Girls

What the fuck happened to just messing around?

She’s smoking my cigarettes, bare back to me and sheet clutched to her chest as she stares out of the wide window of my stupid apartment, where she always ends up. I run my hand through my hair and pull slightly on the strands. Her skin is milky, soft, and all I want to do is cover her in love bites and bruises.

“So when you leavin’?” she asks and her southern accent is enough to get me hard again.

I look at the clock and hope to God that it’s still Friday, ‘cause I never have enough time to spare to be with her. It’s Saturday. And it’s late as fuck.

“In six hours,” I shift on the bed and trail my eyes over every curve of her body. She can’t be what I need if she’s seventeen but I’ve always been a sucker for girls. “When do you have to be back?”

“I dunno,” she shrugs, and I wonder where the fuck is her mother. She suddenly turns to me and her baby blue eyes rimmed with smudged kohl sparkle. “Hey, can I go to tour with you this time?”

“No,” I tell her, and she shrugs again and goes back to her smoking. “You’re a minor, love, you can’t.”

“Bullshit, you’re just fucking with me,” she laughs and she’s right. “You ain’t anything steady, Max, we both know it.”

“Then maybe you should fuck someone your age instead of making changes,” I retort and she laughs again.

“Yeah, maybe,” she giggles.

And then she puts her cigarette out and goes back to bed, pressing her delicious seventeen and a half year old body against my twenty five one. I wrap a lazy arm around her waist and hope for a good fuck before I go. Maybe two.

“Aren’t you worried about your brother finding out?” I question since we barely talk and I feel like it tonight.

“What’s the fun in doing what you’re told?” is her answer. I simply shrug like she does all the time.

“You know, you should really go,” I say because the guilt’s settling in me again and it’s making me feel sick to my stomach.

“Oh, give it a rest, I could persuade you,” her teeth are white despite her chain smoking and her small hand feels so good on my cock. “I’m not your typical, stoned eighteen year old.”

“I know you're looking for salvation in the secular age, but girl I'm not your savior,” I set and she glares.

She’s trying to win this and we end up wrestling to the ground and Jesus Christ, god help me now because she’s just a fucking girl and she’s going to break my heart.

Her gasp makes my head spin and I remind myself that Max, she can’t be what you need if she’s seventeen, they’re all just girls. Just girls.

Eyes bright, uptight, just girls, with their warm bodies and beautiful moans and soft gasps and make me lose my mind. She’s seventeen and she’s got me so wrapped around her finger, it’s insane.

Her phone rings and it’s probably her mother but I’m fucking her into the mattress so it never truly matters who’s the one calling. Is it her phone or mine? Can’t think of it right now, she’s saying my name. Over and over. She’s just a girl.

The bed’s creaking when my voice mail goes off and I can hear Mike calling for me.

“Max, mate, don’t forget to swing by Chris’ later, you know he’s a maniac,” she’s now basically screaming and I smirk to myself. “Uh, also, we wanted to talk about Helen, which you probably don’t wanna hear ‘cause she’s at your house, right?”

Just girls, just girls, Max, they’re just girls.

“She can’t be what you need if she’s seventeen, mate,” he sighs and she comes right in front of my eyes, shutting her eyes in bliss. “She just sits and gets stoned with thirty year olds and she thinks she’s made it.”

I stop, and I don’t climax because my eyes burn and I wish they didn’t. She looks satisfied, like so many others before her. Like her, back then. Max, com’n, she can’t be what you need if she’s seventeen.

“It’s just girls, Max,” Mike says. “Just girls.”

And then he hangs up.