This story contains strong sexual language and innuendo. It would probably be rated R, but all things considered its pretty innocent.
Doki-doki
Cassidy Timberland - to me, the name said it all. Cassidy was the name I wanted to write in the sky, carve her likeness in silver laced marble and place upon a dais befitting the goddess she was. Her’s was the name I wrote in far more pages of notes than I'd care to admit. There were even some with little hearts drawn around them. In Japanese, there is a perfect word to describe my feelings, doki-doki. It’s an onomatopoeia which signifies the sound the heart makes when it quickens, or the feeling of butterflies in one’s stomach, when your heart races just by being near someone. Whether it makes sense or not
I can’t say that Cassidy hated me as much as she simply did not know I existed. I was never much of a social creature. I was a nerd. I weighed about one hundred forty pounds at max, which may not seem that skinny, but I was also six foot two. I used to stay home on Friday night, I watched endless amounts of Japanese animation (and argued with people who called them cartoons), I played Dungeons and Dragons three times a week at least, and I even made a Princess Leia/ Dana Scully screen saver. Not that I was ashamed of my dorkiness. I was just so normal. Cassidy on the other hand was ethereal.
She was like a siren, or a nymph, or the current incarnation of an ancient goddess of life and beauty. My big high school crush. She had the sort hair that fell around her face, framing it. Her hair was a strange mix of blues and violets, and perhaps a half inch of brunette coming thought at the roots. Her eyes were green but also splashed with a turquoise blue, and every once in a while I could even spy a fleck or two of shimmering purple. Her nose was slightly upturned in a rounded ball that provided an ideal centerpiece to her visage that lead to soft, but strong, pouting lips, which were always glossed in a cherry red. Every time my eyes settled on her face, or her pixie-like body, all time slowed and the world became immaterial. She transported me to a place where all of the things I read about in books, all of the heroes I pretended to be in Dungeons and Dragons became real. Everything I had ever wanted was in her prismatic eyes.
In other words; doki-doki.
The only problem was that, by some evil wizard’s curse, I was struck dumb whenever she came near. She always passed by me between third period and fourth period. You see, I only have to get from room 234, to room 235. Only three feet to cross between Honors English and Modern American History. Right now, I’m thinking about something having to do with class, no doubt, or maybe it was why the English hall always smells like cheese, when the thought suddenly fluttered from my mind. There she is, walking, no gliding through the hall, fluttering past other students in her eternal radiance, with one or two girlfriends who were kind of cute too. The hall was crowded, with all those pricks who decide that the hallway is the best time to have a fifty-person reunion, but her petite body seems to move through the chattering masses with a dancer’s grace. She looks at me, and a sudden chorus of two thousand begins to sing the Hallelujah chorus. The other people in the hallway soon become distant figments of my imagination, and only she is real.
"Hey, Cam.” She speaks, soft, like Aphrodite, but with Athena’s strength, and Kali’s sense of forgiveness.
I open my mouth, but my tongue becomes a sponge in the microwave. Instantly devoid of all moisture. My throat fills with sand. My eyes are caught in her enigmatic spirit as she smiles at me quickly, obviously ready to laugh at me. She stops for a moment.
Doki-doki, doki-doki.
I sort of nod, remaining silent. My brain flies into overdrive; it rushes over all of the bad pick up lines I heard from joke e-mails, the real cheesy ones like "You must have really clean pants because I can see myself in them.” or “Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” or “That shirt is very becoming on you, and if I were on you I’d be coming too.” Then I thought of our first date, I’m hopelessly trying to figure out if I should hold her hand, whether I’ll be allowed to kiss her goodnight. Would she want a big wedding or a small wedding in the park with just friends and immediate family? Where would I find a tux rental? What would our kids look like? Very pretty, if they take after their mom. I shook my head; I was getting ahead of myself. I imagined sunset, white sand, soft as velvet, an abandoned beach where two lovers’ bodies intertwine like in some trashy romance novel or Penthouse letter. Our nude bodies intermingling in the sand as the cold waves crash onto the shore. Then later I’m holding her in my arms; we’re sitting by a roaring fire in a secluded log cabin. Or maybe at home, in my room, hoping my parents don’t catch us. I admit it’s my first time, and she giggles and says that it’s her first time too, and that it’s ok. I really need to get a lock on that door by the way. Maybe, after a while, she invites one of her friends in one night. And well, I’ll pretend to be upset, but then she’ll convince me. I mean we’re all young. Experimentation is all part of growing up, right. Then comes wild nights, and sometimes wild early afternoons and holidays. "Oh, I didn’t know you could bend that way, no wonder you’re on the gymnastics team.” “No, I don’t have a problem with cheerleaders.” “Toys are always welcome.” And every once in a while. “Ow! Ow! Don’t stick that there!”
Suddenly I flash back to reality. There are students again passing through the halls again, and there I am standing dumbfounded in those multicolored eyes. "Hi.” I manage to croak out.
She stands, hands folded neatly over her chest, eyes boring into me. Oh, shit! I think. She can read my thoughts, can’t she? I open my mouth again, she watches me, judging me like a sparrow on a high wire, I read somewhere that sparrows have very good eyesight. My mind forms words I wish to say. Hey, I’ve liked you for a while and I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Not bad. Simple, direct approachable. Not a bad statement, unfortunately my inner critic got to my words. When all the censoring and editing was done, all I had left to say was. “How are you?”
“Good.” She smiles again. "How are you?”
“Oh, I’m great.” I say.
“Great.” She answers, echoing what I just said.
Silence.
Nooooooo! What do I say now? I have her attention, but I can’t ask her out now. I don’t have any money to do anything, and asking her over to my house would be too presumptuous at this point in our relationship. My brain pauses for a fraction of a second. What relationship? In my mind the lines of Shakespearian sonnets, from Romeo and Juliet, and audio snippets from Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday songs flood my mind. A rose by any other name… My sweet embraceable you. Romantic tales of people who always had the right thing to say to the one’s they love. But I say. "Well, I gotta get to class.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Kay, well, I’ll see you later then.”
“Yeah.” I mentally kick myself.
She leaves and I have plenty of time to watch her leave and ponder what I could possibly do to fill the next eight minutes, and all I had to do was walk the two feet to my next class. “I need a stiff Dr. Pepper.” I murmur as I go downstairs to the vending machines. Besides, Cassidy usually likes to get a soda between third and fourth period.
seriously though, it was really great. Im gonna read the sequel, like, NOW
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