You Just Never Know

What do I say to that? Of course I love him. He’s my life for crying out loud. My everything. And yet I’m pretty sure that we don’t put the same meaning behind that one word. Whatever it is that’s going on with me it’s not anything romantic. No matter how confused it makes me.

Billie Joe lifts his head from my chest to look me in the eye. He has settled but there’s still something bothered swirling together with those salty droplets which he does his best to keep imprisoned.

“Billie,” I hear myself say. “I do love you but-”

“Do you mean it this time?”

“-not like you want me to.” When I finish the tears he has been holding back slowly starts climbing down his cheeks.

“No. Mikey, no,” he begs but I can’t take back what I have said. I don’t even want too.

“I-I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I just, just don’t. I’m sorry Joe-Joe.”

“But,” he says hopefully, as if he has realized something that will change my mind, “what about when I kissed you? Didn’t you like it?”

His gaze is piercing and I get the feeling that he can see right into my soul. And I’m not going to lie. I can’t.

“I did.” I lower my gaze. “Leave my soul alone. You’re not supposed to see it.”

“Then why-“

“It’s just-“

“-are you denying it?”

“-teenage hormones, that’s all,” I end at the same time as Billie finishes his question. He tries to catch my gaze but I stubbornly look away.

“Hormones?” he says doubtfully. I nod. He then pushes me back a little but doesn’t quite let go.

“If anyone is messing with anyone’s head, you’re the one who’s messing with mine,” Billie mutters.

“Wha-,” I begin confused.

“Running away. Kissing me back.” He looks long and hard at me and I dare meet his gaze for a split second. “You aren’t exactly being consequent.”

I look away again fearing he somehow is able to read my mind otherwise.

We just stand here in silence for a while. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. And it seems like Billie is pretty unsure of how to act as well. Where do we go from here anyway? Will we ever be able to work this out?

I get lost in my thoughts about this mess but am abruptly snatches back to reality. Billie Joe is gently forcing me to look at him by lifting my chin up. And I meet his gaze almost afraid of what I will see. Our eyes lock and once again it feels like him falling. Or sinking. I don’t really know. But that burning sensation in the pit of my stomach is back.

Then he does it again, he kisses me. On the lips. Only he’s much gentler than that time before. And I don’t push him away. I don’t stop him. Because I really don’t have the heart to. Or am just I lying again to myself again? But there are no butterflies. No butterflies flapping around blissfully. All they’re doing is tiptoeing about, flapping their wings every now and then and giving me this tingling feeling.

If I really am in love, or even if it’s just a crush, I want to know; where are my butterflies?

***

I can’t believe I’m actually kissing him. Kissing Mike. And it’s not like those other times, this time it means something. It’s not like when we were, well kids really, and just curious. Okay, so I was the curious one. Big deal. And it isn’t me snapping and attacking him with my lips. It’s us kissing. Really kissing.

He hasn’t pulled away. He hasn’t broken it. Yet. But he isn’t responding either. How far dare I take this? Soft, borderline-platonic kisses like these he can take I guess. But more than that? No. No. And no. I really shouldn’t go there. I really shouldn’t.

“I’m not gonna make this even worse. I’m not-,”

I sneak an arm around his waist to pull him closer. For a second I freeze, my lips hovering barely an inch away from his. He doesn’t shy away though. So far so good.

There’s a soughing sound in my ears now. Probably created by the blood that’s rushing too quickly through my veins.

“This is it.”

The throbs in my chest vibrate against my ribcage as if trying to break it. If I wait any longer they’re likely to succeed.

The gentle tug my teeth give Mike’s lower lip is a pathetic and probably useless plea.

“Please Mike. Please. Fuckin’ just let me!”

I try to kiss him harder even though I’m scared out of my mind that he will push me away. He doesn’t. And once again I gently bite him. Then I press my slightly parted lips firmly against his.

My head spins. My hands – no – my whole body trembles. The soughing sound gets louder, louder, loudest. And my body is too small for the emotions it tries to contain. They don’t really fit into my chest. They stretch it to the breaking point. To the point where my rampant heart is going to beat itself to smithereens against my ribs.

All of that happens at a fraction of a lifelong second. Before Mike’s lips part, allowing me to deepen our kiss. Our kiss. Our fuckin’ kiss. Not just 'the'. Our.

I try to French kiss him properly but it’s harder than one would think to use the tongue when making out. Last time was easy. I just attacked his mouth with it.

“I am getting the hang of this. I am. I hope I am,” I think silently, trying to calm myself. And failing. Miserably.

Not being able to get it right, and feeling slightly discouraged, I stop for a second. My eyes slide open almost automatically. His are still closed. There’s a hint of a tiny smile gracing his lips and I’m wondering if it’s caused by happiness. Or if he’s silently laughing at my idiocy. I decide on the happiness theory. For now.

He’s breathing so heavily. Because of me? I can’t fight back the smile that is staring to take shape.

Mike’s eyes flutter open. And I’m staring right into them. Maybe even into his soul. At least it feels like it sometimes.

“I know I’m a crappy kisser,” I start, not wanting the silence or the situation to turn awkward. But I don’t get any further.

Mike presses his lips against mine. Then break away. Then kisses me again. And break way. Repeat. Stop. Repeat. Stop.

“Let’s. Teach. You. How,” he says in-between.

“Teach me wh-,” is all I have time to think before his tongue slip pass my lips. And before my mind implodes.

Dizzily I garb at his T-shirt, pressing him tightly against me. The heat from his body spreads like a wildfire across my skin, making every inch of my body burn with need. Those suffocating feelings that were plaguing me are gone. All that’s left is this weird, blazing sensation tightening its grip on my lungs and stomach.

It’s a few seconds of heaven. That ends abruptly.

I fall, crash and shatter into millions of pieces, like broken glass against the floor.

He stopped. Backed away.

“Why?” My mind starts working on overdrive, causing my stomach to start twisting and turning. It wrenches itself into a tight knot determent to make me feel sick. I think it’s succeeding. Congratufuckinglations. I sure as hell feel like I have to throw up.

“Why did he stop? What’s wrong? What am I doing wrong? Why did he stop?”

The questions spins around and I can’t stop them. I stare at him. He has backed away a few steps. He seems confused. There’s definitely confusion in his eyes. And, no. It looks like there’s a hint of something. Something. Fear? Shit. He really does look scared.

“Scared. Why scared? I can’t take this. Take it back, Mike! Take that look in your eyes back! Take back the expression on your pretty face! I can’t take this. I can’t take it. What went wrong? I did something. Everything is my fault. I fucked it all up.”

I start hyperventilating as I panic over the outcome of this. I have never fallen so deep into despair ever before.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in.

Black out.