Five Years by squealingkiddos

VIEWS: 15 PAGES: 4

									Two-thirty P.M. read the alarm clock. Two-thirty. P.M. I must have been exhausted beyond
belief, because for me to wake up at such a ridiculously late time was ludicrous. Apparently,
though, I was not the only one; still lying next to me, snoring quietly, was my boyfriend
Sebastian. With covers up to his chin and his mouth slightly ajar, I smiled as I thought of how
precious he looked in such a vulnerable state. Looking down at the foot of the bed, I noticed the
wiggling of his toes as they stuck out from the sheets. At five-foot-ten and only one-hundred-
and-thirty pounds, he did not take up much room in the bed, and thankfully that meant he
wouldn‟t hog up the sheets, like my past boyfriend would do, much to my dismay.

As not to wake him, I carefully tore the covers from off my body and slid my way toward the
edge of the bed. After jerking my head back toward him to make sure the coast was still clear, I
reached my legs down to the ground and sprung to my feet. The thick, plush carpet felt good
against my naked feet as I delicately paced along it.

Not more than several feet away from the bed, I heard rustling of sheets and a tired, muffled
voice that was barely audible, say, “Paige, come back to bed.”

Ignoring it, I walked into the bathroom to go pee -- because I needed to go badly! After finally
relieving my bladder and washing my hands, I was debating whether to get ready for the rest of
the day, or go back to sleep in my comfortable bed that I just knew was calling my name.

The bed won.

Being back in it, my back one with the mattress and the sheets entrapping my body, was the best
choice. Even though I had a lot of stuff to do today, I didn‟t want to do any of it. I wanted to just
lay in bed all day, like a lazy bum. Sebastian, too, was satisfied with my choice. As soon as my
body hit the mattress, I heard him thank me. I took a quick look over at him and noticed that he
was smiling. Just what I was hoping for -- a sweet, soothing smile from the guy I was delighted
to call my own.

“Last night was fun,” Sebastian said as he grabbed my hand beneath the sheets and held it. A
smile lit up his face as he stole a glance at me.

“Yeah.”

It wasn‟t much to say, but what more could I say when how I felt was different from how he did?
After all, I wasn‟t too thrilled, to say the least, about last night. In a way, I was more regretful
than not. That was a stupid move for a girl who was only fifteen. Sebastian was twenty and
worked in construction, and yet here I was dating him and not thinking much of the
consequences that would come about from it.

“You liked it, huh?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

He narrowed his brows. “You guess?”
I nodded.

The frown on his face was all I needed to know he was disappointed with my response. I really
let Sebastian down, that‟s for sure. But, I didn‟t know what to say or what to do, so, to make
matters worse, I just lay there, looking over at him, emotionless. It only made things worse.

“So, it meant nothing?”

“It meant something,” I defended. “Of course it meant something.”

“Like what?”

“I love you, you know that.”

“I don‟t know anymore, Paige. I don‟t know anymore...”

“Well, I do.”

Nothing.

“Do you, Sebastian?”

No response. Instead, he looked away from me and went back to sleep.

“Sebastian?”

Notta.

“Sebastian? Answer me!”

“Five years,” he hissed.

“Huh?”

“Five years.”

“What does that even mean?”

“We‟re five years apart.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Wake me up in an hour, okay?”

“Why?”
“‟Cause --”

“‟Cause what?”

“I gotta get home. Do work „round the house. Shit like that.”

AKA, I need a fucking break from you, Paige. You‟re getting on my nerves and I need to get the
hell outta here before I explode. That‟s what that really meant.

Last night was a regret.
----------------------------------------

I remember when Sebastian and I first met; it was a month ago -- August. We met at the football
field at my high school. At night, of all times. He was on the bleachers waiting -- waiting for
some guy, apparently. Because of my goal of trying to lose a couple pounds, I took to running a
couple laps on the track field at night, and thus so, I had just finished with my run and was going
to the bleachers to take a break before walking home. This place was a total ghost town at night,
and so I never expected someone to be here, but instead, I took it as a sign of hope that I was
going to meet someone new -- just like I wanted to do before school started up.

Instead of being the one to initiate conversation with him, he sprung to his feet and ran toward
me, and instead of shaking my hand or hugging me -- or anything that a normal person would do,
he shoved me to the ground and held me down. With his right hand, he reached into his pocket
and pulled out a handgun. “You got my shit, bitch?”

Here I was, thrust to the ground and being held down against my will by a psycho guy with a gun
in his hands. When I didn‟t respond to his question, he pointed the muzzle against my temple and
whispered bitterly, “Do you, bitch?!”

That was the horror story of our first encounter -- the meeting. Thankfully he wasn‟t the psycho I
was thinking he was, and once he realized that I wasn‟t the one with ”his shit,” he let me go and
apologized more times than I could count. To make it up to me, he offered to take me out to
dinner, and stupidly enough, I took up his offer. The person who he was supposed to meet never
ended up coming -- and that person had already been an hour late, so he instead took me home in
his car, which was a black 1969 Dodge Challenger that was suped-up and given a very modern
look to its interior.

It wasn‟t until we were finally in the car that I was able to make out his appearances. And that
was when I kind of regretted getting in the car with him. Sebastian had thick black hair that was
medium-long and backcombed and gelled and going every which way, and on top of that, he had
streaks of pillarbox red streaked throughout it. And his face; he had a metal ring on each side of
his bottom lip, along with an eyebrow piercing and nose ring on his left nostril. Worn on his
body was a tank top with blood streaked across its dirty white fabric. Black jeans fit as snug over
his skinny hips and thighs as a condom. A fresh pair of black converse on his feet were the only
redeeming qualities of his dress.

Once I was safely home, I thanked the guy for a ride and entered my number into his phone.
Before I left his car, he grabbed at my hand and told me that he would text me goodnight, and
then would call me in the afternoon to schedule the time for us to go out to dinner. All I knew
was that I was so freaking happy to be out of his car and into the safety of my house!

								
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