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- 09/15/2013
- 1,825 Words
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- 8 Comments
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Perception of Love - 1. Chapter 1
“What do you mean it’s not real?” I was in shock, I couldn’t believe what my boyfriend, sorry, fiancée, was telling me.
“Simon, Santa and his workshop at the North Pole isn’t real.”
“I can’t even right now.” I mumbled as I got up. Okay, so I’m 20, not 12, sue me. But I couldn’t help but feel like a large part of my childhood had been taken away from me. Granted, my childhood’s been over for a while, but still. This was devastating news.
Both our parents are quite wealthy, so we had gone to a private high school. That’s how we met, actually. It’s quite a cute story. Basically what happened was that I stared at him long enough in class for him to get annoyed and talk to me. The rest just fell into place.
Our parents have been incredibly accommodating, which has been really nice and super amazing. Once we announced the engagement a week ago, they insisted that Kevin moves into our house and we live in the basement apartment. I told them I’d get a job and pay rent, but they insisted otherwise. “When you go back to school, get straight As. That’s enough rent for me.” My mom had told me. I got straight As anyways, so I guess I could deal with this arrangement.
Kevin was still lying on the couch watching TV, where I had left him. He was watching the Storage Wars show. We both really liked it. They find some crazy neat stuff on there. Maybe it’s fake, maybe not. Who cares though? It’s pretty good entertainment value.
My stomach had been grumbling for quite a while, even before I found out the terrible news, so I took the opportunity to cook us some dinner. I always get caught up in my cooking and barely notice anything happening around me. A few days ago, we had like, half a dozen people, show up to our apartment and I was completely oblivious!
That day I made nachos, which was basically just taking the chips out of the bag and putting some toppings on them. Right now I was making grilled cheese. I’m not a very good cook, but I’m definitely better than my soon-to-be husband, so that’s all that counts. I never noticed him come up behind me and grab me around the waist. “Are you mad at me?” He whispered in my ear.
“No, my dear. It’s just… a part of my childhood died today, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I get it. Sorry to cause you such devastation. Maybe I can take it off your mind…?” I felt Kevin gently grinding into me.
“I thought you wanted to save that for our trip? I still can’t believe your parents bought us a week’s vacation to the Caribbean.”
“Oh shit! Yeah. I need to go pack. I’ll do that and you finish up making your delicious dinner, okay?”
With that, the rest of the night was set. As I made our dinner, Kevin packed all the clothes (and toys) that we’d need while we were on vacation for a week. We ate quietly in front of the t.v., discussing what our plans were for the week. We really wanted to go on one of those catamaran tours, so that was decided. The rest of the night was filled with quiet relaxation.
---
Getting up so early in the morning sucked, but that’s a small price to pay for the day’s outcome. Groggily we got ready then got into the waiting taxi and arrived at the airport. Check-in and customs were a breeze to get through.
Before either of us knew it, we were sitting in the terminal, patiently awaiting our flight. It’s always better to be safe than sorry when it comes to airports, so we had to wait a good two hours for our plane to arrive and be ready. That was fine, though. Kevin fell asleep instantly, like a little baby and I quietly played some games on my iPad that I had brought with me.
“Attention passengers of Flight 469. Pre-boarding has begun.”
I shook Kevin, who was sleeping on my shoulder. “It’s our turn to get ready now, hunny.”
“Ughh... saa… whaaa… Our turn? Already?”
I just shook my head and grabbed our carry-ons. Kevin snapped out of it a minute later and joined me in the lineup at our Gate, 8.
We boarded without issue, everything really had gone smoothly up until now. Within five minutes of getting into line, we were on the plane, finding our seats. Knowing the way Kevin is when it comes to sleep, I let him sit down right away, taking the window seat. Stifling a yawn myself, I carefully packed away our carry-ons in the overhead storage compartment.
The flight was without any issues, mostly. The safety talk was over in record time and we were in the air shortly afterwards. We did encounter a pocket of pretty rough turbulence. For about half an hour we had to keep our seat belts on and they couldn’t bring the food carts out. But once we had flown over the thunderstorm and it was in our hindsights, everything was fine.
---
“This way, I think.” Kevin said, pointing in the opposite direction, holding back a yawn. “That symbol looks like the luggage thing, so I guess our stuff will be over there.”
“Let’s see, then. But our bus is scheduled to leave in 15 minutes. I don’t know what we’ll do if we miss it.”
Luckily, we didn’t. We managed to get the last two seats on the bus, which happened to be right beside the bus announcer person. He was talking the entire time, the whole 45 minutes. It was really, really annoying, but we tuned him out pretty quickly. Who cares if he’s pointing out local things, like the grocery stores, baseball and soccer fields and where his little daughter goes to school. No offense to his daughter, but that’s not why we’re here.
---
Check-in at the hotel was a bit rough. The clerk had to take copies of both of our credit cards and drivers licenses. I guess that’s what I get for thinking that the day would go by without any bumps. After about half an hour, though, we were checked in and free to roam the resort.
“Okay, now that our bags are in the room, what do you want to do, Kevin?”
“You mean, besides you?”
“Shucks, try thinking with the other head for a change. We have all night and all week for that. We just got here. Let’s explore! Do you prefer the beach or the pool?”
“The pool has a bar, doesn’t it?”
“Pool it is!”
With that, the rest of the afternoon was set. We sunbathed by the pool and slowly got wasted. We had an all-inclusive plan, so most of the alcohol (except the really fancy stuff) was included. We only cared about getting drunk, not how fancy the alcohol was, so we didn’t care. I swam a bit, but just to keep myself awake and to sober up a bit.
Because we ignored lunch and had a really light airport breakfast, come dinner time, you could hear our stomachs from ten feet away. They had a beautiful buffet, but we both immediately gravitated to the hamburgers. We’re simple with our tastes. We don’t need racks of ribs or caviar or any of the other ridiculous things that were being served. We devoured two or three of them - each. The dessert was the most delicious banana-flavoured ice cream I’ve ever had.
As I was polishing off my second bowl, one of the employees approached us.
“Are you two folks having a lovely evening?” The young, pregnant, woman asked us.
“This is the best meal I’ve ever had.” Kevin told her, a smile creeping onto his face, glancing sideways at me.
“I’d like to invite you to a show we’re having this evening, if you two are interested.”
“That sounds lovely. We’ll be sure to be there.” I told her, with a warm smile on my face.
“We start at 8pm sharp. Have a good evening.” She bowed slightly and left.
---
The show was, surprisingly, tonnes of fun; there was live music and dancing. It was a great little look into the local culture. They had a stand-up comedian get on stage near the end. I guess the hopes were that everyone would be drunk enough that he’d be funny no matter what. He was legitimately entertaining, though. His views on how Americans think and act were quite refreshing. I’m not one to really laugh out loud, but he had me howling a few times. Kevin enjoyed him, too, which was really nice.
But here we were, lying in bed. Kevin was beside me, on my left.
“So… it’s the middle of the night now, and we’re both in bed… naked.”
It was really hot, so we had both opted to not wear clothes. I was really tired though, and not in the mood. “I know I promised you babe, and I really want… need it, but I’m so tired and still pretty drunk.”
“So am I. That’s what makes it fun.” Kevin explained, as he rolled over. He was now lying on top of me.
“I don’t know, Kevin. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, double.”
“Even just a quickie?” Kevin was asking me as he lifted my legs up. My ankles were resting on his shoulders and I could feel him pressing into me.
“I said stop.”
Kevin maintained his position for a moment, then sighed. He went back to his side of the bed. “You’re right, we are pretty tired and kind of drunk. I’m sorry if I pushed you too far. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, you don’t need to make anything up to me, okay?”
“It’s okay. I love you.”
“Simon, I love you too.”
---
I don't remember falling asleep, but I woke up with a jolt. I was really confused and disorientated. As my eyes came into focus, I saw a glass door opening in front of me.
"Where am I?"
"It's over now, none of that was real." The voice told me, as a hand reached in and started pulling out wires and tubes.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, or seeing, for that matter. All I could think about was the feeling I had, that someone else, god only knows where, was experiencing the exact same thing, right now.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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