oh, denial

I met him at this show downtown. It was some band called The Years or The Tears or The Fears. Something that had "ears" on the end of it. I don't remember what color his shirt was or why his hair was so long or how come his fingers kept brushing against mine whenever he took a napkin from the dispenser.

All I know is he sat down across from me, and next to Mikey, and we talked. Or more like shouted because the music was so loud and terrible.

"He's trouble," Michael said.

I think I chuckled or laughed or giggled. Or maybe I didn't. Maybe only smiled and laughed on the inside because he really didn't look like the type to be classified under trouble or defined by such a word with such a negative connotation.

It's so stupid. It's so stupid that I thought he was so cute. That I let him drag me away from his brother so we could make out, drunkenly I might add, against the wall next the the men's room.

And it was all because I thought he was cute and he had a nice smile and that his brother had told me that he was trouble.

To be honest, I don't even remember what he said to me that made me so different that night. I'm really not that kind of a person. You know, the kind you find making out with guys against a dirty wall at a night club.

That person with the messy hair and bruised lips.

The one walking next to, or behind, that boy that just screams trouble.

I can't believe I never noticed. I think it was those aviator sunglasses.

"Your lips taste like cigarettes and caramel frappuccinos," he told me.

I felt my cheeks blush and looked down at my shoes. I swear to god, I'm never this shy.

"Don't worry about it so much," he added. "Your lips taste amazing."

It was hard to believe I'd never spoken to him before. I mean, it wasn't as if I'd never stepped foot into Mikey's house before. I'd seen him countless times prior to that night. He just seemed so... unapproachable; closed off.

All I'd ever really seen of him was empty bottles of Heineken and leather jackets. Cigarettes and backward glances. Comic books and old pairs of converse that had been left behind in the living room.

He was someone I'd only ever heard about or passed by in the hallway.

"You really need to talk more, sugar," he told me. "I'm getting a little tired of my own voice."

I nodded and looked up at him. It was odd that he was wearing those sunglasses inside. I looked over his shoulder and saw his brother sitting, alone, at the booth we'd taken as soon as we'd arrived at the club.

I stood up on my toes and pressed my lips to the outer shell of his ear. "I think your brother is getting a little lonely," I stated.

He looked down at my and smiled. It was the first time I'd seen anything other than a smirk. "He told me you were a good friend."

I shrugged, feeling my cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

He only chuckled, more to himself than to me, I think, and grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. "Let's go then. We can't keep little Michael waiting, can we?"

His hands were warm and smooth and... they felt right. I'm not sure what it was that made me like him. It wasn't like he was nice and tried to make me as comfortable as possible. He was daring and exciting, everything I was afraid to be and to be around.

"There you guys are," Mikey said when we returned to the table.

I took my seat across from my best friend. "Yeah. Sorry it took so long. There were a lot of, um, fan girls. You know the type."

Mikey nodded. "Yeah. Annoying. right Gerard?"

His eyes met mine and he raised his eyebrows, but only slightly. It would have been unnoticeable if I hadn't been staring. "Yeah. Crazy people out there...."

"Did he get you into any trouble?" Mikey asked. "I'm sure he tried to make a pass at you or something."

Gerard only grinned and placed his elbows on the table so he could rest his chin in his open palms. He looked at me from across the table, still grinning.

I offered a nervous laugh and traced invisible patterns on the table. I looked at Mikey through my eyelashes, avoiding Gerard's face. "He was fine." I told him. I tried to smile. "... Or something."