Status: AWESOME GOOD great
The Bubblegum Fairy and the Bad Boy
bubble gum
Somehow, each day through English class, no matter which desk he changed to, she always found a way to be sitting beside him. Right beside him. Pushing her desk to connect with his without any qualms in the world and without ever being reprimanded from the teacher. Everyone else in class, not to mention the school, found the situation strange and never ceased to send the two of them curious looks throughout the day, but to Annabel the Oblivious, she took every opportunity to greet and converse with her new found friend.
There wasn't much Jake could do other than endure it. It was either that or order her to please fuck off, but the longer he was around her, the harder that became. Telling her to fuck off would be like dropping a puppy in a shark tank – just plain mean.
The guy who was so well known for being such a ruthless asshole was finding it impossible to stare the ditzy blonde in the eyes and tell her to go away. He didn't even play nice to the girls he wanted to fuck, which ironically, attracted them more, so why was he being so tolerant to a girl that could offer him nothing? Because even if her mouth could elicit such dirty fantasies, it didn't mean he wanted to get into her pants. She acted like a little kid, for Christ sake, wouldn't that make him some sort of sick pervert?
So the only option he was left with was to ignore her as best as he could.
But even that became harder. Each of her discussions was always something completely senseless that he wondered if he were losing brain cells by just listening to her. And then she'd say something totally out of the blue and he'd be laughing because it was either that or swear, very loudly. And since the last time he swore out loud made her react in a way that made his cock hard, he had to refrain from ever doing that again.
By the end of that week, he could have sworn he knew everything about her – from the first pet she ever had to the first flavour of ice cream she ever ate. Hell, he even knew of her parent's accident and how she had been the only survivor and how that had made her want to live each day as if it were her last because it very well could be, but her desire was stifled by a strict, God-fearing grandmother and the entrapments of home schooling - or something to that effect. She told him everything and when there was nothing left to tell she'd start in on him.
She asked him how he got his black eye, and if it still hurt. She asked him if he liked school and what he wanted to be when he left. She asked him his favourite meal and if he had any pets. She asked him why he always dressed in black and what smoking tasted like. She even asked him about his parents.
And what was even stranger was the fact that he would answer her with the truth.
She seemed so harmless, despite her ability to talk and talk until he felt his head were about to explode. But other than that, there was nothing dangerous about her. She wasn't a girl who was out to play the mind-fucking games. She wasn't using him to make some other guy jealous. She wasn't using him to prove how brave and rebellious she could be. She wasn't using him to advance her social status within school. She wasn't using him at all.
And therefore, she was no threat to him. It was the first time anybody had ever asked about him out of sheer curiosity or ever listened with genuine interest and he found the idea oddly… welcomed. Even if he did tell her his deepest darkest fear or his best-kept secret, whom was she going to tell? She didn't appear to have any other friends and other people didn't seem to have such a hard time telling her to piss off. So what about her could ever harm him?
That reasoning alone was what allowed him to endure her presence so easily. The next time she asked to sit beside him at lunch, he let her. His other friends or rather, acquaintances at his table didn't dare question him and permitted this odd girl into their circle. Since it was so plainly obvious that he didn't see anything in her other than strained tolerance, they stopped sending him beseeching glances and just let it be. And funnily enough, it didn't take her long to charm them.
Her general dopiness and beguiling innocence had his table in fits. They started calling her Tinkerbell because she dressed like a fairy without the wings and because of her name and because she was so prone to offering out bubblegum like pixie dust and she was just generally… fluttery.
Like today for example, after a few weeks of having her hang around him, instead of guiding him to their lunch table, she asked him to sit just with her instead, under the shade of the big oak tree in the yard overlooking the rest of the lunch area so she could eat her lunch and blow bubbles at the same time.
Blowing bubbles from a plastic tube that hung around her neck. If that wasn't enough evidence to suggest she may have the mentality of a kid, he didn't know what was. He hadn't seen a person blowing bubbles since pre-school. He hadn't seen someone enjoy such a mundane activity, outside of sex, for years.
And for some reason, he indulged her. It could have been because since the first day she'd met him she'd been bringing lunch for him too. Or it could have been that, despite her endless chatter, being around her made him feel light. He didn't have to deal with mind games or the effortless ruse of popularity. He didn't need to maintain his cool or his aloof façade. He didn't need to talk up his conquests and encourage praise from his peers. He was just able to be. She was kind of like the little sister he never had, or never knew he wanted and she was just… relaxing.
But even though, after every few bites, she'd take out the bubble wand and blow, and then smile as the bubbles floated up into the air, he managed to notice that she wasn't her usual bubbly self. Sure, she still giggled inanely at absolutely nothing, but she wasn't as talkative or as bouncy and for him to notice, that was enough to prove his point.
There wasn't much Jake could do other than endure it. It was either that or order her to please fuck off, but the longer he was around her, the harder that became. Telling her to fuck off would be like dropping a puppy in a shark tank – just plain mean.
The guy who was so well known for being such a ruthless asshole was finding it impossible to stare the ditzy blonde in the eyes and tell her to go away. He didn't even play nice to the girls he wanted to fuck, which ironically, attracted them more, so why was he being so tolerant to a girl that could offer him nothing? Because even if her mouth could elicit such dirty fantasies, it didn't mean he wanted to get into her pants. She acted like a little kid, for Christ sake, wouldn't that make him some sort of sick pervert?
So the only option he was left with was to ignore her as best as he could.
But even that became harder. Each of her discussions was always something completely senseless that he wondered if he were losing brain cells by just listening to her. And then she'd say something totally out of the blue and he'd be laughing because it was either that or swear, very loudly. And since the last time he swore out loud made her react in a way that made his cock hard, he had to refrain from ever doing that again.
By the end of that week, he could have sworn he knew everything about her – from the first pet she ever had to the first flavour of ice cream she ever ate. Hell, he even knew of her parent's accident and how she had been the only survivor and how that had made her want to live each day as if it were her last because it very well could be, but her desire was stifled by a strict, God-fearing grandmother and the entrapments of home schooling - or something to that effect. She told him everything and when there was nothing left to tell she'd start in on him.
She asked him how he got his black eye, and if it still hurt. She asked him if he liked school and what he wanted to be when he left. She asked him his favourite meal and if he had any pets. She asked him why he always dressed in black and what smoking tasted like. She even asked him about his parents.
And what was even stranger was the fact that he would answer her with the truth.
She seemed so harmless, despite her ability to talk and talk until he felt his head were about to explode. But other than that, there was nothing dangerous about her. She wasn't a girl who was out to play the mind-fucking games. She wasn't using him to make some other guy jealous. She wasn't using him to prove how brave and rebellious she could be. She wasn't using him to advance her social status within school. She wasn't using him at all.
And therefore, she was no threat to him. It was the first time anybody had ever asked about him out of sheer curiosity or ever listened with genuine interest and he found the idea oddly… welcomed. Even if he did tell her his deepest darkest fear or his best-kept secret, whom was she going to tell? She didn't appear to have any other friends and other people didn't seem to have such a hard time telling her to piss off. So what about her could ever harm him?
That reasoning alone was what allowed him to endure her presence so easily. The next time she asked to sit beside him at lunch, he let her. His other friends or rather, acquaintances at his table didn't dare question him and permitted this odd girl into their circle. Since it was so plainly obvious that he didn't see anything in her other than strained tolerance, they stopped sending him beseeching glances and just let it be. And funnily enough, it didn't take her long to charm them.
Her general dopiness and beguiling innocence had his table in fits. They started calling her Tinkerbell because she dressed like a fairy without the wings and because of her name and because she was so prone to offering out bubblegum like pixie dust and she was just generally… fluttery.
Like today for example, after a few weeks of having her hang around him, instead of guiding him to their lunch table, she asked him to sit just with her instead, under the shade of the big oak tree in the yard overlooking the rest of the lunch area so she could eat her lunch and blow bubbles at the same time.
Blowing bubbles from a plastic tube that hung around her neck. If that wasn't enough evidence to suggest she may have the mentality of a kid, he didn't know what was. He hadn't seen a person blowing bubbles since pre-school. He hadn't seen someone enjoy such a mundane activity, outside of sex, for years.
And for some reason, he indulged her. It could have been because since the first day she'd met him she'd been bringing lunch for him too. Or it could have been that, despite her endless chatter, being around her made him feel light. He didn't have to deal with mind games or the effortless ruse of popularity. He didn't need to maintain his cool or his aloof façade. He didn't need to talk up his conquests and encourage praise from his peers. He was just able to be. She was kind of like the little sister he never had, or never knew he wanted and she was just… relaxing.
But even though, after every few bites, she'd take out the bubble wand and blow, and then smile as the bubbles floated up into the air, he managed to notice that she wasn't her usual bubbly self. Sure, she still giggled inanely at absolutely nothing, but she wasn't as talkative or as bouncy and for him to notice, that was enough to prove his point.
♠ ♠ ♠
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