for all intents and purposes. Sometimes when I’m alone, I try to not let my brain even go there. She’s just a friend, she’s just a friend! It’s laughable, really. Who am I kidding? Only myself, I suspect. If my parents ever found out about my feelings for Bailey I’m sure they would kick me out on my ass and send me back to the shit hole I was living in before they rescued me.
Breaking up this family is the last thing I want to do. So I shove this insane need to touch her way down to the depths of my despair.
She must never know how much I really feel for her. Never.
To shake off some of my aggression, I decide to go for a run before school. The rest of the house is silent as I slip out the back door of the kitchen. It’s a beautiful spring day and I pound the pavement with everything I have. Keeping fit has always been an obsession of mine, but it also allows me to escape and think more clearly when I’m having a crisis about Bailey. There is no way she suspects anything is amiss. We playfully interact the way we always do, although she has no idea that each time she grabs my arm, or accidentally touches my leg that it feels like a thousand hot pokers have just kissed my skin. Her touch is electric and it has to stop before I do or say something I’ll regret.
Panting hard, I push myself further and faster. I get as far as Fort Reno Park before I realize I’m going to have to high tail it home if I’m going to make it back to get to school on time. Sweat pours down my body and I strip my shirt off, wiping my forehead with it as I keep pace. I tuck the shirt into the back of my running shorts, my half-naked figure earning me quite a few second glances as I run through suburbia.
A car rolls past me and I hear a stereo blasting out pop tunes while a couple of girls cat-call from their windows. I’m used to the attention of females, and consciously know that I’m easy on the eye.
But I hate it. I only want one girl to look at me that way, but I know it’s a pipe dream that will never happen. Ignoring the attention, I push my feet to move faster.
Home looms into view. The house is the kind I’d like to raise a family in one day. The American flag hangs proudly outside and the white weatherboards lend character to the house. There’s a big bay window at the side of the two story building, where I quite often catch Bailey sitting.
She’s there now, curled up with a book and a bright yellow sundress on. Her hair falls forward over her face, so I can’t catch her freckles or blue eyes. I’ve stopped. I’m literally rooted to the spot on the lawn just outside the window. My chest is expanding in and out as I struggle to catch my breath, not just from the run, but because I’m now gaping at the one woman I was just trying miserably to get out of my head.
Something in the pit of my belly stirs when she looks up from her book. Her eyes drink me in and move slowly from my shorts which are hung low on my hips, up towards my face. Moving towards the window, I catch the color that fills her cheeks. Her eyes dart away momentarily, abashed at staring so openly at me. I wonder briefly if she’s put off by seeing her sweaty brother in his running gear, but something inside tells me she’s not.
Standing on the other side of the window pane, I watch her intently, searching for any sign that she could possibly feel the same way.
Thoughts of her naked body fill my mind and I feel myself becoming aroused in my shorts. Think dead puppies, think dead puppies! It’s not working, and I’m going to need to tear myself away before my arousal becomes too obvious. Turning to leave, I nearly jump out of my skin when her hand slams against the glass.
She holds it pressed firmly against the window, the heat from her palm misting the glass and revealing her finger prints.
Her blue eyes meet my dark, questioning ones before she looks at her own hand, willing my eyes to follow hers there. Tentatively, I raise my hand
Breaking up this family is the last thing I want to do. So I shove this insane need to touch her way down to the depths of my despair.
She must never know how much I really feel for her. Never.
To shake off some of my aggression, I decide to go for a run before school. The rest of the house is silent as I slip out the back door of the kitchen. It’s a beautiful spring day and I pound the pavement with everything I have. Keeping fit has always been an obsession of mine, but it also allows me to escape and think more clearly when I’m having a crisis about Bailey. There is no way she suspects anything is amiss. We playfully interact the way we always do, although she has no idea that each time she grabs my arm, or accidentally touches my leg that it feels like a thousand hot pokers have just kissed my skin. Her touch is electric and it has to stop before I do or say something I’ll regret.
Panting hard, I push myself further and faster. I get as far as Fort Reno Park before I realize I’m going to have to high tail it home if I’m going to make it back to get to school on time. Sweat pours down my body and I strip my shirt off, wiping my forehead with it as I keep pace. I tuck the shirt into the back of my running shorts, my half-naked figure earning me quite a few second glances as I run through suburbia.
A car rolls past me and I hear a stereo blasting out pop tunes while a couple of girls cat-call from their windows. I’m used to the attention of females, and consciously know that I’m easy on the eye.
But I hate it. I only want one girl to look at me that way, but I know it’s a pipe dream that will never happen. Ignoring the attention, I push my feet to move faster.
Home looms into view. The house is the kind I’d like to raise a family in one day. The American flag hangs proudly outside and the white weatherboards lend character to the house. There’s a big bay window at the side of the two story building, where I quite often catch Bailey sitting.
She’s there now, curled up with a book and a bright yellow sundress on. Her hair falls forward over her face, so I can’t catch her freckles or blue eyes. I’ve stopped. I’m literally rooted to the spot on the lawn just outside the window. My chest is expanding in and out as I struggle to catch my breath, not just from the run, but because I’m now gaping at the one woman I was just trying miserably to get out of my head.
Something in the pit of my belly stirs when she looks up from her book. Her eyes drink me in and move slowly from my shorts which are hung low on my hips, up towards my face. Moving towards the window, I catch the color that fills her cheeks. Her eyes dart away momentarily, abashed at staring so openly at me. I wonder briefly if she’s put off by seeing her sweaty brother in his running gear, but something inside tells me she’s not.
Standing on the other side of the window pane, I watch her intently, searching for any sign that she could possibly feel the same way.
Thoughts of her naked body fill my mind and I feel myself becoming aroused in my shorts. Think dead puppies, think dead puppies! It’s not working, and I’m going to need to tear myself away before my arousal becomes too obvious. Turning to leave, I nearly jump out of my skin when her hand slams against the glass.
She holds it pressed firmly against the window, the heat from her palm misting the glass and revealing her finger prints.
Her blue eyes meet my dark, questioning ones before she looks at her own hand, willing my eyes to follow hers there. Tentatively, I raise my hand
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