Graduation for Brian

So today Brian Melgard (I think I spelled that right...) graduated, and I wanted to cry. He's such a great kid. For those of you who don't know him, he's a senior, and he has cancer. He's been on kemo-therapy since the summer of last year, but kept up with school work. He's such a trooper, and now he's chosen to come out of kemo because it's not helping. He said last year his one goal in life after he found out his cancer was getting worse was to graduate from high school. I'm getting teary eyed just thinking about it, but today we held a special graduation ceremony for him in the library after school and he got his diploma and it was a really special moment. We were all crying and laughing when he told his jokes and gave a little speech. I love Brian. He makes me want to be a better person because he had every right to complain about how horrid life was, and drop out of school, and just give up, but he didn't. He worked hard through the therapy and kept moving toward his goal, and now he's fulfilled it. I want to be like him. He's an amazing kid, and I wish that everyone could meet him and hear his story. He's just amazing.

Well, beyond that I finished chapter seven after deleting like half of it three times. Enjoy.

 

Chapter Seven

The boy with the glasses, whom I assumed was Chandler, glanced back over his shoulder at Stitch questioningly. He was still dripping, standing in a puddle on the tile, his jeans sagging on his hips and his gray shirt clinging to his muscular frame. He ran a hand through his dripping locks, sending water streaming down his arm, and giving his hair a slight wave. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be trying to escape his promise.

“Name, Stitch.” I prodded, stepping through the door, leaving a dark stain of water on the floor where I had been standing.

Chandler herded me toward the tile where Stitch had been standing and I realized this was his way of keeping his carpets from drowning. He stepped away from us, just staring, and waiting just as I was for the name of this mystery man. With an exaggerated sigh, Stitch opened his eyes and stared at me, stepping forward and towering over me to the point that when I craned my neck to stare into his eyes our noses were mere centimeters from each other. I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks fill with warmth, and my stomach was filled with butterflies. Why did I always feel this way when he looked at me? I felt his body heat, though we were drenched in freezing rain residue, and saw, from the corner of my eye that his hand seemed to twitch forward as if he wanted to pull me into him, but restrained himself. To cover my blush I narrowed my eyes into a glare as good as I could manage currently, and waited.

“You really want to know his name that badly?” Stitch asked, his breath bouncing off my cheeks. “What would you do if you never found out?”

“I'd ask around. I know Kitty saw him, maybe she knows him.” I replied, “I'm not giving up that easily.”

He smirked. “That's what I've always liked about you.”

I drew my face back slightly. “Why do you say things like that?”

“Like what, love?”

“You're always saying things like we've known each other for years. It's starting to freak me out.”

He stepped closer, so our thighs were flush with each other, and his nose touched mine, his dark damp curls falling onto my cheeks. “It feels like it, doesn't it? That we've known each other for so long? It almost transcends time?”

He was fishing for something. From the back of my mind I remembered the flashes of different lives it seemed with Stitch in different times, but I reminded myself that these were merely dreams, and nothing more. I wanted to admit that I felt that way, but I couldn't. He would win, and that would be it. Suddenly Chandler coughed.

“Sorry to kill the er... private moment you two are having in my kitchen,” he said, “but you're making a miniature English Channel on my tile. We need to stick your clothes in to dry before you two get sick.”

Stitch didn't look at him, but stood straight up and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing the damp flesh of his chest. His torso was lined with rigid muscles, and his abs were clearly defined. My eyes widened, wandering over his exposed chest greedily, wishing I could reach forward and run my fingers along his muscles, feel his skin, kiss his lips... I shook my head, averting my gaze and fiddling awkwardly with the bottom of my shirt. Stitch threw his wet shirt at Chandler and looked at me.

“Want me to help you with that, Laela?” he winked.

My face turned beet red as I turned on my heel, my fists clenched into tight balls, my brow set in a glare. “I can not believe you would say something like that you disgusting thing you!” I raised my arm to strike him, but suddenly my eye found something it hadn't before. On the lest side of his chest was a tattoo. The words were in small script, and I couldn't read them, so I walked forward and absently stared at the mark. Time is but an obstacle. It read. I gasped. “Stitch, when did you get this?”

I could feel him smirk. “I was fifteen.” he said.

“Where did you hear that phrase?” I was tempted to reach forward and trace the letters but I held myself back.

“Around... nothing special. Now, why don't you go change before you catch a cold.”

“I've got some sweats you can wear while you wait.” Chandler offered, showing me to his room.

He yanked out a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt and handed them to me. He took a pair of shorts out for Stitch and left the room. Quickly I stripped, feeling immensely better to have the damp clothes off of m body, and then found I had a dilemma. My underwear was soaked, but there was no way I would go commando around these guys. With the girls, fine, but not them. I could do without a bra, fine, but not panties. I glanced around. What could I do? I quietly rummaged through his drawers, and surprisingly I found a lacy pair of panties tucked away in the corner of his drawer. I poked my head out and beckoned Chandler to come over with my finger. When he arrived he raised his eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but.... okay I hardly know you... but. Oh gosh...” I couldn't find the words to say what I needed to. “My underwear is soaked and I happened to find a pair in your drawers. Mind if I use them until mine are dry?” I felt my stomach knot up in embarrassment.

He smiled and very slyly said, “Oh, not at all. You go right ahead and do that.”

I smiled, nervously, and retreated back into the room. Sicko. I thought to myself. After I had dressed myself I exited the room holding my pile of wet clothes away from me. Stitch sat on the couch, half naked, wearing only a pair of shorts and staring into a television screen. I handed my bundle to Chandler and he disappeared from the room, and walked down the hall. I glanced at Stitch on the couch and suddenly remembered that he had avoided telling me the blond's name. Purposefully I marched toward the TV and turned it off.

“I was watching that, in case you couldn't tell.” he remarked, glaring up at me.

“I'm not letting you avoid it anymore. Your friend isn't here to distract you. Tell me his name.” I demanded.

With a sigh, he rolled his eyes and stood up off the couch. He walked toward me, and when his toes touched mine, he reached forward and grabbed my shoulders. “I'll tell you. But I warn you that he's a good for nothing gutter dweller.” he warned. “His name is Vance Locke, he's an old enemy of mine. Since childhood I guess you could say. If you want to know why, well you'll have to figure that out later, but at least you can stop pestering me.” He leaned forward, as if he were going to kiss me, his arm snaking around my back. I leaned as far back as I could and when his nose touched mine, I heard the hiss of the television coming back to life and he backed away, smirking. “You'd have thought I was going to kiss you or something with that expression.”

He chuckled the whole way back to his place on the couch, and patted the cushion next to him. I shook my head and went back to Chandler's room where I had left my phone and called Tony.

“Hey, you.” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. “What's up?”

“Just getting back to you. You called and said you needed to tell me something?” I replied, thinking back to that moment in the park when the sky suddenly darkened and the blond appeared.

“Oh, right, don't worry about it. I've got it resolved.”

“What was it?”

“Just some things for school. They wondered if you would send some pictures for the yearbook with you and your friends there.”

“Oh, sure! I could do that. If you promise to send me some of everyone back home, kay?”

“Can do, hun.”

For another half hour Tony and I talked about the things we were missing, and the adventures we had. I wanted to jump on a plane and go home, but at this thought, the thought of staying here... with Stitch, crept into the back of my mind. For some reason, whenever I thought of home, I could only imagine it with Stitch now. I shuddered.

“Laela, your clothes are dry, you can get dressed now!” Stitch yelled loud enough that Tony heard.

“Who is that? Where are your clothes? What's going on?” he asked.

“Tony, he's a friend from school and we got caught in the rain while a bunch of us were coming back from the park, so we stopped at his friend's apartment and dried our clothes. I'm wearing something of course. Don't be worried, I love you. I've gotta go. Call you later! Kisses.” I said, walking out to gather my clothes.

“Love you,” Tony said, and then the line went dead.

I clicked my phone shut and saw Stitch holding my pile of laundry, my black lace bra on the top of the pile.

“Lace,” he commented with a smirk in his voice, “Nice.”