Somehow Christian assumes that I invited him to my house, and when we get to my room I blush a deep red, remembering the dream I had a few hours ago. I try my best to avoid the bed, which is where he decides to sit.
“Are you really not considering going back to school?” I ask, filling the silence.
“Princess, even if I were considering it, they wouldn’t let me back in.” He looks around the room, seeming out of place. “Have you bought any new records?” he asks, getting up to grab the box. He flips through them.
“A few. They’re all in the back.”
He picks out my records for Arctic Monkeys, The 1975, and the Juno soundtrack. I’ve been listening to the latter nonstop.
“Decent,” he says, pursing his lips. “Don’t really listen to any of them. Mind if I play one?”
“Sure, I guess.”
He looks at the three of them and pulls out the record for The 1975. He puts on a random track and I immediately recognize it as Menswear. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes skirting the floor. The bass and the odd melodic sounds circulate the room and capture my heart just like it has the first time I heard this song. There’s no vocals for about a minute and a half, and Christian looks up, eyeing me. His eyes say is this really it?
I bite my lip and hold up a hand. Just wait. He nods and watches the record spin under the needle. I feel awkward, waiting for vocals that seem to never come. When I hear Matty’s voice I just about die. The rubbing of his vocal chords together make a beautiful sound, smooth and enticing. Christian’s eyebrows shoot up when he hears the vocals.
“Well I only brought 3, what you lookin' at me for?”
She's dressed in white and putting off crying.
“Well you're the best man, so what's the plan?
Why don't you talk to Matty about it?”
I said, “I only brought 3 like I told you before,
We're gonna have to ask about.”
The song continues, but he turns down the volume and gives me a look.
“This is the crap you listen to?”
I turn off the music. “You don’t have to insult my music taste just because it’s not what you like.” I put the record back in its sleeve and store the box away. I make a note to put the box of records away somewhere so he can’t find them when he comes back over. If he comes back over. I’m not even sure why he’s here in the first place.
“Jesus, Princess. Learn to take some constructive criticism.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “How is you insulting my music taste ‘constructive criticism’?”
“How is it not?” he retorts.
“You just diarrhea out of your mouth, don’t you? Everything you say is bull.”
“It might be. Can I crash here? I don’t feel like going home.”
“It’s only noon, and no, you can’t. Cole is coming over.”
“Oh then I wouldn’t want to interrupt your hot sex. I’ll be on my way then.”
He gets up and moves towards the door. I roll my eyes and finally manage to say what I’ve always wanted to say to him. “I hate you.”
He turns to face me and clutches his heart. “Oh the agony! You struck me right in the heart! What am I to do now that you hate me? Oh my woes are immeasurable!” He throws his arm over his eyes dramatically, his other hand holding onto the door knob. “I may as well poison myself. The Princess hates me and I cannot go on with my life!” He drops his arms, all seriousness now. “Like I give a shit.” He slams the door behind him, making me flinch and the floor rattle underneath my feet. I sigh and crawl into the bed, throwing the covers over my head and wait for Cole.
I hadn’t realized I had fallen asleep until the covers are pulled away from my face, allowing me to breathe fresh air. I open my eyes and it takes a few moments for them to adjust to the sudden light. Cole’s figure forms before me, his face plastered with a goofy smile.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” he says smoothly.
I smile at him. “Hey.” I pat the empty space next to me and he climbs in. “Did you bring clothes?”
“Yes. In my car. I get them later.” The white sheet that lays over his face make him look paler. “Why you in your bed still?”
“I don’t know. I got tired waiting for you.”
“Oh, was I supposed to be here earlier?” he says, a slight panic in his voice.
“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. While I was waiting I got sleepy.”
“Oh, okay.” He gives a nervous laugh and I rub my fingers over his lips. He grabs hold of my hand and kisses my fingertips one by one. His cheeks flush red when he looks back at me. I don’t see how I’ll ever get over him.
I suddenly remember the dream that I had this morning and feel embarrassed about it. I picture his smooth chest under my fingers and I feel as if he could read my mind so I push the thought away. It’s so embarrassing, especially after I told him we should wait.
“Are we just going to lay here?” he asks.
“Do you want to do something?”
He shrugs and says, “Maybe later. We think of something. I just want to kiss you, now.”
I smile. “You always want to do that.”
He chuckles and leans over me, leaning over me to kiss me. He pulls the white sheet over our heads and I feel as if we are in that scene of Romeo and Juliet where they’re so happy, so infinitely in love with each other.
♕ ♕ ♕
After we’ve had our fill of succulent lips, I tell him about the dream I had, minus Christian. That bit would just make him furious. I feel my cheeks flush as recall the dream; it feels weird saying it out loud, making it more real than it feels. Cole chuckles throughout my telling and I feel so embarrassed. I give him all the gory details and he covers his face, unable to contain his excitement.
“That’s, ah… I don’t know how to say it in English.”
“Ganglyeolhan,” he says, smiling. Now his cheeks are red.
I grab my laptop and open it up to Google Translate. “Type it in.”
He spells it out, and on the screen it says intense.
I laugh, lightly punching him in arm. “Don’t make fun of me!”
He grabs my face and kisses me and keeps uttering “I’m not, I’m not.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. His face grows serious momentarily. “Do you want to…?” he asks.
I blush and say, “I don’t know yet.”
He pushes my hair away from my face. “Whenever you ready, okay?”
I nod. I bite my lip and poke him in the chest. “Say something else in Korean.”
His eyebrows furrow as he thinks, and then he pulls the computer onto his lap. He says, “Dangsin-eun aleumdawoyo,” as he types and turns the screen so I can see the translation.