and there came a time when five minutes together wasn't enough. Whenever Sabrina was away, which was often, they would make out on the couch, in the bathroom, in the hot tub, on the counter – anywhere they could, really, just to prove they could. They toyed with the idea of having sex, but when Sabrina was back, unused condoms would lie in the trash can, bundled in wads of toilet paper, so they would go unnoticed.
There were phases, however, when they didn't do anything together. For a while when Boone was dating Shannon's best friend Anna, he refused to do anything with Shannon. In fact, he barely even spoke to her at all. During this time was when Shannon's reputation as a slut was secured. She quickly lost her virginity to a drunken jock, slept with some other guys – backfiring because she knew (and hated) the fact that Anna and Boone were totally doing it, too. But, while she had difficulty admitting it, she really did miss him. She wanted him back, bad. So she always wore her skimpiest clothes around the two of them. Ass-skimming skirts and push-up bras became staples in her wardrobe. She wanted Anna to discover his secret lust for her. And it worked.
She dated tons of guys, partially to make Boone jealous, but also to find someone, anyone, would play the part that Boone played in her life. This was not quite as successful, but it did result in more attention from him.
She didn't like him, yet she craved him. She longed to stare into his eyes, to feel his soft but slightly chapped lips against hers; she wanted to smell his scent and his sex. But she knew that once she had him, she wouldn't know WHAT to do. Would she even want him anymore? She had watched his heart break on her account numerous times, watch him kiss the ground she walked on for years. Some part of her felt guilt, but it was swallowed by the larger part that wanted to prove his inferiority. But all these feelings were drowned by the part of her that wanted him.