BRAD'S P. O. V.~|~.V .O .P S'DARB
The tip of my nose touched her's in such a delicate way that it made me think of a hummingbird. A light hover, just barely touching. I looked into her icy blue eyes and I saw something. I saw something. It wasn't hate. Or anger. Not like normal. I saw something.
She had a piece of copper hair falling in her eye. I reached up and brushed it behind her ear. She blushed. I couldn't help but smile. The way the light fell on her face softened her features and her icy blue eyes became a softer, azure color.
There was something inside me that said, now. I thought I didn't know what that meant, but, apparently, I did. I leaned closer to her and my lips brushed her's, soft and sweet, like a flower. I was surprised at myself.
I was even more surprise when she kissed me back. Almost like fire, I guess. I slipped my fingers into Trumpet's, trying to be stealthy, but clearly that wasn't working. I don't know why she wasn't hitting me, punching me, slapping me, something.
I guess the lights melted away, through a sepia filter. The only thing that wasn't sepia was her eyes, that soft azure and full of burning desire.
Just her, me, and this moment. I was blind to anything that wasn't her, deaf to anything but my own twittering heartbeat. A bird that was being scared to death was clearly trying to escape my ribcage.
I would have jumped out of my skin if I wasn't so wrapped up in the moment. Forget wrapped up, I was entangled in sticky spiderwebs.
She acted like I was more important than oxygen, like I was her only tether to the world. It made me feel powerful, almost hungry and predatory. Scary. I felt scary. And that scared me.
"Oh, woah!" I knew it was West. Only he would go into a practice room without knocking first. And his voice is unmistakable. "Ooooo-kay! This is awkward! Really, really bad!" I didn't care. Then Trumpet jumped away and I got a little bit cold.
She was red. Like, redder than that kid who can't play high notes without having a stroke. Like, RED. She was beautiful, even blushing. I just kinda shrugged at West, who was giving me a classic 'Brad-You-Moron' look.
"At least we know you two sure can fake things, huh?" West smirked. "And look at how red she is! It's almost cute."
Trumpet gave him a glare. If looks could kill, we'd need some bleach, a body bag, and a deserted area. And shovels. Definitely shovels. I just laughed. God, this is funny. "Brad and Trumpet, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..." West began.
"Ah, but you are wrong. We are clearly in a practice room." I interrupted, laughing. West rolled his eyes and started over. "Brad and Trumpet, sittin' in a practice room." He fumbled over his last two words, then broke down laughing. "Doesn't have the same ring to it." I smiled, regardless.
"So what are you in here for?" I asked. No trombone in hand, just plain ole West. "Well, Remember Saras? The big dude? You'll never guess who's asking for you!" West laughed. I rolled my eyes. This guy!
Saras was the leader of the Trumpet Cult until Riley beat him in hand-to-hand combat. Literally. Initiation into the Cult is harsh, to say less-than-least. "Why does he want me?" I asked. "Why did he send you to get me?"
"Well, he didn't. I accidentally overheard while I was listening at the door." West said, his face a mask of seriousness. Trumpet poorly stifled a giggle. West gave her an uneasy glance. My mouth tightened. "Well, crap." I said simply.
"I also accidentally eavesdropped that he was mad at you for not joining and he'd rather you be leader than Riley. He's out for blood, Brad." West bit his lip and shifted his weight.
"Blood? My blood?" I whispered, shocked. Has it really gone this far? Trumpet went from sort of laughing to horrified. I don't think she even knew she was doing it, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. West's eyes darted from my face to my hand, then back to my face. How lovely.
"What are we gonna do?" Trumpet whispered. I don't think she saw it, but West's lips tightened. Unrequited love, I thought. I have to admit, I could tell my best friend was jealous of this girl I had because of a business arrangement.
"Brad shouldn't walk around unarmed." West said, rubbing his right wrist with his left middle finger and his left pointer finger. Man, he was either really mad or really nervous. I stuck my free hand in my pocket. "I have a pencil." I announced. The one day I leave my pocket knife at home...
"Then you're on your own." West said coldly, and his face was tight. If I learned two things from Randall, I learned to play the trumpet and how to read body language. West was not a happy camper. Or a happy anything, for that matter. West threw one last razor sharp glare at Trumpet's fingers laced into mine, looked me right in the eye, and left the room.
"The cults...they mean business." Trumpet said. I don't know what I was doing, but I pulled her to me, using her as a lifeline to stay grounded in reality.
A lot of people would think I'm moving too fast, but this was my dream girl. I've liked her forever. I don't care who she was, but now that she's mine, I want to make the most of this before it's over, because I knew it would end. It would end quickly.
I put my other arm around her shoulders and pressed my lips to the top of her head in a comfortable, yet intimate hug. Her coppery hair smelled like a warm spring day. A little bit of citrus, sweet flowers, and a surprising nip of rotor oil. I had no idea about that last part, but somehow it fit. So pretty, so sweet, so fiery, so Trumpet.
She buried her face in my shoulder, and I hugged her tighter. God, we were forced to grow up so fast, so harshly. I guess that's how we have to be, all because of the cults. Because of Randall. We're not twenty, we're twelve! Thirteen, at the most. Why did Randall do this to us?
I don't know how long it was, but I moved. I hadn't wanted to break away, but I couldn't just make her fall for me. I may be a jerk, but I wouldn't do that to anyone. Ever.
I don't know how long the Middle School Mafia will give me. Hours? Minutes? Seconds?
Trumpet squirmed away from me. She stood on her tip toes and kissed me on the cheek. That's when I knew. Trumpet wasn't faking. And neither was I.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I manage to get home without incident. I walked Tumpet to her house, carrying that monstrosity of a French Horn.
I bid her good night and started toward my house. A cold shiver went through me and I knew who'd be waiting in the mirror
when I got home. And he hated waiting.
I faced the mirror in the bathroom, trying to convince myself that I saw only my reflection. But I knew better. TRG. He tousled his blonde hair. Neither of my hands had left the counter. I knew he was here.
"Brad. How lovey to see you here." He said. The voice was inside my head. I felt frozen in time. The way he worked was strange. When he tortu--er, visited me, time stopped. I could only communicate with him telepathically.
"I didn't want to come." I answered with a mental growl. My mind wandered to Trumpet, and the kiss. Randall's face twisted sadistically. "Making out with French Horn wannabes, are we? You can have any decent trumpet girl, but no, you have to have the enemy's daughter..."
"She's not our enemy. She's my girlfriend." I grit my teeth. The jerk better get the message.
"Brad, she's not your girl-anything. She's only trying to exploit your weaknesses. She's just another spy." Randall said, sneering. "Trumpet's not like that!" I protested.
Randall's eyes went from sadistic to soft. "Brad," he said in the most caring tone is ever heard from him, "women exist only to hurt men. I left because I your mother. She would have killed me, if I had stayed. Brad, don't let her fool you. She'll only t you killed." That's when the mirror melted away.
I collapsed on the floor, gaspin for air. I felt like I was breathing Jello. After five minutes, the sensation was gone. I got up off the floor and brushed off my shirt. I took one glance at y own eyes in the mirror, and I left for my room.
Once in there, I eased the door shut. I wanted to grab for my phone, to text Trumpet. But I didn't. I couldn't. Then I spoke, but I didn't want to. "You're mine now."
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