Categories > Original > Romance > Ten Cities
Two - Infintalism
0 reviewsAidenn's secretism gives her a very painful and harsh nip in the backside.
0Unrated
ANOTHER DISCLAIMER - Lyrics from Red Hot Chili Peppers's "Easily" appear in this chapter.
TWO
Brrrrrrrrrr…
I slurped at my mug of coffee, listening to the lawn mower and the radio. My cat, Mouschi, stroked around my ankles; I reached down and patted him, then returned to my coffee. Today was a bore. At first, I couldn’t think of anything that I needed to do; then I recalled that I needed to stop by the supermarket. Then, another thought, much more unwelcome than the first, struck my mind with the force of a hurricane: Oliver was living with us now, and for him to live functionally, it was necessary that he had his own things (clothes, toiletries, etc). Moreover, for him to have those things, we needed to sneak into his old house and somehow retrieve them. How we were going to pull that one off, I had no clue, and I didn’t really want to think about it until we had to do it.
My ears perked as I heard Oliver singing in the shower. “Easily… Let’s get carried away. Easily… let’s get married today.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his howling, which he followed quickly with loud cursing. I guessed he had shampoo in his eyes. A few minutes later, he came into my room, wrapped in his towel, drippy wet. I ignored him until I heard him start to undress, then coughed and said curtly, “Maybe you should warn someone before you decide to strip.”
“You know you like it.”
I blushed beet-red, picked up my notebook, and ran out, slamming the door behind me. “Sorry,” I heard him call. Normally I would laugh. What was up with me?
I got my answer when I called my friend Mercedes later that day.
“Crush! Crush! Crush!” she sang through the phone. I objected repeatedly, but I had to admit, her reasoning was quite accurate; but still, I felt weird because he was like a brother to me, and the fact that he was living with us made it even weirder.
“What about not liking someone?”
I screamed and slammed the phone down. He was right behind me. “Uh-huh. Righhttt.”
“Who do you think I’m talking about?”
“Ermm… let’s see… it’s right on the tip of my tongue…” He scratched his head, and then said, “Jessie Hawkins?”
I shook my head, relief flowing through me.
“Perry Weaver?” Another shake.
“Traye Faircloth?” No siree.
“Tanner Martin? Matthew Seay? WHO? WHOOO??”
I laughed in his face. “The knowing is not for you,” I said, pouring a glass of Kool-Aid and sitting at the table.
He laughed back. “Fine, I just won’t tell you who I’ve had my eye on.”
Curiosity raged through me, but I refused to let him win. “Okay. Cool.” The look on his face was priceless.
“Why not, Aidenn?”
“Well, you apparently do not want me to know!”
“Because you don’t want ME to know!”
“Wahhh!” I ran my finger down my face, mocking him. I knew it wasn’t over. As soon as we went to bed, he continued on, whining about how I wouldn’t tell him who my crush was. “You know, you big baby?”
“What, dear Aidenn?”
I growled. “Never mind, I was about to tell you.” I blocked him out as best I could and went to sleep.
Moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating our faces and my various pieces of furniture. I could hear crickets and such chirping and buzzing, and the squeals and buzzing of the nearby highway filled the street with din. I looked over at my wall. A shadow of a young man was there, slowly materializing into Oliver. For some reason I backed up to the bedpost, but he approached and sat on the end of the bed. “Aidenn?” he whispered. I nodded back, not knowing what he wanted. The bed creaked as he crawled over, and as his face drew closer to mine…
“Aidenn!” I woke up and tried to yawn, but I froze as I looked at Oliver. He held superglue in his hand.
“What the hell did you do to me, Oliver Worth?” I tried to sigh through my nose, but I couldn’t; he had filled my nostrils with glue. “Oh, you bastard, you are in for it now!” I grabbed my school binder and chased him through the house, swinging wildly; the chase took us out to the yard and I closed in on him, nearly smacking him, when a hole ensnared my foot. I fell on my face, practically, and Oliver ran a whole lap before realizing I was down. He rushed over to me, pulled me into his lap, and asked feverishly what the problem was.
“I think I broke it.”
He ogled stupidly. “Broke what?”
I glared at him, wondering if he had hit his head. Could you honestly be that stupid? “My eyeball. Honestly, are you retarded? I think I broke my ankle!”
Two hours later, I had my foot propped up in his lap as he doodled all over my cast with a Sharpie marker. My day had started bad and ended worse; the doctor had told me I couldn’t take showers or do anything with my cast on. It could take several weeks for it to heal up—of course, it wasn’t a break, but a fracture. Still, Band-Aids don’t fix boo-boos like that. As he drew an airplane on the part covering my big toe (why they gave me a whole-foot cast, who knows), my grandma asked, “Kids, what was learned today?”
“Don’t put glue up people’s noses.”
“Don’t lose your temper when idiots act like babies.”
She simply laughed. “It’ll be better soon, dear. Just don’t kill our guest or fractures will more than likely be the least of your worries.” I scoffed at her. She treated it as if it was a trifle, and nothing more. Hello! I was on crutches!
Her old Ford pickup truck pulled into the driveway, and as Grandma grabbed her handbag, she ordered Oliver to help me out of the back. He swung the door open gently, propped the crutches against the side, and lifted me as the Prince did Snow White... or something.
“And just who do you think you are?” I asked. He simply smiled, carried me to the bed, placed me on the flap/door thing (ha-ha), and brought me my crutches. I leaned on them and hobbled to the door that Grandma held open for me. We ate supper, got our showers and such in, and about an hour after arriving home, we collapsed in our beds—or, in Oliver’s case, covers on wooden planks. “Still wondering who?” I asked, leaning off the bed and poking my head in his face.
“Nope.” He rolled over and looked at the wall, playing with a random strand on his head. The tour dates on the back of his shirt crinkled as he rolled around a little; I was about to find out where Fall Out Boy had been on April fourteenth when he pulled the covers up to his chin, only showing the top of the words “Young Wild Things.” “Why should I care? You’re the one being so secretive.”
“Well, I thought you wanted to know.” I leaned way over and turned on the lamp on the computer desk, sitting up and scraping fingernail polish off with my nails. Now he was just being an un-fun dick. What was with him and his mood swings?
“I know you’ll just say“— he changed his voice to a high pitched whine at this point “—‘well, guess what? It’s not your secret for the knowing’!” He scoffed and looked at me with an unreadable expression… one that rather made me want to tackle him and beat his face in. I was actually somewhat happy that he didn’t want to know; even then, it wasn’t a one hundred percent “oh em GEE, I love him to pieces!” kind of thing. Maybe I was just overreacting… maybe. As I was pondering, he remarked, “Does Mr. Mystery even exist? Or is this just some random fancy?”
I kicked him in the side with my cast. “Oliver Worth,” I screeched, “you are the most insufferable, annoying, inconsiderate excuse for a male that I have ever met! Ever!” He gave me an upset look, and then glared at the wall. “Olly?” He stared intently. Now, I’d really done it.
“Olly…”
“Just shut up, Aidenn!” He rolled over, then looked up at me to add, “Either that or make up your damn mind! It’s a crush! So what! Does the world have to stop in its tracks?”
I sighed then slammed my face into my pillows. Tears rolled down my face, but I was too proud to let him hear my sobbing; I simply cried myself into a rough, dreamless, exhausting sleep.
“Aidenn? Wake up.”
My eyes shot open. Olly looked at me, his fringe falling into his eyes. He held out a buttercup flower, smiling. “I’m sorry.” I sat up and took the flower gingerly, yawning. He scratched his head, and then sat cross-legged on the floor to face me. “I’m sorry for being such a douche last night. So, I’ve got a proposal.”
“Okay.” I yawned again, and then placed the flower beside me. It was soft, gentle, sunshine yellow; conversely, it was also a gesticulation that NO ONE ever received from Oliver Worth. I was anticipating something along the lines of “I’ve gotten a girl pregnant” or “Hey! I won the lottery!” but it seemed that wasn’t the situation. He got up on his knees, placing first his elbows on the bed, then his chin respectively in his hands. Then, he puffed his fringe out of his eyes and began to speak.
“Riposte now. Do you want to tell me, or not?”
I halted for a second, and then replied, “Yeah, I wanna tell you.”
“Now… or a little bit later?”
“Anon,” I said, laughing sheepishly.
He plucked the buttercup out of my hand. “So, here’s the deal.” He placed the flower in a Lake Winnipesauke, Tennessee cup on the windowsill. “You have a few days. For now, take your time. But there’s one condition.”
“Which is?”
He smirked. “You have to tell me when the buttercup dies. Painless enough.” He held out his hand. “Until then, no pestering or dragging on about it. I agree. Do you?” I hesitated, and then took his hand, shaking it. “Good then,” he said, fingering the petals of the flower. Mouschi stalked in then planted himself in Oliver’s lap, purring and rubbing against his stomach. I gawked for a second, and then Oliver remarked bluntly, “What are you staring at?”
I twitched and muttered, “Err, Mouschi.” Ha-ha, yeah, I thought. I’m just watching Mouschi rub up against your abs. I took my time and stared a few seconds more.
“Hey, Aidenn, I’m talking to you.”
“Huh?”
“I said, what’s so fascinating about the fur ball?”
I wanted to laugh, and laugh, and laugh until I popped. It was all too confusing. Laughing was the perfect medicine. Right?
TWO
Brrrrrrrrrr…
I slurped at my mug of coffee, listening to the lawn mower and the radio. My cat, Mouschi, stroked around my ankles; I reached down and patted him, then returned to my coffee. Today was a bore. At first, I couldn’t think of anything that I needed to do; then I recalled that I needed to stop by the supermarket. Then, another thought, much more unwelcome than the first, struck my mind with the force of a hurricane: Oliver was living with us now, and for him to live functionally, it was necessary that he had his own things (clothes, toiletries, etc). Moreover, for him to have those things, we needed to sneak into his old house and somehow retrieve them. How we were going to pull that one off, I had no clue, and I didn’t really want to think about it until we had to do it.
My ears perked as I heard Oliver singing in the shower. “Easily… Let’s get carried away. Easily… let’s get married today.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his howling, which he followed quickly with loud cursing. I guessed he had shampoo in his eyes. A few minutes later, he came into my room, wrapped in his towel, drippy wet. I ignored him until I heard him start to undress, then coughed and said curtly, “Maybe you should warn someone before you decide to strip.”
“You know you like it.”
I blushed beet-red, picked up my notebook, and ran out, slamming the door behind me. “Sorry,” I heard him call. Normally I would laugh. What was up with me?
I got my answer when I called my friend Mercedes later that day.
“Crush! Crush! Crush!” she sang through the phone. I objected repeatedly, but I had to admit, her reasoning was quite accurate; but still, I felt weird because he was like a brother to me, and the fact that he was living with us made it even weirder.
“What about not liking someone?”
I screamed and slammed the phone down. He was right behind me. “Uh-huh. Righhttt.”
“Who do you think I’m talking about?”
“Ermm… let’s see… it’s right on the tip of my tongue…” He scratched his head, and then said, “Jessie Hawkins?”
I shook my head, relief flowing through me.
“Perry Weaver?” Another shake.
“Traye Faircloth?” No siree.
“Tanner Martin? Matthew Seay? WHO? WHOOO??”
I laughed in his face. “The knowing is not for you,” I said, pouring a glass of Kool-Aid and sitting at the table.
He laughed back. “Fine, I just won’t tell you who I’ve had my eye on.”
Curiosity raged through me, but I refused to let him win. “Okay. Cool.” The look on his face was priceless.
“Why not, Aidenn?”
“Well, you apparently do not want me to know!”
“Because you don’t want ME to know!”
“Wahhh!” I ran my finger down my face, mocking him. I knew it wasn’t over. As soon as we went to bed, he continued on, whining about how I wouldn’t tell him who my crush was. “You know, you big baby?”
“What, dear Aidenn?”
I growled. “Never mind, I was about to tell you.” I blocked him out as best I could and went to sleep.
Moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating our faces and my various pieces of furniture. I could hear crickets and such chirping and buzzing, and the squeals and buzzing of the nearby highway filled the street with din. I looked over at my wall. A shadow of a young man was there, slowly materializing into Oliver. For some reason I backed up to the bedpost, but he approached and sat on the end of the bed. “Aidenn?” he whispered. I nodded back, not knowing what he wanted. The bed creaked as he crawled over, and as his face drew closer to mine…
“Aidenn!” I woke up and tried to yawn, but I froze as I looked at Oliver. He held superglue in his hand.
“What the hell did you do to me, Oliver Worth?” I tried to sigh through my nose, but I couldn’t; he had filled my nostrils with glue. “Oh, you bastard, you are in for it now!” I grabbed my school binder and chased him through the house, swinging wildly; the chase took us out to the yard and I closed in on him, nearly smacking him, when a hole ensnared my foot. I fell on my face, practically, and Oliver ran a whole lap before realizing I was down. He rushed over to me, pulled me into his lap, and asked feverishly what the problem was.
“I think I broke it.”
He ogled stupidly. “Broke what?”
I glared at him, wondering if he had hit his head. Could you honestly be that stupid? “My eyeball. Honestly, are you retarded? I think I broke my ankle!”
Two hours later, I had my foot propped up in his lap as he doodled all over my cast with a Sharpie marker. My day had started bad and ended worse; the doctor had told me I couldn’t take showers or do anything with my cast on. It could take several weeks for it to heal up—of course, it wasn’t a break, but a fracture. Still, Band-Aids don’t fix boo-boos like that. As he drew an airplane on the part covering my big toe (why they gave me a whole-foot cast, who knows), my grandma asked, “Kids, what was learned today?”
“Don’t put glue up people’s noses.”
“Don’t lose your temper when idiots act like babies.”
She simply laughed. “It’ll be better soon, dear. Just don’t kill our guest or fractures will more than likely be the least of your worries.” I scoffed at her. She treated it as if it was a trifle, and nothing more. Hello! I was on crutches!
Her old Ford pickup truck pulled into the driveway, and as Grandma grabbed her handbag, she ordered Oliver to help me out of the back. He swung the door open gently, propped the crutches against the side, and lifted me as the Prince did Snow White... or something.
“And just who do you think you are?” I asked. He simply smiled, carried me to the bed, placed me on the flap/door thing (ha-ha), and brought me my crutches. I leaned on them and hobbled to the door that Grandma held open for me. We ate supper, got our showers and such in, and about an hour after arriving home, we collapsed in our beds—or, in Oliver’s case, covers on wooden planks. “Still wondering who?” I asked, leaning off the bed and poking my head in his face.
“Nope.” He rolled over and looked at the wall, playing with a random strand on his head. The tour dates on the back of his shirt crinkled as he rolled around a little; I was about to find out where Fall Out Boy had been on April fourteenth when he pulled the covers up to his chin, only showing the top of the words “Young Wild Things.” “Why should I care? You’re the one being so secretive.”
“Well, I thought you wanted to know.” I leaned way over and turned on the lamp on the computer desk, sitting up and scraping fingernail polish off with my nails. Now he was just being an un-fun dick. What was with him and his mood swings?
“I know you’ll just say“— he changed his voice to a high pitched whine at this point “—‘well, guess what? It’s not your secret for the knowing’!” He scoffed and looked at me with an unreadable expression… one that rather made me want to tackle him and beat his face in. I was actually somewhat happy that he didn’t want to know; even then, it wasn’t a one hundred percent “oh em GEE, I love him to pieces!” kind of thing. Maybe I was just overreacting… maybe. As I was pondering, he remarked, “Does Mr. Mystery even exist? Or is this just some random fancy?”
I kicked him in the side with my cast. “Oliver Worth,” I screeched, “you are the most insufferable, annoying, inconsiderate excuse for a male that I have ever met! Ever!” He gave me an upset look, and then glared at the wall. “Olly?” He stared intently. Now, I’d really done it.
“Olly…”
“Just shut up, Aidenn!” He rolled over, then looked up at me to add, “Either that or make up your damn mind! It’s a crush! So what! Does the world have to stop in its tracks?”
I sighed then slammed my face into my pillows. Tears rolled down my face, but I was too proud to let him hear my sobbing; I simply cried myself into a rough, dreamless, exhausting sleep.
“Aidenn? Wake up.”
My eyes shot open. Olly looked at me, his fringe falling into his eyes. He held out a buttercup flower, smiling. “I’m sorry.” I sat up and took the flower gingerly, yawning. He scratched his head, and then sat cross-legged on the floor to face me. “I’m sorry for being such a douche last night. So, I’ve got a proposal.”
“Okay.” I yawned again, and then placed the flower beside me. It was soft, gentle, sunshine yellow; conversely, it was also a gesticulation that NO ONE ever received from Oliver Worth. I was anticipating something along the lines of “I’ve gotten a girl pregnant” or “Hey! I won the lottery!” but it seemed that wasn’t the situation. He got up on his knees, placing first his elbows on the bed, then his chin respectively in his hands. Then, he puffed his fringe out of his eyes and began to speak.
“Riposte now. Do you want to tell me, or not?”
I halted for a second, and then replied, “Yeah, I wanna tell you.”
“Now… or a little bit later?”
“Anon,” I said, laughing sheepishly.
He plucked the buttercup out of my hand. “So, here’s the deal.” He placed the flower in a Lake Winnipesauke, Tennessee cup on the windowsill. “You have a few days. For now, take your time. But there’s one condition.”
“Which is?”
He smirked. “You have to tell me when the buttercup dies. Painless enough.” He held out his hand. “Until then, no pestering or dragging on about it. I agree. Do you?” I hesitated, and then took his hand, shaking it. “Good then,” he said, fingering the petals of the flower. Mouschi stalked in then planted himself in Oliver’s lap, purring and rubbing against his stomach. I gawked for a second, and then Oliver remarked bluntly, “What are you staring at?”
I twitched and muttered, “Err, Mouschi.” Ha-ha, yeah, I thought. I’m just watching Mouschi rub up against your abs. I took my time and stared a few seconds more.
“Hey, Aidenn, I’m talking to you.”
“Huh?”
“I said, what’s so fascinating about the fur ball?”
I wanted to laugh, and laugh, and laugh until I popped. It was all too confusing. Laughing was the perfect medicine. Right?
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