Yay! Finally got the second chapter up. Just kind of drabbling in fluff right now.
Love. Hope looked up the word in the dictionary that night. There were rows and rows of definitions. How could sexual desire and passionate affection be the same thing? And what do sexual intercourse and getting a zero in tennis have anything to do with each other? Hope began to bang her head on the wall hopelessly as a last resort, hoping that something would come to her about her feelings for pretty-boy. They certainly were not like what she had felt for Raymond-or, Ray Ray as she had affectionately called him. They were on a whole different level, like black and white, and the worst part was, she didn’t even know what his name was. She wasn’t paying attention when her parents had made introductions; she was too distracted by that shaggy brown hair, messily thrown in his eyes, those big, blue eyes, enough to search her soul.
Hope turned on the radio next to her bed and began to dance, something that she often did when she had no idea what else to do. She was dressed only in a gray camisole, and blue panties, her long legs swaying and twisting to the upbeat pop music. She spun and twirled, imagining she was in the arms of pretty-boy, his tan hands caressing her face. Hope fake swooned and lied back on her bed. She giggled, realizing that this was something that she had not done in a long time, this boy-day-dreaming thing. It was something that those boy-crazy girls did, the ones who were always giggling and blushing. Acting like that was way too immature for Hope. She thought that boys were mostly a waste of time. Mostly. Looking over at her clock, Hope realized it was nearing ten thirty, so she headed to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.
Hope sauntered towards the bathroom, still bouncing, and opened the door. Standing before her was Pretty-boy himself. In the flesh. Standing in her bathroom. Hope could barely breathe, nor did she remember that she only in her panties. No words escaped her mouth as she quickly tried to make up something cute and catchy to say, but nothing came. They simply stood there staring at each other until Hope stuttered, “Why the hell are you in my bathroom?” Hope slapped a hand over her mouth. She wondered how she had gotten so rude, but Pretty-boy simply laughed, as if it had been a joke.
“I’m staying in the guest room remember? And seeing as this bathroom is the closest, I thought that it would be okay to use, I hope I haven’t upset you beautiful.” A hot blush ran over Hope.
“No…no, of course not. I’ll just leave you alone then.” Hope ran away as fast as she possibly could, her heart beating out of her chest, ignoring Pretty-boy’s calls after her. She didn’t stop moving until she was safe in her bed, and all of her naked body parts were modestly covered by her fluffy duvet. No boy had ever seen so much of her. Ever. Was that what love is? Was it someone who sees you naked, and instead of making a perverted comment, simply states how beautiful you are? If it wasn’t, then Hope didn’t know what love was.
