N.B: My stories are usually more... realistic than this. To be honest, this was more of a practice for scene-setting.
It was a bone-chilling December morning, a Friday, and as much as it ached me to have to get out of the warm embrace of my bed and stagger into three layers of clothes the burden of education is a burden all (or at very least most) fifteen-year-old boys must carry. As I unwillingly took a step out of the thermal haven that was my house, I felt Winter's harshness strike me accross the face in a chilled rage. I exhaled softly and paused to witness the grace of the loud of breath that had escaped my lungs evaporate into the air. I tightened the purple scarf around my neck and pulled the hood on my black and red jumper over my head. I began to march, as if to the beat of a metronome down the street towards school. Living only a few hundred meters away from a high school had its perks - short walks to and from school, being able to come home at lunch hour instead of having to endure the horrifying prospect of the "delicious and nutricious meals" our school provides us for a "reasonable price", and the safety net of knowing that if I so desired to do so, I could just get up from a class, grab my bag and storm out home... not that I'd ever have the balls to do so.
As I accepted the lukewarm grasp of the school building I headed straight to my pumpkin-sized locker and just about managed to cram my scarf and hoodie in there. Suddenly I felt two flame-hot hands ambush and seize my eyes, and felt the warm breath of speech linger down the back of my neck.
"Guess who?" the ambusher asked, almost rhetorically since they had made no effort whatsoever to disguise their voice, a soft, graceful whisper - a whisper I would recognise in a chorus of screaming electric guitars. I grabbed the two hands with lightning speed and thunderous precision and threw them to my adversary's sides, "Jesus Christ, calm the chansey down would you?" the familiar voice uttered once more.
"Hey, you're the one who attacked me," I retaliated, "all I did was defend my poor eyesight." I turned around to witness her. Naomi. Her choppy blonde hair reached her shoulders and seemed to sway faintly without the need of a breeze, her welcoming deep green eyes stood out from her pale face, a face with beauty undescribable withoug using the word "breathtaking".
She flung her arms around my shoulders in a haste, and in unison I flinched.
"I think I might give you a heart attack by the end of the day, Leo," she whispered gently into my ear, the warm air from her speech flourashing playfully along the side of my face. I reached my arms around her waist as gently as I could, and as I did she rested her head on my shoulder like an infant would to its mother. This was love as I had never felt it before; more than a friendship but less than romance, somewhere in between it all, somewhere perfect.
After the school day was over with its usual interprative bullpoop, I began to make the same metronome-driven journey as I had in the morning, only in the opposite direction when Naomi's voice called out for me:
"Leo!" she shouted, enthusiastically it seemed, "Leo! Wait up!"
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Wanna come over to mine for a couple hours?" she blushed a little, obviously trying to hide it by brushing her hands over her cheeks, but the contrast between the pink cheeks and pale white face was too obvious, "It's just that with all the revision and poop lately we haven't hung out as much." She'd made a fair point. With the GCSE Mock exams looming, revision seemed to be my top priority and had been for at least a fortnight. It would be nice to have more social interaction with someone than the odd half an hour on Facebook every now and again.
"Yeah, alright then," I accepted, somewhat hoping that it would be a little more than just two best friends having a break from revising, and with that I riskingly decided to add, "it'll be nice." She gave a faint smile, almost as if to say she shared the same romantic hopes as me.
After about 10 minutes of walking, and talking, and joking and laughing, we both finally arrived at Noami's house.
"Well, my parents aren't back from work until about eight so we've got the place to ourselves for now," she said through her smirk. It almost had to be... but just incase it wasn't:
"Cool," I said, almost as cold as the air around us. We got inside the house and its heat hit my face similarly to how the cold of the outside air had that morning - but in a much less hostile and almost friendly way.
After hanging my jumper and scarf, Naomi grabbed my right hand in a flurry of excitement and dragged me upstairs, we took a right and ended up in Naomi's bedroom. A room of blue walls plastered in posters of pop bands I'd never heard of (and wouldn't like to have heard of, most likely), famous actors and photos. She sat me down on the double bed in the middle of her room, not letting go of my hand, but rather taking hold of my other hand as well.
"I really..." she stalled for a second, "I really like you, Leo." It was as I had expected, the onslaught of weeks of flirting was finally reaching its climax.
"Like..." I stalled in a similar manner to how she had done, "Like me?" She was silent, but gave one confident and distintive nod, "I like you too."
I stared into the pools of bright green she had for eyes, and we both moved our faces closer to each other.
"Wait," she declared, looking down to the floor and letting go of my hands, "we're best friends so what if..." she sighed, "what if what's about to happens ruins it all?" I flung my right arm over her left shoulder aimlessly and used my left arm to stroke the right side of her beautiful face, and then proceeded to take hold of both of her shoulders.
"Whatever happens tomorrow... we have today." I uttered. Naomi's eyes closed, as did mine.
The warmth of the kiss flared through our cold bodies.
