Chapter Eight

Security

"Casey," I said, placing my right palm lightly on his warm bare chest. My cold hand practically thawed against his skin, "we shouldn't be doing this."

He smiled, so small and sweet that it made my heart jump. "I know we shouldn't, but we are anyway." his hands on the small of my back. My cold skin was probably making his warm hands frozen.

In comparison to Casey, I was some sort of twisted, uglier version of a classic vampire. No, I did not have endless beauty, or beautiful porcelain skin, or amber eyes. But I had super-pale skin that would never seem to tan no matter how much sunlight I exposed it to, and my lips- NO makeup at all- were always, for some odd reason, a blood red color. And my eyes always seemed dead, with weird dark bruise-like bag-like raccoon-y reminescants, but not exactly.

It was horrifying looking in the mirror every morning and night, to say the least.

If I couldn't bear with looking at myself, how come Casey can? How come he stares at me with those wide, adoring eyes?

I could feel his eyes boring into my skin-exposed body and my face flushed. What was he thinking? He was probably thinking of how stupid I looked in this black bikini I had bought back in Colorado. And how I looked like a zombie or ghost or whatever with my pale skin and raccoony face (remember, I don't use any makeup. So I think this raccoony business is all a matter of my insomnia- I need to sleep more).

I looked incredibly stupid, and he looked incredibly hot. How did someone like him even bother with me?

Casey was tall, and his skin was this beautiful shade of natural-tan-but-not-too-golden-tan. It was perfect, especially since in the summer his hair always seemed to lighten up a shade. It darkened back up during autumn, but in the summer is was this shiny brown-auburn color. And it matched his eyes marvellously. His deep brown eyes, so wide and observant that I wish I could just stand up on my tiptoes and kiss him right now.

But I don't. Because he's still just looking at me. Not at my face, no. My body.

And its making me feel hella awkward, let me tell you.

I finally say, "Are you done soaking in my hideosity?"

"You're what?" he blinks and seems to come back to earth. His brown eyes meet my green ones. The only part of my body that go against my vampire-zombie thingie is my eye color.

"My ugliness." to put it bluntly.

This little thing I said seemed to seriously confuse and surprise Casey. "What? You're not...what..but.. Did you just call yourself ugly?"

I nod and bite my lips. I look down, letting my dark hair fall in front of my face.

Suddenly I'm being hugged. Not bear-hugged, not please-don't-cry hugged... It was an I-love-you hug.

Well, basically. He didn't really say 'I love you'. But he was hugging me in such a way that I knew he was doing it for more than just the sole purpose of a hug.

I let myself hug him back.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, leaning back a little to brush my hair from my face. "Just the way you are. Okay?"

I didn't say anything.

"Sammy," he said softly.

I was suddenly beginning to cry, and I don't even know why.

But actually I sort of do.

I was crying because I hated this, I hated being so...insecure. That 'dream' of mine, the supposed encounter with Cam we're he was talking about being insecure...I know now that none of that really happened, but the words still count.

I was crying right now because I was mad. Mad at waking up and looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, I look fine just the way I am. And then, later, I think of my face and want to cry. What must Casey think?

Do boys have that constant worry, that they're not good enough?

Its not like I want to be one of those self-conscious girls who care so much about how they look.

But every girl cares, one way or another. No matter how beautiful they truly are or aren't, they always end up thinking they're ugly.

I'm so not beautiful, but the fact that Casey was saying I was, made me so happy. Because that shows he really cares for me.

"Casey," I said as he wiped a tear off my face with his thumb. "Casey, don't lie, because I know you're lying. I'm...dis...gus...ting..."

Then, suddenly, we were the only people on the beach. For a few moments there, it was tense and silent and I could feel his fingers tighten against my shoulders, and then loosen up a moment later. His hands were on my shoulders and he lightly, gently pushed me back against the wall of the changing room shack.

He bent down, smiled that double-dimpled, perfect Casey smile, and said, "No, you're not. You're per...fect," and then kissed me and kissed me.

Who cares about how I ended up on the grass with the knife the other day?

Who cares about that strange dream?

Who cares if that text from Cam seriously freaked me out?

Who cares about Cam, at all?

Who cares if I'm going insane?...

I had Casey.

And Casey was here to stay- unlike any stupid scar Cam would have possibly inflicted on me.

Casey's point of view

I honestly didn't get it. Why girls thought they were ugly. Why they had such low self-esteems. They just didn't get it, did they?

No guy in the universe could ever explain to a girl the truth. Here's the truth:

A girl doesn't have to work to make people appreciate her and her looks. She just has to be herself and wait for the person to appreciate her and her looks.

Do you get that?

And Sammy, saying she was ugly was ridiculous. Here I was, staring at her because I thought she was so ridiculously cute being so small and pale and pixie-like, and then she blurts something along the lines of, "Stop looking at my ugliness."

I was so confused and taken back. Ugly?

What?

Excuse me, did I hear that correct?

"What...you...excuse me. Did you just say you were ugly?" I asked.

She nodded sullenly and I, being 100% serious here, say, "But you're beautiful..."

She was suddenly crying. I want to take her hand, sit her down and hold her close to me in the sand, and tell her how pretty I really think she is. I'd tell her how I think her eyes are the prettiest shade of green I've ever seen, and how her eyelashes are so long and how I think its adorable that the shade of her eyelashes mismatches her dyed hair color. I hope her hair will soon grow back to her natural color. I could already see some of her old brown growing in her roots. She looks great in this dark blackish-brownish, absolutely stunning, but I miss her old color, too.

I would also tell her how I love kissing her because it makes me feel like I'm kissing the sweetest, most delightful candy ever, and how she always tastes of that tropical-orange flavored gum that I love so much. And how her warm mouth on mine causes this little internal fire in my chest that always erupts into huge flames during our more intimate moments.

I would tell her how I love holding her, just holding her, just standing and looking at her, my hands on her, holding her...

But I didn't say any of that, nor did I sit her down like that. Instead, I hugged her. My hands were running up and down her back, trying to soothe her, I could feel each sharp curve of her back, and her shoulders and arms were so small and bony and delicate that she felt more like a porcelain doll to me than a high school girl.

"Sammy," I said. I love you. I freaking adore you. I'm practically obsessed, but not in that creepy way where the guy follows the girl around and thinks of her 24/7 and imagines her naked at night.

Okay, so I might be a little guilty of the last thing- but just for a couple times. Barely even. Everytime the image of her completely unclothed came in my mind, I tried to tune it out and think of something else. Because I knew an image of her naked was just too overwhelming for me when we both just recently reconnected.

"You're beautiful, just the way you are." I was such a lame sometimes. I can get cheesy. But hey. She needs this.

"Casey, don't lie. I know you're lying. I'm, dis-gus-ting." she prolonged that word.

She could never have been more wrong. Disgusting? Yeah right. She was so not disgusting.

And then I looked back at her face and I felt a burn in my throat. A burn in my heart. A burn in my chest and throughout my lungs. This huge, flickering burn, vibrating across my whole body.

Shit, I thought. No. Nonononono.

Noooooo.

This was exactly what I had been dreading ever since re-meeting her this summer. I dread this moment every time I'm with her, everytime we kiss.

The feeling of wanting her, like this.

I feel so stupid, so lame, so perverted and sick. What makes it worse, is that she's barely even innocent in those circumstances, but she's so sheltered from my insane thoughts.

I wanted her, and I needed her. I didn't care when or where. I didn't care if it was even on a beach like this, just...

Shut. Up. I need to shut. Up. Now.

That burning was still sizzling all around me. My fingers tightened on her shoulders from the mental thought of it all.

The reason I had been dreading this moment is because I knew once it happened, it would keep happening. Maybe I'm just a freak. Maybe I'm a twisted pervert. Maybe its hormones?

Yeah. That should be my excuse. This is all testosterone's fault.

I hated having this feeling, because it made me think of something so freakishly revolting in my mind.

She... Already... Knows... As in, she's not unexperienced like I am. As if knowing the fact that I'm not ever going to be her First isn't bad enough.

I needed to get my mind off things. Off of those specific things. I knew the crazy thoughts and That Feeling would start up again later, but, ugh.

So I finally gently led her up against the wall of a small building that's the "changing rooms" and I kissed her deeply. I swore to myself that I would keep on kissing her until That Feeling was safely hidden and tucked back away wherever it came from in the first place.

A/N: Ah. Its dumb. I figured there was barely any Cammy in the previous chapter so I'd crank it up in this one. Was it bad? Did I make Casey seem too old-fashioned? Sorry. I like writing like that. She was undeniably the prettiest girl my eyes have ever laid on sounds more sophistocated than the plain old, She was so hot. Lmao. Well, anyway, comment. Please? Thanks.

Oh and, sorry if you were disturbed by Casey's POV. You shouldn't be, because trust me, I've gone in and under in practicing/studying the male mind. Only because I want to write a story from a guy's POV someday so I try. I think I'm much much better at Casey's POV than Sammy's cuz I can actually get a personality for him, whereas I make Sammy sound like a drunken pot-addict, right? Am I right? Doesn't Sammy sound so stupid when I write? Sorry. I need to work on that. Please give me any insight on how to improve my writing, if you have any. I would love it and I always take advice into consideration. Thankyou.