Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ian and I sit in his living room listening to Panic At The Disco. That was one of his favorite bands along with Hollywood Undead, 3OH!3, Boys Like Girls, and a few countless others. So far that’s all he listened to I’ve noticed since moving in his home three weeks ago. I had nowhere else to go since my parents were in Hawaii on vacation and my friends were all in college. Either way, Ian would have been my first choice. We’ve been great friends since birth—he’s always been there for me and I’ve always been there for him. Since being around Ian for nearly twenty years of my life it was inevitable that I grow a tremendous crush on him. I’d see him every day thanks to the fact we went to the same school and were neighbors. Once he dropped out of school I hardly ever saw him because he moved to his current location. I finished school and met my boyfriend of two years, David. Unfortunately the bastard was cheating on me then kicked me out! Which is why I now live with Ian. I called him the night I had to pack and asked him if he knew of a place where I could stay until I found a place of my own. That’s when he suggested I move in with him. Ian lived alone and thought it be a great idea to for me to come stay for a while. Still wearing his work uniform, Ian sits in his chair with his feet propped up on the corner of the coffee table writing a song for his band to play. His facial expression says that he’s deep in thought. Every now and then he’d pick up his guitar to test a few notes that match his lyrics before sitting it back down, scrawling the notes and lyrics down. Quietly I lay sprawled out on his sofa, reading a nice little romantic fantasy-fiction. Whenever Ian tested his ideas I would pause on my reading to listen in. “…With a kiss on the cheek she’ll be down on her knees begging please, baby, please…” were the lyrics he’d just sang as he strummed the musical instrument. kocaeli escort “What kind of song are you writing?” I ask curiously. “It’s a song I dedicate to my ex, Lexi,” he smirked. “She’s a dick-hopper.” I knew Lexi; she and I had been best friends in ninth grade year. After school she’d come over to my house, and I swear it was just so she’d discover my secrets because one time she asked me how I felt about Ian. My dumbass filled her in on the crush I had on him since I was eight. She promised to take that secret to the grave, but then a week later they begin talking and it didn’t take long before they hooked up. For a year and a half they were together before he dropped out and I was no longer interested in him. Over the next year or so after they broke up I heard he always threw parties, got drunk, and slept with numerous girls. I believed it except for how many girls he slept with; Ian wasn’t that stupid or low. Laughing at his comment I blurt, “Yeah, I know.” “You two were friends weren’t you?” Ian asks while he continues to strum his guitar. I shrug. “I guess you could say so.” “Well then maybe you can tell me why she’s such a whore,” he says. We both fall in a fit of laughter. Once all laughter was done Ian went back to writing. After a few moments of silence, he asks, “Why would you associate yourself with someone like that, Ani? I mean you are far from a girl like Lexi. Too sweet, too caring, honest, and loyal… A girl like you having a friend like her equals trouble.” With that I just shrug. In all truth, Lexi did cause me trouble. The only reason I hung around her was because she was pretty and popular, everything I wasn’t, and I thought if I hung around her I’d be able to change that. Well, to say I wasn’t pretty was a lie—I just unwanted when it came to guys. I suppose standing next to Lexi backfired with that subject. But once she and I stopped talking kocaeli escort bayan I met David. It felt like hours had flown on by as we sat there doing our own thing. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and I was beginning to feel stomach pains starting in my empty stomach. A growl rolled through my stomach causing Ian to look over at me. “Hungry?” “Yes, very,” I admitted. Standing up then stretching his muscles before relaxing them, Ian came to stand directly in front of me. “How does a home made meal sound?”————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— In all the time I’d been staying with Ian never once had I seen him cook. For dinner he made grilled garlic chicken with au gratin rice and dinner rolls. As we ate we laughed and joked about silly things from stupid tv shows, actors, songs, and people we knew. After we ate I thanked Ian for the meal. “That was really good. Haven’t had a home cooked meal in ages,” I compliment him. Ian just shoots me his famous eat-your-heart-out smile that had got me as a kid. He grabs both of our plates and says something about it being his turn to do dishes tonight. Carrying the plates over to the sink I’m quick to object. “No, you cooked tonight. I’ll do dishes.” “I don’t mind doing them, Ani.” We argued for a moment about who was washing dishes. The whole time we did this I watched how happier he seemed to be. Before tonight Ian had looked down like he was taking beatings from life, but not now. The change in his mood had me wondering if it had anything to do with me? That eight-year old girl’s hope of him liking me filled my mind and now I knew that those feelings weren’t completely gone, just dim. “How ’bout I wash and you dry?” “Fine,” I allowed. Hopping up on the counter, Ian handed me a towel and got to work. By the time we were done washing and drying dishes Ian turned the stereo up, still blaring izmit escort Panic At The Disco, and I went to swap my jeans in for my favorite pair of girl joe-boxer shorts then came back and reclaimed my spot on the counter.Ian had changed as well; traded in his work uniform for a black beader and a matching pair of Dickies pants that he let sag a bit below his boxer’s waistband. They were, surprisingly, white. Ian in all black was a sight my eyes couldn’t look away from. Ian is skinny, but with a rock-hard eight pack and muscular forarms, which the beader hugged to give me a vague view of their outline. He was tall, towering over me at five foot ten—I was five foot five and a half. I envied Lexi for being able to touch his body when she was nowhere near worthy enough. Walking in to the kitchen, Ian stops. His hazel eyes trail down my body then back up to my face. I laughed at the look plastered on his face. A mixture of recognition and surprise is how he looked. It had my body temperature rising. “When in hell did you get the body of a model and start showing skin?” “The body I always had, but I didn’t start showing skin ’til I was in my senior year, which reminds me. You weren’t at my graduation!” I give him a humorous pointed glare. “Oh, sorry,” he shrugged. “But when we were kids you always wore one-piece bathing suits, sweaters, jeans, long sleeves… Hell! Whenever I stayed the night you’d wear a sweater and sweat pants, not to mention socks!” It shocked me that he remembered all of that when I had such a hard time remembering my fashion trend back then. I knew I concealed myself but I didn’t recall what I concealed myself with. “Damn. I missed a lot didn’t I?” Shrugging my shoulders, starting a case of nervous swinging of the legs, I say, “Lexi made sure you didn’t have time for me anymore.” “Bitch…” we say at the same time and laugh. Suddenly, Ian came over to where I sat on the counter and stood right in front of me. Lifting my chin to gaze in to those warm hazel brown eyes of his, he says, “I’m sorry about her. And I’m sorry about David. If I knew it wouldn’t hurt you, I’d beat his ass for causing you so much pain.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Bir yanıt bırakın