This is probably my favorite chapter of the whole story.
Lyrics to Chip Away The Stone by Aerosmith (1978)
"Hey, Freak."
Lemy's shoulders tensed. That voice...smooth, sexy, like honey dripping from naughty lips. It sounded like...it sounded like…
...like he was going to be cucked out of his omelette yet again.
Oh, hell, no. He glanced over his shoulder, and Gwen was leaning against the arm of the couch, a sly smile on her face. She wore her typical shirt and sweater combo, her brown hair framing her face and her eyes bright with an excitement that sent a pang rippling through his heart. She was excited...to see him.
Wow. Me?
Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same about her. No offense, hon, but you picked a bad time to drop in.
Leave the bitch.
"Where you going?"
Aw, man, I can't do that, she's practically my girl. But I really want this omelette.
She spent mad money on you yesterday, bro, and you're gonna be a selfish little bitch and leave her? Dude...not cool.
Yeah, but I di -
Doesn't matter if you wanted that shit or not. Stop being a prick.
Sigh. The angel on his shoulder was right. Plus, wasn't he going to give her a shot? Didn't he think that last night after he burned? He couldn't remember. Man, I gotta stop smoking that shit. I'm pathetic enough without being a fucking burnout hippie.
Alright. Fine. I'll just bring her along. I have enough money for two.
"IHOP," he said, "you wanna come with?"
Her face lit up. "Hmmm...what's at IHOP?"
"The omelette I've been wanting forever...then I forgot I wanted it then I remembered that I forgot and now I really want it again."
She giggled either at what a loser he was or at how fast and desperately the words tumbled out. He couldn't really tell. "How about I make you an omelette?"
Lemy's brow furrowed. Uh...okay, again, no offense, but I don't really like the idea of eating something made by an eleven-year-old girl. You ever see that show Kid's Kitchen or whatever the fuck it's called? It's one of those Food Network reality deals where kids make shit and get judged, ya know, the usual. Every time he watched it he cringed when the judges ate something these little shits made. Like...God, they're kids, man, they probably didn't wash their hands and they probably put boogers in the food and ugh. "Uh...no, that's fine, we can just go out. Like a…" here he stammered, "...a date."
"Really, it's no trouble, I like cooking," she said and got up. That's when he noticed Leia for the first time; she was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed. She glanced at him, and he lifted a questioning brow. Another set up?
She shrugged and spread her hands. I didn't invite her.
Gwen came over and touched his face. "What do you want in it?"
He opened his mouth to protest, but there was a shadow of something in her eyes...pleading, he thought.
Please let me do this for you.
Sigh. Fine.
"Green peppers," he said, "and, uh, onions and stuff."
"Okay," she said, "cheese?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"I'll have it done in ten minutes tops," she said and kissed his cheek, her lips wet and lingering. Her hands went to his chest and her fingers dug into his flesh like she was a woman hanging onto a ledge and trying frantically to keep from falling. Lemy swallowed thickly and she pulled away. "It'll be the best omelette ever. I promise." She flashed a tight lipped smile, then turned and went into the kitchen via the dining room.
When she was gone, Lemy looked at Leia, who was watching TV with her arms crossed. Alright, did you guys see that? Wasn't that a little...you know…?
Nothing, I'm reading too much into it. She offered to make me an omelette and kissed me. What's weird about that?
Still, man, I have a feeling like...something's not entirely right here. Whatever.
He went over to the couch and sat next to Leia; the cushion was still warm from Gwen. "I didn't bring her over," Leia said without looking away from the screen, "she just showed up."
Lemy nodded; he believed her. Again, nothing out of the ordinary about going to your boyfriend's house. If he and Lyra were together, he'd be up her ass 24/7...figuratively and literally.
Man, now he felt like shit. Yeah, Gwen liked him, he knew that, but to what degree? If she felt for him what he felt for Lyra...that's sad because he loved Lyra with every fiber of his being and she didn't love him back, the same way he didn't love Gwen. Say what you want about him, but he was an empathetic dude, and the thought that he was doing the same to her that Lyra was doing to him made him sick. Only, hey, what he was doing was worse. Lyra wasn't stringing him along the way he was with Gwen.
Man, I can't do this. I gotta tell her. It'll hurt her and...yeah, it'll hurt me too, but it's for the best. I mean...she's a nice girl from what I can tell, and doesn't deserve to be with some guy who's all hung up on his sister and shit...who can't feel for her what she feels for him. You know?
She's gonna take it hard, though, I can already tell, and...I don't know if I can do that to her. Part of me wants to really try, but I know it's useless. It'll be...pretend or something. I mean...imagine this...you're with someone for years, you laugh with them, you make love to them, you have children with them, you face life and all of life's trials, triumphs, and tribulations with them, you grow old together, you love them so much it hurts...and the whole time they don't love you. Forty, fifty years of them holding you and wishing you were someone else, of seeing your face and thinking of the proverbial one who got away, of tolerating you, of staring into the distance and wishing they were somewhere else. I dunno if I articulated myself well enough to make you feel what I feel, but, damn, isn't that sad? I imagine myself in that position...of loving someone who doesn't love me, and I know how much it would hurt. I don't wanna do that to Gwen.
Yeah. I gotta tell her.
His heart stumbled sickly in his chest and her stomach did kind of a flipping/rolling/panging thing. He crossed his arms and glanced toward the kitchen. The sounds and smells of cooking drifted forth.
Maybe I don't. Maybe I can make myself love her. Or maybe...I mean goddamn, I'm thirteen. I keep forgetting that. Whatever we may or may not have isn't going to last forever. Yeah, some people marry their high school sweethearts, but you know how rare that is? People grow and change as they get older, their circumstances evolve (or devolve). People almost never stay with the the guy or girl they're dating at eleven, so...what's the harm?
He sighed and started to restlessly shake his leg. Just...relax, go with the flow, enjoy your time together while pining for Lyra. Easy. In fact -
"Morning, son."
Lemy glanced over his shoulder as Dad passed behind the couch. He wore red briefs that hugged his sizeable bulge and nothing else. Leia twisted around and grinned seductively. "Ummm, morning, Daddy."
"Morning, princess," he said and winked at her.
Yuck.
He went into the kitchen and Lemy settled back. On TV, a man -
"NO! THAT'S FOR LEMY!"
Lemy and Leia both jumped. Dad hurried out of the kitchen, throwing nervous glances over each one of his shoulders; his arms and legs pumped like he was on a morning jog. He paused behind the couch and laid his hand on the back, his gaze going to the kitchen as though he expected Gwen to rush out with a chainsaw. "I don't know where you got her, son," he said and looked at Lemy, "but you need to take her back."
Oh? You don't like her? Maybe I will keep her around, then.
No, he wouldn't do that. I'm thinking on it, Pops, okay?
"Daddy?" Leia asked. She was kneeling on the cushion, her hands on the back and her upturned face pointed at Dad. "Can we play?"
"In a little while," Dad said and held his hand up. "I'd like to eat first...but I'm not going back in there until it's safe." He spared the dining room one more look, then went up the stairs. "I'll be in the shower."
Leia sighed, turned, and sat, her brow pinched sullenly and her lips in a pout. "He'll play with Lucy but not me," she grumbled.
Lemy started to say something, but Gwen poked her head out. "It's ready, Freak."
He took a deep whiff of the air, and, he couldn't lie, it smelled good. He got up and went into the dining room just as Gwen sat a plate at the head of the table. She smiled, stood back, and clasped her hands behind her back. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she said, "I made it special."
Okay, that gave him pause. "How?" he asked suspiciously.
"I put extra love in it," she said and pecked his cheek.
A blush spread across his face. Oh. Wow. That's sweet and makes me feel kind of good...but kind of shitty too because…
Nevermind. I'm not gonna dwell on this shit anymore. I'm just...going to eat my breakfast. It looks good. Light and fluffy with green, red, and white...kinda like the Mexican flag...which is basically the same as the Italian flag, right?
"Go on," Gwen said, a note of anticipation in her voice.
Lemy obliged, sitting and scooting the chair in. She handed him a fork and kissed his cheek again, her fingers raking through his hair. "I hope you like it," she said, then sat at his left, her elbows propping on the table and her chin resting in her palms. Her eyes shimmered and her lips were turned up in a genuine smile.
So do I, he thought. He cut a piece off, stabbed it with the tines, and lifted it to his mouth. A flicker of uncertainty ran across Gwen's face as he started to chew. "Is it good?" she asked.
No. It was not good.
It was fucking awesome! Melty cheese, crisp veggies, soft egg coating like a goddamn cloud. He swallowed and shivered in delight. "Hell yeah it's good," he said, and carved another piece off.
Gwen beamed brightly, a little girl satisfied that she'd done something to earn praise.
"Where'd you learn to make omelettes?" he asked around a mouthful, his manners completely forgotten; hard to remember things like chew with your mouth closed when you're basically creaming your pants.
"Myself," she said.
"Really?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She nodded. "Umhm. Like...trial and error. It took a long time but I got t."
"Same with me and mechanical stuff," he said absently as he hacked off another hunk and forked it into his mouth. "I taught myself most of it." He swallowed. "I mean, I read books and stuff, but no one really sat down and showed me what to do."
Gwen nodded. "Me too. I wasted a lot of food learning to cook." She giggled. "It made me feel kind of bad because, you know, starving people and stuff."
Lemy snorted. "My Dad told me once...he said There are starving people in China and you're throwing your dinner out. I said What, are you going to bring it to them?"
Gwen giggled and bowed her head. "Yeah, your Dad...he's a weirdo."
"Umhm," Lemy said and sliced off more egg. Man, this shit was like crack. Did she put some kind of drug in it? Was he gonna pass out and wind up like that dude in Misery, tied to a bed with a block of wood between his feet? I'm your number one girlfriend. *Whack* If so...just keep feeding me shit like this and we're good.
A mischievous light danced in her eyes. "What's up with that little thing on his head?"
"His cowlick?" Lemy asked.
"Yeah, I guess."
Lemy shrugged. "I dunno. Looks gay, huh?"
"It waves at me every time he walks by." She flapped her hand. "Heeeey."
Lemy burst out laughing, his head bowing and his shoulders shaking. Oh, shit, did she really just go there? "I say the same shit," he hitched, and Gwen giggled.
"He looks kind of like a rabbit," she said. "And white hair? Isn't he supposed to be young?"
Lemy shoved another piece of omelette into his mouth. He could feel the drugs taking effect - in a few minutes he'd be trapped in Gwen's bed with two broken feet and a distended stomach full of omelettes.
Not really.
"It was always white," Lemy said. "Some kinda pigment thing or something. I dunno."
"What about his teeth?"
Lemy shrugged. "I dunno. He probably got his ass whipped."
Gwen laughed...then shifted closer, laying one hand on his leg. "It's really good?" she asked seriously.
"Yeah," he said and swallowed, "it's giving me a boner." He immediately regretted his choice of words and blushed. Gwen laughed deeply, then harder at his expression; tears streamed down her face and her hand waved back at forth.
I should probably be a little more discriminating in my use of English, he thought; he was grinning, though.
"I'm glad," she said, and her fingers trailed up his leg, getting close to his crotch, "because I'm horny."
A piece of egg went down the wrong tube and he choked. Gwen's eyes widened and she sat up as he coughed. It was lodged deep and no air was getting in. Making a fist, he slammed himself in the chest, and it dislodged.
"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.
"Yeah," he said with a nervous smile, "you just...caught me off guard. That's all."
"Oh...sorry."
Lemy waved his hand. "You're fine. We can...we can take care of that after. If you want."
Her smile widened. "Okay! Then maybe after that we can go for a walk or something."
"Sure. Sounds good."
When he said we can do that after, he didn't mean right here at the table, but ten minutes later, his dick was jutting out of his zipper hole and Gwen was lifting her skirt and lowering herself onto him, her wet tunnel of love [cliche af, bruh] squeezing him painfully. They shared a gasp, and Gwen splayed her hands on the edge of the table. "God, I love that," she sighed and began to move up and down his rod, her juices coating him and greasing the way. He took her hips in his hands and rested his forehead against her back. He took a deep breath, and her smell filled his brain - warm, clean, fragrant; a hazy smile touched his lips and he wrapped his arms around her stomach.
Gwen tossed her hair and bit her bottom lip as her ass came flush with his groin. "You feel so good," she panted.
"So do you," he said honestly. The way her muscles stroked him and her walls slid wetly along his shaft, the way her stomach trembled under his touch...his heart raced and his breathing came in violent bursts. She turned her head and he leaned forward; their lips didn't meet, but their tongues lashed one another with a slick sound. He moved his hands over her breasts and her heart throbbed beneath his palm. She moved up, then back down, up, then down. It was too much; he could feel himself rocketing toward his climax.
She pulled back and favored him with big, earnest eyes. "I-I'm close."
"Me too."
"Look in my eyes."
That begging note in her voice...that needy hilt...he was powerless to do anything but stare deeply into her slitted, liquid brown eyes as he filled her; her body tensed and she held his gaze. A tremble sigh ripped from his throat and his entire body crackled as if with electricity. He hugged her close to his chest and pumped his hips, willingly giving her every bit his balls had to offer.
When it was over, she fell limp against him, her head lying in the crook of his neck, her flushed cheek tacky against his. "That was nice," she said and giggled.
"Yeah," Lemy said, "it was."
I still have to dump you, though. For your own good.
She turned and brushed her lips against his jaw. "You ready for our walk?"
No, actually, I'm ready to have a serious talk with you about us...and why we can't work. Only I'm not ready.
"Yeah," he said, feeling like shit for bitching out.
"Great," she chirped, "just let me get cleaned up and we can go." She pecked his forehead and got to her feet wince. "I'm leaking. Sorry."
Lemy tilted to one side and yep, he could see it dripping down her leg. His dick, falling flat, gave a weak, half-hearted jerk, flinging a glob of cum onto the table; some guys like seeing their nut on a woman's tits or face, but Lemy liked seeing it on their legs. Weird, I know.
"I'll be right back," she said and pressed her skirt to her crotch. She hurried out at a half-waddle, and Lemy watched her go with an amused grin. When she was gone, he sat back in the chair and sighed. The sex is fucking :okay hand: but...as great as it may be, he couldn't keep doing it with her. This wasn't something casual, you know? She felt for him, which meant they couldn't be friends with benefits or anything. It was like him and Lyra; he didn't even want to have sex with her anymore because his feelings were involved and being with here, you know, was...almost like a tease or something. It'd be the same way with Gwen, only it'd be her feelings.
Man, I feel so fucking stuck right now I don't know what to do. I'm trying my best here, but my best isn't good enough and every move I make is going to wind up hurting her. You know how they say you choose the lesser of two evils? Well...that's what I gotta do. What's the lesser of two evils here: Leading her on or being blunt and hurting her?
He didn't know. It felt like the latter, but maybe it was the former. Maybe you, oh great sage, have all the answers, but Lemy Loud, thirteen for barely forty-eight hours, did not. He was new at this sort of thing.
He did know, however, that his dick was still hanging out, resting limply against his leg like a marathon runner after a grueling charity 5K. He tucked it back into his pants, and that's when he noticed the sticky white mess in his pubes, a mingled mixture of his and Gwen's fluids. Call him strange, but on the one hand he liked walking around with a girl's cum on his log, but on the other...man, it got itchy fucking fast. And smelled. There was a napkin holder in the middle of the table, and he reached out, grabbed a few, and did his best to wipe himself up. It wasn't great, but he'd survive.
Getting up, he spotted the wad on the table, grabbed another napkin, and tried to clean it off, but it smeared wetly across the wood. This is Dad's spot, isn't it? Think of it as a belated Father's Day present.
In the living room, he dropped onto the couch next to Lizy, who was watching some gay ass cartoon about a boy rabbit with, like, thirty rabbit sisters. Pfft. Hoooooomooooo. She whipped her head around and shot him a stern look. "You're not supposed to do grown up stuff at the dinner table."
Oh, shit, she saw? He wasn't worried about getting in trouble, but, uh, his six-year-old sister walking in on him and a girl...that's kind of disturbing. She didn't need to see that shit. "Uh, yeah, sorry, I...apologize."
She looked him up and down...then broke out smiling. "That's okay. I won't tell."
Lemy chuckled. "Thanks. You're a great sister, you know that?" He patted the top of her head and she preened.
"You're an awesome brother."
Awww. I'm glad someone thinks I'm awesome. Someone other than Gwen, that is; and after I talk to her, she's not going to think I'm awesome at all.
Sigh.
Speaking of Gwen, she was coming down the stairs now. Lemy twisted around and frowned. Yeah...she's a cool girl, I gotta be straight with her. She deserves it.
At the foot of the stairs, she paused and looked at him. "Ready?"
Nope.
"Yep."
He patted Lizy's head again and got to his feet. Alright, dude, it's not gonna be easy but you gotta do this. He met Gwen at the door and she opened it; cold air washed over them and a leaf smacked him in the face. Goddamn it, every time!
Gwen laughed and peeled it off for him. "That look's so last season," she said.
"Yeah, I know," he replied and followed her onto the porch. She held out her hand, and he reluctantly took it.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked as they descended the steps; leaves drifted across the walkway and crunched underfoot like the husks of dead cicadas. Oh, Lemy hated those nasty ass motherfuckers. You ever see one? They ugly af, dog.
"Where ever," he said. Gwen led him to the right, and they followed the sidewalk along the street. A guy in a gay ass Cosby sweater stood at the edge of his yard, his hands on his hips and a burning pile of leaves before him; thin white smoke curled into the air. Gwen took a deep breath and let out a refreshed sigh.
"I love that smell," she said.
Lemy took a whiff. "Yeah," he said, "it's alright."
"I really like fall. Like...all the dorky decorations and stuff." She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Don't tell anyone. I say that stuff's lame but I actually think it's nice."
"Like...scarecrows?"
She nodded. "Yeah, and pumpkins and things like that. I have a reputation to protect, so shhh." She held her index finger to her lips.
Hm. "What kind of reputation" he asked.
They were crossing a side street now; trees blazing with autumnal colors lined either side, forming an enchanted tunne or some shit. Kids rode bikes, jumped rope, and played hopscotch.
"Well," she said, "I'm kind of a bitch."
Lemy glanced at her. "Really?"
She nodded guiltily. "Yeah. Kind of."
"I hadn't noticed."
She looked up at him and smiled. "That's because I like you."
He flashed a tight grimace and looked away. Yeah. That. Instead of manning up and saying something about them like he should have, he said, "You been going kind of hard on my Dad." He snickered genuinely. "It's pretty funny."
"I know," she said, "that's why I do it."
Lemy glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
They were at the intersection of Franklin and Wilson now: A rush of gas stations, cheap motels, and fast food joints pushed up against the sidewalks. Cars sped back and forth, a city bus pulled to a stop at a covered shelter where a crowd of people waited, and an ambulance blasted by with its sirens on.
Gwen shrugged. "Leia said you and your dad don't really get along."
Ah. Should have known. He made the mistake of venting to Leia about Dad one day after they had sex (most of the time she got right up and left, but sometimes she liked being cuddled). The British had a saying during WWII: Loose lips sink ships. Leia's lips were looser than a nine hundred pound brothel whore thirty years into a fuck-me career.
"It's not really that," he said now. The pedwalk sign across the street flashed red. "I just...I dunno, he doesn't really have a lot of time for me, you know?"
Gwen nodded. "Yeah," she said, understanding in her voice.
"And he gets on my nerves. You know how dads can be."
Here Gwen looked away. "Y-Yeah, I guess."
The light changed and traffic came to a halt. They crossed quickly, passing a old man with a cane on the way. On the other side, Gwen looked at him. "So, what's it like having so many sisters? It's gotta be...interesting."
Lemy snorted. "Yeah, it is."
"And all your aunts and stuff. How many people live in your house?"
"Twenty."
Gwen's jaw dropped, and he couldn't help but laugh; hers was the same expression he always got. "Twenty people? Wow, your house is big but not that big. Where does everyone sleep?"
"Well, my aunt Lana turned the attic into more rooms," he said, "so...there's that. My Dad has the master bedroom."
Gwen nodded...then furrowed her brow. "How does it work? Like...relationship wise?"
"My Dad and aunts?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Uh...they take turns."
Gwen stared at him for a moment...then laughed. "Wow. That's crazy. No offense."
"No, no," Lemy said honestly, "it is fucking crazy. It's...it's way out there."
Neither of them spoke for a while as they made their way across the parking lot of a Meijer's: Lemy watched a retarded guy in an orange vest push a line of carts toward the front, clpping people's bumpers as he went. And when he said retarded he meant literally mentally retarded. Or whatever the politically correct term is these days; it changes so fucking much. Like...years ago this TV host got in trouble for saying 'colored people.' No, no, the correct term is 'people of color.' Uh, wat? It's...literally the same thing except the order of words and, like, two letters. I-I don't get it.
"So," Gwen asked haltingly once they were back on the sidewalk, "who's your favorite sister? Besides L-Lyra?"
Lyra. Right. That reminds me, we need to have a chat. "Lizy," he said, "she's really cool."
"Which one's that?"
"The five-year-old. Red hat?"
"Ah," Gwen nodded, "have you guys...you know?"
Lemy's face crinkled. "No, God!"
"Sorry," Gwen said quickly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I don't care if you do, just so you know. I really don't mind."
Lemy started to speak, but a shout from across the street cut him off.
"Hey, fuck face!"
He froze mid step.
Oh, shit.
"What?" Gwen asked worriedly.
He turned just in time to see Juicy waddling across the street, the way she moved putting him in mind of a freight train or something, you know, rocking from side-to-side as it chugged down the track. She wore a purple sweat suit, the hem of a white T poking out from under her shirt. Dark sweat stains spread from under her armpits and the stench of her body found Lemy's nose, making it twitch. When you're really fat, he guessed, you got water trapped under your rolls and it made you smell moldy. And when you're lazy and gross, you don't wash your pussy and...ugh, I can't even.
She reached the sidewalk, and when she saw Gwen, her face pinched. "Who the fuck is this?" she asked him, her beady little eyes like burning coals in the sweaty folds of her face. The hair on her upper lip trembled in indignation and her three chins quivered in anger.
"This, uh...this is Gwen."
"Bitch, what the fuck is doin with his hand?" Juicy asked, her head rolling.
Gwen's eyes narrowed. "Holding it," she said tightly.
"Well, you need to stop, that's my man."
Gwen let go of his hand, and for a split second, he thought she was rolling over like a scalded dog..then he saw her face, flushed red, her eyes, filled with fire, and her fists...uh...all fisty. "Excuse me?"
"Umhm," Juicy said, "you heard me twig lookin, stank lookin white bitch. That is my man and you need to take yo home wreckin ass up outta here."
Lemy swallowed. This was not looking good.
"The fact that he had his dick in me twenty minutes ago determines that to be a lie," Gwen said. A man passing by twisted his neck around and gaped. Lemy held up his hand to cover his face; don't mind me, just...being embarrassed.
Juicy's pudgy face turned crimson. "Oh, you gonna get it now, bitch." She rolled up her sleeves.
Yeah, this was bad. Juicy would mop the floor with Gwen, and, you know, Lemy didn't really wanna see that happen. He started to move in front of Gwen, but she brushed past him. "Bring it on, fatty."
Growling, Juicy came forward, fat jiggling, and Gwen struck like grease lightning, her fist crashing into one or more of Juicy's chins like a rock. The gargantuan's head whipped to one side in a squirt of blood and broken teeth. Lemy winced, his fist flying to his mouth.
Juicy's head rocked back, and Gwen hit her again. Juicy's knees gave out and she went down hard, the entire world shaking like it was about to explode. Gwen glared down at her, fists still clenched.
Juicy moaned. "Why you hit me?" Her voice was a broken mutter. "Why you hit Mama Juicy like that?"
Lemy gaped. Gwen turned, their eyes met, and she smiled widely. D-Did that really just happen? Man, talk about fucking random! Outta nowhere she hits like George Foreman? "H-H-W-Where did you learn to do that?" he asked.
Gwen shrugged. "Nowhere." She took his hand and squeezed it. "You just don't get in the way of a girl and the man she loves"
Oh. Love. Heh.
"Come on," Gwen said, and cast a hate filled glance at Juicy, "I have an idea."
You act like a prima donna
Playing so hard to get
Sittin' so cool and nonchalant
Draggin' on a cigarette
They moved lazily down the sidewalk, their fingers entwined and Lemy's thoughts drifting. You gotta do it, man; she's actually a cool girl and you can't fuck her over like this. He thought back to Juicy. She might kick your ass though.
He stole a sidelong glance at her, and she turned her head, a sly smile pinching her lips. "What?"
Lemy shook his head. "Nothing."
"No, it's something," she said playfully and nudged his ribs with her elbow.
Maybe I shouldn't do this. I can...I can make this work. I just don't wanna hurt her, man. I mean, what if she falls deeply in love me with and wants to marry me and stuff, and I do nothing to stop it? I know I'm only thirteen, but you gotta take this stuff into consideration.
"You think I'm hot, don't you?" she asked.
Lemy shrugged. "Well...yeah, you are."
"And I'm a good cook," she pointed out.
"That too," he nodded.
"And I clean, do laundry, don't take up very much space, and...hmmmm...I know how to do taxes."
Lemy blinked. Uh...are you pitching yourself? Hi, Billy Mays here...but wait, there's more! And indeed there was.
"Plus I'm good in bed."
His cheeks blazed and she giggled.
You keep a wall all around you
I'll get through some day
I want your love, baby
Push, don't shove
Gonna chip that stone away
They were at the park. Gwen sat in one of the swings, her hands clutching the chains and her feet dragging in the mulch; Lemy stood behind, his hands shoved into the pockets of his army coat. "Come on, Freak," she said over her shoulder, "push me." She drew back, and Lemy splayed his hands on her shoulders. She kicked her feet out from under herself and he gave a light shove.
"Come on!" she giggled. "I'm not made of glass."
Well, excuse the fuck outta me for not launching you into space. "You say that now, but wait 'til you bust your ass."
She swung back, her head down and her legs out; her hair fluttered in the breeze like lace. "I won't bust my ass," she said in an eye-roll-yeah-sure-mom tone. "Plus, If I can handle your...thing...I can handle falling on my butt."
Lemy blinked. Uh...okay. He got behind her and pushed her on the backswing. She soared into the air and giggled madly. "Higher!" He pushed her again, harder this time; the chains creaked and the frame shook. "Higher!"
"Uh, I dunno," Lemy said uncertainly, "this thing looks like it's gonna come down."
Gwen was pumping her legs, cleaving through the air back and forth like a pendulum. She leaned back as far as she could, her eyes dancing with a mocking light. "Bwok, bwok, bwok."
A shocked laugh rose in Lemy's throat. "Yeah?"
She nodded. Forth, back. "Umhm." Forth, back. Brow furrowed, eyes narrowed tauntingly. "Chicken."
Of all the mean names he'd had tossed his way over the years, Lemy didn't think chicken was one of them. Pussy, yeah, bitch, sure, fuckass fuckboi most definately. "I'm not a chicken," he explained patiently, "I'm just not trying to have you die."
"If you're not a chicken, prove it," she said, "swing with me."
He rolled his eyes...but sat in the swing next to her anyway. "Come on, Freak!" Gwen cried. "Don't be a bwok, bwok, bwok chicken." She giggled.
Lemy laughed. Alright, fine; his honor and manhood and shit were on the line, so he was gonna show this girl what was up. He gripped either one of the chains, pushed himself back, and shot forward. The frame was really shaking now, but he ignored it. Heh. Kind of.
"I bet I can go higher than you," Gwen said. They were on the same track. Up, down, up, down.
"Pfft. Bullshit."
"I can," she said, "so there."
"Alright, let's see."
Up, down, up, down.
"Fine, let's."
He went higher, for the record.
Chip away
Chip away at the stone
I won't stop until your love is my very own
Chip away
That's what I'm gonna do
In a normal town where a guy can ride a pink bike without getting gay bashed every step of the way, ice cream parlors closed in, like, September or something (who wants frozen cow juice when it's cold as fuck outside?). Not in Royal Woods. Carl's Ice Cream on the corner of Main and Pine stayed open year round, and right now Gwen and Lemy stood in front of the walk-up window while a bored looking teenager with apocalyptic acne made their cones - strawberry for her, chocolate for him.
"I'm telling you," Lemy said, and crossed his arms, "there was no way in hell that thing was a cat."
"I'm telling you it was," Gwen said defiantly, her brows lifted and her lips pursed cutely.
On the walk from the park, as they talked and held hands, something black and furry darted out in front of them and streaked across Park Road. "Aw, kitty," Gwen said, and Lemy blew a raspberry. "That's not a cat. It's a dog." They'd been going back and forth about it ever since.
Pimplehead handed their cones through the window, and Lemy took them, handing Gwen hers. A gust of wind blew a few errant strands of hair across her face, and she tucked them behind her ear. "Thank you." She twirled it in her hand and licked it. "Want some?"
"Sure," Lemy said.
She dabbed her finger in, then tapped his nose; cold, pink confection smeared across his flesh. He winced and she giggled. "There you go," she said and licked her cone again. "Enjoy."
Oh? Well, two can play that game. He dug two fingers into his ice cream and got them nice and dirty. Her eyes widened. "Oh, you better not."
"Come here," he said and took a step forward.
"No!" she laughed and jumped back. "I only did a little bit!"
Chocolate dripped from his fingers. He held them up. "Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be."
He took another step and she broke and ran with a squeal. "Lemy! Stop!" she laughed over her shoulder.
Even a rock will crumble
If you strike it night and day
If hammer I must, I'm gonna get through your crust
Gonna chip that stone away
Flip, seventy-three last summer and looking too thin to be healthy, glared at Lemy over the counter. The middle of his head was bald and covered with liver spots, and his faded blue eyes flashed with anger.
"You keep raising your prices, man," Lemy said, "this is bullshit."
Two Flipeez and two bags of cookies sat on the counter between them. There's no way in hell that shit should cost ten bucks.
Flip gestured. "If you don't like it, Loud, you can take your inbred ass out the door."
Lemy's face darkened. "Fuck you."
Flip leaned over the counter. "I'd take that as a threat," he snarled, "but I'm not related to you."
"Neither am I," Gwen piped up, "and he fucks me."
A hot blush burst across Lemy's face, and Flip blew a raspberry, his thick white mustache shaking like a branch in the wind. "You're gonna catch something."
"Yeah," Gwen said and turned to Lemy, her eyes flicking up and down, "feelings."
Lemy blinked and Flip rolled his eyes.
Chip away
Chip away at the stone
I won't stop until your love is my very own
Lemy rummaged through a display of medals, dog tags, patches, and pins with a thoughtful expression on his face. He kind of wanted to buy this Silver Cross, but thinking about it...why was it even here? Like, did some broke vet down on his luck sell it just so he could eat? Man, if so, he didn't want it, because that was fucked up.
They were currently in the Army + Navy Surplus store on Main. The owner, a one armed guy named Phil Cassidey, stood behind the counter and watched Lemy with one eye...the other was hidden by a black eyepatch; he said he lost it in Operation Iraqi Freedom way back in the day, but Lemy had to wonder if he didn't forget to take the little umbrella out of a mai tai or something.
"See anything you like?" Phil called.
Lemy picked the Silver Star up and looked at it. "Yeah," he replied, "this. Hey...how do you wind up with these, anyway?"
Phil shrugged. "Usually when the recipient dies."
Oh. Lemy put it back. "Nevermind."
He moved onto a display of hats.
"Look at me," Gwen said, and Lemy glanced up. She was wearing a helmet and a long green coat, the hem of which pooled on the floor around her. "I'm a soldier." She put her hands on her hips and cocked her leg, a wide smile crossing her lips.
Lemy's gaze went from her bare legs to her eyes; he was grinning stupidly by the time they got there. "That coat's a little big."
She looked down at herself as though she had no clue. "You're right. There's room for two." She held it open like a giant bat, and with a snicker, Lemy went over. He put his hands on her hips and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You wanna play army with me?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, "I'll invade your demilitarized zone with my Panzer division."
Hungry light flashed in her eyes. "I hope they can make it through the mud, because Gwenastan is very wet."
They both laughed so hard they cried, their foreheads pressed together and their noses brushing. Their eyes met, and Lemy felt a jolt in his heart. The urge to kiss her came upon him, and he was helpless to stop himself from leaning forward and touching his lips to hers. She smiled against him, then their tongues met and danced slowly.
Chip away
That's what I'm gonna do
Sweet little mama
I wanna get next to you
The arcade was dark, dank, and smelled funny...like a cave...where teenagers met and had sex, then pissed themselves and threw up. The soft electric glow emanating from the screen broke across Gwen's features, and Lemy watched her, his elbow propped on the edge of the game cabinet and his chin in his palm. On the screen, her spaceship exploded and she winced. "Ugh. Dead again."
"You're not doing it right," he teased and skimmed his fingers across her hair.
"Oh?" she asked and raised a single brow.
"Yup," he said, "you're embarrassing yourself."
She laughed. "Okay, Mr. Expert. Show me how, then."
Lemy shrugged, pushed away from the cabinet, and got behind her. She smirked over her shoulder and snuggled against him, his butt rubbing his crotch. He ran his fingers along her bare arms and rested his palms on top of hers. The scent of her hair filled his nose and muddled his brain like an aphrodisiac. He squeezed her hands and kissed the side of her throat, then her delicate jawline, then her cheek. She hummed and bent slightly, her butt grazing him and sending pangs of desire through his body.
She felt good in his arms.
She tasted good against his lips.
"You're turning me on," she giggled.
"You're turning me on too," he said, his words shaky, "very much."
She turned her head and grinned. "Let's go."
I won't stop
I won't stop
I won't stop
Lemy mounted her and held her hand as he pushed past her quivering lips. In the spill of dim evening sunlight falling through his window, her face was hazy, her eyes narrowed and her mouth closed. Her hair pooled around her hair, and her breathing was beginning to quicken. A wave of tender affection that he'd only ever felt for one other person came over him, and he peppered her face with soft kisses as they bodies moved together, slowly, leisurely stepping their way through a dance as old as time. Gwen wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him closer, as if to entirely consume him. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, then, finally, her lips. She panted now, and when he stroked the back of his hand across her cheek, she purred and shuddered in delight.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too."
And this time...God help him...he meant it.