Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

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He focused on the sound of his feet as they thundered across the pavement.  He had found a comfortable rhythm five minutes into his run and at the pace he was keeping, he would make it there with a few minutes to spare.  As it sometimes did when he was running, his mind began to wander.

“I’d almost given up hope on you.  Usually when I ask a boy to meet me, he shows up a few minutes early!”

Misty Vandiver, the most popular girl in his class.  She had it all; money, looks, friends…  There wasn’t a single thing that was out of her reach.  If she wanted it, she got it.  If she couldn’t get it, her daddy got it for her.  Sure, she was a spoiled little bitch.  There was that, but once you got past the tough exterior, she wasn’t all that bad.

“It’s okay Scott, I’m just teasing.  I’m just glad you came!”

“Yeah, that’s what she said,” he thought to himself with a chuckle.  He couldn’t help himself.  She was, after all, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  His heart, as well as parts unmentionable, ached for her during the lonely hours of the night.

He had replayed that day over in his head a thousand times.  Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still see her face just inches in front of his when they had shared that milkshake.  Her skin had looked so soft, so flawless, and even over the scent of bananas just beneath his nose, he could just detect the playful hints of perfume she was wearing.  It had reminded him of mint and roses.

She reached across the table and laid her right hand over his left.

Oh God!  Her hand had been so soft!  So delicate!  Even after she had taken it away from him, he could still feel its touch.  For several hours afterward, he knew what it must have been for those people experienced the phantom limb syndrome.  Only, in his case, it was her phantom hand running its fingers across his skin.

It wasn’t right for him to be thinking about her so, and not just because he was out of her league.  Nor was it because she was Tommy’s girl.  He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this because he was running to be with another girl, one he had promised to meet on time.

Six more minutes.

He could just see the theater in the distance.  It sat alone, a mile before him on a lonely road just on the edge of the main business district.  There had once been plans to develop further but the city had gone through some dark times a few years back, and even though they had managed to come out of them relatively unscathed, finances had to be redirected toward rebuilding their losses.

He could see her standing on the sidewalk just outside the main entrance and he involuntarily shuddered.  She was wearing a floral dress, one that wasn’t very flattering for a girl her size, and she stood with her hands on her hips as she watched him approach.  The look on her face suggested that she didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Three more minutes.