Choices: Part 1

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Amateur

My brother Zan always got what he wanted in life. Most outgoing people do. He’s the lead singer in our successful university band, cracks funny jokes, has a positive outlook on everything. Not to mention his style; vintage shirts, multiple wrist bands on each wrist (gifts from adoring fans), tattered jeans. I’m not particularly jealous of him, because where he lacks, I definitely pick up the slack. I easily manage a ‘Grade A’ average, a steady job at the local library, and smoke about three times a day. Zan and I are close, possibly because of the fact that we’re ‘identical’ twins and probably have that bond that scientists rave about. We hang out together, I go to his shows, and he speaks up for me when he knows I can’t. We grew up that way, and never changed. Except when it came to me telling him about this girl in particular that I was in love with. Miranda is literally the girl next door, and the three of us grew up together. She goes to a different university, but it still doesn’t stop the three of us from just chilling out at home most nights. She’s kocaeli escort the most perfect being that I ever laid eyes on, and over the years I grew to love her with a passion that I always feared would make itself known, and ridiculed, by both her and my brother. The intense heat that floods my body whenever I see her, the automatic way I hang on to her every word, forgetting to reply most times because I was too busy just listening to the sound of her soothing voice. My heart constantly ached with the desire to caress her lower lip with my tongue before I kissed her deeply, aching to hear her moans reverberate deep within her as she moved against me… I had endured years of this torture, feeling the deep need for this goddess grow into the monster I thought it to be now. The feeling was now overwhelming, my breath is taken away every time she entered the room, and I have to control myself from lightly caressing her neck while her back is turned to me. Her perfume always lingers in our house considering that she was always there, and even the kocaeli escort bayan slightest whiff of it made my pants grow painfully tight. I couldn’t take this feeling anymore. “…Hear me Dan?… are you OK?… for me either…unfair…” I had thought to myself, that today…today, I’d let her know how I felt for all these years. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had wrestled with the traditional image of myself bringing her a present of some sort… chocolate in a heart shaped box with a huge bouquet of roses perhaps? But I know Miranda well, and know she hates ‘mushy’ acts like that, which was fine for me because I’m too self conscious to do something like that in the first place. The day itself didn’t seem to want me to come outside, which I should have taken as a goddamn sign. High breezes used javelin rain drops to sting and soak me while I stood in front her door. It didn’t help that I couldn’t bring myself to knock until an hour later, so I was thoroughly soaked when she had opened the door, dressed in a white vest and black jeans. My glasses izmit escort had started to fog up during my wait, so I had taken them off and was fidgeting with them, cleaning the water from them periodically with the hem of my shirt. When Miranda opened the door, I crammed them hastily onto my face. I didn’t understand her facial reaction. Her face was flushed, and her hands were trembling. “What are you doing here?” Something was wrong. Something screamed at me to just say what I needed to say on that doorstep and leave, to not even bother waiting around for an answer, to just get my feelings off my chest. I opened my mouth at least, but nothing came out. I tried to force ANY words out, and all I could manage was the tiniest of grunts. Miranda shook herself, and grabbed me by the shirt collar, dragging me inside. I formed a small pool of water in her hallway, and taking my glasses off again in another futile attempt at wiping it clean of water, I felt her move away from me. She returned a few minutes later, thrusting a towel into my hands. I used it to dry myself as best as I could, drying my hair roughly, leaving it to stand on end. I heard movement from the living room, and the last voice on earth that I had wanted to hear floated through the doorway. “You OK, Miranda?” Zan was standing in the doorway now.

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