A oneshot of me trying a love story and failing (Roy did one too!) enjoy. ----------------------------------------------- She smiles at me, her dimples very prominent in her cheeks. My heart jumps, and I choke down professions of love. Her eyes are so blue, her hair is so soft, her lips are so sweet. She is a porcelain goddess in my arms. Adoration builds in my heart as she leans forward, her pretty, rosebud lips pursed. I feel that if I move, the world will dissolve. As she moves forward, our breathing is one, our bodies meshing, the nuclei of my cells combining in cold fusion with hers... And I wake up, alarm ringing, lips puckered, sad little bulge in my boxers. Dreams are just that. I sigh, smelling my own sweat and testosterone. The whole room reeks of my man-stench. I sit up and stretch, the smell of my armpits making me grimace. I definitely need a shower. I reluctantly stand and stretch, punching the snooze button on the annoying ring. School is for tools, that's what I always say, I think, as I sit down to eat my breakfast, clean and the halfie...taken care of. My father, possibly the biggest ass of the century, is smiling at his mistress, Janice, who has been cheating on him with the gardener who obviously has a bigger dick. I finish my cereal and pass a mirror, checking myself out like the narcissist I have no right to be. I look like my father, which isn't a good idea. Big green eyes, corporate good looks, curly brown hair. I'm a little Henry Peterson, yes I am, fuck me in the ass. I drive away from our moderately large house, from our all-white, Barbie doll middle class neighborhood, in my white cadillac, that my father generously bought me. I think half of our neighborhood are white supremacists, I wouldn't be surprised if my dad was. I arrive at my public school, my lovely public school, Jefferson High, where the scum of the earth are spawned, and the will of the weak are shattered. You might be thinking that I'm a sadistic bastard, and yes, you're completely spot on, I'm not going to deny this. I park in the worst spot ever, and there, making out in a car with Hank Cameron, is the porcelain goddess, with her hand pressed against the foggy glass, right before homeroom. I enter said homeroom, where faithful but annoying Madison awaits me. She is waiting for me and I don't like it. She was disproportionate, thick hips, small breasts, fat legs. I wouldn't be this brutal, if she also wasn't a bitch. And then, there's quiet Charlotte, who showed me she was a bitch in the first place. My long time friend, she didn't open up much. She was awkward and clumsy and endearing, sometimes dirty minded, and very sensitive. Charlotte is waiting for me too, because she has the unfortunate task of being Madison's "best friend" because she was too afraid of her. I sit down, and give Charlotte, or Charmander as I call her, a reassuring side hug. She smiles tentatively, and my heart aches. If I wasn't so deep in the friend-zone, something would've happened by now. Madison, I can tell, is growing jealous. "Ah bup bup, too close." she pulls her away. Charlotte grimaces. Madison, as always, tries to get closer to me, but the fact that Charlotte is in her way, prevents her. As the bell is about to ring, the beautiful goddess known as Jenny Allen, walks in, with the tightest skirt and a little tank top that shows a bit of her tan stomach. Woah. Every guy in the room is staring. Charlotte looks at me, confused. Madison is pulling down her sleeve to attract my attention, which does to polaroid opposite. Ten minutes later, Charlotte takes my hand. She looks at me like a small child, and smiles. I'm confused, and so is Madison. Mildly, I smile back. She beckons me to listen to her. She puts her lips to my ear, and breathes "Henry, please don't ever try to go out with her, because she'll cheat on you like she is to Sam Callahan." it's so sweet, how she cares. I whisper back, "I won't Charmander, I won't." and I mean it. At the end of the day, Charlotte catches up to me. I tower over her, and she kisses me quickly on the mouth after we're done talking. I didn't know how to react. I drove home, thinking about peaches, her lips tasted like peaches. When I'm thinking about peaches, I can feel time slow. It happens slowly. The car slamming into me, my car flipping over, the roof caving in, my neck snapping, my life ending, my bones shattering, glass flying. This is always the worst part, thinking about Pokemon and peaches, the white light is snatched from me. She smiles at me, her dimples very prominent in her cheeks. My heart jumps, and I choke down professions of love...