Playing With Fire

I stared wide-eyed at the blonde man currently dancing in front of me, using a hairbrush as a microphone. I looked between him and Jake, furiously trying to comprehend the situation at hand. Jake sighed and rolled his eyes. He lightly gripped my forearm and pushed past the man in the doorway, thankfully placing himself between me and the dancing man.

"Why do you have to be weird when I bring friends over?" Jake asked, pulling me to stand beside him. The blonde man winked at me, and I shuffled closer to Jake.

"Sayuri, this is Tré. Tré, this is Sayuri Edwards. Now please go put some clothes on?" Jake said, sighing exasperatedly. Tré wiggled his eyebrows at me, cackled, then ran out of the room. Jake rolled his eyes and walked to the staircase.

"DAD! I'M HOME! AND I BROUGHT A FRIEND, SO PLEASE DON'T BE NAKED!" he called as we ascended, his hand still gently holding my wrist. His calloused fingers scratched over an old scar, and I shivered.

Finally we reached the second floor, and Jake led me into what I assumed was his room. I sat on the bed as he shoved some clothes off his sound system and put a CD in. I looked around at my surroundings and found a typical teenage boy's room, except much larger. I glanced over at Jake to find him frantically flipping through his CD collection, and I smiled. He looked adorable...

Suddenly he looked up and blushed, grinning.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pulling out a CD and shoving it into his stereo. I laughed quietly and returned to looking at the band posters plastered on the walls.

The bed sank in, and I looked over to see him sitting next to me, grinning deviously. My eyebrows shot up. I opened my mouth to speak, then stopped as I heard the music playing.

"'Black tongues speak faster than the death of night!' The Birthday Massacre!" I said, grinning back at him. He nodded.

"Yeah, I'm a big fan too." I laughed, looking away from his gorgeous brown eyes. I will not fall for him, I said to myself. I had promised long ago that I wouldn't fall for anyone after-

"What are these scars from?" Jake asked suddenly. That boy had a funny habit of jerking me out of my thoughts... He lifted my hand and turned it between his own calloused ones, inspecting the burn marks. I looked down, not wanting to unveil my secret. There was no reason he needed to know; Mel was the only one who knew...

"These look like burns," he murmured. His head shot up quickly. "What happened?" God I hated it when he frowned like that.

"It was an accident," I said, looking away from him.

"Were you in a fire?" he asked. I laughed inwardly at the question.

"Yes and no..." I was being purposely ambiguous now, and I hoped he wouldn't ask further.

"What do you mean, 'yes and no?'" he said, annoyance creeping into his voice. I shifted uncomfortably. A few minutes went by, and I realized he wasn't going to give up.

"There was a reason I let you handle the bunsen burner today," I stated simply, still not looking into his eyes. I didn't want to see the sadness I knew I would find.

"Are you afraid of fire?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No. There is no reason to be afraid of fire." I said, maybe a little too angrily.

"Okay... Then what is the reason?" I sighed and brought my knees to my chest, resting my head on them.

"I don't know if I can tell you," I admitted, the shame creeping into my voice. One of his hands left mine, only to cradle my cheek and turn my face towards his. I was suddenly aware of just how close we were, how beautiful his eyes were... They had flecks of gold and green in them...

"You can tell me anything," he whispered. Slowly... very slowly, our lips met. I thought my stomach would burst as it did flips. I couldn't remember ever feeling so wonderful before... His hand threaded through my red hair, and the other one wrapped around my waist. I felt I was falling... and I never wanted to stop.

As I brought my other hand to rest on his chest, he pulled away, staring into my green eyes. I bit my swollen bottom lip to keep from grinning.

Our lips crashed together again, this time knocking me down to lie on Jake's bed. He followed, supporting himself with one hand, the other one holding my wrists together. I struggled, longing to run my hands along his chest, arms, back...

He let go of one of my hands, which I threaded through his dark brown hair.

And slowly we broke apart, one of my scarred hands resting on his neck, the other being held down gently.

We simply stared at each other for quite some time, until a woman's voice called up the stairs.

"Jake! Stella is here!" I looked up at Jake curiously. Stella? He smiled at me and kissed me briefly.

"Stella is my best friend," he whispered. I relaxed and nodded... I had a feeling this was going to be awkward...