AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okie dokie gang, this is just a cute story i thought needed to be told... guess that's what we do, huh? well, anywho, i wrote it as a oneshot, but now that i look back on it, i wouldn't be opposed to adding a couple chapters to it... comments? REVIEWS, PLEASE. even if you hate it. i love getting feedback, it inflates my tiny ego so much! aight, i'm done, enjoy :D
Older and Wiser
I was fidgety, as usual, while waiting for Taylor to walk into the room and take his place next to me in band. He finally popped in, after an agonizing thirty seconds, and I almost sighed in relief.
He went to the instrument room to get his flute as I tried to calm my heart, which was thumping wildly in excitement. A whole two hour class period with him, interrupted by only minimal playing (flutes don't get many solos, and our band teacher was unusually talkative… which was fine by me, of course, since it gave Taylor and I more conversation time.)
As usual, I reminded myself that this excitement wasn't because I actually liked him, but merely because I was bored to tears and he was entertaining. And adorable. With a great complexion. And straight white teeth. And broad shoulders. And… WAY TOO YOUNG FOR YOU, JENNA! What are you, a perv? He's two years younger than you! Get those creepy thoughts out of your head!
I looked around furtively, wary of those sneaky mind readers I knew must be lurking around every corner, waiting to catch my dirty thoughts and store them dangerously away somewhere. None in sight. Well, none that I noticed, anyways. I shot one more fearful look about the room before returning my attention to the god – ahem, boy, next to me.
"So, how long do you think I'll make it without getting caught this time?" Taylor asked, opening his mouth (framed by deliciously soft – looking lips, I couldn't help noticing) to show me his a.b.c. gum, which was strictly forbidden, as any band geek knows.
"Meh, I give you ten minutes, if you're lucky," I chuckled non-chalantly, hoping to give off an 'I'm–so–much–older–and–wiser–than–you,-it's–actually–funny' vibe. I don't think it worked.
He furrowed his brow, deep in thought, then said slowly and seriously, "Then it's a good thing we have a plan to tag-team 'em."
"We do?" I said in surprise, secretly enjoying the way he referred to us and them. It made me feel special, like we were in a world of our own and the rest of the world had no business interrupting.
"Of course we do… I just haven't thought of it yet," He replied, face still completely serious.
"Any suggestions?"
We made eye contact then, and we both cracked up laughing. When I'd managed to strangle the annoyingly bubbly laughter coming from my throat, I provided him with my usual brilliant quip of "um.."
I thought quickly, trying to come up with a clever and hilarious response.
"We could always pray to the 'God of mischevious,-gum–chewing–students,' that well known deity."
That answer had sounded much more intelligent in my mind.
Taylor, however, seemed to think it was acceptable, because he was reduced to another brief fit of giggles. I joined in eagerly, jumping at the chance to bond with him, in any small way. Wow. Could I be any more desperate?
But then he adjusted his trendy black rimmed glasses and gave me a sidelong glance. I could almost imagine him appraising me with his eyes. Did he think my laugh was cute? I'd been told so by tons of people, but I'd grown to think of it as annoying. Perhaps my green eyes were particularly pretty today? Or my skin unusually clear?
I lifted my hand quickly to my face to check for zit action, relieved not to find any. Fussing over minute details was a bad habit I always employed when I liked a guy. NO. not liked. Enjoyed the extended company of, in none other than a friendly way.
I reached down to pull my skirt closer to my knees as class started, suddenly aware of its disturbing lack of appropriate length.
Unexpectedly, I felt a warm hand on mine.
I was drawn out of my self–induced reverie by this sudden interaction. I looked up at its owner, who smiled his infectious smile at me, saying "Leave it. Nobody likes a fidget. And by nobody, of course, I mean Snyds."
I looked up to see our band teacher, Mr. Snyder, glowering over his conducting stand at us. "Am I interrupting something? Or would you like to share your music-related discussion with the class?"
"Um," I scrambled for something to say, frantically trying to remember what Snyder had been talking about while I'd been in la-la land.
"We were just talking about, uh, breathing in between measures. You know, because you're not supposed to do it." I looked over at the rest of my flutes, hoping to telepathically convey my point to them. "Waiting for the eight-measure phrases to finish is pretty much a physical impossibility, as anyone who's tried to play the flute should know." I laughed nervously.
I was getting on a roll now, and Snyder was close to looking appeased, so I continued. "I was simply reminding my classmates, as is my duty as first chair and section leader, to listen to the person next to them and avoid breathing at the same spot. It's a strategy I've always found to be effective…"
I finished with an open-ended sentence, just in case Taylor had something to add. He answered my questioning glance by shaking his pretty brown curls, a silent no. We both looked back at the front of the room. Snyder was already resuming his tirade on rhythm changes (mostly directed towards the drum line).
After a few distressing moments, I stood up, placing my thu- far unused flute on my chair. Speeches always bored me. It was time for me to take a water break.
I snuck quietly off to the music lounge, location of not only the water fountains, but also a few very old, very comfortable couches where one could always hide from Snyder during class. I took out my ipod and played the first song I saw.
It was "Lighthouse" by The Hush Sound. I shivered as I listened, slightly disturbed by the lyrics. It spun the tale of a pair of lovers who wandered into a haunted lighthouse with a "door locked from the outside." When it had ended, both lovers had passed softly into oblivion.
As unsettling as the lyrics were, the music was beautiful, and I closed my eyes, to concentrate on it better. I soon lost myself in the sway of the song, and didn't notice when someone sat down next to me.
The song wound to a close, and I opened my eyes, surprised to find Taylor sitting beside me, studying me intently. I couldn't stop myself from jumping slightly, and I shivered with delight at how close to me he was. Granted, I'd sat in pretty much the middle of the couch, but it was still thrilling to think that he didn't shy away from sitting at such a close proximity.
He noticed my flutter, apparently, because he asked "Are you cold?" and began to shrug off his jacket.
"Oh, no, I'm not, I was just a little startled by you," I said apologetically, offering a smile as compensation for his trouble. He shrugged, as if to say, have it your way, and put his jacket back on.
"What were you listening to so intently, anyways? I'm curious,"
"Oh, just some song." I replied noncommittally, a little scared to admit my momentary obsession over something so strange. But then again, he was in band. That has to say something about his ability to accept weird…
"Well actually, it was this song called 'Lighthouse,' by The Hush Sound. It's kinda creepy, because it's about these people who end up dying, but the song has an amazing melody, and the story is actually kind of intriguing…" I trailed off, uncertain of whether or not to continue.
"Really? Was the sound hushed?" he asked, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling humorously.
"Just kidding. Yeah, they're pretty good. I have a bunch of their old stuff on mine," he said, sliding his own ipod out of his pocket for emphasis.
"Actually," he continued, "I came to get you before the dragon notices your absence. You've been gone for like, ten minutes. We ought to get back before sectionals start." He seemed to hesitate, like there was something he wanted to add.
Captivated, I asked, "Is there anything else? Your pouty look has successfully piqued my interest," I added playfully, trying to turn it into a joke.
"Yeah, actually there is." He appeared to have made up his mind.
"What if I told you that our friendship is changing? And that we can't ignore it any longer?"
I looked down, a blush spreading across my cheeks. Crap, he'd noticed. Oh, God, he was breaking up with me! Well, I mean not technically breaking up, since we were obviously not dating–and never would! He's too young! You're too old! You could never hold his interest long enough to have a real relationship! I told myself out of habit, not really believing it; but the thought seemed to be the only thing keeping me from having a meltdown.
I could already sense myself starting to hyperventilate. I pushed my mousy brown hair out of my eyes, hands shaking. I could feel heartbreak setting in.
Taylor leaned over to take my chin in one of his toasty hands, gently forcing me to meet his gaze. "What if I told you that I like where things are headed? What if…"
He hesitated again before continuing. "Jenna, what if I told you that, that I think I'm falling in love with you?" His eyes pleaded with me to say something, to do something.
My heart must've skipped more than a few beats, because the next thing I knew, my arms were around his neck and my lips were crushed against his. And boy, was I right about them being delicious.
I heard myself cry "Oh, Taylor" as his muscular arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. In the back of my mind, I knew this was not normal behavior for two friends. I also knew that this wasn't normal behavior for me. I'm not that kind of girl! I desperately tried to control my bodily functions, but I just felt so… so safe with Taylor, I couldn't help but surrender myself to him.
Briefly, I pulled away, managing to whisper "I'm not that girl," and glance down ashamedly. He looked me in the eyes, miraculously understanding what I meant, and replied gently, "I know. But this should have happened long ago."
Then our lips met again. This time, however, he ran his tongue along my bottom lip, begging for entrance. I gladly let him in, and our tongues performed a perfect dance. It felt like we'd been doing this all our lives.
The kiss was intoxicating. My whole body felt like it was in flames. My heart was thumping in my chest, pushing blood through my eardrums, my throat, and… elsewhere as well. From the soft moan he let out, I guessed he felt the same.
As I came up for air he started planting a trail of perfect kisses down my neck to my collarbone. I gasped at the intimacy of this, enjoying the feeling of his lips exploring parts of me that nobody had bothered with before. Most guys went straight for my, ahem, assets, as soon as they thought they had permission. But Taylor's arms stayed hooked around my waist, his fingers playing with the lacy hem of my shirt, and his lips went no further than the soft tissue just above my poorly concealed cleavage.
Eventually he found his way back up to my face, which he peppered with feather-light kisses before returning to my mouth. This time our lips met softly, his caressing my own delicately, as if I were fragile, about to break. Occasionally he'd throw in a nibble, to show he wasn't kidding. I could do nothing but submit myself completely to his obviously experienced embrace.
So much for older and wiser. I almost snorted to myself before I remembered that I was supposed to be completely absorbed in this moment. Conscious thought faded as quickly as it had surfaced, and I lost myself in his kisses yet again.
Too soon, we broke away, both realizing that we'd been gone quite some time. We stood up wordlessly and walked back to the door of the classroom. "Wait," I called right before he opened the door. "I wanna try something first."
He turned back around to face me, and I buried my head in his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He instantly complied with my hug request, holding me closer than I'd ever been held before. "I know about you hug test," he whispered in my ear. I could hear the smile on his lips as he chuckled huskily.
I smiled deviously. My hug test was infamous, it seemed. I told all my close friends that I had to hug test every guy I dated before I agreed to see him. It was my most important choosing factor. Perhaps it made no sense, but, as I'd reasoned with everyone subjected to it, neither did love (Not that there'd been many guys, it's just that there were some chatty ones).
Again, I let conscious thought fade away and gave myself to the embrace. There was a curious quality to this hug, one that was unlike any other. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it seemed familiar somehow. Then it hit me like a tidal wave, rendering me unable to move. Once I'd recovered the ability of speech, I whispered, only loud enough for us to hear, "It feels like home."
"I guess that means I passed, then," Taylor replied with a laugh, and let me go. We both tuned toward the door to the classroom, where we could hear the random notes of warm up finally starting.
"Brace yourself," I said, then gulped.
As we quietly returned to our seats, Snyder looked directly at me, and asked, "What seems to have taken you so long to use the bathroom, Jenna?"
Thinking quickly, I said easily, "Women's problems." His face paled at the thought and the room started to quiet down, students waiting for instruction.
I touched my lips lightly, marveling at how alive they felt. Perhaps a make-out session and declaration of love wasn't the most orthodox way to start a relationship, but I had a feeling that nothing about this relationship would be normal. Taylor was right. This should've happened long ago. I was soon interrupted from my musings by Snyder's voice. That seemed to be happening far too often today.
"And you, Mr. McIntyre? Is there a legitimate reason for you to be using the bathroom for twenty-five minutes?" The dragon asked, upon recovery.
"Women's problems," He confidently replied. Any resemblance of classroom control was lost then, and even Mr. Snyder had to cover his smile with a rough hand.
In the commotion, I saw an opportunity. I took the chance to ask a question that had been bothering me since we'd re-entered the classroom. Actually, if I was honest with myself, it had been bothering me since we'd met.
"Taylor, does it matter? I mean, that you're a sophomore and I'm a senior?"
The anxiety must've been clear on my face because he rested a comforting hand on the small of my back and whispered, for my ears only, "Love waits for no man, my dear. Besides, cougars are the sexiest felines, don't you think?" His eyebrows wiggled at the innuendo, and I couldn't help laughing.
"I'm not that old…"
ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE: so, that was it! if you liked it and you want more, please review! if you hated it, CRAWL IN A HOLE AND DIE! jkjkjk you can still review...oh, and i wouldn't mind changing the rating if i continue with the story, either...so yea... thank you and i love you! *kisses* bye!