to the point of no return - short story part 1

i spy with my beady little eyes, his large puppy dog eyes, urban cropped hair and clean jawline. oooooo.... and that cheeky impish grin, how can i resist? his high school uniform casually semi-tucked out, the crisp ironed shirt hanging perfectly from his broad shoulders. i can imagine running my hands gently gripping his hips and then gradually running it on his immaculately-formed abs. oh, what a fine specimen you are, i thought.

he caught me staring at him from a distance, while pretending to watch my friend, brandon, stuff his face with corndogs in feign interest. he furrowed his brows for a fleeting moment, before breaking into that lets-jump-in-bed cheeky grin. i felt the tips of my ears getting hot, and probably red too. i twiddled the hemp of my skirt nervously, glanced down at a piece of gum stuck on the pavement.

no, this is too rude. look up, rach!! shame on you, rach. there you are imagining God's gift to girls (and i definitely mean girls) and his blessed assets but the moment he smiles at you, you get all coy!

before i could look up, i felt a tap on my shoulder. i swung around clumsily, catching him squarely in his chest. oh God, what a way to start a possible relationship of physical intimacy. "hello" he mouthed. did i mention that he is much taller closer up than from my distant admiring? a good 5'11 i reckon. "hi there," i said with sudden great difficulty. "cat got your tongue?" he joked as a half-smile revealed the faint lines of developing crows feet. oh my goodness, have i ever mentioned that i am a sucker for males with crows feet? to me, those dimpled lines define the epitome of manliness.

"no, actually puss did" crap, did i really say that? thankfully, he threw his head back and chucked, pushing his hands deeper in his school pants pocket.

"i'm ryan, currently at christ church grammar school. what's yours?"

"rachel. and do you really think i am in high school?"

"st hilda's girls school?"

"ryan, my boy, i am in fourth year at UWA studying law and economics. i am 21." i studied his facial expression intensely. his cool hazelnut brown eyes bore into him. he didn't flinch. i did the math in my head - if he was a senior at christ church grammar, that makes him 16. fuck, thats illegal enough.

i can't have him. i just can't. but his lucious pink lips seem to mock me as i gaze at them contorting out "melodies of sweet sound".

he absentmindedly stuck out his right hand and caught a stray strand of my long fringe covering my face and tucked it behind my mickey mouse ears. "i'm in year ten", he said.

my mind spun out of control. that can't be it. he's 14. what are you thinking, rach? paedophilic tendencies are girlfriend jokes to the extent that you do not cross that fine line - that separates criminal paedophilics from the mere commonfolk that "just happen to be attracted to younger love interests".

it has to end right here. right now. or i will be hooked to him like i was once hooked unto nutella. a bottle a week just was not enough. i needed incrementally larger doses of nutella to satisfy my addiction as the weeks wore on. and honestly, between me and you, it is not difficult to be crave ryan. to yearn for him.

he is 14. i am 21. i refuse to let this spiral out of my control.