Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
Are You Ever Allowed To Just Ask?
"Would you mind just waiting outside for a second?" I say to Marcus as his hand reaches for my bedroom door.
Marcus gives me a slightly strange look but agrees. "I'll be one second." I edge into my room, trying not to let him see inside as I do it before closing it behind me.
I stare helplessly at the room. The faded pink wallpaper, my three posters (The Kooks, Jake Gyllaanhaal and Yeahs Yeahs Yeahs), my book shelf, my unmade bed. This is definitely not somewhere to bring the boy of your dreams on a Saturday morning . . . it doesn't exactly scream 'sex kitten' by any means. Not that I want it to but you know what I mean. It's not a cool room.
Izzie has lots of candles and incense sticks and cool posters of bands I've never heard of and she always changes her furniture around. She hides the grooves left on the floor with funny scarves and throws she's collected from market stalls and the place is given an even more glamorously feel by her sexy collection of shoes. Bridget's is unkempt and messy but still manages to look chic.
The first thing I do is grab all of the clothes from the floor and stuff them into the cupboard before racing around with the bin scooping up all the empty crisp packets and bits of paper. I then dump all my school work into my bag and throw it under the desk, spread my duvet neatly across the bed, throw my tartan blanket across my teddy bears at the end of the bed and finish off by spraying a bit of perfume around the room.
Marcus knocks on the door and I sit down awkwardly on the bed as he comes in. His eyes take in the entire room very slowly. He steps into the middle and looks around, scanning the cupboard, the shelf, the bedside table with my lamp and silly photograph of me and Izzie and Bridget at the fair where we're all high on candy floss, and stares at the wall behind me where Jake is smiling out at nothing.
"OK," says Marcus slowly. "Where are they then?"
"They?" I repeat stupidly. For a moment I think he's talking about Izzie and Bridget.
"The photographs of your Dad. I don't see any."
I remember then that was the excuse I gave for showing him the rest of the house although if I'm honest I didn't think he actually cared that much. I'm suddenly horribly embarrassed. Does he think I'm a slut now? For showing him my bedroom? Or just a cold, heartless daughter because I have no pictures of my father on show?
"I don't keep them up," I say, crossing my legs to stop myself fidgeting with my hands. I always seem to fidget. I think I've picked up the habit from Bridget. She always plays with her hair but to stop herself she puts her hands in her pockets. I go to put mine in my pockets when I realise it'll look rather silly since I'm sitting down. So I change the direction and push my hair back instead. That's still fidgeting though!
"Where are they then?" asks Marcus moving over to the window to check out the view.
I uncross my legs and leave them half dangling, straining the muscles a little.
"I've got an album for them," I explain, still not getting off the bed.
The thing is, I don't think I actually want anything to happen between us at this second. Saturday morning seems all wrong for kissing someone. Unless you're going out of course. I then realise in horror the only times I've ever kissed Marcus (and therefore anyone! I don't count my first kiss as it was a disaster) has been when I was either drunk or on cocaine. What if he kisses me now and I do it wrong?!
"You don't keep them up?" Marcus turns around then and frowns a little at me, like he's thinking. "Is that 'cause of your Mum?"
I nod after a moment's pause. It's mainly because of my Mum. It's also because it's difficult to see my Dad's face all the time. It makes me miss him so much more . . . I don't even want to think about it. Why is Marcus so fixated on it?
He seems to read this on my face because he gives a little sigh and says, "Sorry to go on about it. It's just . . . well, I know what it's like when one of your parent's, sort of, leaves. I mean, it's obviously a lot more difficult for you because you don't know where your Dad is at all but my Mum . . . I feel like she's left me too, sometimes."
It's then Marcus sits down on the bed beside me, sighing semi heavily. My heart starts to crash inside my chest in excitement. I like this conversation. It's interesting. He's confiding in me or comparing himself to me . . . that's got to be a good sign!
"Has your Mum . . . did she leave your Dad?" I ask quietly, trying to sound concerned. The truth is I am concerned. I do feel incredibly sorry for Marcus because it must be horrible to have one parent leave another, because they fall out of love or whatever, but really I'm more happy that he feels comfortable talking to me about this. I mean, this is amazing. No one ever talks to me about this sort of stuff. Well, Izzie did when her Mum left but that was different because Izzie's my best friend. This is Marcus, the hottest guy this side of the world. Maybe on BOTH sides of the world.
But then suddenly it changes. Marcus coughs and shakes his head. "No. No she didn't leave him. She's not gone anywhere." He sounds rather pissed off. Did I say something wrong? Was that insensitive? Oh God, I said it wrong. This is really, really bad now. I've messed up our talking. He won't talk properly now. Oh God!
"What - what does that mean?" I stammer stupidly, blinking too much.
Then Marcus exhales through his nose, turns his body towards mine and says, "We're on your bed together, babe. What does that mean?"
My heart is banging again only this time it's hurting. Too much has gone through my head in the last two minutes. I don't know what it means. Does it mean he wants to have sex with me? Or does he want to just kiss?
Are you ever allowed to ask? Does that take away from the moment? I'm enjoying the moment and at the same time not because I'm afraid. I don't know what he expects of me. I can hear Bridget in my head (or rather what I think) Bridget would say; "Don't do anything you're not comfortable with. And Izzie - "Just get it over with." Not sure Izzie would say that to be honest, but I always think of them as the little angel and the devil inside my head. Only Izzie's not always bad and recently I've been starting to think that perhaps Bridget isn't all that good . . .
Marcus gives me a slightly strange look but agrees. "I'll be one second." I edge into my room, trying not to let him see inside as I do it before closing it behind me.
I stare helplessly at the room. The faded pink wallpaper, my three posters (The Kooks, Jake Gyllaanhaal and Yeahs Yeahs Yeahs), my book shelf, my unmade bed. This is definitely not somewhere to bring the boy of your dreams on a Saturday morning . . . it doesn't exactly scream 'sex kitten' by any means. Not that I want it to but you know what I mean. It's not a cool room.
Izzie has lots of candles and incense sticks and cool posters of bands I've never heard of and she always changes her furniture around. She hides the grooves left on the floor with funny scarves and throws she's collected from market stalls and the place is given an even more glamorously feel by her sexy collection of shoes. Bridget's is unkempt and messy but still manages to look chic.
The first thing I do is grab all of the clothes from the floor and stuff them into the cupboard before racing around with the bin scooping up all the empty crisp packets and bits of paper. I then dump all my school work into my bag and throw it under the desk, spread my duvet neatly across the bed, throw my tartan blanket across my teddy bears at the end of the bed and finish off by spraying a bit of perfume around the room.
Marcus knocks on the door and I sit down awkwardly on the bed as he comes in. His eyes take in the entire room very slowly. He steps into the middle and looks around, scanning the cupboard, the shelf, the bedside table with my lamp and silly photograph of me and Izzie and Bridget at the fair where we're all high on candy floss, and stares at the wall behind me where Jake is smiling out at nothing.
"OK," says Marcus slowly. "Where are they then?"
"They?" I repeat stupidly. For a moment I think he's talking about Izzie and Bridget.
"The photographs of your Dad. I don't see any."
I remember then that was the excuse I gave for showing him the rest of the house although if I'm honest I didn't think he actually cared that much. I'm suddenly horribly embarrassed. Does he think I'm a slut now? For showing him my bedroom? Or just a cold, heartless daughter because I have no pictures of my father on show?
"I don't keep them up," I say, crossing my legs to stop myself fidgeting with my hands. I always seem to fidget. I think I've picked up the habit from Bridget. She always plays with her hair but to stop herself she puts her hands in her pockets. I go to put mine in my pockets when I realise it'll look rather silly since I'm sitting down. So I change the direction and push my hair back instead. That's still fidgeting though!
"Where are they then?" asks Marcus moving over to the window to check out the view.
I uncross my legs and leave them half dangling, straining the muscles a little.
"I've got an album for them," I explain, still not getting off the bed.
The thing is, I don't think I actually want anything to happen between us at this second. Saturday morning seems all wrong for kissing someone. Unless you're going out of course. I then realise in horror the only times I've ever kissed Marcus (and therefore anyone! I don't count my first kiss as it was a disaster) has been when I was either drunk or on cocaine. What if he kisses me now and I do it wrong?!
"You don't keep them up?" Marcus turns around then and frowns a little at me, like he's thinking. "Is that 'cause of your Mum?"
I nod after a moment's pause. It's mainly because of my Mum. It's also because it's difficult to see my Dad's face all the time. It makes me miss him so much more . . . I don't even want to think about it. Why is Marcus so fixated on it?
He seems to read this on my face because he gives a little sigh and says, "Sorry to go on about it. It's just . . . well, I know what it's like when one of your parent's, sort of, leaves. I mean, it's obviously a lot more difficult for you because you don't know where your Dad is at all but my Mum . . . I feel like she's left me too, sometimes."
It's then Marcus sits down on the bed beside me, sighing semi heavily. My heart starts to crash inside my chest in excitement. I like this conversation. It's interesting. He's confiding in me or comparing himself to me . . . that's got to be a good sign!
"Has your Mum . . . did she leave your Dad?" I ask quietly, trying to sound concerned. The truth is I am concerned. I do feel incredibly sorry for Marcus because it must be horrible to have one parent leave another, because they fall out of love or whatever, but really I'm more happy that he feels comfortable talking to me about this. I mean, this is amazing. No one ever talks to me about this sort of stuff. Well, Izzie did when her Mum left but that was different because Izzie's my best friend. This is Marcus, the hottest guy this side of the world. Maybe on BOTH sides of the world.
But then suddenly it changes. Marcus coughs and shakes his head. "No. No she didn't leave him. She's not gone anywhere." He sounds rather pissed off. Did I say something wrong? Was that insensitive? Oh God, I said it wrong. This is really, really bad now. I've messed up our talking. He won't talk properly now. Oh God!
"What - what does that mean?" I stammer stupidly, blinking too much.
Then Marcus exhales through his nose, turns his body towards mine and says, "We're on your bed together, babe. What does that mean?"
My heart is banging again only this time it's hurting. Too much has gone through my head in the last two minutes. I don't know what it means. Does it mean he wants to have sex with me? Or does he want to just kiss?
Are you ever allowed to ask? Does that take away from the moment? I'm enjoying the moment and at the same time not because I'm afraid. I don't know what he expects of me. I can hear Bridget in my head (or rather what I think) Bridget would say; "Don't do anything you're not comfortable with. And Izzie - "Just get it over with." Not sure Izzie would say that to be honest, but I always think of them as the little angel and the devil inside my head. Only Izzie's not always bad and recently I've been starting to think that perhaps Bridget isn't all that good . . .
♠ ♠ ♠
Ella's stream of thoughts is rather overbearing in this one.Apologies if it made it harder to read or whatever.
Next one soon.