For Fear of the Outcome
simple, simple, simple.
He loved the way she drove; with her thumbs hooked in the wheel and her eyes everywhere but the road.
He loved the way she slept; her face usually pressed to his side, her arms all over his body.
He loved the way she laughed; with her eyes closed and her mouth open wide.
He loved the way she would stand up to anyone; a guy who had two hundred pounds on her and she’d start running her mouth.
He loved the way she sang in the shower; loud and off-key but without a care in the world on how she sounded.
He loved the way she would dance around the room; techno music playing and usually in her underwear, but she didn‘t care who was watching.
He loved the way she felt so strongly about things; the way she would protest absolutely anything.
He loved the way she smoked; her plump pink lips surrounding the cigarette perfectly and how she constantly practiced her smoke rings but never succeeded in blowing them.
He loved the way she made him feel; like he was flying with his feet firmly planted on the ground and his arms wrapped around her, forever and for always.
At least, that’s how it was supposed to be. But it wasn’t going to be, not forever and not for always.
Because she was leaving him, she had said. She said she couldn’t take it in the shit-town anymore, that there was nothing besides he himself to keep her there.
But as Braeden watched Kennedy’s retreating back, he realized that he should’ve told her then, he knew it would make her stay.
He should’ve come right out and not have been such a pussy and just spat it out.
The words would’ve come out rushed and unpracticed, probably in a mumbled pile, but they would’ve been out there, out of his head and into her ears and she might’ve stayed.
Maybe she had been waiting for him to tell her, right then, hoping that maybe he’d offer to come with her, or simply tell her and give her a reason to say.
But Braeden had not, of course he hadn’t.
So many opportunities Braeden had, so so many.
When it was the two of them alone in her car, when he fiddled with the radio and she drove with her knees, trying to light a cigarette.
When they were out over the cliff, bare feet dangling over the edge of the woods and rock, with Kennedy’s eyes usually closed and soft smile on her beautiful face, and Braeden simply watching her.
When Kennedy called on Braeden to be there for her, when she needed someone because her parents were fighting again, or because she’d had a nightmare, or simply a bad day and Kennedy found a momentarily permanent place in Braeden’s arms.
Simple, simple, simple, he reminded himself as she crossed the grass, her brilliant red hair getting harder and harder to make out.
Three words, three fucking words were separating he and Kennedy, three words were keeping him constantly unhappy because she was gone and he had missed his chance.
All because of the fact that Braeden Mason Barton was absolutely terrified of being rejected by the utterly amazing, absolutely incredible, positively head-over-heels-for-him Kennedy Everleigh Saunders.
He loved the way she slept; her face usually pressed to his side, her arms all over his body.
He loved the way she laughed; with her eyes closed and her mouth open wide.
He loved the way she would stand up to anyone; a guy who had two hundred pounds on her and she’d start running her mouth.
He loved the way she sang in the shower; loud and off-key but without a care in the world on how she sounded.
He loved the way she would dance around the room; techno music playing and usually in her underwear, but she didn‘t care who was watching.
He loved the way she felt so strongly about things; the way she would protest absolutely anything.
He loved the way she smoked; her plump pink lips surrounding the cigarette perfectly and how she constantly practiced her smoke rings but never succeeded in blowing them.
He loved the way she made him feel; like he was flying with his feet firmly planted on the ground and his arms wrapped around her, forever and for always.
At least, that’s how it was supposed to be. But it wasn’t going to be, not forever and not for always.
Because she was leaving him, she had said. She said she couldn’t take it in the shit-town anymore, that there was nothing besides he himself to keep her there.
But as Braeden watched Kennedy’s retreating back, he realized that he should’ve told her then, he knew it would make her stay.
He should’ve come right out and not have been such a pussy and just spat it out.
The words would’ve come out rushed and unpracticed, probably in a mumbled pile, but they would’ve been out there, out of his head and into her ears and she might’ve stayed.
Maybe she had been waiting for him to tell her, right then, hoping that maybe he’d offer to come with her, or simply tell her and give her a reason to say.
But Braeden had not, of course he hadn’t.
So many opportunities Braeden had, so so many.
When it was the two of them alone in her car, when he fiddled with the radio and she drove with her knees, trying to light a cigarette.
When they were out over the cliff, bare feet dangling over the edge of the woods and rock, with Kennedy’s eyes usually closed and soft smile on her beautiful face, and Braeden simply watching her.
When Kennedy called on Braeden to be there for her, when she needed someone because her parents were fighting again, or because she’d had a nightmare, or simply a bad day and Kennedy found a momentarily permanent place in Braeden’s arms.
Simple, simple, simple, he reminded himself as she crossed the grass, her brilliant red hair getting harder and harder to make out.
Three words, three fucking words were separating he and Kennedy, three words were keeping him constantly unhappy because she was gone and he had missed his chance.
All because of the fact that Braeden Mason Barton was absolutely terrified of being rejected by the utterly amazing, absolutely incredible, positively head-over-heels-for-him Kennedy Everleigh Saunders.
♠ ♠ ♠
i hate this.it's a mess.
but if you're reading it, you might as well comment, yeah?
please?