Chapter Four. #3
He monopolizes my mind often before bed.
Ruminations churn on what we’d talk about, if I’d get the chance to see him, what it’d be like to be back to normal when he’s with Tree, what he’d be wearing to school, his hair, how he looks when he rides his bike…
what it would feel like to be on the back of his bike, especially since he’s never let anyone ride it with him, even me.
I’ve been so blind. This is a crush. I have a crush on Ben!
An obvious epiphany, but an epiphany, nonetheless.
Guess my parents were always right about Ben and me, at least on my side.
I do like him, and I want him to want me and not Tree.
To be with me and not her. But maybe it’s too late for that.
Maybe he just thinks of me as a sister and nothing more. Will I ever find out?
My phone almost slips out of my hands, making me jump-catch it. It’s no use. Knowing what I know now, I won’t be able to get any lifting done if I don’t read it before I go.
With bated breath, I turn the phone over and swipe up on his message.
I scoff. The nerve.
Is he just wanting attention? Like, what is this obsession he has with making me jealous this weekend?
I refuse to admit to him that I was in fact jealous so instead I text back the only thing I can come up with.
Yeah, Charlotte, that’ll do it. I roll my eyes. A few bubbles pop up showing he’s typing back before disappearing and then reappearing over and over again.
What seemed like the longest few minutes of my life went by with no reply. Was my response too cold? This is so uncomfortable. I’ve never had a conversation like this with a boy before. How am I supposed to navigate this?
Screw it. I’m breaking this barrier between us.
Anxiety rises through me as I tap send. The bubbles quickly pop up again.
At my wits end, I throw my arms up in awkward aggravation. What the heck? He makes it sound like this should be so easy. If he has something he wants to admit then he should. Why am I the one that has to admit it first and possibly be rejected?
Yeah. I don’t have to tell him anything. They’re my feelings. It’s my choice.
My only child personality quickly resurfaces. The bratty part of my brain and I agreed. Nope. I don’t owe him an actual answer if I don’t have it or want it.
Grinning from ear to ear, I shoot the text off. Let’s see what he has to say to that.
My lips curl up, my entire body prickling with heat after re-reading his text repeatedly.
I love this feeling, although I only just figured out I probably have a crush on him like five minutes ago. I’m not going to tell him anything unless I'm one hundred percent sure. Plus, he’s the guy, shouldn’t he tell me his feelings first?
Actually… speaking of feelings…
The unsent message shakes in my hand from my knee bouncing so violently, my nail occupying a space in my teeth.
Drawing a deep breath to gather up the nerve, I fast tap on the send icon.
Bubbles appear and disappear over the next couple of minutes.
Either he’s texting me a whole book, or he’s typing and erasing what he’s trying to say.
I stare at the bubbles reappearing and disappearing for way too long.
This is driving me mad. Why won’t he just send me what he’s so obviously typing? I give up.
Disappointed, I toss my phone on my bed, grab my keys and go to the school gym to do my lifts. This should keep me busy the rest of the evening. In fact, maybe I won’t reply to him at all even after he texts me back.
Yeah. Then I’ll have all the power.
Let’s see how you like that, Benny Boy.
An hour later, after the fastest and probably sloppiest lifting session of my life, I’m back home in a continued staring contest with my phone. It was all I could think about at the gym.
No. I need to have some self-restraint. He deserves to wait for a message.
Sighing in defeat, I sit at my laptop to work on my college acceptance paperwork and dorm preferences. But as soon as I open it, a ping sounds on the school's instant messaging website, Trolley from Shirley.
Not really, I think to myself.
A low ding sounds, signaling she signed off.
Sigh.
She’s so pushy. I hate feeling pressured to do these things…but I’ll admit I have been curious. The one video I saw of him at practice made me feel something interesting. Something different and new but appealing.
What the heck. I’m eighteen. I can watch stuff like this now. I’m about to go to college where I'll likely see stuff like this more often anyways.
I slowly roll the mouse over her message and click the link.
A website with black and blue stripes pops up with light blue coding designs integrated within to make it appear high tech.
The top of the website in large bold letters states, “Welcome to Xypher” with Log in or Register next to it.
Exiting out, I return to her instant message and click the link again only to be directed to the same thing.
Looks like I can’t view the video unless I sign up for an account.
Everyone I know gets addicted to this site so I was hoping I could view it without creating a permanent account.
But I'm smart enough not to get addicted… I think.
I bet everyone at college will have this, and I do want to try to fit in more there. Plus, maybe this is a way to keep in touch with Ben once we’re apart. It’ll be another way for us to connect.
Screw it. I’m signing up.
I click Register and fill out all the applicable information. The last step is username. Hm…
My fingers move along the keyboard involuntarily, picking out the username. Unknown99. Good enough, I guess.
Bypassing the profile picture section to keep anonymity, I click create, then exit to go back to her IM, hoping her link works now.
Finally, the mysterious biker boy’s profile pops up…
or should I say man by the looks of it. My eyes widen as I take in his whole page.
Videos upon videos of him dancing shirtless with a helmet on fly upwards, mixed with even sexier videos of his abs, wet grey sweatpants…
many, many things that make my body burn from the inside out.
My God, his abs.
The videos where he’s dancing in the rain are so incredibly hot. The one the girls showed me before was just of him dancing fully clothed in a motorcycle helmet in an old parking lot. I had no idea that behind that video were others that were way more intense, way more…sensual.
An unfamiliar tingling sensation develops, increasing in intensity as I continue watching his videos. It’s a pleasing sensation that I don’t know what to do with as it spreads outward, igniting the burn to a tingling fire throughout my body.
From what I can see, he began to make these sexier seduction themes in the last month. There are so many thirst traps posted in that timeframe that it’s overwhelming me to get through them all. What prompted the change to make him go this route? Not like I’m complaining…
A hint of shame paired with excitement spreads through me as I continue watching and scrolling, unable to take my eyes off the screen.
Is this wrong? Should I not be doing this?
I get out of the chair and pace, unsure of what to do with this unfamiliar energy buzzing inside me. How do I deal with this new feeling? How do I release this sensation? Do I tell Mom?
Ick, no.
The thought of telling my mother about what I’m doing and feeling right now disgusts me. It feels… dirty and forbidden, but I secretly like it. Do I explore this? Should I explore this?
Eight o’clock…hmm. I know what I’ll do. I’ll think about what to do while I get ready for bed. Yeah. That way I’m not making any rash decisions.
My normal nightly routine is spent in a daze, the motions autonomous as my brain fixates on the biker instead of what I’m doing in the present. Just the few seconds of intro that the videos showed me play on repeat in my head, making that sensation in the nether regions constant.
The shower doesn’t help. If anything, the warm water makes it worse.
I slip into an oversized white T-shirt and stare at myself curiously in the mirror.
My shirt sticks to me in a half-wet state because I never have enough patience to dry myself off fully, leaving my black cotton panties and hard nipples clearly visible.
Their light pink coloring pushes through the T-shirt’s cotton while my long brown hair sits soaking the shoulders and back of the shirt.
I’ve never been a skinny, skinny girl, but I've never had much to me either. There’s some shape there but only enough to be considered small and not petite. I secretly hope once I stop running that I’ll get more shape to me.
Turning around, I focus on my backside.
Tree has a bubble butt that sticks out like a freakin’ table, but mine’s way more subtle. Definitely nothing to wow at like hers is.
“Hm….,” I say aloud, analyzing my body. It’s hopeless to dream of ever looking like Tree with her perfectly slim waist, plumps lips, a v-cut in her abs and thick butt. She was naturally born with a beautiful body and long black curly hair. I had no chance.
The tingle quickly fades from all the thoughts about Tree and how my body can’t compare. I turn away from the mirror, disappointed, and sit on my bed, feeling discouraged and vulnerable, especially as I check my phone and see no further communication from Ben after asking if he was back with Tree.