Breach

What the hell have I done?

Staring upwards to my bedroom ceiling I go over the events that had just transpired. Bishop admitted that he liked me. He kissed me. Hell I kissed back. We made out. I…kissed…a boy…a boy who is ten years younger than me.

Sure he’s 18 so it’s not illegal but the fact is he’s still in high school. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. He’s young. He has his whole life ahead of him, not to say that I don’t have many years ahead of me but I have 10 years less than him.

I find myself lost. How am I to approach this? Should I act as if nothing had happened? Should I talk to him about it? What is there to talk about? It’s a bit sad that I fear talking to him. I want to tell him to forget about me, find himself a nice girl but at the same time I wish to monopolize him. I want him here, with me.

I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t think like that. I’m a little out of it because of everything that happened. In the morning, after I’ve had a good rest, I will talk to Bishop. We’ll sort this mess out…however we can.

At least I thought that but upon awakening the next day to find Bishop gone and a note reading Gone to my dads to get a few things, I realize this “talking” idea of mine may be harder than I had originally planned. I haven’t even thought of what to say.

Sorry about kissing you last night but we really should forget about all of it and go back to being friends.

How well does that plan ever work out for people? Either we are more than friends or not friends at all. This sucks.

Sighing, I make my way to the kitchen where I cook myself a small breakfast. It’s Saturday and I’m sure Bishop will hang out with one of his friends. But it seems that I am just hitting all the wrong marks today. Not even a half hour after I woke up Bishop is back with a bag of his things he had taken away before.

At the sound of the door opening I look to him and he to me. We stare at each other blankly for a few moments. Suddenly Bishop’s cheeks become a bit brighter. I feel my own heating up. He’s the first to turn away but also the first to speak, “D-Did you get my note?”

“Yeah.” I nod, as if he could see me. He’s not even looking at me now but at the floor. The floor must be fascinating him because he won’t take his eyes off it.

“Good…um…you could have waited. I would have made breakfast.”

“It’s fine. I need to cook on my own every now and again or I’ll always suck.” Yes good job Antony, try throwing in a joke to make this incredibly awkward atmosphere a little less awkward. I kind of succeed because Bishop chuckles softly.

He scratches at the back of his neck nervously. “I’m uh…gonna…put my stuff in my room.”

“In the guest room, you mean?” I tease him with a smirk. Finally Bishop looks up at me. After seeing my smirk he grins too. He shakes his head and with a laugh heads down the hallway to his room.

It is his room. I don’t have guests anyway.

Though the TV is running the apartment feels eerily quiet. Somehow I pick up sounds coming from Bishops room. His feet are running across the floor, returning the items he took to their former places. It’s quiet and I’m not sure what he’s doing until he closes his door.

His footsteps come closer. The refrigerator opens and I hear him rummaging through what he has to work with. He clears his throat before asking, “What do you want for lunch?”

“It’s only 10,” I inform him. “And I just ate breakfast. We can make something simple when we’re both hungry.”

“Oh,” Bishop hums, sounding disappointed. Was he trying to find himself something to keep him occupied? I have a feeling that was the case. I don’t blame him. I wish I was doing something to keep my mind off how awkward things are.

I know Bishop feels the same tension in the room as I do. It’s thick enough that anyone could feel it. I know we have to do something. I have to say something. I’m the adult. I’ve been through a lot of strange things with Jean, odd spots in our relationship.

Yet somehow I feel this is different. I can’t think of a thing to say but I have to.

Minutes pass before I work up the courage to bring up what happened last night. Bishop is still rummaging around the kitchen, though I’m not sure what exactly he’s doing. He could be doing nothing at all, just making noise to seem like he’s busy.

That doesn’t matter though. I take a breath to calm myself before saying, “Bishop, we need to talk.”

All sound and movement stop. It’s as if our very lives were put on pause. I swear the TV isn’t even running.

“I…I guess we do,” Bishop says fearfully. Whether he wants to sound so frightened or not; I’m not sure but slowly the boy makes his way to the couch. He leaves space between us, which kind of makes me want to laugh.

He seemed to want to be very close to me last night. I don’t say such a thing though. It’s not the right time.

“Last night was…” Was what? What was last night? A mistake? I would be lying through my teeth if I were to say that. An accident? I doubt that would go well. Bishop admitted he likes me and I basically reciprocated his feelings.

Bishop, sometime during my thoughts, chuckles sadly to himself, “Was an accident, that’s what you want to say right? You were caught up in the moment and made a mistake.” Bishop looks to me with a disappointed expression. One that I did not like seeing him wear.

Suddenly any idea of lying dispersed from my mind immediately. I honestly felt myself start to believe who the hell cares if he’s a boy or if he’s younger, it’s not that rare now days anyways. I’m overreacting. Isn’t it better to try this rather than never try and regret it forever?

I am sure in the future doubt will cross my minds about my actions once again. That’s normal. It’s normal for people to doubt themselves and what should be done. But screw it. I’m not lying about this. I’m not regretting.

“No…that wasn’t what I wanted to say…to be honest I have no idea what to say but I know it isn’t that. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t an accident. As if I’d accidentally find myself kissing some brat. If you haven’t realized it yet I’m quite popular with the ladies.” I wink at the shocked expression Bishop shows, but only for a moment.

The brat rolls his eyes and with a laugh says, “Whatever old man. The only time women look to you is when they are giving examples of what not to be to their sons.”

He’s been back for such a short while and already is getting on my nerves. This damned brat.

“I’m starting to rethink my decision on giving you back that key,” I hiss, to which Bishop only laughs at.

“Sucks cause you aren’t getting it back.”

“Give it back.”

“No way Annie.”