I'm a bitch.
I'm the one and original girl that everyone envies. I'm a Queen B, with a C. I don't care what everyone thinks about me, because I don't care about anyone. Except...
Except when you look at me and don't search for designer apparel. When you look at me like you look at Willow, or Xander. Like a friend. No one ever looked at me like that.
Except when you roll your eyes at another one of my comments. When your mouth turns into a smile, and I try so hard not to smile back. I try to pay attention to the world, but you seem to have found your way into the center of mine.
Except when your hand brushes against mine and everything I was taught about staying in control melts away. I turn to hold onto the hand that burned its way under my skin, but you're already gone.
I hate them. I despise the ground they walk on. I hope they spontaneously explode. Every. One. Of. Them. No one cheats on me. He thought he could get away with kissing her. Like I wouldn't care. Like I would just go on and forget it. Like I wouldn't know that it was the end of being apart of their group. Having conversations that didn't depend on fashion. Being able to actually laugh at something, without faking it. Being able to actually smile. He made that end.
Except when you chase after me outside of the Bronze.
Like I wouldn't know it was the end of ever hearing you laugh.
Except when you talk to me. You try to get me to open up, and I know why. You don't want it to end either.
And you try. Bless you for trying, but I don't open up. No one knows about me, simply because I don't let them. Every popular girl has her secrets, and the only way they stay popular is knowing how to keep them.
Except when you look at me and Damn you for trying. Damn you, because it's working. I vaguely regester that I'm telling you that I want you. All I ever wanted. All I needed. When you'd look at me, I had to look away, afraid you'd know.
Except now you do know, and you pull me to the corner of the alleyway that's far away from Bronzian civilization. You kiss me, softly at first, and then harder, faster, trying to urge entrance into my mouth. But I try to be hesitant.
Except when I taste you and realize that you're all I ever want to taste. You raise a hand and take my breast in it, and I feel it like I've never felt anything before.
My hips are rocking on your knee that now in between my legs, and I'm starting to think you've done this before. My hands are busy trying to remove your clothing, but they're shaking too badly. You steady them, and lock your eyes with mine, a worried expression crossing them. I try to avoid the eye contact, because if I look at you I'll tell you why I'm shaking. I'm never uncomfortable; never shy.
Except when it comes to you. I wanted this for so long, and now if I move the wrong way or say the wrong thing I'm afraid this might go away. For the first time I don't know what to do. Should I be controlling? Should I be coy? Seductive? Should I try to be all the things I've seen you be every day?
You kiss me and for the first time when it comes to you, I don't care. My hand moves under your shirt, under your bra, rubbing your breast and you give out the most inticing moan. It was almost a purr and I melt when I feel your hands move up my legs and push my dress to my waist. My lips move from your mouth, down your neck and I can't wait any longer.
I unbutton your pants and put my hand in them, sliding my fingers through your folds. We start a rocking motion together when I enter my second finger inside you, watching your face tense and then relax. Loving it every time. My thumb puts pressure on your bundle of nerves and you start to kiss me all over until you scream my name.
We kiss until we can't breath, but it didn't seem long enough. None of it did.
You look at me and you ask me why. You tell me that I was the last person you'd ever picture here, and I realize that you're right. There's no logical reason for me wanting you so much. No reason at all for us to have done what we just did, or to ever do it again.
Except...that I love you.