And You Can't Tell Anyone, chapter 4
With this Gnome Game, I do believe I've come up with the perfect plan. I know that technically, it's wrong. But no one will know. I can't help it. The way He moves around. I can see it in his eyes that he still thinks about it. So, really if we both think about it, then there's nothing wrong. We can keep it a secret. She won't have to know. If it all blows up in my face, I can take the blame and then He'll get off. Everybody wins. Well, maybe not me at the time.... But in time, He will come around. Back to me. I had him first.
The next morning, Wren woke to the buzzing of her alarm clock. Time to get up and start the day. Another dismal day. The wind blew so loudly she could hear it whistling around the house. Quickly, she shut off the alarm with her hazel eyes still shut. Just five more minutes, then she'd get up. Mike let out a gusty breath. His hand absently roamed up and down her side.
Darn it, if he's up, then there's no way I'm sleeping in.
Wren wanted to groan as Mike whispered, "C'mon, time to get going."
"Easy for you to say, you can come back and go to bed. I have to stay up."
"Too bad for you."
Wren tried to snuggle up to him even though he was propped up on one shoulder.
"You're just rubbing it in." When he craned his neck to kiss her, she laughed and slipped out of bed.
"So you're taking the fact that you still have to go to school out on me? That isn't fair." He smiled as she puttered around the room, packing up her things.
"Have to take it out on someone. And really the way you phrase it, it sounds like I'm beat on you with a pointy stick." She paused with a smile playing on her face. "If I had some hand cuffs... that would actually be...." She considered the results with a more wicked expression.
He returned her smile. "I'm not sure if Billie Joe is done borrowing them, but I do have some."
"I am definitely not going to be bored in my free class today." She started stuffing her binder into her backpack. "What with thinking about kinky stuff with my boyfriend, and planning how to rig up the 7-11, I won't have time for anything else."
"Speaking of the Game, I think I better warn you." He yawned and got out of bed. He was fully clothed--still in his black attire. He did this whenever he slept in Wren's room, (instead of sleeping clotheless) avoid going down the hall nude to get dressed in his room. "There are no boundaries for it. Property destruction is not a big deal. They won't stop just because you have to go to school."
"I'm not worried. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. I was thinking, to avoid giving them extra points, let's not go too many places together. You know, instead of both walking over the hole covered with a tablecloth and falling in." She commented, "Don't look." Obediently, Mike turned his head away as she got dresses. Stupid really, since he'd already seen her, but she still had this feeling of propriety that was only placated by asking him to turn away. As she finished buttoning her pants, she looked over at him. His blue eyes, twinkling with mischief, were already fixed on her, had been all along. "You're bad," she reprimanded.
"I know, but you chicks like that bad boy thing, so I'll keep it up." On average, Mike looked like anything but a bad boy. Despite the tattoos, and the earring, and the wife beater shirts--
Am I going to make a point here? Or am I going to have a refutation?
Mike, if you did not see the all the accessories, looked like an innocent (well, as innocent as any teenager can look), fun loving guy. Point being, he did not have the characteristic bad boy sneer and the sour attitude and that was fine. Wren picked up her pack, saying, "I prefer you just the way you are." She shuddered. "That sounded like some sort of toddlers' TV show."
She went for the door, but Mike leapt up and stopped her. "What are you thinking?" he hissed.
"Um, I don't know--Maybe trying to go get my shoes!" Wren shot sarcastically.
"That's our main exit; you don't think that it would be booby trapped?"
"You have to be kidding. This is not some kind of war. It's a game." She tried to push past him. Mike braced his arms across the door, shaking his head.
"Wren, you've got it exactly backwards. Those silly little tricks we'd spring on each other just for the hell of it were games. THIS is war. Believe me I've been through it. Promise me you won't go through this door and I'll prove it." He raised an eyebrow as he waited.
"I still think you're being melodramatic. But.... I promise not to go out."
He smiled, "Seal it with a kiss?" Wren nodded and gave him a little peck.
"Now, make with the proving that you're just overreacting."
Slowly, Mike pulled the door open. Nothing fell from the ceiling. Cautiously, he looked around. Wren sneezed, something smelled really strongly of soap.
"Geeze Mike, use enough soap when you bathe or what? I can even smell baby powder."
He shook his head, and pointed at the floor. There was a huge puddle of liquid dish soap right in front of the door, surrounded by a spray of, yes, baby powder. In the low light of the hall, it was tricky to see at first glance.
"See what I mean? If you'd gone rushing out there, you would've wiped out in all that. Now, step around it and let's go. They're busy. They've already done one prank, and we've done none."
Wren walked around the puddle and walked into the kitchen. It unnerved her that the kitchen was completely, spotlessly, clean. Tré and Billie Joe were sitting on the counter, obviously disappointed.
"Nice try guys," she told them.
"Not fair," Tré' grumped. "If you didn't have Mike, we would of got you."
"But you didn't so, sucks to be you."
She picked up two apples, breakfast and lunch, as she shoved on her shoes.
Billie Joe walked over and opened the door, "Ladies first."
"No, you go first." Mike roughly shoved him out the door. Contrary to their suspicions, there was no prank waiting for them outside. Billie Joe regained his balance and propped his hands on his hips.
"A wee bit paranoid?"
"Just a bit." Wren replied exasperatedly.
Billie Joe's car was also unscathed, nothing on the seats. Safely, they all piled in, ready to get to school. Wren sat with Mike, her mind already turning over a few ideas for the vehicle. Everyone was silent as the guitarist drove them to their prison. Everyone that is, except for Tré, who soon had everyone singing along to the song that never ends. At the parking lot, they went their separate ways. None of them had classes together in the morning.
Wren squeezed Mike's fingers, "See you at lunch." When she went to walk away, she noticed he still held her hand. "Uh, Mike, those fingers, they belong to me. I sort of need them."
As if he had forgotten where he was, he shook his head, "Oh. Sorry." He still did not free her. "Wren, keep your eyes open this week. I don't think you have a thing for being publicly humiliated."
"You're being a big worrier." She chided, but he remained with his eyes earnestly locked onto hers. Sighing, she stroked his cheekbone. "Don't worry Mike, I'll be wary. Really, I will." This seemed to satisfy him, for he let her hand go.
The next morning, Wren woke to the buzzing of her alarm clock. Time to get up and start the day. Another dismal day. The wind blew so loudly she could hear it whistling around the house. Quickly, she shut off the alarm with her hazel eyes still shut. Just five more minutes, then she'd get up. Mike let out a gusty breath. His hand absently roamed up and down her side.
Darn it, if he's up, then there's no way I'm sleeping in.
Wren wanted to groan as Mike whispered, "C'mon, time to get going."
"Easy for you to say, you can come back and go to bed. I have to stay up."
"Too bad for you."
Wren tried to snuggle up to him even though he was propped up on one shoulder.
"You're just rubbing it in." When he craned his neck to kiss her, she laughed and slipped out of bed.
"So you're taking the fact that you still have to go to school out on me? That isn't fair." He smiled as she puttered around the room, packing up her things.
"Have to take it out on someone. And really the way you phrase it, it sounds like I'm beat on you with a pointy stick." She paused with a smile playing on her face. "If I had some hand cuffs... that would actually be...." She considered the results with a more wicked expression.
He returned her smile. "I'm not sure if Billie Joe is done borrowing them, but I do have some."
"I am definitely not going to be bored in my free class today." She started stuffing her binder into her backpack. "What with thinking about kinky stuff with my boyfriend, and planning how to rig up the 7-11, I won't have time for anything else."
"Speaking of the Game, I think I better warn you." He yawned and got out of bed. He was fully clothed--still in his black attire. He did this whenever he slept in Wren's room, (instead of sleeping clotheless) avoid going down the hall nude to get dressed in his room. "There are no boundaries for it. Property destruction is not a big deal. They won't stop just because you have to go to school."
"I'm not worried. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. I was thinking, to avoid giving them extra points, let's not go too many places together. You know, instead of both walking over the hole covered with a tablecloth and falling in." She commented, "Don't look." Obediently, Mike turned his head away as she got dresses. Stupid really, since he'd already seen her, but she still had this feeling of propriety that was only placated by asking him to turn away. As she finished buttoning her pants, she looked over at him. His blue eyes, twinkling with mischief, were already fixed on her, had been all along. "You're bad," she reprimanded.
"I know, but you chicks like that bad boy thing, so I'll keep it up." On average, Mike looked like anything but a bad boy. Despite the tattoos, and the earring, and the wife beater shirts--
Am I going to make a point here? Or am I going to have a refutation?
Mike, if you did not see the all the accessories, looked like an innocent (well, as innocent as any teenager can look), fun loving guy. Point being, he did not have the characteristic bad boy sneer and the sour attitude and that was fine. Wren picked up her pack, saying, "I prefer you just the way you are." She shuddered. "That sounded like some sort of toddlers' TV show."
She went for the door, but Mike leapt up and stopped her. "What are you thinking?" he hissed.
"Um, I don't know--Maybe trying to go get my shoes!" Wren shot sarcastically.
"That's our main exit; you don't think that it would be booby trapped?"
"You have to be kidding. This is not some kind of war. It's a game." She tried to push past him. Mike braced his arms across the door, shaking his head.
"Wren, you've got it exactly backwards. Those silly little tricks we'd spring on each other just for the hell of it were games. THIS is war. Believe me I've been through it. Promise me you won't go through this door and I'll prove it." He raised an eyebrow as he waited.
"I still think you're being melodramatic. But.... I promise not to go out."
He smiled, "Seal it with a kiss?" Wren nodded and gave him a little peck.
"Now, make with the proving that you're just overreacting."
Slowly, Mike pulled the door open. Nothing fell from the ceiling. Cautiously, he looked around. Wren sneezed, something smelled really strongly of soap.
"Geeze Mike, use enough soap when you bathe or what? I can even smell baby powder."
He shook his head, and pointed at the floor. There was a huge puddle of liquid dish soap right in front of the door, surrounded by a spray of, yes, baby powder. In the low light of the hall, it was tricky to see at first glance.
"See what I mean? If you'd gone rushing out there, you would've wiped out in all that. Now, step around it and let's go. They're busy. They've already done one prank, and we've done none."
Wren walked around the puddle and walked into the kitchen. It unnerved her that the kitchen was completely, spotlessly, clean. Tré and Billie Joe were sitting on the counter, obviously disappointed.
"Nice try guys," she told them.
"Not fair," Tré' grumped. "If you didn't have Mike, we would of got you."
"But you didn't so, sucks to be you."
She picked up two apples, breakfast and lunch, as she shoved on her shoes.
Billie Joe walked over and opened the door, "Ladies first."
"No, you go first." Mike roughly shoved him out the door. Contrary to their suspicions, there was no prank waiting for them outside. Billie Joe regained his balance and propped his hands on his hips.
"A wee bit paranoid?"
"Just a bit." Wren replied exasperatedly.
Billie Joe's car was also unscathed, nothing on the seats. Safely, they all piled in, ready to get to school. Wren sat with Mike, her mind already turning over a few ideas for the vehicle. Everyone was silent as the guitarist drove them to their prison. Everyone that is, except for Tré, who soon had everyone singing along to the song that never ends. At the parking lot, they went their separate ways. None of them had classes together in the morning.
Wren squeezed Mike's fingers, "See you at lunch." When she went to walk away, she noticed he still held her hand. "Uh, Mike, those fingers, they belong to me. I sort of need them."
As if he had forgotten where he was, he shook his head, "Oh. Sorry." He still did not free her. "Wren, keep your eyes open this week. I don't think you have a thing for being publicly humiliated."
"You're being a big worrier." She chided, but he remained with his eyes earnestly locked onto hers. Sighing, she stroked his cheekbone. "Don't worry Mike, I'll be wary. Really, I will." This seemed to satisfy him, for he let her hand go.
