Literotic asexstories – The Wrong Treatment Pt. 06 by Platonomics,Platonomics Winter Formal. My first dance ever, an event I could have never imagined attending at the beginning of the year. The sheer look of consternation on my parents’ faces, when I shared the news, was truly meme-worthy. They were so overprotective. It was only after explaining that my date – Misty Armstrong, was the same girl I’d been tutoring after school, that my dad relaxed. My mom, on the other hand, was unable to contain a tiny squeak of excitement.
I had never told them about any other girls I’d dated during high school. Mostly because those relationships had been fleeting, barely lasting more than a week, and of those girls, none were in the same league as Misty. If my parents were ever curious about that stuff they had not shown it. In my dad’s case, I figured it was because when he was my age he attended an all-boys private school. He didn’t even start dating or meet my mom until well after his studies at university.
My dad flinched slightly as my mom kicked him under the table. It was evident she wanted him to say something supportive.
“Well, that’s quite a surprise,” he finally chimed in. My mom rolled her eyes, then took my hand and squeezed it.
“You’ll have such a great time with Misty at the Winter’s Festival.”
“Winter Formal,” I corrected her.
****************************************************************************
Jump to the night of and there I was, outside the gymnasium, Misty to my right, waiting in line to get our photo taken as a memento for a future scrapbook. Misty playfully poked me with her elbow as she noticed the couple ahead of us – Andre Michaels and Niki Turner. It was the same Andre I told her was caught up in a steamy affair with our high school history teacher.
In the last week, I’d been compelled to share everything with Richie’s sister. Not only because I felt I owed it to her, but also to unburden the weight of so many secrets with someone I genuinely cared about. It was cathartic, though obviously I omitted my responsibility in her brother’s current coma. As for the dirty library of live-streamed affairs collecting on my hard drive, she didn’t seem to mind, even skipping through some videos of Jada and Jordan. She seemed particularly interested in their blossoming relationship, no doubt since she’d facilitated it. Thankfully, I had never procured a video of her giving Richie oral, and I was glad that she didn’t ask.
Since I explained that distance was the only way to keep the dark magic at bay, Misty had conscientiously avoided the hospital. Like an addict though, I could tell there were still triggers for her brother that clouded her mind from time to time, a dazed look of longing and desperation that took a while to snap out of.
I observed as Andre gallantly bent to one knee to help the camera adjust for the height disparity that came with Niki’s petite 5’1″ stature. I suspected Mrs. Watson probably wasn’t too keen on his choice of date, but the married woman was sensible enough to realize that this outing provided a wonderful opportunity to keep the world in the dark and shield their festering immoral and unprofessional relationship.
I bashfully looked down and pulled my hands from my pockets. Where I was stuck donning one of my cousin’s hand-me-down suits, Misty looked incredible in her black, faux off-the-shoulder style dress and sparkling emerald heels. The sleek outfit complimented her curves perfectly. Our arms intertwined as we moved forward and posed for the cameraman. I didn’t want to jinx the moment by saying anything, but my heart was doing somersaults as I breathed in the delicious flower-petal-scented shampoo of my date’s glossy chocolate-brown hair, and felt the warmth of her soft waist beneath my grip.
I froze in place, trying not to let my expression betray my love-struck nerves. The camera clicked sharply. The flashes momentarily blinded me as we were quickly ushered inside the gymnasium by the school PE teacher, turned bouncer for the night.
The whole court had undergone a whimsical transformation. Twinkling string lights hung down from the ceiling casting a soft glow that mimicked the starry sky. The indoor bleachers had been retracted to make room for the dance floor, and the surrounding walls were adorned with cut-out snowflakes, snowmen, and Christmas trees. Trays of bite-sized cupcakes, store bought cookies, and warm churros sat next to massive bowls of apple cider and punch. Kids, dressed to the nines, flitted about while the chaperones wandered the perimeter.
Beyonce music filtered through the overhead speakers and drowned out all other noise. The only challenge left this semester was finals next week, but for tonight, no one was letting that bog them down.
The scents of cinnamon, fried butter, and frosting lured me toward the food table. However, Misty had another plan. She entwined her fingers with mine and pulled me toward the herd of teens on the dance floor. I had misguided myself into believing that as a non-conformer, dancing to the clean versions of the Top 40 playlist wouldn’t appeal to my date. But my error in judgment was soon realized as we squeezed into the mess of rowdy teenagers.
Burning right through the confidence potion in my bloodstream, I unsuccessfully sought not to embarrass myself. With the pulsing music thrumming in my ears, I urged my body to move to the beat, but my limbs had a mind of their own. Despite an encouraging smile from my date, whose movements were as fluid and natural as a seasoned partyer, my awkward steps felt woefully inadequate in comparison. After three songs, I was thankful when I lost Misty to the crowd, giving me an excuse to escape the kaleidoscope of lights as well as the sticky human blob of kids and their raging hormones.
I passed Jada and Jordan on the outskirts of the floor. The blondes were liplocked, in matching white dresses, each adorned with a pair of fake plastic angel wings. It hadn’t taken more than a day or two after the events of the football game for both of them to come out as bi to the student body. They weren’t the only kids snogging, but they certainly provoked the most attention from onlookers seated at the surrounding tables. I scanned the room for Braxton, Jada’s ex, and wasn’t surprised not to see him despite being one of the most popular kids on the football team. Brent and his entourage occupied the largest table. We locked eyes for a moment, but then I averted his gaze. Unlike Andre, the blonde bully had come stag. He’d also cum in his mom like ten minutes before showing up this evening. Mrs. Young was insatiable.
I grabbed a cup of chilled cider off the beverage table and drained it.
“Refill?” A girl asked from behind the big bowl of sweet juice.
“Uh-sure…” I held my cup up unsteadily, surprised it took me so long to recognize the girl who spoke was actually a full grown woman and history teacher, Mrs. Watson. I guess the chaperones were observing the drink area to make sure no one spiked the trough.
The tawny haired mother was not dressed like a normal chaperone. For one thing, she looked really fucking good. Instead of sporting some form of faculty khaki or even a traditional muted dress, Eva Watson had opted for a fiery number that would surely have called more attention if the room were brighter. Her strapless, rich burgundy gown exposed the entirety of her long and creamy neckline. The form-fitting fabric descended into a daring thigh-high slit, which revealed a glimpse of her long, slender legs. To finish off the festive ensemble, the MILF sported high heels, a diamond pendant necklace, and lacy black gloves that encased her otherwise nude forearms. I couldn’t help myself, gawking at the exposed top half of her large breasts, but it didn’t matter.
Something caught Mrs. Watson’s attention behind me, causing her mouth to pop open ever so slightly. I turned my head to see who she was suddenly focused on, but I should have known better. Andre and Niki were situated near the DJ booth, the short girl was twerking and grinding up against the dark skinned boy. They weren’t the only couple flaunting their sexuality and testing the patience of the older adults, but knowing Andre’s reputation, I didn’t blame Mrs. Watson for being jealous.
The ravishing woman ladled a small portion into my cup, placed the dark cider in my hand, winked affectionately, and then made a swift beeline toward the DJ stand. Before I got to see what was about to unfold, my attention was drawn away by a tap on the shoulder.
“Hey, man!” A dorky-looking kid with wild, tousled curls and wire-frame spectacles called out over the thumping beat. Spencer Kress was one of my closest, and perhaps only, friends during our freshmen and sophomore years. We had bonded, in typical nerd fashion, over our love of television shows and lack of any real social life. Though both of us were on the scrawny side, I had always dwarfed him by a few inches.
“Bruh, how have you been? Feels like I haven’t seen you all year,” he professed.
It was true. Starting last year and continuing into this one, our schedules were split up, and we no longer even shared the same lunch period. Seeing him now brought back a rush of unexpected happiness, but also a tinge of guilt. Though I didn’t have a lot of friends to spare, I had spent the last few months pretty isolated, focussing on taking down Brent and dealing with the aftermath of my actions. Considering neither Spence nor I were regulars at high school functions, I was surprised to see him.
“Spencer, wow. What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
“Same as you it seems, I heard there was going to be free food,” he said, nabbing one of the chocolate chip cookies from the platter. I grinned as he took a bite.
“Seems like some fancy threads to splurge on for a couple of store-bought cookies.” I quipped, admiring his new-looking fitted tuxedo.
He waved a hand in front of his face to signal he needed to finish swallowing the cookie. Once he was done he continued, “My mom, she said I needed a nice suit for college. But really, I think she just wanted to make sure I didn’t show up to this thing in an Indiana Jones cosplay outfit… Which is frankly insulting, you know? Cause the themes would totally clash. And Gina would-”
“You’re here with Gina?” I interrupted.
He gestured again with his hands, this time toward a few tables down. Gina was a nerdy, shy girl prone to stuttering when she got nervous. Though not typically beautiful, she was cute in a quirky Velma Dinkley-type way. She wore a pretty, light-pink dress that complimented her short auburn hair, and she waved politely when she saw us look over.
“Had I known you were coming too, we could have split an Uber Black,” Spencer reasoned.
“Dude, I can’t believe you and Gina!” I said aghast.
“Yeah… I was going to wait till we came back from winter break to ask her out officially, but then she started hinting heavy that Aaron, that snot from freshmen Spanish, was pressuring her to come to this gig, so I had no choice but to make a move.”
“That’s super romantic dude,” I deadpanned.
He punched my arm lightly. “So, how’s senior year treating you? I heard Brent is still a dick,” he said in a cavalier way, but I could tell the question was genuine. I gathered the several beatdowns I’d received from Brent and Richie had been gossip worthy enough to make their rounds.
“You heard about that?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I tell you, people who peak in high school are gonna get what’s coming to them soon enough.”
I nodded in agreement, savoring the taste of cider before admitting, “Actually, I don’t think he’s going to be too much of a problem going forward.”
Part of me wanted to disclose more to Spencer. Hell, some of me wanted to tell him everything like I would have if this had happened a couple years ago. He was that type of friend who was able to find humor in anything. But I thought better of it.
He regarded me with a skeptical look. “So, you gonna tell me who you’re here with, or should I just start guessing?”
I took another sip of my drink, milking what was sure to be a fun reveal, but before I was able to say a word-
“There you are,” Misty strolled up beside me.
Spencer’s gaze darted between the two of us, measuring our familiarity. His eyebrows arched as the truth washed over him.
“Spencer, Misty. Misty, Spencer,” I quickly introduced.
“Hi,” Misty gave Spencer a polite smile before squeezing my arm. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”
Spencer appeared momentarily speechless, a rare feat.
“Good to see you, man,” I offered, giving an apologetic shrug as Misty guided me away.
Once we were out of earshot, I wavered, “Hey I don’t know if my feet can take another dance-”
“You’ve got a bigger problem than that,” Misty rounded on me, her tone suddenly dead serious. “You said Andre and Mrs. Watson are still infected, right?”
“Yeah…” My heart sank. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I was just heading into the bathroom, when Tori stopped to warn me that Andre was in one of the girl’s stalls fucking the daylights out of some bitch.”
“Fuck.” I glanced toward the restrooms and then around at the visible chaperones. Of course, Mrs. Watson was nowhere to be seen. “Jesus Christ, they’re fucking idiots.”
Thankfully, most of the other chaperones seemed to have their hands full dealing with Jada and Janice, who had graduated from simple kissing to flat out ass-grabbing and grinding their crotches against their thighs. As the two cheerleaders dressed as angels dry-humped in public, I felt anxiety wash over me.
I looked back toward the facilities and weighed my limited options.
Conflicting thoughts surged through my mind. Why should I care if they got caught? There’s no way it would come back to me… But on the other hand, if I did nothing, the night would be ruined, Misty would probably think less of me, and I’d be responsible for destroying a woman’s life, and possibly sending her to jail.
Misty looked at me expectantly. With no more time for hesitation, I made my way towards the girl’s bathroom, but it was already too late. A student bolted out of the door with a disgusted look on her face and made a beeline for the nearest chaperone, Vice Principal Blakensharp. Misty saw it too. Frantically, I surveyed my surroundings. I had less than a minute to divert attention away from the bathroom and save the hides of my history teacher and her younger lover.
Napkins, plastic cups, someone’s forgotten cell phone… I was beyond agitated, I was in panic mode. I almost wished someone had spiked the cider; perhaps then the situation wouldn’t feel so stressful. Even a hit of the shit Misty liked to smoke under the stands with her friends seemed tempting at the moment. Wait a second.
“Hey, um, do you happen to have a lighter?!” I shouted over the music.
Misty blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected request. Her eyes roamed down her sleek dress, seemingly questioning where such an item could possibly be hidden. Embarrassment tinged my cheeks.
“Nevermind. Forget it,” I started to say.
Misty rolled her eyes. “Not that now’s the time, but…” She conjured a silver lighter out of thin air like a magician producing flowers, and effortlessly flicked it open with a practiced motion.
“Oh my god, you’re incredible.” I resisted the urge to hug her. “Okay, we don’t have much time… have you seen season two of The Office?”
****************************************************************************
The girl, whom I now recognized as Melissa, the teacher’s pet, ran up and tugged on the Vice Principal’s arm. He was entirely engrossed in trying to pull Jada and Jordan off each other without touching either girl in a way that could be misconstrued as inappropriate. Given their attire, it was no easy task, and many of the surrounding students had their phones out, recording the chaos in the unlikely hope of getting featured on TMZ.
“Mr. Blackensharp! Two students are having sex in the girls bathroom!” Melissa finally shrieked.
Ironically, her announcement captured everyone’s attention, including Jada and Jordan, who paused for a moment to look at the startled administrator.
Mr. Blackensharp’s fists clenched into tight balls. The salt-and-pepper bearded, middle-aged Vice Principal marched resolutely toward the restrooms.
I shook my head and restlessly paced by the brick wall near the gym exit. “Come on Misty, come on…”
I couldn’t even hear the music anymore over the unremitting stream of thoughts in my mind. How stupid could they be? For fuck sake Andre, have some self control. The more those two interacted, the less inhibited they’d become. At least Brent and his mom were discreet.
I thought back to Mrs. Watson’s face earlier. Seeing Niki must have really fucked with her. Where was Niki? Had she come to realize that her date had ditched her for an older woman? I guess it didn’t matter. Not when they were going to get caught anyways. And it was my fault. Fuck fuck fuck.
Mr. Blackensharp was rapidly closing in on the girls’ bathroom. Ten steps away. Nine. Eight. THERE.
A sudden burst of flames erupted from the back of the room where one of the acrylic-coated tablecloths suddenly caught ablaze.
I drew in a sharp breath, ready to yell “fire,” but someone else beat me to it, unleashing a loud cry, “FIRE! FIRE!” Several others quickly joined in, including me.
After a few tense seconds, the music ground to a halt, and all eyes turned toward the pluming flames. The kids with their phones out redirected their focus, now captivated by the unfolding emergency. Mr. Blackensharp stopped in his tracks. Sensing that I had mere seconds before the room could devolve into frenzied mayhem, and not wanting to risk anyone’s safety, I turned to the wall and pulled the fire alarm.
The blaring siren filled the air as the ceiling sprinkler system, connected directly to the school’s outdoor water tower, burst into action, showering the entire gymnasium with water. Students, adorned in their most expensive clothes, and girls with meticulously done makeup found themselves drenched in the unexpected deluge. The once festive atmosphere turned into a messy scene, with many shrieking and scrambling for cover. Chaperones did their best to direct the foot traffic, trying to maintain order as the students shuffled out of the gym. Brent’s group, ever eager to be at the forefront, shoved their way through the crowd.
Again, I locked eyes with my bully, and a wave of resentment washed over me. This asshole was going to be the worst father. The dance was over. And the fire was doused.
Amid the last few seconds of chaos, I spotted Andre slipping out from the bathroom, skillfully blending into the crowd as he made his escape. Seconds later, Mrs. Watson, her face obscured by a jacket, followed suit, sneaking away toward the crowded exit.
Despite the fire being promptly extinguished, a faint, wispy trail of smoke flowed out of the building and the scent of burnt plastic lingered as we collected ourselves outside the building. I was happy to see that, even with the shivering and damp conditions, some kids were smiling and laughing at the absurdity of the moment.
“Bro, nice thinking!” Spencer approached and clapped me on the back. “You managed to ruin the party and make the night unforgettable all at once!”
Gina dallied behind Spencer, her once puffy light pink dress now a soggy magenta mess. I felt the need to offer an apology, but she surprised me by speaking up.
“Yeah, th-that was gr-great. You pr-probably saved lives.” Gina said, her voice trembling. I couldn’t tell if it was her stutter or the fact she was probably freezing.
I blushed, feeling guilty but not regretful.
“Mr. Hitomi,” a deep voice resonated from behind me. I turned around to see Mr. Blackensharp, standing there. Up close, the guy was way more intimidating, half a foot taller than me with a scowl. His short, graying hair was flattened to his forehead. “I’m told you’re the one to thank for putting out the fire.
“Uh- I just pulled the alarm,” I replied.
“You did the right thing at the right time. I commend you,” he stated firmly.
“Thank you, sir.”
We shook hands and he departed to speak with one of the school security officers who had just arrived. After talking with Spencer for a few more minutes, I decided it was a good time to find Misty and make tracks. I found chatting with a few juniors who were waiting for their parents to pick them up.
“What did I miss?” I asked as the girls giggled when I approached.
“There’s a video of you going viral,” Misty warned, her tone unreadable. She took out her phone and showed me. Sure enough, someone had posted a 20-second clip of the fire, with the camera zooming in on me as I pushed down the alarm.
“I guess that makes you a hero!” one of the juniors exclaimed excitedly. She shot me a flirty glance, which although flattering, felt awkward to absorb with Misty there. It wasn’t long before the parking lot cleared out, and everyone headed home.
Before dropping Misty off, we parked outside her house for a minute.
“I think I ruined your dress,” I said, staring at the drenched fur around the chest lining.
“Don’t worry about it.” She shrugged. “I already have too many as it is.”
“I didn’t realize how much water was going to rain down.”
“It was… Fun, sort of,” she said.
I leaned back in the driver’s seat. “You think? I guess we’ll see what people think on Monday. But, I shouldn’t have asked you to do what you did. It’s not your shit to deal with… You could have gotten into serious trouble.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do, Ryan Hitomi.”
I nodded.
“Besides, what sort of date would it be if I didn’t have your back?” my arsonist, incest cursed, girlfriend submitted, raising an eyebrow coyly.
With my phone blowing up in my pocket with notifications, and the adrenaline still yet to taper off, I knew it would be a while till I ever felt this confident again. Looking at Misty, with her damp hair, disheveled outfit, and the special energy that seemed to seep every time she smiled… I did the unthinkable. I leaned over, cupped her face with my hand, and planted a kiss on her mouth. She tensed but didn’t pull back. Her lips felt soft as petals and they opened slightly, as her tongue tentatively swiped against mine and I got to taste her. The connection was electric, but the kiss was far from perfect. When I leaned back, she chuckled goodheartedly.
“We’re gonna have to work on that,” she teased, her playful expression making me feel more alive than ever before.
****************************************************************************
The weekend came and went like a blink of an eye, and before I knew it, Finals week had arrived. I was more concerned for Misty than myself. I had my notebooks memorized front to back due to all the hours spent reteaching the same information over and over. Thankfully, since she’d cut herself off from Richie, her brainpower and judgment had returned to pre-love potion levels… But all it would take was one hospital visit to fuck that all up.
On Monday, I lived out what can only be described as the coolest high school day of my life. Stepping into first period and later during English class, and much to the chagrin of Brent,
I was met with hoots and hollers by my classmates for dousing the fire and making the Winter Formal the most exciting event since Prom two years ago when someone let a llama loose. Most importantly though, no one was questioning how the fire started. Besides a quick morning announcement referring anyone with information to the attendance office, it seemed the school was ready to look past the incident.
For once, I got to feel some lingering looks of admiration, rather than pity or disregard. It was a strange, but awesome feeling, and I totally would have let it get to my head if I didn’t know for sure that my 15 minutes would be over by the time we returned after winter break.
All in all, I was feeling on top of the world. At lunch, Misty and I sat together, and though there hadn’t been any PDA since the first kiss, things felt good between us. During winter break, she had plans to go on a mother-daughter trip to visit Saundra’s alma mater in Indiana. Apparently, her mom was a part of some Zeta sorority chapter there. Misty didn’t seem that excited by the prospect, but she had already committed to checking out the school when she was in a different headspace.
In my household, December was typically a time for staying close to home. While we didn’t celebrate Christmas, we did exchange gifts on Christmas Eve because why not? This year I legit had nothing to ask for.
Tuesday and Wednesday were half days, and marked the unofficial end to test taking. By Wednesday night most teachers had input our grades in the online system. I had straight A’s. When I told my mom, her face lit up, and she made me pull up the site so she could take a picture and send it to my dad at work.
Thursday was just a free day, and though many seniors ditched, Misty and I loitered around campus before celebrating the end of the semester with ice cream at the park.
“Do you want to come to a party Friday?” Misty asked while taking a bite of her small cone.
“Yeah… Of course,” I replied. Any social anxiety I had was completely tempered with her around.
“It’s at Brent’s house,” she revealed, then paused for my reaction.
“Wait, really?” A flicker of unease stirred in my chest. “I don’t think I’m invited.”
“You’ll be my plus one,”
“I don’t know…” I hesitated.
She sighed, “There’s going to be a billion kids there, he probably won’t even notice you.”
Something made me doubt that, but I hated to disappoint her.
“Fuck it. Okay.”
As for Andre and Mrs. Watson, I believe Winter Formal had been a good wake up call for both of them. My cameras hadn’t picked up any smutty behavior between them since, which, at the very least, meant they were being smarter. Mrs. Watson managed to put together a tiny quiz in place of her final, consisting of true-false choices and a very vague essay question that anyone with a fifth grade education could have answered. Though I enjoyed the light workload, I did feel bad for the students who were depending on the course to test out of college classes next year.
Jada and Jordan had become closer than sisters, which was both weird and fascinating. Though they were constant gossips, I got the sense that being together had actually made them nicer and less sassy. Jordan for instance, Brent’s ex, pulled me away in English to pry me for details about my relationship with Misty, and thank me for pulling the fire alarm. It was the first time I’d talked to her in four years.
****************************************************************************
That fateful Friday night, I picked up Misty at 6PM. The sun had already set, leaving us in the twilight as we approached Brent’s house. Although I had been there many times to replace the battery to the outdoor camera, I felt uneasy walking up the front entry steps.
“I’ll catch up to you inside. Need to make a call,” I excused myself, watching Misty disappear into the house before skirting around the bend to the bedroom windows. Brent’s room was hardly ever occupied, as he’d taken over for his father as Master of the domicile.
Mrs. Young was watching a soap in their room. With no apparent belly bulge yet, she looked posed like a model. Who was I kidding? Even fully pregnant she was going to be a knockout. Taking one last picture in my mind of the pretty woman, I pulled the camera from its frame and dropped it off in my car. I wouldn’t need it any longer. Brent was still a dick, but no longer a threat.
Misty hadn’t exaggerated; the house was teeming with teenagers. It seemed like everyone who was anyone had gathered there. Once I managed to make my way inside, I weaved within the chaotic sea of people, but she proved elusive as I searched the tightly packed crowd of the living room, the downstairs game room, and the kitchen.
“You!” I felt a heavy, commanding grip descend on my shoulder, as I was suddenly pulled back by the man himself.
“Way to save the fucking day, bro.” The six-foot-one blonde jock teetered in front of me and thrust a beer in my hand.
He carelessly pushed some paper cups off the edge of a side table to make room for his ass so he could sit down. His neck vein pulsed, under his polo collar.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he said, eyes watery. “Shot in the dark inviting your girlfriend.”
“Huh?” I uttered, but he was still talking.
“You know this year,” he paused to burp, “has been the best fucking year of my life. Not even your crap could drag it down.”
The stench of booze wafted off him like cologne. He was obnoxiously drunk and super chatty.
“Yeah, I mean, you almost made state,” I replied nonchalantly, in an attempt to divert the conversation away from how much he hated my guts. It was hard enough blackmailing the douche when he was sober, I didn’t want to test him drunk.
“No thanks to you,” he garbled.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had only been fifteen minutes and I wanted to leave.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Brent groggily slurred, “So you and Missty…”
“Yeah.” I let the point stand on its own.
“You fuck her yet?” he inquired rudely.
“Bruh… That’s none of your business.”
“Yeah,” he sneered back, eyes slicing through me with a cold calculation, “didn’t think so.” It was apparent that whatever friendliness he had been trying to exude was all a facade.
Annoyed by the discussion, and insulted by his cheekiness, I couldn’t help but take a swing of my own.
“For such a relationship expert, you don’t seem too torn up about your parents’ separation,” I observed, sarcastically.
“Eh…” He glanced down the hallway, his gaze fixed on his mom’s room. “It’s complicated,” he finally admitted, his voice carrying a mixture of feelings he might never be able to resolve.
I nodded, thinking about how fucking weird it would be to fall in love with my own mom. I took a hefty swig of the room-temperature beer and coughed as it burned going down.
“So, are you going to state?” I asked, my curiosity genuine because if he said yes, then I would be canceling my application pronto.
“Gap year,” he brushed off dismissively. “You know what I can’t figure is how a girl as fine as Richie’s sister falls for a turnip like you… No offense.”
“Fuck you,” I shot back, taking another defiant sip of the cheap beer.
The din of the crowd and the music was hurting my ears, as if someone had begun cranking up the dial on the party’s volume.
“Hey, I’m just curious, is all,” Brent smirked, reveling in his provocation.”I mean, I can’t imagine what Richie would do if he was here to see it.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I suddenly felt as if I were in the lion’s den, expecting to turn around and miraculously find Richie waiting with his fists clenched.
“Yeah, well he’s not,” I mumbled, stupidly.
Brent appeared lost in his own thoughts. “But the way you were tailing Richie around, asking for his jacket, acting all shady… Then you kept showing up at practice…”
I didn’t like where this was heading. Brent’s half-lidded eyes began to widen, and I could sense trouble brewing.
“I don’t what the fuck you’re getting at man, you’re drunk.” I expressed defensively.
“First, I tell the guy to beat the fuck out of you, and then he ends up in a coma,” Brent mused with bitter amusement. “Bravo, that showed spunk.”
“You what?” I stared directly at Brent. He ordered Richie to kick my ass?
“Relax, man. Game respect game. Just as I respect you using cameras outside my house to spy on me. Gotta say, I was a little shook, didn’t want to admit a shitstain I’d been beating up actually had some balls.”
“I still have those videos,” I reminded him as sinisterly as I could muster.
Brent yawned casually. “I have videos too. Mine are of Jordan.”
“Okay?” I didn’t understand what he was drawling on about.
“I told her if she didn’t distract you during English yesterday, I would leak them with the caption, ‘I Love Dick’.”
“Distract me? All she did was thank me for what I did at Winter Formal.”
Brent’s right hand shot out and grabbed me by the cuff of my shirt, yanking me close. Time seemed to stand still as he tightened his grip, chills running down my spine as the world froze around us.
“I know what you did to my friend,” he hissed. A demented smile spread over his face as he glanced down at my cup, which was nearly drained, but he didn’t let go. “And I get why you did it. But how’d you get his sister to forgive you?”
I swallowed hard.
He nodded again, pursing his lips. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
He let go of my collar and I gasped for air.
He snickered, “Don’t worry, I won’t spill your secret, Ryan. She’ll figure it out on her own soon enough.”
That was it. The last straw. Whatever head games this fucker wanted to employ, he had messed with the wrong guy. The bastard clearly needed a refresher on how simple it would be for me to wreck his life with just one post. I fumbled around for my phone in my pocket, my hand felt unusually numb. So what if he figured out I put Richie in a coma? He fucks his own mom.
“You fuck your own mom.” I tried to shout, but the words came out jumbled.
“Your…mom,” I tried again, even less successfully. The room was spinning.
Brent threw an arm over my shoulder as if I was his favorite pal. “What’s the matter? You a lightweight or something?”
I wanted to punch him, but I could hardly raise my fists. What was going on? I let my cup drop to the floor.
“You… roofied… me?” I mumbled.
Brent shook his head. “No way. Just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Whatever shit was in that vial.”
The vial? How had he… English – Jordan. It made sense now. The walls and ceiling suddenly pressed in and I broke out in a cold sweat, fear gripping my chest in a giant bear hug. There wasn’t enough air in the room and panic washed over me.
“Nightie night, loser.” I heard Brent say as he evaporated into the swarm of moving colors. I staggered blindly through the crowd until I found my way into the kitchen and stumbled out the door onto the back porch.
In a stroke of luck, Misty was outside with a few friends sharing a blunt.
“Need to go, now!” I groaned. I could feel my heart thumping in my throat.
“Are you okay?” Misty took one look at me. “Oh, my god. Okay, Okay.”
With my arm around her, I managed to totter to my car. She took my keys and started the engine while I collapsed in the backseats. I didn’t even want to think whether she was in any condition to drive, cause I sure as hell wasn’t.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“NO!” I growled. “She glared at me but didn’t argue.”
While driving home, I did my best to relay what I could, but she was still confused since I couldn’t tell her about Richie and how I put him in a coma.
“Turn right.” I pointed at an intersection.
“Your house isn’t for another few blocks,” she began.
“Not my house,” I spit. “My grandparents’ shop.”
I stayed in the back and tried to keep my eyes open. I wasn’t exactly tired… I remember Richie was able to last a while before succumbing to unconsciousness. Brent had used the whole vial? That didn’t make sense… Hadn’t I used the whole vial up?
“Wait here.” I slurred, slamming the backseat of the car and dragging myself up the short walkway store. It had been closed for two hours but I knew the keycode for the front entrance, and if I was lucky my Grandpa or Grandma would still be inside.
I hobbled into the old shop, my legs betraying me as I clung to the shelves for support. My mind was a fog, my thoughts whirling like a maelstrom. How could I have been so stupid?
“Cure,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. I couldn’t let Misty see me turn out like Richie. She couldn’t know about the sleeping potion; she would hate me forever. I dragged myself forward, every step feeling like an odyssey. Flashes of Brent and his mother fornicating invaded my mind, like vivid paintings, I couldn’t quite comprehend. Their cries of passion echoed in my ears, mingling with the sound of my own erratic heartbeat. But that wasn’t right, I’d never heard them make love, just watched…
I could see the front of the shop. My grandfather could help me. He would know what to do. My eyes focused on the figure at the register. It wasn’t Ji-Ji. It was… Her. Her, with those hypnotic brown eyes and lovely smile. Her, the woman I’d loved from the moment I met her. Our gazes met, and a magnetic force seemed to draw me closer to her.
And just like that, I understood. This wasn’t a sleeping potion. I’d used the last of the sleeping vial on Richie, I was sure of it. The only thing Brent Young could have given me was the very thing I gave him all those months ago. But if he had truly poured in the full bottle, I had just ingested a concentration 100 times the recommended dose.
I tripped and knocked over a tiny orb, sending it clattering across the floor.
“Oh, honey, you startled me.” She set her book aside, rushing around the counter with a blend of concern and grace. “What’s wrong? You’re so pale. Are you okay?””
Who was this goddess? Why was she fretting over me? If only she knew it wasn’t a ghost that had shaken me to my core. My thoughts raced, part of my mind trying to staple her identity down, the other part of it trying to bury it.
“Mom,” I croaked out. “I’m… I’m fine, really,” though my trembling voice was all but convincing. “Is… Ji-Ji here?”
I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her. I was sweating bullets. My mind swelled with emotions—love, passion, and a connection I couldn’t explain. Was I falling, truly falling, for her? This couldn’t be real, right? Something deep in my soul had been awakened and my thirst for sex was becoming uncontrollable.
“Here, do you need some water? Drink this,” she urged, pressing a glass into my hands.
“Mom, I messed up.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re burning up.” Her eyes widened with alarm as her palm pressed against my forehead.
“Mom…”
My heart raced. I was about to pass out. I was sure of it. I would be found lying on the ground.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.
Then, as if a fierce wind had knocked the very breath from me, my legs buckled. I collapsed. The world faded away into an abyss of darkness, and the last thing I heard was Mom’s frantic voice calling out to me. But it was too late.
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