The Taylight Zone - Anthology Eight

09 - Love & Hate - Taylor

I hate him.

The quiet breathing coming from the bed below me.

I hate him.

The thought keeps popping up in my mind.

I hate him.

There it is again. I glanced at the digital clock that was situated on the dresser across the room. The flashing red numbers told me that it was 3:14 in the morning.

I hate him.

That very thought had kept me up half the night. I looked down at the other sleeping lump in the room, quietly snoring. 3:15 the clock told me. Another minute with out sleep while they sleep peacefully and happily. A soft moan and the sound of someone rolling over floated up to my ears.

I hate him.

I hate him. Everything about him, His perfect hair. His bright, sparkling eyes. His slightly flushed, ruddy cheeks set against a blemish-free face. His perfect smile filled with perfect white teeth. His perfect, flawless body. Actually, it wasn’t flawless. He was extremely underweight for his height and had ears that stuck out. Aside from that, he was perfect. He even had a good voice, no, a great voice, a perfect voice. Perfect like the rest of him. I hated him, yet I loved him. The things about him that made me hate him also made me love him. He was attractive, I can’t deny that. Besides all of the features of his that made me love/hate him, he, well, I’ll just say that he’s extremely well endowed, if you catch what I mean. I couldn’t help but notice. Even during performances I would have to look. He wouldn’t notice, too busy using that perfect voice of his. He wouldn’t notice, that is, until he saw pictures taken at the performance. He would look at those pictures that had caught me in the act, with wide eyes for all of two seconds then put it down and go elsewhere in the house and find something to do. Smart kid, every time he would turn around that’d just give me more to stare at. I wouldn’t dare tell him, he’d stop turning around and wearing those fabulous tight pants.

Those tight pants, the reason I knew he was well endowed. They showed everything and left nothing to imagine. He hated them, but our stylist said that the girls liked them. I did too. Thank the Lord for our stylist and her whacked sense of fashion.

3:17 A.M. Wow. It’s getting pretty late. This is how the past couple of nights had gone. I’d hate him till 3 in the morning then I’d love him more than anything. I listened and heard his breathing again. It was sweet, steady as a beating drum, like a sweet, soft song. I looked down over my bad at him. He had his back towards me. God, he has a great ass. His perfect hair was sprawled perfectly around his pillow. I got that feeling. That feeling I get when I watch him during performances. I got this urge to touch him, feel him, kiss him. It had never happened before. I argued with myself. It was very brief, the side that wanted to won in about two seconds. I called out his name and he didn’t respond. Good. Sound asleep. I slipped out of my bed and stood over him. I called his name again, and once again, no response came. I looked at the wall next to his bed and saw the pictures of us from so many years ago. He had always been cute, but now he was downright hot. I looked down at his sleeping form before me. The comforter was rising and falling slowly. I ran my hand along the ridge that the side of his body formed.

Damn comforter, too thick. I pulled back his comforter and he shivered slightly and curled up in a ball to try to regain some of the warmth the comforter had provided. He wore a white T-shirt and red and white striped boxers. I had the same thing on, save that my boxers were a different color and design, but he made it look good and appealing. I once again ran my hand along his side. He was bony to say the least. I leaned over and kissed one of his perfectly flushed cheeks and he absently raised his arm in the direction the kiss had come from, rolled to his back and with his sparkling eyes still shut, he mumbled, “G’night, Mom,” and went back to sleep. His perfect little mouth was slightly open. Too inviting. I bent down once again and lightly pressed my lips against his. A tingling sensation went up my spine as I stood up again. Better than any girl I’d ever kissed, and he wasn’t even conscious. I had to do it again. His mouth was still slightly open as if saying to me, “Go ahead, kiss me.” Now, how could I go against his wishes? What kind of person would I be then? I leaned over him, stopping briefly before kissing him again. His breath hit my face as he exhaled. Even in the dead of the night, his breath was fresh and sweet.

Another thing that made him so perfect. I inhaled his breath, savored every vapor of it, then bent down closer and closer to his perfectly shaped, slightly open, inviting mouth. I pressed my lips against his delightfully moist ones, harder this time. He started to stir a little but stopped after a second. I let my tongue slip out of my mouth and into his sweet one. My tongue soon found his. I had my eyes closed, but I felt him tense up. I opened my eyes to see his bright, sparkling, baby blue eyes staring at me, wide as could possibly be. I quickly took my tongue out of his mouth and stood back up. I looked at him as he stared back at me, blue eyes still wide, his sweet and fresh smelling breath coming out in gasps as his chest rose and fell quickly. He looked absolutely gorgeous when he was surprised or frightened or whatever state of emotions he was in. not as sweet and innocent as when he was sleeping, but nonetheless cute. I felt myself being drawn toward him again. I moved back towards him. I felt as if I needed to kiss the quivering lips that were emitting the sweetest breath known to man. A million sprays of binaca couldn’t top his breath. I needed to kiss the sweet lips that were his to calm any fears he was having and try to settle him down a little. As I moved in, I felt his soft, perfect hands against my shoulders.

“Isaac! What the hell are you doing? What the hell were you kissing me for? Especially that way! I can’t believe you would do such a thing! Especially to me! That’s so nasty! So disgusting! So-”

“Sh, sh, Tay, calm down,” I said, sitting down next to him. I put my hand on his bare leg. He quickly knocked it off and scooted away towards the wall and pulled his red comforter to his chin. He said that red made everything beautiful and he sure wasn’t lying. His cheeks were nearly flushed to the color of the comforter and his beautiful, no, beyond beautiful, blue eyes were still wide with fright or surprise or whatever he was feeling.

“Calm down?! How can I calm down?! I wake up to find you kissing me, and not just a normal little kiss, but you kissed me!” he said, stressing the word “kissed.” “What would make you kiss me like that?!”

“Honestly Tay?”

“Yes, Ike, of course honestly!” he said, halfway hysterical now. He was speaking in his normal voice and I was surprised Zac hadn’t woken up, then again, he slept like a log.

“Sh, Tay, quiet down. You wanna know why? Look at yourself, Tay. You are too perfect.” He opened his mouth in protest, but I spoke again before he could, “Yeah, sure, you’re a little underweight and your ears stick out, but Tay, other than that, everything about you is perfect. You, well, you’re even well endowed.” “Wha-? ‘Well endowed?!’ What the hell does that mean?!”

“Tay, let’s just say that you don’t wear a size 13 shoe for nothing.”

His face lost all of it’s color and then quickly regained the color of the comforter. “What the?! You saw my-Omigod Isaac! How long have you been doing this to me?! What? Did you rape me too?!” “No, no, this was the first time, Tay. Why do you think I agree with the stylist about you wearing those tight pants?”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m telling Mom and Dad what you were doing to me,” he said as he grabbed his comforter and walked backwards toward the door. He was about to step out when Zac asked groggily, “What’d Ike do to you, Tay?”

Taylor, still walking backwards said, “Zac, you stay away from Ike, especially at night.” He was out in the hallway and shut the door as Zac shot him a confused look.

I got off Tay’s bed and went back to my own. “What is he talking about, Ike?”

“Oh, Zac, you know Tay. He’s a little weird at night.”

“Oh, okay,” he said with a little uncertainty in his voice. “Night Ike.”

“Night Zac.” Now that I think about it, Zac is pretty cute too. Not nearly as perfect as Taylor, but no one is. Tay...Tay...

I hate him.