Theories and Questions

Could she tell? How could she tell? Was he that easy to read? Why was she smiling at him like that? Why did she look so sympathetic but proud of herself? Why did she give him more questions than answers every time?

"See ya later, Bo." She smiled teasingly at him, scrunching up her shoulders, making her neck disappear and waving her fingers at him.

Why had she said Bo? Was she calling him her boyfriend? Oh, but how could he forget that was his nickname? How could he not remember all of his friends shortened his name from Brody to Bo?

Because he was hoping for something, and for a fleeting moment, wanted to forget everything but the two of them.

And why not? It's not like he had many of these types of choice to make.

He knew he stood there with questioning eyes that bore into air, waiting for the answers to appear. He knew he looked confused and he honestly didn't care. All he wanted was to find the answers to his questions. That's all that mattered. Those questions with no answers would drive him to days on end without being able to sleep. But it wasn't his fault he was obssessed with having answers to every question. It was in his genes; his whole family had the same problem. They all have no answers for why they have to have answers to their questions. Seems a little ironic, doesn't it?

But it wasn't just the unanswered questions that kept his eyelids from shutting. She was in his mind constantly. She stood out in his mind with her lip-glossed lips and perfect make-up. The way she wore the right accessories that matched her in every way. Almost every outfit she wore seemed to be a second pair of skin, or it clung to her in every perfect way and spot. Her teeth were straight and white. She had no blemishes that he could tell. Her medium long brownish hair was more than what it sounds like. Her hair was brown, light brown, with blonde highlights that were brought out by the sun, and red tints of highlights too.

She seemed pretty much perfect. Her name, Raine, even sounded perfect. But how the hell was he supposed to know? Well, he knew, but he didn't want to know he knew. He was in denial. He was hoping and dreaming and he knew it, but he wanted to hide the truth from her and from himself. He wanted to play the part of being ignorant for once.

It was quite hard to do though. His friends told him frequently how much trouble this girl was. But he didn't care. He didn't mind at all. He didn't know where this escapade was going, where it would end and where it would leave him. He was pursuing her because he wanted the answers to those questions. The only way he would know was if he went through with it. He knew it was what he had to do. He was being reckless, so very reckless, but this time, he didn't seem to mind all that much.

At first he agreed with her invitation because he wanted to know why she had asked him to dinner. So he picked her up, took her to a restaurant where she flirted with him more than he'd ever seen a girl flirt before. When he took her home, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and lingered way too long. She whispered in his ear, "Thank you Brody," so lightly that it tickled. The notion excited him more than anything though.

She called him the day after their first date. She asked him if he wouldn't mind taking her out again because she felt lonely in her empty house. She didn't provide any other reasons, and that gave him more questions. He obliged of course. Who would turn down a beautiful girl like her who was talking on the phone in a sad, sexy voice?

She doesn't know what she's doing to me. Or does she? Oh God, just more questions!

This dinner seemed to be more intimate. They were in a secluded corner, although they could still hear the subtle noise of everyone else in the restaurant. She kept her eyelids half shut and they held hands on top of the table. When they talked, they seemed to bend over the table more and more so they were only inches apart until a waiter came and startled them into breaking their poses.

He couldn't remember their conversations, he never could, but he remembered exactly where she had touched him. He felt warm in those places hours later while he lay in bed. His lips felt like they were on fire from the simple one second kiss she left him with before she got out of his car. Her shiny lips touched his and it stayed, the feeling of her lips on his, for hours.

She saw him in school and waved or smiled at him. She stared at him as he walked by. She didn't call or talk to him until the next weekend. She kept him waiting. She left him to think about her and to let him pine over her.

Friday night came, and so did more questions. Did she do that on purpose? Did she know that I would be thinking about her all week?

After their third date, everything seemed a little more fast paced than it was before. She looked at him with hungry eyes over their plates. She kept it subtle, but he could tell it was there. Her blue eyes kept it hid pretty well. She suprised him when she took of her shoe and raised her foot to brush against his calf. But it didn't seem to be enough for her. She raised her foot up to his thigh, and it felt oh too good to him. What suprised him the most was when she slouched down in her seat a little and went up further. He knew his eyes bluged out a little and his cheeks turned pink.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and she started to pull away her foot

No! He didn't want her to pull away!

She must have saw it in his eyes, because she kept on doing it.

When he took her home was the best part of the night. She kissed him, and it was more than that simple one second kiss like the first one. She pulled him closer to her when she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled away and looked at him with the hunger, but she didn't even hide one ounce of it.

"My parents aren't home." She opened her car door and then looked back at him. "C'mon."

He followed her into her house. What else was he supposed to do? She grabbed his hand and she ran into the living room. She put him on the couch, and then turned on some lights. He watched her put down her purse and take off her high heels. She sat down next to him. One her of her hands found the nape of his neck, and she tousled his hair a little. Her fingers were running through his carmel brown hair. Their blue eyes stared into eachother.

He wished he knew why she wanted him, why she picked him.

She leaned towards him. He leaned into her too. He almost didn't have a chance, with her hand still on the back of his neck.

She brought one of his hands to her face and stuck one of his fingers into her mouth. He gazed at her in amazement and had to swallow hard. She dropped his hand and stared at his lips in hunger. Their lips clashed. At first it was sweet, but then it was like they couldn't get enough. More so her than him. Her hands reached into his shirt and touched every surface of his torso before she took off his shirt. She pressed hard against him. She guided him into her shirt and he took off her bra. She guided him to a place he had never been before.

He obssessed about her afterwards. Did she know I would? Did she do that on purpose too?

She finally talked to him at school, and she called often. He loved it. He loved the idea of being apart of something. He loved the idea of being with her, although his friends still warned him about her.

She started teasing him to a whole new level. Every week they'd go just a little further. Just a little. She'd show him something new. She was dragging out the steps, so that it would last longer, but he didn't know that. He almost stopped trying to find answers because there were too many questions now.

Several months after the first date, they did it. She finally took him to homeplate. What's sad about it, is that she said she would call him the next day, and he believed her. He was in a place too full of euphoria that he waited all week for her to call or talk to him. But she didn't. She would look at him and produce a small smile, but that was all.

It made him think, and it made him wonder. Where do we stand? What does this mean? What happened?

He called her right after school. He had to get answers for at least those questions.

"Look, my boyfriend came back for a visit before he went back to college during his break."

"Oh," he muttered.

He thought he had loved her. But then, after feeling sad, he realized he only loved the idea of being with her. But that didn't exactly fit, because he wanted her to be just his, and wanted her to be with no one else. Maybe that was just another idea. He wanted the idea that she was just his.

How wrong it all was. She was never just his. He never loved her, not really.

Reality completely struck him, and he finally realized that she had used him. And now that he thought about it, all the clues would fit under that idea. Except it wasn't an idea, it was the truth.

He finally found the answers to most of his questions. She wanted him to be her toy. She wanted to use him, and use him she did.