Sparking Shocks

WARNING: This is a bit of a controversial topic with mild suggestive content. Also, Amie is the same as Amy. I just really like the alternate spelling, just to help avoid any possible confusion.

His fingertips are gentle on your cheek, and you can’t help but pause. Aren’t you supposed to feel something? There was a shock, yes, but shocks are different from sparks, and aren’t sparks the thing you’re supposed to be experiencing?

He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the only sensation you can make out is a deep-set discomfort in the pit of your stomach. It twists and snakes up your chest, and you wonder if this pressure, this squeeze in your heart, could be anything close to attraction.

Because still, there’s no spark.

Your legs start to tremble, and you think to yourself, Hey, here we go, this is normal. Because all the romance novels talk about being weak-kneed, or the heroine feeling as if her bones had turned to jelly. You wouldn’t exactly call the feeling jelly-like, in fact, you’re not sure what to call it at all. But now your whole body is shaking, and that must count for something, right?

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your ear.

“I really like you, Amie,” he whispers, and a shock of ice runs down your spine.

Your friends all told you it was supposed to be hot, intense. You’re certainly feeling the tense part of things, but not the heat. On the contrary, the coldness inside you is spreading, causing you to shake harder.

He laughs softly, and the vibrations tickle your neck.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he murmurs. “You say the word, and I’ll stop.”

Stop? Do you want him to stop? His fingers trace the strap of your tank top, and you feel as if a wave has crashed into you. He’s kissing your shoulder, your neck, and it all feels so…

Wrong? But how can it be wrong?

The kisses feel like tiny shocks, but they’re not pleasant, they’re not pleasant at all. Your head is swimming, you feel half-insane.

What is wrong with me?

The shocks are getting more intense, colder with each application of his lips to your skin. Your stomach churns and you’ve all but stopped breathing. He makes his way up your jaw line, across your cheek. There’s words in your throat, stop, please stop, but you can’t bring yourself to say them. There’s implications in those words, and you’re not ready to face them yet.

But the panic is rising, and his face is too close. You lose yourself for a moment, and your traitorous body attempts to squirm away. He pulls back a little, looking confused, so you force a smile and clench your nails into your fists. For once you’re glad of your awful nail-biting habit, you may be feeling insane, but he doesn’t have to know. Drawing blood would just lead to questions, questions you're not quite sure you can answer.

He smiles back at you, and combs his fingers through your hair. You shudder, and he leans closer. But he’s mistaken, he’s so sadly mistaken, because that wasn't a shudder of anticipation at all. Your heart is thundering, blood rushes in your ears. It's like you've always been told, and yet, it's completely different.

He's so close now, too close. You don't know if you can do this, but you can’t bring yourself to…

His lips touch yours, and suddenly, everything silences.

Coldness seeps. There is no spark. You feel hollow.

He pulls away to smile again, but this time, you can’t quite smile back. He looks worried, and touches your cheek again. You fight every instinct to pull away.

“Amie…?” his eyes are question marks, and you feel everything falling down around you.

Don’t look at me like that, you want to say. But instead you find your smile, and pull it on a little too tightly.

“I’m fine,” you whisper. Your arm feels like lead, but you force it up, and lay your fingers on his own cheek. That same hollow shock courses through you, an echo in the emptiness you’ve become. You feel like crying.

“I just… I feel a little under the weather,” you look at him, looking at you, and you just feel so defective. “I think maybe… well, maybe I should go home, Trev. I wouldn’t want to get you sick, too.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you internally grimace. Could you be any less subtle? He searches your face for a moment, then pulls away.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” he says lamely. You’ve hurt him. But what are you supposed to say? It’s not you, it’s me?

He gets off the couch, and you follow suit. He walks you to the door in silence, and you feel like a prisoner walking to the executioner’s axe. You thank him for the evening, and grab your sweatshirt from the floor. It must’ve fallen from the coat hook sometime during the evening, and you wonder when, and why. Why was this sweater, your sweater, the only one to fall?

“So,” he can’t meet your eyes. You feel like crying all over again. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

School. A sudden horror strikes you, so you simply nod your head.

You walk away from his house on stiff legs, toward the bus stop at the end of the street. You’re shaking again. School. What’s going to happen at school? What will he tell his friends, your friends? What will they think?

Your thoughts are racing, and there's a smug little voice at the back of your mind, and all you see is the hurt in Trevor's eyes. But you needed to know.

The bus pulls up, and you feel a genuine moment of surprise at its swiftness. It’s like fresh air to have any kind of reverie from the… the everything you feel.

The moment fades though when the doors open and a young woman gets off the bus. You notice the way the streetlights dance in her hair, and can smell the faint musk of her perfume. She brushes past you, and you feel it. For a moment, you can't move. She turns to look at you.

“Sorry,” she flashes a smile, and you think her teeth are too white.

You force another smile, but she's already walking away. You watch the curve of her hip for just a moment before violently turning back to the bus. You step on, hardly in reality as you deposit your coins and collapse in a seat. Because you know what’s wrong with you, knew it long before you felt tonight’s spark.

Because with Trevor, there had only been a shock.

Author's Note

So, this was an interesting perspective to slip into as a writer. I'm not 100% sure if I like it yet, so I may come back to tweak it some.

If there is to be any criticism, I want it to be academic sounding. As in, focussing on whether or not this is realistic, spelling and grammar, the general tone, etc. Ignorance is not bliss, and anyone who wishes to be ignorant will not find bliss here. If you wish to express your discomfort my topic choice, feel free to personal message me, but please keep the reviews clean.

Thanks for reading :)

Reviews

[SPINNING ON that dizzy ..]

From the beginning you could tell something wasn't "right".... I was reading quickly and feeling uncomfortable at your discomfort....wondering why and what was wrong - was this person kissing you someone you wanted to be with? Was it all a test? There just felt like there was something ready to be proven.... Was this kiss morally wrongs - as was the person someone forbidden.... Then... it was a test or sorts.... The spark on the bus... the when you know.... you know... When you don't have to think.... This rocked with inner bursts...then it was like "it" tapped you on the shoulder and said ....yup. You conveyed a powerful discovery very nicely.

[Irena]

this writing is amazing
i love this story so much and i love the ending and the description
the use of addressing this as if the reader is amie really added to the overall feeling of the story
i love it so much great job!

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Amazing writing there. IT made me feel like a voyeur.
There were moments where I felt ashamed of myself
for not being able to turn away. I was compelled to see
everything. You stirred up a conflict inside of me.

Bravo!

[JelliFyshKissUs]

This is so descriptive I want to steal it. In fact, I might have already--unintentionally. It sounds a great deal like my book I wrote. But you have the electrical shock as something negative while mine invigorates the couple. But I like your view. I could tell by your poetry you should've been writing stories. Get to it. I'm waiting for me like this.

[D.Truelove]

I appreciate what you're doing here, if I'm reading correctly. That can be a tough obstacle to overcome in the face of rumors, gossip, and out right persecution. But despite all that seemingly endless burdens, there's nothing more freeing than the truth in a situation like that. It starts with being honest with yourself, then leaks out into trusting your close friends, then finally the world. Life becomes much simpler then. I liked it!

[Remy Road]

I dig it. I like that you adressed the reader directly. That's very hard to do, and even harder to do well.

[Steve]

Very well done Alana. Wow. This is an important write for young women to read. I went out with someone who felt that way. LOL It just wasnt a spark for her i guess!
We did really well with the realism of this sitiuation. I hope you refer this write to other young women. They need to know that they dont have to go ahead with things just because he wants them too.....