DODGING THE BULLET
A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY
A/N: In truth, I wrote the chapters 'Disturbia' and this one in the same day. I have no life, seriously. Who has that much time on her hands? Me, that's who.
No songs today. Heh. So there, proof I have something to do with my time. I have other things to do that search up songs.
However, I do have some stories you should read:
- Volunteering, by ihavealife
- A Walk to Remember, by ihavealife
- Fortuitous, by Shinjuri Kokoro (once again, it's probably wrong)
- The New School, by DubbleV
- After Years, by bubbles968
There are probably a ton more that are really good, but I'm a little tired so my brain's running slow. Arrest me.
CHICAGO718
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CHAPTER TEN: INSOMNIA
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Courtney lay frozen on her bed, eyes glassy and wide open, staring into nothing, into darkness. Red lights from her clock swam in front of her eyes.
Unlike last night, she wished she could fall asleep. At least she knew dreams couldn't be controlled. Her mind would wander without her running it. However, she was fully awake and was fully in power of her thoughts, which unsurprisingly were drifting into things they ought not to be.
Closing her seemingly eternally open eyes proved to be impossible. They would fly open impulsively. It was well and true insomnia. She could not sleep. This coming from an overachiever, not able to achieve the thoughtless and unattainable concept of sleep.
She currently was staring into open, bare space, but that was certainly not what she was seeing.
She thought back to her shower earlier that day. The one time she'd been to China, she'd seen a commercial for this raspberry shampoo. Within the commercial, a woman with a perfect body had water dripping down her skin, and even though she was behind a shady, clouded shower screen, Courtney could tell she was undressed. How could people be so open about showing themselves was not believable to her.
She bit her lip hard so she felt blood trickle out, most likely leaving a red trail down her chin and pooling on her pillow. She put a finger, hard, to her lip, hoping to stop the flow. It worked. But the blood, it reminded her of her increasingly consistent dreams about him and it. Worlds exploding in pain, pleasure, and passion…
There was officially something wrong with her. She was acting like a sex-starved teen, or was one of those who depended on it.
She wanted to get amnesia. She wanted to stop these crazy wants, these fantasies. She had not yet cried, but she as awfully close.
She wished Duncan had never been dropped from the hell chute into her life.
Uncomfortably, she tugged the strap of her tank top to her mid-arm, rubbing her bare shoulder and breathing onto her bloodied pillow.
She thought she heard a noise in the corner of her room, a sort of coughing, shifting sound. She assumed it was just one of her delusional ideas and disregarded it.
She managed to get her eyes closed, eventually, by doing the vice-versa of her routine yesterday and holding her eyes shut instead of open. And it worked. They stayed that way.
The next time opened her eyes, she was in a room flooded with light from the open window that she had unlocked the night before, hoping fresh air would clear her mind. She'd had another one of her nightmares, but it wasn't as big of a deal this time, it didn't come as a surprise.
She and Duncan always got a bit farther in the dream, a bit more passionate and intimate with each other every night.
She had the sudden and acute remembrance of those hands running up and down her body in the shower the day previous and she got shivers from head to toe.
All of a sudden she was frozen in place, imagining the satisfying and horrifying picture of her and Duncan in the shower…and, God, naked…
She wanted to scream.
She also wanted him. She had to admit it to herself. She would. She whispered it to herself, "I'm in like with Duncan."
Let's hear that again, the devil within shouted.
"I'm in love with Duncan. Happy?" she asked herself.
The truth was no, unless they got farther in their so far nonexistent relationship.
Now, young one, the devil said in a superior tone, though technically the devil was just her on a different side. To truly admit to liking him, think about your dream last night, in full detail. Enjoy it. Savor it. Wish with all your heart it was true.
This is stupid, the angel complained, sounding rather un-angelic.
Okay, she said to herself, her neutral side, think about it. Enjoy it. Savor it. Yeah.
She impulsively winced out of habit as the picture of her and him together, heated, on a bed, intertwined, the room unseasonably hot. The sounds of pleasure, mainly from her, the panting, moaning, half-purring/sighing noise issuing from the back of her throat, the shots of incredible sensation up and down her leg, flashing like fire up and down, like lightning, like electricity. The acute sense of a being between her legs.
Enjoy it, the devil reminded sharply as she cringed.
The beads of sweat trickling down her naked body, his tongue in several places, mainly at her neck. His heat pressed against hers. His longing verses hers. It was hard to tell whose was stronger. The minimal movement but maximum pleasure, it was an incredible feeling. His hands, feeling, touching her in places she ordinarily would have been disgusted with, now seemed comfortable in a passionate way. A way that was so bottled up with wanting, and longing, and needing, that she wanted to scream.
Her eyes opened wide, she realized she had been shutting them and nearly shrieking in a whisper.
That hadn't helped. The devil sighed dejectedly and left. The angel hummed in content and sat down, there to stay. Courtney blew out her breath. She was tired and morbidly horrified with herself. How she could have even admitted it to herself was beyond her understanding.
No bother trying to dress sexy or un-sexy today. She pulled on her usual uniform of jeans and tee shirt, walking downstairs and chewing cinnamon gum for breakfast. She pulled in front of the school and got out of her mom's SUV. Coincidentally Duncan was getting out of his car, along with Geoff and DJ. Geoff and DJ walked into the school, casual and as unlike her as ever. But Duncan stopped and looked right at her. He looked tired, his eyes less bright than usual. Courtney felt her face warming. She wanted to bolt but her feet seemed to be cemented to the ground.
"Hey," he said coolly, walking up to her as soon as Diane had thanked him again for saving Courtney and gave him a too-warm goodbye.
"Hello," she said blandly, wishing, wanting.
"I wanted to say sorry about last night," Duncan admitted.
She gave him a strange look. "Huh? What about last night?"
Duncan looked surprised. "Shit, so you didn't see me…"
Courtney was weirded out. "Uh, no, I was home last night. I don't know what you're talking about…"
His face was expressionless as he explained. "Okay, I couldn't sleep last night. Like, and I was really bored and creeped out cause my parole officer was snoring and whispering in his sleep to some imaginary girl…"
Courtney couldn't help picturing that. Disturbing, much?
"So I took the car and I was driving around, and I passed by your house. And I couldn't help myself. Your window was open, so I climbed that tree and into your room."
Courtney craned her neck out of confusion, and, possibly, happiness. "You spied on me?"
Duncan didn't look that sorry. "What? I was bored!"
Courtney thought back to last night. "Hey, wait…you were that noise in the corner, that coughing sound."
"Well, yeah," he said, only slightly embarrassed. "I thought you were about to take off your shirt."
This could not be any more fitting, the devil piped up in her head, all of a sudden returning from his mystery vacation.
Shut up, the angel replied firmly.
"That was pretty much why I stayed. To see you take your shirt off," Duncan said, half joking.
"Pig," Courtney managed to say.
The moment was seriously awkward. Courtney felt her breathing become shallow.
All of a sudden, Duncan reached up with one finger and traced the shape of her lips, then leaned down and kissed her. As in public, in front of like, twenty kids walking into school. It was brief and chaste, his tongue searching her mouth for only a few seconds, before he turned and walked into the school as if nothing had happened. She could have sworn his hand went under her shirt shoulder for that moment, near her bra strap. God, what was wrong with her, dammit!?
Courtney thought her heart stopped beating for a second.
Okay…so that had been totally unexpected. And totally, gosh, disturbing. She'd really have to be more careful about what she did in her sleep.
And one more thing: she was totally turned on. This feeling was further exacerbated by the kiss, the feeling of his tongue in her mouth and his hand so close to her body, near it, touching it. The strength of his want almost overpowered hers now in her thoughts.
She rushed into school as the first bell rang, the word frisson running through her head.
Frisson was that skittering of what felt like a release of ants up and down her spine. And she was definitely feeling it, all over.
It was positively ethereal. Boys like him did not go for girls like her. She was too neat and prep and concerned about school. She couldn't be laid back if she tried. But yet that seemed to be what Duncan went for. It was absurd. It was unbelievable. It was her life.
She rushed out of her eighth period class; only one more to go. But a sign stopped her in her tracks.
SPRING PROM
DUE TO PREDICTED STORMY WEATHER, WE HAVE RE-BOOKED FOR THIS WEEKEND. PLEASE FIX YOUR SCHEDULES AND COME TO THE CHARLATAN ON SATURDAY, FROM 8PM – 11 PM.
She had been counting that Bridgette would forget, so she could bail on them. But that was obviously not the case. She groaned, dropping her books into a heap at her feet. Who would she go with?
Then she remembered: Duncan. Ew. No way. She might be turned on, but she would not dance with him, ballroom dancing or otherwise. Duncan ballroom dancing was a disturbing picture anyway. She almost laughed. Key word almost.
After school she sat on one of the wooden benches and read the scripted stone pole that was standing tall in the middle of a fountain that was spewing water all over the pansies that were housed in its moist base. It read Peace to the world. Around the pole was written the same phrase in different languages.
It was abnormal for her mom to be late, especially to something as important as school. But when Courtney checked her watch, her mom was over forty minutes late.
All of a sudden something warm settled next to her. She looked around, expecting it to be Cody, attempting to be alluring, since Justin still wasn't back from the hospital. But no, it was Duncan. His expression was hard. She didn't bother asking why.
"Princess," he greeted.
"Duncan," she answered, heat building in her head cavity.
He frowned for some unfathomable reason and rested one elbow on the bench, the other casually thrown into his lap. She could never achieve such cool-headedness.
Courtney, with nothing else to stare at, turned her attention back to the stone pole and traced the inscription with her eyes. She wished her mom would pull up so she could breezily blow him off instead of sitting here as rigid as, well, stone. She wished she could think of something to say, something funny and witty at the same time. But nothing came to mind. Nothing but a heated picture with made her gasp for breath suddenly. Duncan gave her a funny look but didn't question.
"Are you a virgin?" he asked suddenly with that same inexplicable tenseness that had held before.
She stared at him and swallowed. It was that clear she was a virgin. She was really that immature. Her face flushed.
He muttered something to himself. "Sorry."
Courtney regained her composure quickly. "That's fine. God. Is it that obvious?"
He smiled slightly, but the crease on his forehead was still visible.
All of a sudden her mom's car pulled up and the horn honked loudly. Courtney took that as her cue to stand up. Once again she worked to look put together, every hair in place, hood hanging properly on her backpack, no wrinkles or folds, glide in step. She managed to make it to the car smoothly and poised.
But that was no consolation to the fiery explosions occurring in her stomach, singing her throat, setting flame to her organs, causing her to turn red from the inside out. Why had he asked her that? Why did she feel that her skin was flaming up? She could feel warm rashes spreading from hairline to heel.
Her mom was so distracted that she didn't note her daughter's flushed appearance; she instead rambled on how she was so, so sorry she was late.
Courtney nodded and mumbled "that's fine" in coherently. Her mind was racing, she felt as if a tsunami had washed away the remaints of her brain.
By that comment he had either meant to evoke her into actually having it with him, or his single-minded mission was to make her life miserable by keeping her up at night, waiting wondering, wanting.
She assumed it was the latter, but she didn't know. It always could be…
No. Resounding no. Big resounding no
But was it? She impatiently tapped her heel against the car floor, drumming her fingers on her chin, humming an erratic song and wishing the answers would come.
She arrived home and went to the kitchen, picking up a piece of bread and nibbling at it on her way up to her room. She figured she could distract herself by doing homework, but what was the point? She knew proofs would evade her thoughts for gloom and desire to move in. It was unavoidable.
She looked in her mirror. She still looked neat. Her brown hair, which was wavy after she had braided it from the night before, was evenly hanging on either shoulder and neatly voluminous on top.
Sighing heavily, she picked the black dress from her closet and slipped it on, feeling the whoosh of the crinoline and satin against her bare legs, rustling after it had fluttered around her hips. Returning to the mirror, she stared in. She looked pale once more, blue-marbled. The silky torso hugged her skinny frame, wrapping itself around her, wrinkling and folding at the appropriate places, the crinoline revealing itself exactly an inch at every angle.
Wondering if the world saw her in the same, pretty way she saw herself, she lifted it off her self and just stared at her exposed stomach, which was appropriately flat but not rib-showing. Her legs were long and justly thin.
Hopes floating from this optimistic view of herself, she returned to her jeans and hooded shirt.
Silently she picked at her dinner, gave one-sentence answers for her reading discussion questions, and checked her email. One from Bridgette.
I know what you were thinking, not happening! I'm not forgetting, you won't bail on us for prom. Ha. I swear, me and Gwen will strap you to the car top.
Love Bee
Courtney groaned and rolled her eyes, typing a quick response:
Hmm. Didn't think so.
Court
Yawning, she climbed into bed, resting her back against the headboard and checking every nook and cranny of her room for hiders.
Her calendar, which happened to be the collector's edition of Famous Architectural Ruins Worldwide, had Saturday circled. She traced the golden gilded numbers etched onto the calendar's pristine white sheets. It happened to be Wednesday. She leaned over and flicked her lamp off.
She didn't care about dreams that night. She wished she was a better dancer. She wished she was more laid back. She wished she was like Bridge. She wished there was no prom. She wished she had more wishes.
A/N: This was more of an interlude, the actual plot starts next…it's way more, uh, essential to the story. Ideas? PM, review!
One more thing, I don't know when I was planning to end this. I obviously already know how its going to end, PROM. Sorry if you didn't want to know that. So if you have an estimation about when I should end this, review me with the number of chapters. I should be wrapping this up and starting a oneshot called Chance, Fate, Destiny? Or I'll write that while I'm planning this story; I already know what it's about. The things is, if you want more of the Bullet Saga, check my author page, because I've planned out the future stories, and they're all part of the series. Every story is based on the according book in the Twilight Series. Review or PM if you think I should continue. Personally, I don't think I should, but if you want, I could…
So here it is:
Chance, Fate, Destiny?
Oneshot. It could have been chance, fate, or destiny. Either that or Duncan planned it. D/C.
It might be a drabble-oneshot-thing, I really don't know.
Also, I was thinking of writing a story for Bridgette/Geoff. I'm not a fan of Gwen/Trent, sorry, so that would be hard for me. Maybe I'll do a oneshot for Gwen Trent later, not sure. But Bridgette/Geoff is my second favorite pairing/ship, so I might do that next.
Anyway, the Bridgette/Geoff one will be called:
Make the Impossible Possible
AU. It's forbidden, mermaids can't interact with humans. Still, she can't help falling for him. B/G.
Ten-shot, based on the Little Mermaid? Stupid or not?