To Love/Hate the Spotlight

A wall of mirrors. Black rolling back and forth under my dark eyes, thicker and thicker.
Pencil scratching skin. Blink once. A diamond melts down my cheek.
The scratching coal moved to aquatic ice. Black painting him.
Voices echo. "What are you doing?"
"Drawing tribal marks to fit in with the cannibals of Kansas. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Curling up against Billie Joe's arm, I groaned, "Tre, stop kicking my seat."

"You rather me drop peanuts?" He quipped, reaching over to pat on my head. Why didn't I just take the window seat and not have Tre behind me.

"Alright, I'm up." My muscles were stiff -not as much as my head- when I moved to sit up right. I leaned forward, stretching like a feline. Spreading my shoulder blades apart was an unmeasurable satisfaction (though I can brainstorm better). I rubbed away the blur in my eyes -suppressing a yawn- and reevaluating my surroundings.

Billie insisted on United; I'm not sure why, something about AA being American Idiots. Either way the interiors don't look much different. Rows of navy seats, randomly filled with business people -laptops open- the smart ones that are asleep like the families that realized it's cheaper to fly at insomniac hours, and the loners that have a different purpose all their own.

I'm now alert, and oh so bored.

Something panged against the back of my head. "What the hell?" I muttered, pulling a salted nut out of my hair. Leaning in the aisle, I craned my neck to glare at Tre. Why can't he be good like Mike and sleep?

"Knock it off," I hissed and reached around to smack his leg. It wasn't a big deal but as nervous as I was -remembering the purpose of this trip- wasn't highly appreciated.

He grinned as he popped a piece of ammo in his mouth. "What are you gonna do? Suck my blood?"

This was something that bothered me about Tre. People respond to my fangs in four main ways: Billie finds them kinky; Mike doesn't pay attention; Some counter-culture are envious; and the general public are horrified. How could such a pretty girl do that to her smile? But Tre found them way too amusing. That bothered me.

"Tre, don't you have to sleep?"

"Not when there's a beautiful stuardess tending to my every need." I followed his narrowed eyes down the aisle. A busty blonde in uniform served coffee to a wannabe CEO. Yes, she was pretty and sweet as could be when she gave me a bag of pretzels to nibble on, but I know what attracted Tre so much and let's just say it's not because she pushes the cart without ramming any elbows.

With a shrug, I settled back into my seat. Let him have his fun; It's not like he would get past, May I please have a pillow?

The subject whizzed past my interest, and restored energy jittered through my leg. I averted my eyes from the snoring heads to my right.

My little teacher-turned-rock star... there are thousands of teens that will lust for their teacher. There are millions that want rock stars more than their music... Wow, I don't think I deserve the pairing. I could see some hate coming my way, but I loved him before when he was just dealing grades. Aren't I a good wife?

Slowly spinning my silver ring around my wedding knuckle, I studied him in his sleep. I'm so jealous of him; He makes sleep look easy. Legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest rising up and down in circadian-paced breaths, as his head rested against the window. Five o' clock shade around those pouted lips... that red half dollar hickey just below his ear... I could do better than that... I should do better than that now...

Carefully unbuckling my seat belt, I directed my leg over his so I can sit on his lap facing him. Very slow and very careful.

Tre poked his head over the seat. "What are you doing?"

"Interacting with my husband," I stated simply, landing gently on his thighs.

"You do realize you're about to give everyone a peep show?"

Jeez, I'm not a whore. Jack ass... "Tre, I forgot to tell you that while you were in the bathroom, that hot attendee asked me if you were single."

"She did?" He squeaked like a prepubescent. "I mean-" He cleared his throat. "She did?"

Hello, Suave and Debonair Tre.

"Oh yeah, she actually wanted to talk to you in that little beverage area thing up front." My hands hung on Billie Joe's shoulders. Lucky for me, he can sleep through an atomic bomb.

"Really?" He smirked.

"Yes, now go," I ordered him complying just as easy. "Now go and distract her..."

As Billie softly snored, I planted innocent kisses along his jaw and for a tad longer on his lips. I lingered, gradually sucking and tugging on his bottom lip. Though my eyes were closed, I knew he was awake when he jerked and a few seconds later his arms curled around my waist, so I pulled back.

"I should be woken up like that more often," he mumbled with a sleep dazed smile. "So what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well..." My nails raked down his chest. That shirt would have to go very soon. "I was remembering something you told me once."

"And that is...?"

For seduction's sake, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, window side. "... you told me that you can't legally sleep on a plane without joining the mile-high club."

"And who says I haven't?" He cocked his head, mock insulted.

"I'm not saying that at all," I cooed, locking on his emeralds once again. "I'm not a member, and I took a nap. So basically, it's all your fault."

"Oh is it now? Hmmm..." His forehead creased, and he puckered his lips in thought. "And what do you want me to do about it."

"If you don't know, I'll gladly take my business elsewhere. I'm sure there's at least one strapping gentleman that will happily oblige."

He couldn't help but laugh. "You're very proper for wanting to be fucked at thirty thousand feet."

Crawling off of him, I huffed, "Fine then." When I stumbled into the aisle, I shot him a glare. "I'll just fix my eyeliner." I had wiped a lot off anyway.

There was no need to strut or swing my hips on the way to the restrooms. He wasn't watching. It's all apart of the game, and I'm surely not going to lose. It's been practically four months. He wouldn't pass this up.

Closing myself up in one of the two, my small laugh bounced off the four walls. What eyeliner? My under lids were bare. Not even needing to take a step for the counter, I merely turned and stared at myself in the mirror. Good thing I'm only claustrophobic around people. Digging in my pocket for my pygmy of a coal pencil, I licked my lips. They were incredibly dry. I'm out of the lipstick business, because Billie was sick of scrubbing the stain off on his lips. It didn't bother me; If anything, I'm benefiting.

Speaking of him, where is he?

Breathing patience, I picked off the cap and firmly pressed it to my left eye's lower lid. Any second now he'll be here...

Black rolling back and forth under my dark eyes, thicker and thicker. Pencil scratching-

I paused. My mind briefly hazed in sensational deja vu. "Okay... that was weird," I muttered, tending to the other eye. I'm not a novice at raccooning my eyes, so why did I feel so strange?

Soft rapping skipped through the door. I absentmindedly unlocked it, still concerned with my reflection. Billie Joe squeezed in behind me, pressing firmly into my backside.

"I could have been a psychotic rapist," he said, propping his head on my shoulder.

"... no, the rapist would have gotten here faster."

"Not funny." His arms snaked around my hips, and his eyebrows came together. "... are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course." I flipped on a smile, pushing those eerie thoughts aside. "I was just trying to decide if I should put some on the top."

"In my expert opinion... top."

So I took his advice, laying the pencil on the counter and rubbing the excess underneath and smudging it on the tops. As I did this, he was taking the stick and doing his own artwork.

"What took you so long?

"Well..." He smeared the black under those perfect emeralds. "I was told to tell you, 'Becky, you're a deceiving trollop.'"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!"

I grinned, already aware of what happened. "He'll get over it."

"At least I got the good fortune of witnessing it," he said, unperturbed by my mean trick on Tre. My heart relished in his response. We're perfect for each other. So desensitized and caring mostly for the other. "You take too long." He turned me by the waist. The counter dug into the small of my back.

"I wasn't even finished," I protested with a smirk. It didn't hold long on account his arms wrapped quickly around my thighs, lifting me onto the counter. The faucet rammed into my spine; the fresh ache spreading like a virus through my self-restraint.

"That's better." He nodded triumphantly. I thought of using sarcasm but immediately went against it. Dark smears around the eyes are my favorite; Billie Joe's envenomed combination is my kryptonite.

"About what you said back there..." He prompted, slipping between my legs. Fingers gliding. "That strapping gentleman ultimatum... please don't do that. I know it's just a joke but... I have green eyes for a reason."

"Yes, genetics to make you devilishly handsome," I cooed, pinching his cheeks.

He wiggled out of my grasp. "You know what I mean."

I stared at him, trying to emit a serious tone. "I know what you mean." My hands slid down his shirt and played with the hem. "I'm married to you, aren't I?"

"Yes, but I meant-"

"I'm not finished." My fingers flared like ice against his warm skin as I carefully rolled up the material and then nearly ripping it off over his arms and head. His colorful tattoos were like random accidents needled against his tan. Stupid beach. I miss the pale.

"You, Mr. Armstrong..." The fabric slipped from my clutch. "Have the only collar bone where my lips fit perfectly here...... and possibly right here." My mouth grazed his, relying on innocence. "... satisfied?"

"No." His fingertips played across my cheek. "But I will be." His fingers clawed into my hair, slamming my mouth into his. Lips molding into each other. His tongue slithered, melting me from the inside out. Nails dragging red lines down his back. He pulled away with a clearly audible smack.

"What are you-"

He pecked me once more on the lips before turning his attention down to unbutton my pants. Our breaths were uneven while I shattered more blood vessels in his neck. He threw his head back and moaned, accelerating my heart rate. "I love you."

"And I love you," I muttered against his skin soaked in saliva.

Thank you, Science, for birth control.