Young Writers Society

Kiwisatsuma · 2010-07-21T16:07:14Z

Well, this is a product of me being a hopeless romantic and listening to too much Taylor Swift. Rated 12+ for one use of bad language. Criticism is muchly muchly appreciated :) Jenny and Sam sit curled up on the sofa, warm and comfortable while outside the rain pounds against the window. "Some storm, huh?" he says, stroking her auburn hair absentmindedly. "Have you ever danced in a thunderstorm?" she asks, sitting up with that spark in her eye that means she's planning some madcap scheme. "Why would I?" Sam replies suspiciously. "They're wet. And loud." "Yeah, but it's so romantic. And I want to see the lightning." She jumps up and draws the curtain back, peering outside. "Aww, come and sit down, Jen. The pizza's nearly ready." "You and your pizza," she rolls her eyes. "Come on, haven't you heard the thunder?" As she speaks another streak flashes momentarily, followed immediately by the crash of thunder. "It's overhead!" "Y'know, funnily enough I have," Sam says mildly. His stomach rumbles. "If you want to dance, go dance. Have fun." She shakes her head. "I want to dance with you ." "In a thunderstorm?" "In a thunderstorm." "Fine then." He relents, as he always does, and Jenny's face lights up as she grabs his hands and drags him into the corridor. Sam reaches for an anorak, but she continues dragging him along. "Hello? It's soaking out there!" "Stop complaining, you wimp. You look sexy in a wet shirt." She gives him a wicked smile and pulls the front door key off the hook. He blushes a little and then pauses. "Hey, is that why you spilt ribena on me at lunch break last week?" "Oh, shush, you." Jenny says, pushing open the door. The driving rain hits them in the face and and a gust of wind bangs the door against the wall. Sam gives Jenny a pleading look. "You know those puppy dog eyes don't work on me. Come on!" She dashes off down the driveway, dress billowing around her knees. Sam stares after her helplessly for a few seconds and then hurries after her, closing the door behind him. He steps out into the street and sees Jenny standing under a streetlight, lit up by its orange glow, with heavy drops of rain splattering onto her. She's staring out at the skyline, her lips curving up into a smile. Sam is happy to stand there just watching her, and the blue-white forks of lightning reflected in her flickering eyes. Thunder rumbles above them and it seems to Sam that Jenny and the storm are made of the same stuff: excitement and madness and electricity, fire and water at the same time. He wants to tell her this but he can't put it into words, so he mumbles, "You look beautiful." She jumps and turns round, and then beams at him. "Come on then, let's dance!" She steps up close, wrapping herself around him with her hair streaming over his chest and slowly they stumble around. They need music, Sam decides, and he begins to hum the first thing that comes into his head. Their footsteps synchronise and after a few more steps Jenny looks up at him suddenly. "Sammy, are you singing Lady Gaga?" she asks, giggling. "No!" he says hurriedly, feeling the tips of his ears go pink. "You are! It's okay, we can both sing!" she says, laughing more, and he laughs too in spite of everything. "Just dance, it'll be okay," she sings, loudly and wildly out of key, her voice bouncing off the paving slabs. "Just dance, spin that record babe," he joins in reluctantly, his voice gradually rising in volume. She grabs his hand and spins round and round, and he wraps an arm around the lamp post and spins around it, feeling a rush of elation and gratitude that he has Jenny, wonderful, insane Jenny, with whom he can prance around like an idiot with on a stormy night. She stops spinning and stumbles dizzily into his arms. "You're brilliant, you know that Sammy?" she whispers in his ear, lurching crazily. "Everyone else thinks I'm a nutter but you're different." "You are a nutter," he replies. "You're a total nutter." She tilts her head up slowly and he puts an arm around her and their lips meet, bumping together awkwardly. There are no fireworks, no crazy feeling of being lifted off his feet, just a fierce joy rising in Sam's chest and nothing exists except him and her and the feel of Jenny's mouth on his, Jenny's tongue slipping his teeth, Jenny's soft little giggle into his mouth, and it makes him clutch her shoulders harder and pull her closer because he doesn't want this to end, ever. I love you , he thinks, but he doesn't say it because it's too soon and he doesn't want to spoil this moment when it's the most perfect thing he's experienced in all his fifteen years. The rain pelts down harder than ever and by now they're both soaked through and frozen to the core, but Sam doesn't care because he can feel Jenny warm and soft and solid against him, curving into him, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. In this moment Sam knows, he knows it with a conviction clearer than anything else he's felt, that he'll follow Jenny wherever she chooses to drag him, even if she wants to climb Mount Kilimunjaro or something ridiculous like that, because only she makes him feel this way, drunk on happiness and fizzing all over. Eventually, too soon, they break away for air and Sam sighs a little and looks at his watch. "We'd better get back," he says regretfully, so they hurry home and slink inside like wet dogs, leaving a trail of damp footsteps on the carpet. Jenny sniffs, and opens the kitchen door and a cloud of black smoke escapes. They share a look of horror. Sam slowly mouths a long, ominious, oh as he realises that the foul burning smell is the pizza that he put in forty minutes ago. He opens the oven door, waving his arm frantically to dispel more smoke, and stares at the charred, blackened thing that was once a pepperoni pizza. "Well, that's tea gone..." he says, turning to look at Jenny for what to do next. She raises an eyebrow. "Don't ask me, doofus," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I said we should have sandwiches." Sam looks at Jenny, and then at the pizza, and then back at Jenny, and starts to laugh. She joins in, making a tiny little snorting noise, which just makes him laugh more until Sam can't take it any more and he sinks to the floor, sides aching. Jenny flops down on top of him, her elbow sticking into his stomach and they sit there, the kitchen still filled with smoke, laughing so much it hurts. The doorbell rings. "Shit," Sam says. "That's Mum." Jenny clambers off him, struggling to disentangle their limbs, and hurriedly opens the windows and shuts the oven door. The door opens and Sam's mum bustles in. "I hope you've been good, kids - what is that smell? Samuel Davidson, have you set the house on fire?" She sets her shopping bags down on the hallway, frowning at the trail of footprints leading to the kitchen, and fixes her eyes on Sam. "Um..." Sam stares at the floor. "It was my fault, Mrs. Davidson," Jenny interrupts. Sam's mum switches her glare to Jenny, who looks back unafraid. "Erm, we put the pizza in the oven but then I remembered I'd left my, I'd left my scarf outside so we had to go look for it, but it'd got blown away and it took longer than we thought and when we got back the pizza was burning." "Well," Sam's mum says, giving them both a 'you two are idiots, I should have expected that I suppose' look which makes Sam squirm, "You'd better phone your parents, Jenny. And take those wet shoes off, both of you." Sam and Jenny head gratefully down the hallway. "You could've just told her the truth." Sam points out, tugging at his trainers ineffectually. Jenny gives him a secret smile. "It was our thing. You can't tell anyone else about it, otherwise it stops being so special." She tugs on her raincoat. "I'll catch the bus, Mrs. Davidson," she calls to the kitchen, where Sam's mum is unpacking the groceries. "See you tomorrow Sammy." They pause awkwardly for a second then she leans in and pecks him swiftly on the lips. "See you Jen." Sam grins at her and puts his hands in his pockets. Jenny waves and whirls out the door, leaving Sam standing on the staircase. "So, did you have a nice time?" his mum calls. "She seems like a nice girl." "Oh, yeah," he calls back. "Jenny's... Jenny's.... Jenny's awesome." Memories of them dancing, kissing, arguing, laughing, come to mind and he finds himself still struggling to process the realisation he had earlier. I'm in love with her. I'm in love with the most deranged, bossy, wonderful girl I've ever met. And... I think - I hope - I think she likes me. --- Thanks for reading :smt001

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Scarlet15

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Tue Jun 14, 2011 9:07 pm

Scarlet15 says... · Tue Jun 14, 2011 9:07 pm

I LOVE this!!

Feel free to check out my pieces but they aren't that good. :/

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