Unfamiliar Ceilings

It was cool when I woke up, apart from quite a large warm thing beside me. Every part of my body seemed to be aching, as if someone was holding me over fire. I didn’t dare open my eyes, but my head pounded anyway. Slowly, very slowly, I cracked my eyes open. The first thing I saw was a ceiling, it wasn’t my own. It was smooth, untouched, unlike my own which had patterns scraped into it.

I knew where I was. I was lying in Dean’s bed, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. The warm thing beside me was Dean himself. I remembered coming into his room, laying on his bed and a lot of kissing, a bit of touching. I also remember that we didn’t do anything further than that.
I stopped him.

Looking up at that ceiling, it felt strange. If you told me, when I got here a month or so ago, that I’d be lying in his bed, feeling what I felt for him, I would’ve laughed in your face and told you to keep dreaming. Which then brought to mind that we’d probably never work out. Not properly.

“Morning,” Dean mumbled, his voice hoarse. I turned my head to the right to look at him. He was smiling and he reached up to move a curl of my hair back from my face. I returned his smile, though half-heartedly. He noticed, of course.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I lied.

“Leila-”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong,” I snapped, cutting him off. But what does that help? It’s Dean, and Dean never lets anything lie. He has to know everything that he can’t guess.

“Tell me,” he said, kissing my shoulder lightly.

“You won’t like it,” I said, biting my lip slightly and closing my eyes. I felt like crying. I never cry.

“I don’t care,” he murmured into my shoulder.

“I was thinking,” I said quietly. “How do we work? Not just when I go home, like, now. We’re so opposite, and other girls are so much better for you, and we’d always argue and-”

“Leila, Leila,” he said, propping himself up on both of his elbows. “Come on, calm down.”

“I just don’t think we could work Dean.” I said that really fast, and then sat up in his bed. I kicked the covers off and stood up, starting to pace the room.

He was up and standing there, staring at me. He looked hurt. “Give me one good reason why we couldn’t.”

“I just gave you loads.”

He sighed. “Opposites always attract, I don’t want the other girls – whoever they are – and what’s a couple without some arguments?”

“But I live over a hundred miles away from here!”

He just kept looking at me, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Then stay. Stay with your dad and go to college here.”

“I can’t,” I mumbled, looking away from him.

“Then I will come with you.”

“You can’t!”

“Why can’t I?”

I didn’t know the reason for it. I don’t know why I even started all of this. Surely, I knew when I started getting attached to Dean that we wouldn’t last. Why couldn’t I see that from the beginning? Summer romances are all well and good, but you have to go home at the end.

“Leila,” Dean mumbled, standing in front of me. “What are you so afraid of, babe?”

He’s never called you that before...

I didn’t know that answer either. I was afraid of almost everything. How he was, the ways he could so easily manipulate me into doing what he wanted. I was afraid of hurting him, losing him. I was afraid that he’d hurt me because I’ve never dealt with that before, because it’s never happened.

“I don’t know.”

His hands came up and cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look into his eyes. He rested his forehead lightly on mine and whispered, “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

He kept on looking at me, waiting for me to say something. Eventually, once I figured out what he’d said along with what he meant, I was stupid enough to believe it.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, quietly.

Very slowly, I said yes. His face split into a bright smile and he kissed me, more than he ever had before. He poured all his hunger, all his passion and relief into that one kiss. I loved every second, obviously. Even if I thought we’d never work, that didn’t mean I was going to let him go.

*****

We spent the rest of the day lazing around, watching some films on his game console and listening to music on his laptop. He had an impressive collection, and I found myself unable to pick between about seven of my favourite bands. He eventually just nudged me lightly aside and picked for us. Mark called to see if I was okay and told me I was to come home that night, rather than stay out again. Which was all fair; he was being lenient with everything, and it felt like I hadn’t spent the night in my own bed for a while.

Dean pressed his lips to my temple lightly, before lowering his lips down to my ear and murmuring along with the current Deaf Havana song playing. I smiled like it was my birthday, and shook my head. I nudged his arm with my shoulder and blushed lightly. I kissed his lips and muttered, “Big cheese ball.”

He chuckled and rolled heavily on top of me, spreading his weight over my – small – body. I tried to knee him somewhere painful, but the skinny bastard was far too heavy for me to move.

“Get off!” I grumbled.

“No. You make a decent mattress, even if you do talk too much.”

I tried to slap his arm but ending up laughing. “Arsehole.”

He laughed and sat up, straddling my hips with his legs either side of my body. I took a couple of deep breaths as soon as his weight lifted off of me. I felt his hands dance lightly over my ribcage and he was smirking evilly at me. I held his wrists tightly, trying to prise his hands away from me, but he was quicker and managed to pin my wrists to the mattress using his knees. His hands were back on my ribs.

“Please, Dean,” I said, glaring.

“Or what?”

“Or...” I thought for a second. “I won’t kiss you again. Ever.”

He scoffed. “Not good enough. I know you will.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and went to glare again, but he’d started tickling me. I was coughing, spluttering and giggled like a complete and utter imbecile. I kicked my legs quickly to try and get him off me, but that just seemed to make it much worse for me. I squirmed and squealed and fought for my own breath while he carried on tickling me, eventually stopping so I could breathe.

“I love doing that,” he smirked.

“I hate it when you do that,” I muttered, pulling my wrists sharply out from under his knees and crossing my arms over my chest. He just smiled at me and pulled my arms away from my chest, twining his fingers loosely with mine. I heard Amethyst by Fightstar start up through the speakers on Dean’s laptop.

“I didn’t think you’d like Fightstar,” I said quietly, smiling.

He chuckled. “Not many do, love.”

I smiled and stroked his knuckles gently, playing with his fingers. Dean half-smiled at me and leaned in closer to kiss me on the mouth. I swear, if the last thing I ever did in my life was kiss Dean, I’d die a very, very happy person. I could feel him smiling into the kiss too, before bringing his tongue forward to lick my lower lip and bite on it gently. I laughed and opened my mouth, kissing him deeper.

He let go of one of my hands and started tracing a light pattern on my bare leg, just above my knee, moving slightly higher every time. Shortly after, he released my other hand and twisted my hair around his fingers, while I contented myself with lacing one arm around his neck and the other around my his waist. His hand slid smoothly from my leg to the hem of my borrowed shirt. Nothing told me to make him stop.

Dean broke apart from the kiss and looked at me, searching my face. I nodded, letting him know it was fine, after which he leaned back and slowly pushed the shirt up my body and over my head. I blushed slightly as he grabbed the sheets on his bed and pulled them over the both of us. Before I knew it, we were lying together similar to the night prior. But this time, with a lot less clothes.

What can I say? I trusted him a lot then, and he made me feel comfortable with myself. I was absolutely terrified, of course, who wouldn’t be? He could tell that much and kept being really sweet, stroking my hair and face, continuing to check with me that it was okay if we carried on.

“Leila,” he said quietly his head against mine and his voice only just audible over the soft music playing on his laptop – If It Means A Lot To You by A Day To Remember. “Are you sure you want this to happen?”

My breathing was deep, hitched in my through and I knew my face was flushed a deep red. More from desire than embarrassment. My body was shaking; in fear, want and need. He waited, watching me carefully. What did he mean by ‘this’? Sex? Him? Both? I wanted anything with him.

I nodded.

“You’re totally certain?”

I sighed and stroked his cheek. “If you keep asking me I’ll change my mind.”

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“Dean,” I said, kissing his lips lightly. “I will not regret this.”

He nodded his head in acceptance and leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine sweetly. He pulled away and leaned over me, rummaging through one of the drawers on his bedside cabinet before pulling out a small, square metallic wrapper. He laid it on the cabinet top and shut the drawer, then came back to me. He kissed me again and asked me one last time if I was sure. I bit my lip, managed a smile and nodded my head.

I knew I wouldn’t turn back once I heard that packet rip open, and so, on that summer afternoon, I lost my virginity to Dean Owens.