Risking it All for Love

After the third period ended for the day, and everyone started heading out of class towards their lockers or wherever else they needed to go before leaving for home, Quinn casually walked up beside me. I was leaning against my locker, idly staring off into space while waiting for her during fifth period so we could walk home together afterwards. We both lived close by each other in townhouses near one another but not too close together, to avoid any suspicion among our classmates if they saw us leaving school together every day after getting out of our fifth-period class.

We had been dating each other again for two months following a brief relationship last year when we were thirteen years old, about five years ago. The month of dating this time around marked the halfway point between a previous summer vacation when we dated for about three weeks before breaking up due to our inability to admit our feelings for each other and various other excuses. This is why neither of us have talked much about anything beyond surface-level observations about music or whatever else has been going on around us these past few weeks, besides passing conversation when certain topics arise momentarily.

Sometimes, communication can get confusing, especially when one person knows something important they want to say but doesn't want the other person knowing what they're thinking, so they say something different instead. This confusion sometimes occurs when we're stoned, which hasn't happened since last week, except during lunch today while eating outside. That's why Quinn suddenly suggested going over to see her dealer, which annoyed me because none of this would be happening if we were engaging in physical intimacy regularly, rather than just making out occasionally whenever either of us felt aroused.

At the moment, Quinn is standing here speaking lightheartedly and chewing gum loudly while waggling her eyebrows suggestively underneath a large pair of sunglasses. Her low-cut shirt reveals her cleavage, making her look simultaneously ridiculous and adorable as she tries to lighten the mood. Despite all of this, my frustration remains because the overwhelming sensation of arousal blocks my ability to focus on anything else.