The Flames In Mind

I guess you can say I'm a bit of a cheater. Not in the terms, you're thinking of. Just the annoying one when something gets too serious and prefer to chicken out. It's similar to confronting someone which I have no qualms to doing. Although, if it's me - eh - I prefer not to deal with it hope it ends there. Somehow, I get the feeling I'm alone on the matter; when for Bee it's the same thing. I can tell that puts a little strain on our friendship that we, habitually, don't bother.

The same minds stick together, right?

Ignoring the stupid anxiousness bubbling up; then why am I feeling as if I'm being confronted?

Groaning, I push the thought aside and come into realization, it's now or never. Walking over to the couch where Denny lays, I yank the covers off.

My heart lurches, my skin jumps and my hair prickles as I bite down hard on my knuckle to prevent the threatening shriek to rip out of my mouth after throwing the blanket on the ground.

"What the fuck, Denny!?" I shudder in horror and take a huge backward - multiple steps in one - step towards the bar all after trying so hard to take my teeth, putting bruising dents in my tightened skin, off.

The literal red-headed cocksucker has his eyes wide open - bulging - and a ginormous creepy smile stretched along half his face; his braces-filled teeth gleaming in full display.

Imagine having someone who you thought sleeping only to have them wide awake, almost ready to jump you as you take the covers off. It's as if what you did was a carnal sin, just removing a blanket.

"Ah ha, finally got you!" He pounces off the couch, too giddy for my liking, and starts smacking his knee with his legs bent.

I look at my hand, not really feeling guilty for the fact I may have put some bruises in it to prevent me from screaming. I just said the first thing that came to mind.

I face him, "Nope, last I checked, I didn't scream."

"But it scared you did it?" He beams, I didn't answer. "You should've seen your face," he laughs loudly. If it wasn't for the music, everyone would be hearing that laugh.

"It was predictable," I replied sardonically.

"Then I wouldn't have scared you," he shot back and stands all 6'6 of him, being one of the tallest in the school isn't great on my neck. Or anyone for that matter. He starts heading towards me, which I thought, only for him to jump over the marbled counter and starts rummaging through the liquor shelves.

I shake my head after having a near panic attack from the familiar alcohol bottle tossed to the side I thought he was going to chug.

"You know what, fuck off, Den. How did you even know it was me?"

"I didn't," he mumbles, then grunts and groans, more glasses clattering around is heard before he exhales loudly as he stands.

"The fuck is ma 'Good Old Dad' beer?" His eyebrows furrows as he puts both of his hands on his hips, his legs in a bit of a wide stance.

I blink, "Your what now?" Now my eyes are wide in question.

"My 'Good Old Dad' beer," he stressfully repeats, "It is my beer."

I chortle, "Someone has a possessive daddy kink," I laugh.

"It's true!" He beams enthusiastically. My lips vibrate and then sort of goes into that spitting stutter before I laugh loudly at his remark.

"For Rennie?" I accidentally blurt in between laughs; it only took me a millisecond to absorb what I had said to stop laughing.

"Oops," I cringe visibly.

He waves his hand dismissively, "It's not like anyone does not notice, expect Rennie," he laughs lightly; that sounded too depressing for my ears.

Dennison isn't wrong about that, sadly. I won't lie about the thought of it being disturbingly morbid. Not guys on guys.

Just him and Rennie.

"Still, I shouldn't have said that," internally repenting for my mouth.

Denny smirks at me, "The notorious principal's daughter is actually considering someone's feelings. Since when did that happened?" He banters. I look at him as if he just grew an extra head then scoff.

"Can we just get this over with, and don't dodge me, you know what I mean," trying very hard to do that myself, fucker.

He jumps to sit on the marble counter and teasingly goes for the edge of his tight-fitted shirt.

"Sure all you have to do is sit on my lap, I take off my sh-" I glare at him hard to rethink before he speaks.

He raises his hands away from his already half-pulled up shirt, "Okay okay okay, don't get your straight panties twisted," that giddy filled smile creeping up towards his eyes again.

Rolling my eyes, "Thanks for the mere observation of my sexuality, be sure to put it on Grindr," I snip, somewhat annoyed.

Denny smirks but it falters as he speaks his next words, "I checked his room earlier while everyone was down here," he mumbles, picking on the edge of his shirt - his head downcast obviously not liking the topic of discussion.

"And...?" I press, hoping to get the answer I'm looking for.

Denny, roughly picks on his bottom lip with his teeth, noticing the little blood drawn as he licks it away. He blows raspberry and jumps off the counter, messing his once neatly kept hair.

"He has so many," Denny groans, gripping on his hair tightly. "It's the epitome of a porn rental library. All of them is labeled by numbers though so I can't decipher which is which," he breathes out all in one breath, a sharp wince marring across his features; white braces much more prominent.

A depressing laugh escapes my lips merely out of controversy. Most would have the basic assumption of the fact that Rennie, of course, is a high schooler with raging hormones who wants to get laid. And using porn videos as an outlet despite having a new girl every month. Which seems pretty basic.

But all rumors love their stardom whether it is one or not.

"Well, we don't have much time left," easily proposing what my next idea will be. Denny's eyes widen before shaking his head vigorously almost as if he's repelling something dangerous.

"You mean you," Denny remarks sharply. "He nearly caught me last time," his eyes wide, filled with urgency. "You know what I did and I'm not reliving that embarrassment."

"Denny, you do embarrassing things," I snicker.

"That was different," he playfully glares.

"Reciting a poem you wrote about your love for him in front of his face, especially with him being oblivious of it, is still embarrassing. Your face had no emotion yet it was red as fuck."

"I was pretending to be drunk. I gave my face a good smackin'," he joyfully boasts, so proud of his accomplishment.

"Sounds like you," I pat his shoulder to mock him.

"Exactly," he then winks and does the click-click sound with his tongue, both of his hands in shape of a pseudo gun as he flicks them both in time with the noise passing his mouth.

Chuckling, I check my phone and notice the time. I curse under my breath, the bonfire is starting any minute now.

"We gotta go." Turning around, I am about to run out the doors when Denny grips my wrist turning me to face him.

"I told you, I'm not going." I roll my eyes and huff.

"Fine, I'll go. Just keep him busy; stall him or whatever." Before Denny has the chance to reply, I pulled my wrist back and quickly walked out the doors - carefully - blending between the throngs of people. Checking my phone again and seeing I only have a couple minutes left, I look around one more time to see anything familiar.

I choked on my spit and tried to stay calm when all I saw was red.