A Beautiful, Terrible Love - Lucky 97 (electronic reader txt) 📗

sure was that she sent sparks up my spine whenever we touched, releasing flames throughout my body, casting a spell on me, making me fall deeper and deeper into her clutches. Even getting a happy glance from her made my heart escalate with joy. Every word she directed my way made my senses enhance around her, trying to capture her very presence in my mind where I could call it up at will. It was as if she was trying to enchant me, with her timid words and shy looks that always managed to melt my heart.
I knew it was unintentional, of course. I could tell she was trying to avoid me, to ignore my wily charms, building a wall around her I could barely penetrate. However, her voice, like a song itself, always betrayed the truth. She was nervous around me, a slight quavering quality to her words. I knew she was affected by me. Maybe she even LIKED me. I didn't know for sure though, her actions encouraging me, then making me doubt myself, to feel like dirt. Like that time when she said I was selfish, alerting myself to the fact that I WASN'T perfect, like I used to think I was.
She was casually changing me, as if it was a game to her, with her completely different ways of doing things. I went to a restaurant, she grew a garden. I slept in until ten, she woke up at five. I had a huge, empty mansion, she had a small, vibrant home that was full of family and life. I had everything, yet I had nothing compared to her. And I was starting to want her everything and despise my nothing.
In fact, I was starting to want her everything AND her.
Eve stood, her thin, graceful legs straightening, her muscles tensing. Her mussed up hair, stood in a bun on the top of her head, miscellaneous strands of hair sticking out on all sides. She was as natural as could be, with no makeup or smile, only a thin, taut line where her teeth should have been shown.
She walked over to me, her hips swaying, her eyes cast downwards. Mr. Allen stared at us both. "Why are you two leaving?" he accused.
"We have to meet with our manager to discuss the songs we will be singing," I informed him. Eve lit up, her eyes shining, her smile finally accenting her pretty face. I had no idea why she did that, considering that this was my least favorite stage in making an album, but I decided to entertain her-mysteriously concocted-fantasy and shot her a smile.
We walked out the door with twenty-two stares weighing on our backs.
"Wow, they never give up, don't they?" I laughed, although inwardly unsettled at the way these beautiful students just stared at us, like they didn't have a life of their own. They were rather unnerving spectators, gossipers who were as skilled as dogs when it came to sniffing out a bit of juicy information. I'm sure as soon as we left the room, the whispers would start, an eruption of laughter and giggles, or sharp, directed insults.
And by beautiful, I mean overly attractive, like movie stars. Seriously. It was incredible, the amount of drama filling these stuffy halls, the long, perfect hair every girl had, the clothes to match their body shapes perfectly. It was like a TV show, like they were on a set, with the way every person acted. They had their own groups and they stuck to them like glue, not associating with others. This was really evident at lunch, however, with their special tables and seats.
One group, however, stood out from the others. In the old, small, rather gross lunchroom, one table stood on a small ledge, a platform, that I'm sure was previously meant to be a stage. Now, it was a stepping stool, a little extra lift that boosted the lucky sitters above the others. It was the perfect spot for observing, and…. insulting. When your voice is above the others, every word you say is easily audible to the unwilling audience. No matter what you say, people from the lower tables will hear you. So when you insult someone... it doesn't turn out well for the insulted person.
This luxury, a ledge that earns you immediate and lasting respect, was reserved by the popular people, the people Eve both feared and hated.
I mean, except for Sadie, of course. Eve couldn't hate a special part of herself.
The popular group, as I could tell at lunch, consisted of only five people. Akemi and Ayako, of course, were sitting at the table, accompanied by Sadie, Peter, and Jared, a-I hate to admit it-hot player who broke every girl's heart in school, except for Eve, of course. Peter was by far the-how I wish I didn't have to say this!-hottest though, having a much better face and more appealing demeanor. Peter was not only a player, but a bad boy who could melt your heart then stomp on it for fun in only ten minutes. If Jared was a cougar, Peter was a mountain lion. If Jared was a plane, Peter was a rocket. In fact, Jared was like a mini-Peter in several ways.
Eve didn't fit in anywhere.
She had no group, not a single friend in the world. Besides Sadie and Delilah, of course. But they had their own group of friends, and they had obviously given up on convincing Eve to come sit with them. I really didn't understand why she didn't go sit with them, honestly. Was she fond of her solitude?
I couldn’t figure out Eve at all. She confused me, led me on, left me hanging. She was like a Sudoku, one of those awful puzzles that I never managed to solve. However, I think that was one of the reasons why she intrigued me. Eve walked beside me, glowing. She had a lift to her step, a cute smile on her porcelain face, her eyes filled to the brim with excitement.
I wish I was the instigator of this beautiful sight.
"What's up?" I asked her softly, my whisper intended for her and her alone. "Why are you so happy?"
She just shook her head, her hair waving with it, her smile growing even brighter. There seemed to be a glow around her, a cheerful aura that brightened even me, making me want to enjoy what was coming more than she did. I hoped her hopes would not be dashed, her dreams destroyed, her expectations not met when we stepped in that planning room. She deserved it.
We walked out of the school, her, a bubbly enigma, I, energized by Eve's presence alone. The crisp grass crunched against our weight, the air blowing around us furiously, the sun glancing at us through its cloudy spectacles. My limo, a sleek, shiny, coal black vehicle, was waiting for us both, rather impatiently, I might add. It growled and whined, the tires squeaking, similar to a dog's yap when it wants to be let go from its leash.
Eve glanced at me, excitement in her expression. "I get to ride in your limo?!"
I laughed amiably. "Yeah." Her facial countenance was priceless, pure amazement and happiness etched into her beautiful features. It was genuine, not a single bit of it forced, and had a purity to it, an innocence that was not much unlike a kid's.
I felt lucky, just then, standing next to such a beautiful, demure, happy woman. I swung the door open, displaying the splendor that loomed inside.
"Ladies first," I took her hand, leading her inside the vehicle.
It truly was the best of the best, sporting plush seats that you could sink into, reclining, by the way, and had jewels running down the seat belt. A huge, twenty-inch widescreen TV was placed in the middle, with 3D capabilities. There was a mini-fridge, with all the drinks you could wish for, and a snack bar. Finally, to top it all off, there was an actual aquarium, filled with fishes, crabs, and turtles, built into the wall. I chuckled at the amazement on Eve's face. She crawled in, laughing at the way she sunk into the seats, ogled the sea creatures, and tried on the sleek 3D glasses as if she had never seen this sort of stuff before.
Of course, she probably hadn't.
"This is incredible!" Her gorgeous face lit up like a lightbulb, her cheeks rosy red, and her lips plump and inviting. I felt myself staring at them, my eyes unfocused, hypnotized by the movement of her lightly glossed mouth, naturally red and pouty. She looked at me, her eyes wide, obviously surprised by my sudden change. But I didn't care. The door was shut behind us, the driver had started taking us to the studio, and she was just so beautiful today.
I wanted to kiss her.
I think, subconsciously, she realized it too, leaning in slowly, her hair waving from the breeze of the integrated fans. As we grew closer, her eyes, blue as the sky above us, closed, her hands clenching slightly. I leaned in to close the distance...
There was a blur of movement, and I suddenly found contact with the lobe of her right ear. I jumped back, confused. How did I aim for her lips and get her ear?
I realized Eve must've turned away.
My heart pounded ferociously, red flowing to my pale skin, wondering just how stupid I had to be to think she actually liked me. I was conceited, as she never failed to remind me, selfish, and greedy. All I had was my voice and looks. I guess I don't appeal to her like I do to other teen girls.
However, when I stole a look at her, she was smiling.
"Dex..." her voice was barely above a whisper. "You have no idea how much I want you to kiss me."
I grew eager. It wasn't rejection? Joy escalated in my heart. "What's the deal, then?" I tried to act casual, like I didn't really care, although fireworks were bursting inside of me.
Eve turned away, looking out the long, tinted glass windows. The scenery was magnificent, a beautiful lake, with swans cruising on the crystallized surface. The sky was a violent blend of purple, orange, and a rich magenta stripe that seared through the horizon. I could tell she was trying to put her raw emotions into words, making it so I could understand.
"I am not a toy," the words escaped her lips, chilling me to the bone.
"I don't understand," I was completely thrown off by her remark. Is that how she saw me? A cold, heartless, player who treated his girls like dirt? I guess...
That was once true though.
I used to be the guy with ten girls on his arm at the same time. I had movie stars bowing at my feet, supermodels beckoning to me, temptingly, and all wearing suggestive attire. I allowed myself to be swayed by them, forgetting what it meant to be a true Christian. I did several things I shouldn't have, and one catastrophic thing in particular.
I paid-and still am-for that horrendous mistake dearly.
But that doesn't make who I am. I have changed. I am not the playboy I once was, and never will be again. That one mistake I made changed me... probably forever, and will affect me for the rest of my life. But that one mistake, and several other minor ones, doesn't define ME. I am I, not my mistakes.
I try to remind myself of that constantly, but the media and all of America, tell me otherwise.
"Don't kiss me if you don't mean it," her voice, edgy and sharp, startled me. "For I might take it the wrong way."
What?! I