WARNING: This chapter does contain a sexually explicit scene. If this bothers you, please skip to the second half of the chapter. Otherwise, enjoy!
CHAPTER 4: Sometimes a Fantasy
I woke up grumbling at my alarm clock, which had been set an extra hour early in hopes that I would decide to go on a morning run. I glanced out the window, noted the grey skies that would likely release a torrent of rain the minute I stepped outside. I pressed snooze.
Elvis had heard the noise, however, and began chirping happily. How could he not realize that it was the ungodly hour of 5:30am? I moaned pathetically into my pillow, trying to tune his excitement out. What did he have to be chipper about?
Then I remembered. I would get my fix of Jared today!
Leaping out of bed would be an over-exaggeration. I left my cocoon of warmth and goodness without much hesitation. I had a few relapses back into the coziness before I sprinted through the hallway to my bathroom and into the hot shower. I had motivation after all.
The water brought me to a more aware state of consciousness and I vowed to never sacrifice the heavenly accommodation of hot water. Never, ever, ever.
I soaked leisurely under the spray for a while, allowing my thoughts to wander. The shower nozzle was relaxing and, like how I spent most of my spare pondering, I thought of Jared.
What he was doing right now? Likely still sleeping. Or maybe just getting up to take his own shower. I tried to picture him; stumbling, still mostly asleep to the bathroom. He would throw on the shower, quickly discarding his boxers. I couldn't imagine him sleeping in much else, and stepping in.
That train of thought led me into imagining—what if he were here?
A naked Jared opening my shower door and stepping in, greeting me with a passionate kiss. "Good morning, love," he would whisper against my lips, pressing his body into mine. I groaned aloud, further imagining how his hands would glide down my body, caressing. He would start at my shoulder, tracing a pattern only he knows. Slowly, his hands would trail downwards, passing over my breasts with a squeeze and gentle pinch of my nipples.
"Do you like that?" he'd growl, and I'd moan yes, inducing him to move his mouth down for an open kiss upon on each breast. His lips would return to mine, but his hands would continue their path over my stomach, causing me to giggle into our kiss, and lower they would go.
I would gasp when he put a large finger inside me, moving slowly in a pulsing rhythm. He would push me against the shower wall, his own breath ragged, my breathing increasing with each passing second. "Please, more," I'd beg, and he'd laugh deliciously, slowing down, speeding up, licking at my mouth, until I was almost crying with lust and desire.
Finally, finally, he'd grind into me roughly, his dick throbbing, large, and hard for me. He wouldn't address his own need yet, but that animalistic movement would cause me to moan louder. He'd add a second finger—would start to go faster, while I would move my hips to meet his hand.
"Close, baby?" he'd murmur into my ear, then nip at my lower lip, the tempo increasing still, a building of pressure in my lower abdomen. The cascade of hot water around us—that would send me over in a breathy moan captured by his mouth.
My body clenched painfully before erupting in a pleasurable stream of pulses, bringing me to almost collapse to the shower floor, my own hand sticky. I leaned my head against the wall, knowing I'd feel guilty later but enjoying the sensations that my own imagination and hands produced. This wasn't the first fantasy of Jared I'd had, but it was one of the better ones. Whenever I thought of him in that way, the feelings were intense. Maybe that was why I felt the way I did at school. He was the most commonly featured person in my fantasies.
If I'm being honest, the only one. I'd tried to picture others, real or celebrity or fictional, but only Jared made my insides twist and feel like I was on fire.
I craved him with a passion that scared me sometimes.
I stood up and turned the shower off, feeling more content than I had in a long time. I might not be able to look Jared in the eyes without blushing but the physical relief made me feel less guilty for my perverseness. Since I would never have the real thing, and he'd never know or get hurt by what I was thinking, what's the harm in dreaming?
I silently dressed. Usually I like to blast my assortment of morning music to aid in waking me up. But since Pat had come home earlier than usual and was thus sleeping, I decided to be considerate and forgo the lyrical accompaniment to my morning.
Going into the kitchen, I threw some bread in the toaster, eying the device as it failed to heat up. Another thing to add to the long list of needing fixing. I cursed a lot but finally got the toast to a light brown color after ten minutes and four shoves of the button. I had packed my lunch by that time—an apple, peanut butter and celery, and a turkey sandwich—and was out the door a few moments later.
My eagerness was easily read on my face. I grinned the entire walk to school. Thankfully, it was only drizzling by this time, otherwise I would have had to take the bus and not have worked off my dizzying energy.
I contemplated what I would do in English, if I would say anything to Jared, or gape as usual.
Then I remembered me an essay I should probably get started on. Hmm. I decided I could put it off another night or so. Nothing like procrastination.
I finally reached the front of the building and went around Carrin Lote, who was chatting with Danielle, to get through the door.
"—can't believe he didn't say anything!"
"I know, he's so different. I think it must be drugs, but my mom doesn't seem to think anything is odd about it—"
They must be gossiping about Jared. I resisted the urge to slow and listen, instead going into the building towards my locker and leaving the interesting tidbits behind.
At my locker, I unloaded a few books and put my coat inside, not caring too much if things got wet. It was a fact of life in the Northwest—you lived with only one constant: rain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Becky walking toward me. Double-checking that everything was out of my locker that I needed for the first three periods, I closed the metal door gently and turned to greet my friend.
What I saw instead knocked the breath right out of my lungs.
Jared was leaning on his own locker, across and down the hall from mine, and talking to Paul Hunter, someone he'd been acquainted with since it was such a small school but not friends. They didn't' talk much, if at all. They were now, and appeared to be arguing about something. At least Jared seemed angry from the way he was frowning and shaking slightly.
But that wasn't what left me breathless.
Jared had grown.
Not just a an inch or so, but like a foot or more. His shoulders had broadened, his arms enormous. He looked like a body builder, bulky and muscled. And his hair—he had cut his beautiful locks and now had a buzz-cut style.
I was astonished.
Most different of all, though, was his expression. Instead of the easy-going guy I lov-liked, he was tense and troubled looking. The shaking gave him a fierce, almost dangerous vibe, that unconsciously made me step back to give him space.
Yet, despite that, all I wanted to do was go give him a hug.
"See what I mean?" I blinked and saw that Becky had arrived when I was drinking in this newer version of Jared. She looked at me expectantly.
"Yeah," I mumbled back at her, then fixing my eyes on the object of my long-time scrutiny once more. Paul seemed to be doing most of the talking now. Well yelling, really. From what I knew of Paul, he didn't have the easiest of tempers to begin with. In fact, he had broody and misunderstood on lock down. He normally sulked in the background, didn't feel the need to socialize or be friendly. In my heart of hearts, I recognized the behavior for what it was probably disguising—and I stayed clear. I had my own problems to deal with, after all, as selfish as that was.
I wanted to walk closer, to hear them better. But that would (a) be rude and (b) Becky was blocking my way.
I looked down for a moment, and Becky said something else about Jared's new looks and then started talking about a gift her nameless boyfriend had bought her. I nodded at any pauses in her flow of words, still peaking at the new Jared.
Paul and him finished their conversation, in disagreement if the way they both stomped off was any indication. Paul went the opposite direction that I was in, but Jared was headed straight past me.
"—which was completely thoughtful and so totally sweet, right?"
I absently agreed.
Becky continued. "I know, totes adorbs! Then I went online to find the perfect outfit for our date, let me show you," she grabbed her phone from her pocket. I kept nodding but my attention was focused on Jared's every movement.
Awareness held me prisoner. I felt like my nerves would burst into small flames and burn my body into ashes. I held my breath as he was about to pass me, swiftly turning my body to follow his procession and consequently banging my elbow painfully against the lockers.
The noise caught his attention and, before I could brace myself, his eyes focused on me for the first time in two months. The last time being when he had asked me for a sheet of paper in English, and I'd mumble-squealed in an embarrassing way and he'd taken the paper. Truly epic encounter, that.
Like past precedence predicted, and being the naturally apt and socially brilliant person I am, I didn't avert my eyes like a normal person would do who was caught staring. I was too flabbergasted to do much more than breath, if that.
We locked eyes.
I thought he would move along once he assessed the noise to be nothing more than a clumsy girl flailing around but he surprised me by stopping.
His eyes widened, darker than I remembered but just as piercing. I would have self-consciously wiped my face or brushed my fingers through my hair if I'd be able to move.
For all that I dreamed of Jared Cameron noticing me, of finally realizing that he wanted to get to know me as a person, the range of emotions that crossed his face startled me. He looked confounded, then realization dawned, a brief flash of horror, before pure joy seemed to take its place. At least, those were the expressions I could read in the seconds he stared.
My insides were squirming in bemused discomfort, in reaction to the nonverbal attention. I tried to convince myself that I needed to move, to check my face for any food remains or dirt streaks, anything that would cause Jared to stare like he was. There was no logical reason in my mind that he would gaze at me for that long otherwise. Becky's voice didn't even register and my vision narrowed to encompass only him.
If I didn't know better, I would call this a moment.
I, Kimberly Wilson, was having a moment with Jared Fucking Cameron.
Shit! He was coming toward me. What? Uh, what? I can't even blink, how am I supposed to respond if he says anything to me? This can't and won't end well.
Fortunately, the bell rang, saving and ruining whatever was going on. That luckily propelled my body into action and I finally broke eye contact. I mumbled something to Becky and took off for first period, not pausing to look over my shoulder. I imagined hearing a "wait!" but decided that getting out of that abnormal staring event was in my best interest, in terms of composure and for the rapid beating of my heart.
I got to class faster than I ever had before, arriving breathless—and not from the run.
Something, and I didn't understand what, had happened.
Something that never had before.
Something had changed.
Jared Cameron had noticed me.
