Categories > Original > Drama > Beat of Their Own Drums
A/N: All right! I actually managed to get two installments in one day! Pardon me while I go clap for myself...m'kay, done now. I really like this song. It's really catchy if you've heard it before.
Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "Like Whoa".
Song Used: Aly and A.J.'s "Like Whoa".
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Twenty-Two: Like Whoa
Puppet: Paige Waters
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Life is good,
I can't complain,
I mean, I could,
But no one's listening,
Your image overwhelms my brain,
And it feels good,
Good, good...
You should be with me.
That single sentence ran through my mind over and over again, demanding my utmost attention despite the fact I should've been focusing on the prospect of being with my friends. My olive messenger bag was dragging heavily on my shoulder, filled with things I didn't need but for some reason had purchased anyway. The chatter between Izzy and Becca was so far off (or perhaps that was my mind) that I couldn't even tell what they were saying despite the fact that I was literally in the middle of the conversation, the Hawaiian girl to my right and the Latina to my left.
It had been Izzy's idea to have a girl's day out. The three of us, best friends throughout high school and somehow maintaining that bond into college when most others failed, had precious few moments that we could all be in the same place and the same time, what with me going to school in Chile and Izzy being down in Hawaii, so we made sure to do something together when all three of us happened to be in town.
One of the unspoken rules that went with these plans was a simple one: no guys.
Normally, I didn't mind that rule. Joe and Izzy were almost nauseatingly cute together, but he was a little too possessive of her and we hardly got to talk to her when he was around. Becca and Cameron were a fun mix and he had been one of my childhood friends, but he was a little too serious to be much fun. Mac and I, both nostalgic creatures, loved spending time with old friends, but, as Becca so bluntly put it one day, were way too cuddly when we were together. I supposed that was true; Mac's sharpest sense was that of the tactile kind, making him an almost obsessive touchmeister. He loved to hold my hand whenever we walked together, hold me when I was standing still, kiss me as soon as he got the chance.
I loved having my girls with me, but at the same time, I wished Mac was with us this time around. I wasn't sure why.
All I knew was that I couldn't get him off my mind. I smiled softly to myself, liking the way his face flashed across my mind's eye the moment I thought of his name.
That dark curly hair that was soft and thick, perfect for playing with and messily falling in front of those big, trusting dark eyes that seemed to belong to a puppy rather than a human being...
“Yo! Earth to Paige!”
“Huh?”
Now I'm rolling my window down,
I love the wind,
But I hate the sound,
You're like a tattoo that I can't remove,
And it feels good,
It feels good, it feels good...
Some days I felt like I just needed to escape from it all, and it was times like those that I made my getaway in my trusty old Monte Carlo like any thief sprinted away from the scene of the crime.
The Sun was a cruel master, aided by his loyal servant with three hands and a face but absolutely no soul. Everything seemed to be moving far too quickly, and I just needed a pause in the forward motion of my world. Like a laptop playing a DVD; spinning for too long made the machine overheat and, if the movie was not stopped, the fans would stop being able to cool it down and it would shut down.
The world was my disk drive and my life the DVD, the stresses of the day taking the place of friction. My car was my pause button, and the cool wind blustering through my open window and tugging playfully at my hair was my fan
And yet, unlike a DVD, I always seemed to stop at the same place.
I parked my car in the driveway of a small house on a familiar street, climbed out of the beloved vehicle and made my way up to the dark, solid door with elaborate Celtic carvings swirling to life on the wood. Before I even raised my hand to knock on the door it swung open to reveal the sweet face of a familiar Irish lad. He must've been waiting for me.
I smiled at him. “Let's go somewhere.”
Like a roller coaster ride,
Holding on, white knuckles,
Like whoa, whoa,
(Can't believe I'm like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Up and down and side to side,
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like...)
“Mm...”
That was all the noise I could manage to make, what with his lips so hungrily pressed to my own and his tongue playfully teasing my own. His touch felt like fire as his fingertips brushed against the back of my neck, and for a moment I wondered if this was what being high felt like.
He pulled away suddenly and his voice came in a husky whisper. “I love you.”
In the morning it begins again,
Feels like I'm falling,
Better strap me in,
I think I'm running out of oxygen,
And it feels good,
It feels good, it feels good...
“I love you.”
Those words echoed strangely and his image suddenly began to shimmer as if it were nothing but a trick of the mind. His touch was suddenly cold as if the blood had suddenly stopped pulsing through his hands and his welcoming, warm musky smell faded, and then suddenly he wasn't even there at all anymore.
I woke with a start to realize that I was laying on my side with the clothes I'd left the house with on, terrified that I'd lost him. My breath came short and my muscles went painfully rigid while I looked wildly about, trying to remember where I was and how I'd ended up there, looking desperately for his marred face that had disappeared into thin air. Where had he gone?
Something stirred behind me and a grip that I just now recognized as his own tightened about my waist, disturbed by my frenzied motions. “Paige?”
Relief rushed through me and I relaxed, closing my eyes. “Sorry, Mac,” I muttered, sighing gently in an attempt to regulate my breathing again, “just had a bad dream.”
A gentle, adoring butterfly kiss to the back of the neck made my breath catch again, however. “It's all right,” he murmured, “but you should know by now that I won't let anything hurt you.”
Like a roller coaster ride,
Holding on, white knuckles,
Like whoa, whoa,
(Can't believe I'm like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Up and down and side to side,
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like...)
I couldn't tell if I felt comforted by the promise itself or if I was aroused by the hot breath against my neck and the soft touch of his lips. “Love you.” I purred quietly, taking one of his hands and holding it tightly.
He shifted and placed another kiss on my cheek. “Love you too, baby.”
Whether he meant to soothe me or excite me, I felt warm, electric tingles all over.
My inhibitions are beginning to let go,
This situation, I can't help but lose control,
You're an affliction that I cannot seem to break,
It feels good, it feels good...
“You're obsessed.”
I blinked at Izzy and tilted my head curiously to one side, wondering what the harm was in that. “And you're not obsessed with Joe?”
She shook her head. “That's different,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, “I mean you're dangerously obsessed. As in, I kind of worry about you when you tell me about these scenarios where you and Mac are left alone.”
I smiled to myself. Typical Izzy. She had always been worried about Mac hanging around me since the moment she'd met him, though thankfully not to the extent that my father did. “Why?” I asked, “It's not like we ever do anything.”
“Except make out and stuff, ya' mean.”
I rolled my eyes. “Izz, we're adults.”
“So?” She shot back, a worried look in her eyes despite her slightly aggressive tone, “It could still end up being bad for both of you.”
What she didn't understand was that Mac was like a drug and I was already addicted; had been for a long time. Even if he hurt me, which was unlikely, I'd still love him. “You worry too much.”
I'm holding on,
I'm holding on,
Like a roller coaster ride,
Like I'm running a red light,
Like a rocket ship in flight,
There's nothing else that makes me feel like,
Whoa!
To be honest, I kind of liked it when my friends talked to me like that. It made me feel as if I was doing something illegal when I did something with Mac. It had the thrill that came with breaking the rules of society and possibly even science itself, but lacked the actual guilt that came with committing a real crime.
Though as exhilarating as it was to feel as if I could get away with something no one else could, his touch was far more exciting. I couldn't really use words to describe the way I felt with his skin brushing against my own because I didn't think there were enough to really help give a visual, but all I knew was that I never felt that way with anything else.
My heart just beat faster. My skin just felt alive with electricity. My mind just raced and my body just seemed to beg for more.
Please keep your hands and feet,
In the ride at all times,
Thank you...
“Hey, Paige? Guess what.”
I glanced at him in acknowledgment. New Jersey beaches weren't the most beautiful ones out there, but Cormac O'Kane was by far the most beautiful boy I'd ever met. The two of us were sitting quietly on the sand with our toes just barely within reach of the surf, he with nothing but his shorts on and me with a simple red two-piece swimsuit. The sun, my past enemy but present friend, caught the moisture on his olive skin, causing it to glisten and only further exaggerate the well-defined muscles in his arms, chest and back.
“What?” I asked.
His gentle fingers guided my head back around to face him a second time, a boyish smile splitting his would-be handsome features. He held my chin tenderly in his hand, his dark eyes drilling intently into my paler ones. “I love you.”
My heart did a flip-flop the way one's stomach does when taking in the first nail-biting drop of a roller coaster, teased only by the pure truth of his words and sweet tenderness in saying them. I smiled, but before I could reply he'd pressed his mouth to mine in a sweet kiss.
His lips were softer than anything I'd ever touched in my life, I decided. Better than suede, better than velvet, better than silk even...
I also decided that I liked it better when he was being gentle rather than harsh. Open-mouthed yet tongueless kisses were better than playing tonsil hockey because they were more meaningful; he could've gone in and started a lusty make out session the way most guys would have, but he refrained from doing so because he thought it more respectful than jamming his tongue down my throat.
About two waves had come up to gently tickle our feet by the time he'd withdrawn and, still with my chin in his hand, tilted his head upward a bit and kissed the tip of my nose. I smiled giddily and pushed my head gently under his chin. “Have I told you that you're awesome?”
He laughed, wrapping an arm about my shoulders and giving the opposite one a gentle squeeze.
Who needed drugs or alcohol when I could just have him?
Like a roller coaster,
Whoa,
Holding on, white knuckles,
Whoa,
Once you let your love in,
Whoa,
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa,
Got me feelin' like.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Merf. Yeah, I know there was a lot of touching and cuddling and all the mushy shit, but I wasn't really sure how else to nail the meaning of this song, ya' know? By the way, I think I need to send in my new word, 'touchmeister', to Webster's. I think it's a good word and could actually be used to decribe someone who's excessively affectionate and/or cuddly.
Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "Like Whoa".
Song Used: Aly and A.J.'s "Like Whoa".
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twenty-Two: Like Whoa
Puppet: Paige Waters
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Life is good,
I can't complain,
I mean, I could,
But no one's listening,
Your image overwhelms my brain,
And it feels good,
Good, good...
You should be with me.
That single sentence ran through my mind over and over again, demanding my utmost attention despite the fact I should've been focusing on the prospect of being with my friends. My olive messenger bag was dragging heavily on my shoulder, filled with things I didn't need but for some reason had purchased anyway. The chatter between Izzy and Becca was so far off (or perhaps that was my mind) that I couldn't even tell what they were saying despite the fact that I was literally in the middle of the conversation, the Hawaiian girl to my right and the Latina to my left.
It had been Izzy's idea to have a girl's day out. The three of us, best friends throughout high school and somehow maintaining that bond into college when most others failed, had precious few moments that we could all be in the same place and the same time, what with me going to school in Chile and Izzy being down in Hawaii, so we made sure to do something together when all three of us happened to be in town.
One of the unspoken rules that went with these plans was a simple one: no guys.
Normally, I didn't mind that rule. Joe and Izzy were almost nauseatingly cute together, but he was a little too possessive of her and we hardly got to talk to her when he was around. Becca and Cameron were a fun mix and he had been one of my childhood friends, but he was a little too serious to be much fun. Mac and I, both nostalgic creatures, loved spending time with old friends, but, as Becca so bluntly put it one day, were way too cuddly when we were together. I supposed that was true; Mac's sharpest sense was that of the tactile kind, making him an almost obsessive touchmeister. He loved to hold my hand whenever we walked together, hold me when I was standing still, kiss me as soon as he got the chance.
I loved having my girls with me, but at the same time, I wished Mac was with us this time around. I wasn't sure why.
All I knew was that I couldn't get him off my mind. I smiled softly to myself, liking the way his face flashed across my mind's eye the moment I thought of his name.
That dark curly hair that was soft and thick, perfect for playing with and messily falling in front of those big, trusting dark eyes that seemed to belong to a puppy rather than a human being...
“Yo! Earth to Paige!”
“Huh?”
Now I'm rolling my window down,
I love the wind,
But I hate the sound,
You're like a tattoo that I can't remove,
And it feels good,
It feels good, it feels good...
Some days I felt like I just needed to escape from it all, and it was times like those that I made my getaway in my trusty old Monte Carlo like any thief sprinted away from the scene of the crime.
The Sun was a cruel master, aided by his loyal servant with three hands and a face but absolutely no soul. Everything seemed to be moving far too quickly, and I just needed a pause in the forward motion of my world. Like a laptop playing a DVD; spinning for too long made the machine overheat and, if the movie was not stopped, the fans would stop being able to cool it down and it would shut down.
The world was my disk drive and my life the DVD, the stresses of the day taking the place of friction. My car was my pause button, and the cool wind blustering through my open window and tugging playfully at my hair was my fan
And yet, unlike a DVD, I always seemed to stop at the same place.
I parked my car in the driveway of a small house on a familiar street, climbed out of the beloved vehicle and made my way up to the dark, solid door with elaborate Celtic carvings swirling to life on the wood. Before I even raised my hand to knock on the door it swung open to reveal the sweet face of a familiar Irish lad. He must've been waiting for me.
I smiled at him. “Let's go somewhere.”
Like a roller coaster ride,
Holding on, white knuckles,
Like whoa, whoa,
(Can't believe I'm like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Up and down and side to side,
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like...)
“Mm...”
That was all the noise I could manage to make, what with his lips so hungrily pressed to my own and his tongue playfully teasing my own. His touch felt like fire as his fingertips brushed against the back of my neck, and for a moment I wondered if this was what being high felt like.
He pulled away suddenly and his voice came in a husky whisper. “I love you.”
In the morning it begins again,
Feels like I'm falling,
Better strap me in,
I think I'm running out of oxygen,
And it feels good,
It feels good, it feels good...
“I love you.”
Those words echoed strangely and his image suddenly began to shimmer as if it were nothing but a trick of the mind. His touch was suddenly cold as if the blood had suddenly stopped pulsing through his hands and his welcoming, warm musky smell faded, and then suddenly he wasn't even there at all anymore.
I woke with a start to realize that I was laying on my side with the clothes I'd left the house with on, terrified that I'd lost him. My breath came short and my muscles went painfully rigid while I looked wildly about, trying to remember where I was and how I'd ended up there, looking desperately for his marred face that had disappeared into thin air. Where had he gone?
Something stirred behind me and a grip that I just now recognized as his own tightened about my waist, disturbed by my frenzied motions. “Paige?”
Relief rushed through me and I relaxed, closing my eyes. “Sorry, Mac,” I muttered, sighing gently in an attempt to regulate my breathing again, “just had a bad dream.”
A gentle, adoring butterfly kiss to the back of the neck made my breath catch again, however. “It's all right,” he murmured, “but you should know by now that I won't let anything hurt you.”
Like a roller coaster ride,
Holding on, white knuckles,
Like whoa, whoa,
(Can't believe I'm like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Up and down and side to side,
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like),
Whoa, whoa,
(Got me feeling like...)
I couldn't tell if I felt comforted by the promise itself or if I was aroused by the hot breath against my neck and the soft touch of his lips. “Love you.” I purred quietly, taking one of his hands and holding it tightly.
He shifted and placed another kiss on my cheek. “Love you too, baby.”
Whether he meant to soothe me or excite me, I felt warm, electric tingles all over.
My inhibitions are beginning to let go,
This situation, I can't help but lose control,
You're an affliction that I cannot seem to break,
It feels good, it feels good...
“You're obsessed.”
I blinked at Izzy and tilted my head curiously to one side, wondering what the harm was in that. “And you're not obsessed with Joe?”
She shook her head. “That's different,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, “I mean you're dangerously obsessed. As in, I kind of worry about you when you tell me about these scenarios where you and Mac are left alone.”
I smiled to myself. Typical Izzy. She had always been worried about Mac hanging around me since the moment she'd met him, though thankfully not to the extent that my father did. “Why?” I asked, “It's not like we ever do anything.”
“Except make out and stuff, ya' mean.”
I rolled my eyes. “Izz, we're adults.”
“So?” She shot back, a worried look in her eyes despite her slightly aggressive tone, “It could still end up being bad for both of you.”
What she didn't understand was that Mac was like a drug and I was already addicted; had been for a long time. Even if he hurt me, which was unlikely, I'd still love him. “You worry too much.”
I'm holding on,
I'm holding on,
Like a roller coaster ride,
Like I'm running a red light,
Like a rocket ship in flight,
There's nothing else that makes me feel like,
Whoa!
To be honest, I kind of liked it when my friends talked to me like that. It made me feel as if I was doing something illegal when I did something with Mac. It had the thrill that came with breaking the rules of society and possibly even science itself, but lacked the actual guilt that came with committing a real crime.
Though as exhilarating as it was to feel as if I could get away with something no one else could, his touch was far more exciting. I couldn't really use words to describe the way I felt with his skin brushing against my own because I didn't think there were enough to really help give a visual, but all I knew was that I never felt that way with anything else.
My heart just beat faster. My skin just felt alive with electricity. My mind just raced and my body just seemed to beg for more.
Please keep your hands and feet,
In the ride at all times,
Thank you...
“Hey, Paige? Guess what.”
I glanced at him in acknowledgment. New Jersey beaches weren't the most beautiful ones out there, but Cormac O'Kane was by far the most beautiful boy I'd ever met. The two of us were sitting quietly on the sand with our toes just barely within reach of the surf, he with nothing but his shorts on and me with a simple red two-piece swimsuit. The sun, my past enemy but present friend, caught the moisture on his olive skin, causing it to glisten and only further exaggerate the well-defined muscles in his arms, chest and back.
“What?” I asked.
His gentle fingers guided my head back around to face him a second time, a boyish smile splitting his would-be handsome features. He held my chin tenderly in his hand, his dark eyes drilling intently into my paler ones. “I love you.”
My heart did a flip-flop the way one's stomach does when taking in the first nail-biting drop of a roller coaster, teased only by the pure truth of his words and sweet tenderness in saying them. I smiled, but before I could reply he'd pressed his mouth to mine in a sweet kiss.
His lips were softer than anything I'd ever touched in my life, I decided. Better than suede, better than velvet, better than silk even...
I also decided that I liked it better when he was being gentle rather than harsh. Open-mouthed yet tongueless kisses were better than playing tonsil hockey because they were more meaningful; he could've gone in and started a lusty make out session the way most guys would have, but he refrained from doing so because he thought it more respectful than jamming his tongue down my throat.
About two waves had come up to gently tickle our feet by the time he'd withdrawn and, still with my chin in his hand, tilted his head upward a bit and kissed the tip of my nose. I smiled giddily and pushed my head gently under his chin. “Have I told you that you're awesome?”
He laughed, wrapping an arm about my shoulders and giving the opposite one a gentle squeeze.
Who needed drugs or alcohol when I could just have him?
Like a roller coaster,
Whoa,
Holding on, white knuckles,
Whoa,
Once you let your love in,
Whoa,
Every inch of me is like,
Whoa,
Got me feelin' like.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Merf. Yeah, I know there was a lot of touching and cuddling and all the mushy shit, but I wasn't really sure how else to nail the meaning of this song, ya' know? By the way, I think I need to send in my new word, 'touchmeister', to Webster's. I think it's a good word and could actually be used to decribe someone who's excessively affectionate and/or cuddly.
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