An Idiot, A Fool

Working on my baby, my love--thought I would share a little piece of it, since I haven't posted any of my other writings in a while. From THE DIRTY... by Shaire Blythe

An Idiot, A Fool

            Feet shuffling across the beech wood floor woke me up. Without opening my eyes, the natural light of the sun was beaming through, paining the back of my head. The shuffling continued on, going from one side to the other, right next to me. What I knew to be the closet door howled open. I turned away from the window, burying my head further into the comforter. I hadn’t been asleep long enough.

            Something lightweight fell upon my curled up legs. Then the weight got heavier, warmer. I tried to ignore the pressure.

            “Adri, get your ass up,” Dante said.

            I groaned under my breath.

            “You need to get ready or we’ll be late,” he said. “I don’t need Rucker on my ass again this week, and I’m sure you don’t want her to start on you.”

            Rucker was our principal. Dante and her had weekly meetings. She tried to make it to dap status in the hallways with all of her students, and have heart-to-hearts regarding them getting serious about their failing grades or poor attendance. She had made Dante one of her top priorities.

            It wasn’t that he was dumb. Dante knew how to use the log rule of product; he knew the difference between a phrase and a clause; and he could name off the different branches of government. He had the brain to comprehend a lot I struggled with, without even having to read the entire question. But he didn’t bother with schoolwork unless it was do or die.

            He had made it to his senior year because toward the end, knowing that he was on the brink of being sent to an alternative school, he picked up his schoolwork and actually accomplished it, making As and Bs. And he would always ace the finals, getting him a passing C for his classes.

            “I know you hear me,” he said, once I hadn’t moved.

            I popped up, throwing the covers off of my bare body. As warm as his comforter had been, his room temperature was, surprisingly, just as cozy.

            Dante was facing the opposite way, rummaging through his dresser, a towel around his waist. There were still water beads glistening, racing down his back. His muscles were bulging without him having to flex.

He had buffed up over the years. I could remember him being the same build that Christian was now—average, nothing special. It was odd, because I had never seen Dante workout a day in his life. I wasn’t going to complain, though. Being in the bedroom with a toned version of himself had made him more damn irresistible. But with time, another change had come about. He had become colder—distant.