Amore Mio

XII. It's Complicated

Alice’s POV:

“So,” Ian said, stretching out the o sound, glancing at me. “Should I kiss you or something?”

“No.”

He nods, making a popping sound with his lips. “Thought so,” he responds, and we continue to sit in his car silently. “I’ll pick you up for school on Monday?”

I pucker my lips, “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, why are you still sitting in my car? Get out,” he said.

I roll my eyes and jump out of his car.

He rolls down the window, “You owe me 13.45 for the chicken legs and ice cream.”

Before I could even respond, he drove away, leaving the dust.

I wave my hand around to clear the air. “What a terrible fake boyfriend,” I mumble under my breath and walk towards my house, rumbling for the key inside my purse. “Darn it. I can’t see anything,” I hiss.

When I found the key, I looked up and leaped back, a sharp chill running through my body. Narrowing my eyes, I take a step closer, “Neilson?” I question.

He looks up, and I swallow—that look.

Releasing a deep breath, I pat my beating heart. “Oh, God! Neilson! Why are you sitting there in the dark corner of my house?! You scare the crap out of me!”

I stand there, patting my chest, attempting to calm my heartbeat. My eyes scan Neilson’s body, seeing him in red basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, once again with a random band. He ran his fingers through his hair, “I text you about coming over.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was with Ian, so I forgot to check my phone,” I said. I remember how my phone was buzzing a few times while I was crying with Ian earlier.

We were so immersed in our dramatic moment that I forgot to check my phone.

“Ian? The guy from earlier?” Neilson said, but for some odd reason, it sounds deadly.

“Yes,” I respond slowly and walk towards the front door. I turn towards him. “You know, I always wonder what band is that?” I ask, pointing at his shirt.

He looks down. “Gun N Roses.”

My eyes narrow, once again staring at the band on his shirt. “Who?”

“They are a band from the 80s,” he explains.

“What about your other shirts?”

“My other shirt?”

“Yeah, the other ones with other bands.”

“Linkin Park, AC/DC, Foo Fighters, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, Beatles.”

“Who?”

I don’t typically listen to music, mainly whatever plays on the radio of classical instruments. It helps me calm down, hearing soothing melodies play while I study or sleep, mostly sleep.

“They’re bands,” he said.

“Are they good?”

He nods, “Amazing.”

“Oh,” I replied and grabbed the key, attempting to put it through the hole, but my hands were trembling.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to put it in?” Neilson whispered in my ear, making me leap forward.

“Stop doing that!” I said.

“Do what?” He asks innocently.

“Scaring me!” I hiss, attempting to open the door again.

Darn it, Alice! Get your s**t together! You are a new woman! You aren’t obsessed with Neilson Yi anymore! So, why can’t I stop shaking!? Stupid heart! Stop beating!

I can feel a rough hand on top of mine, the other sliding across my waist, causing my body to freeze. “Let me help you,” he said, voice deeper than usual.

The beating of my chest amplified as he closed the distance between us. I can feel his chest presses against my back, hand aiding my trembling ones in sliding in the key. “See? Gently push the key inside the hole, and it will fit perfectly,” he whispers into my ear.

I push him off from behind. “I know how to open a door,” I mumble.

“Really? Because you seem to have a hard time putting it in the hole,” he teases.

I turn around and ground my teeth. “I know how to put it in a hole.”

Even in the dark, I can see him arching a brow at me, doubting my ability to fit a key inside a freaking lock. “Really?” he said slowly, voice filled with sarcasm.

“Yeah, I know how to fit it properly in a hole!” I whine, stomping my foot.

He takes a step closer to me, causing my back to hit the door. “Then show me.”

I can feel his hands sliding down my back, causing me to involuntarily arched my chest towards him. “Huh?” I squeak.

“Show me how you can fit it inside your tight little hole,” he whispers.

“W-Wait, what?” I stutter out, feeling the blood rush up my face. I couldn’t help but tighten the betrayal between my thighs. I can feel his fingers heading downward, tangling it with mine. “M-My w-what?”

The corner of his lips tilted up mischievously. “You heard me, Angel, your tight littl-"

I turn around and twist the doorknob open, stopping him from talking. I head inside, hearing him behind me. Flickering on the lights, I take off my shoes. “Where is your dad?” Neilson asks, taking off his flip-flop.

Probably at some random bar. “He went out with a client tonight,” I said. “So, want some juice or something?” I ask, heading towards the kitchen.

He follows me, and I grab a container from inside the fridge, only to hit Neilson’s chest coming out. He takes the juice from my hands and places it on the counter.

“What?” I ask.

“I haven’t seen you in three months, and this is the greeting I get?” He places both hands on the counter, trapping me.

“Hello, Muffin?” I squeak out, feeling the intense closeness of us.

He took a step closer, pressing himself farther into me. “That’s all? No hug?”

I bit my bottom lips. “We hug earlier.”

“No, I hug you earlier,” he said

Slowly, I wrap my arms around his waist, and I can feel him around mine. Neilson didn’t say anything, and I didn’t know what to say, so we simply stood there.

Was it always this awkward between us?

“I miss you so much, Angel,” he mumbles into my neck.

After some more silence, I push him back. “So, juice?” I ask, getting out of his grasp and grabbing two glass cups. I take it and pour some juice for both of us.

He takes one, and I take the other, silently, drinking it. I pour more juice inside of mine and continue drinking it, filling up the silence as he keeps staring at me. My stomach feels like it’s about to burst, but I kept drinking more juice, praying it would explode so I would die and not be in this awkward situation.

“So, why are you here?” I ask when I realize the juice container is empty. Darn it.

“I thought we could bring back an old tradition,” he said, tucking his lips over his teeth, both hands shoved into his pocket.

“An old tradition?” I question slowly, trying to remember what tradition he was talking about.

“Fun Friday,” he said.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “We haven’t done that since I was twelve.”

I remember every when I was younger, Neilson and I would do Fun Friday. Usually, I would sleep at his house, and we would play board games, eat junk food, and watch random old movies in our pajamas. When I was twelve, one Friday night, Neilson just told me we were getting too old for Fun Friday and went out to watch movies with his friends instead.

Imagine, twelve years old, standing outside holding a giant blue pillow in her Princess pajamas with fluffy socks, ready to have Fun Friday with her next-door crush only to be slammed in the face with a door.

“I know, but I kind of miss it,” he mumbles.

“Neilson, you’re the one who told me we were getting too old for that,” I said, and he nods his head, leaning against the table while I put the juice away.

“I know, but I miss it,” he continues mumbling, giving me large puppy eyes, pouring out his lips.

I couldn’t help but snort at his sudden shy tactics. “Fine, but let me go change first,” I said, and a smile appears on his face.

Quickly, I rush upstairs and change into a tank top and a pair of shorts. Tying my hair up, I walk downstairs to see Neilson leaning against the counter. He turns towards me, and I can see his eyes scanning my body.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing my keys, attempting to control my body temperature.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Let’s go, your house, right?” I ask, heading towards the door, and he follows me.

Walking outside, I can feel the light breeze hitting my face, feeling amazing. My eyes roam over to see Neilson looking at me. “What?

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble, feeling quite awkward by his sudden compliment. Sometimes, Neilson would call me cute, but that was it, cute. Hesitantly, I resume walking towards his house.

I did not see that one coming.

Neilson opens his front door and turns on the lights, and I walk inside, taking off my flip flop. “Where is everyone?” I ask.

“Out.”

“For the night?” I question, hoping he will respond with a yes.

“No, my parents are on another business trip, and bro is out until tomorrow night,” he said, staring at the ground.

“So we are-”

“Alone.”

“Cool,” I mumble.

Great, I spend all day avoiding him, and now we are spending the night together.

Neilson walks towards the kitchen and starts grabbing some chips while I went to the cabinet to get some soda. I turn around to see Neilson pouring out some chips, smiling at me. “What is it?” I asked, placing two cans of drink on the table and grabbed two cups.

“I don’t know, I’m just glad you’re here,” he said while I pour out the sodas.

I hopped on the counter and grabbed a chip. “I know, I’m great company,” I said, biting the chip.

He grabs my wrist, biting the other half. I sat there watching him, eating the chip with his tongue sticking out. My heart freezes, feeling his tongue against my fingers, licking it. I swallowed the lump in my throat when he opened his mouth, sucking each of my fingers. He smirks, “You sure are.”

Taking the bowls of chips and candies, he heads towards the living room. I look down at my wet fingers, mind wondering if I would look like a creep if I start licking it right now.

I didn’t do that.

When we finished, we laid out the board games. Since we started Fun Friday when I was eight, we collected many games over the years. We probably have more than what is in the store. “So, what should we play first?” I ask, eyes scanning the piles of boards.

He puckered his lips and looked around.

“Oh! How about twisters!? We haven’t played that in ages!” I said.

“Or we can play another game,” he suggests, reaching out for scrambles.

“Oh, come on. You’re afraid I’m going to beat you, old man?” I said teasingly, holding up Twister in front of my chest and swaying it back and forth.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not old.”

“Then prove it,” I sang.

It’s official. I develop a love-hate relationship with Twister.

I’m currently bending over, attempting to reach my left arm on blue while Neilson is behind me. “Okay, right arm yellow,” he said, and he moved his arms to get blue. I bit my lips when I felt his hand grazing against my chest.

Was Twister always this s****l?

“Hey,” he whispers behind my ear, and I can feel his forearm grazing against my boobs.

“Y-Yes?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Oh right,” I said, reaching my arm out to spin it.

“Left leg red,” I said, trying to reach for yellow. When I bend upward, my face falls flat when I feel his crotch hitting my ass.

“You’re right,” he said.

“What?”

“Twister is fun,” I turn my head to see Neilson smirking. Our faces were merely inches apart, and I can feel his hard-on pressed against my bottom. “It’s my turn,” he breathes out, moving towards the board, closening our distance, eyes entirely on me. “Right arm, green,” he said. I can feel his lips grazing against mine.

I can feel his body moving closer, arm reaching out. Our lips were touching, and I held my breath, trying not to faint. He turns his head, and I can feel his lips hitting against mine, causing me to fall. I look up to see Neilson on top of me. He grins, “You lost.”

I push him off and stand up. “It’s because you cheated!” I shout, stomping my leg.

He sat there, a playful grin still on his face. “How can someone cheat in Twister?”

I point at him. “Because y-you, your face, and lips! And urg!” I fold my arms and stomp my leg. “Not fair! Not fair! Not fair!” I whine, stomping my leg some more, acting as if I’m a child again who hates losing. I don’t know when, but I develop this childish behavior around Neilson whenever I lose a game.

I remember how I cried for two hours over monopoly when I was ten, claiming he cheated until he promised to take me out for yogurt. When I turned eleven, I found out he did cheat. He was grabbing money from the bank when I wasn’t looking.

He stands up, pinching my cheeks. “Is someone a whiny baby?” he said in his baby voice, pouring out his lips.

“I’m not a whiny baby,” I whine.

He wraps his arms around me. “Come on, don’t pout,” he said, turning his head towards me, but I turn away.

Neilson moves forward, and I move back. We continue the pattern until I stumble down the couch. “Okay, how about this? I did cheat. You won,” he whispers.

A smile made its appearance. “Yup! I won!” I said proudly, knowing I didn’t win, but whatever.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me upward. My smile dropped when I realized Neilson was between my legs, laying on top of me.

When did that even happen?

“Don’t ever leave without telling me ahead of time again,” he grumbles.

“Let’s watch a movie,” I said, trying to change the subject and perhaps positions.

“No,” he replies gravely.

“What?”

“I’m comfy,” he whines.

“I’m noooooot!” I said, trying to push him off. “You’re so faaaat!”

He went on his elbows. “I miss this.”

“Fun Friday?”

“You,” he said, nuzzling his nose against mine.

“You’re acting really weird, Neilson,” I said

He turns his head to the side, hair tilting along. “Am I?”

I nod. “Very weird.”

“I guess I just miss you a lot. It’s making me crazy,” he said, deep brown staring at me. “I go crazy without you by my side Alice,” he whispers.

I was choking on my own words, unable to respond appropriately.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

“What about the movie?”

“We have next Friday,” he said, carrying me upward. I can feel his hands underneath my ass as I held his shirt while pacing us up the stairs.

“I can walk,” I said, wrapping my legs around his torso.

“I know,” he said, keeping his eyes on mine, hands squeezing my bottom, causing me to bite down on my lower lips, attempting not to squeal.

He walks towards his bedroom, and my grip tightens. “I don’t want to sleep in your bed,” I pout.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” I mumble.

I glance up at him. “Please, can we sleep somewhere else?” I said, chewing on my lower lips.

“Can I ask you something?” He questions, and I nod. “Did you happen to see Misha on my bed three months ago?”

I push him back, resting my feet on the carpet. “I have to go,” I said, passing him, but he grabbed my elbow and pulled me back.

“Neilson! I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hear from you, you know, with her.”

“You mean had se-”

I cover up his mouth, staring at him with widening eyes. When I felt his tongue running through my palms, I retracted my hand, but he held it in place. I stepped back, and he went forward, placing a thigh between my legs. “Nothing happened,” he said, and I stare at him, unable to believe his words. ”Nothing happened between Misha and me on that bed.”

I bit my lower lip. “Why are you letting me sleep on your bed again? You forbid me to step inside your room ever since I was thirteen,” I mumble, fingers playing with one another.

When I was younger, I always slept on Neilson’s bed, waiting for him to come home from school or work. I remember how he had the softest mattress in the whole world. I would curl up under his blanket, smelling his scent - I know it’s creepy, but hey, I was a lovesick puppy - and waited for him to come home.

Thirteen, the vicious age when Neilson forbade me to step into his room. I remember how I was sitting on his bed while he walked back and forth, lecturing me about how I shouldn’t be in a guy room because they are all jerks. I would sit there listening to his lecture, but it didn’t make any sense, so I zoned out and started thinking about ice cream. That caused him to give me another hour lecture about how I should listen when an adult talks instead of thinking about ice cream. After that, he started avoiding me like I was a wild animal getting ready to attack him.

I can hear him releasing a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t understand, Neilson. We were so close until you ditched me to hang out with your friends more. I mean, I guess I understand. Who would want to hang out with a thirteen-year-old,” I said in a mocking voice.

“Alice, you were,” he releases a deep breath. “You were going through puberty at that time, and you slept on my bed without a bra on,” he said. I stood there and stared at him while he chewed on his upper lips.

He pitched the bridge of his nose, “And you wear skirts just a bit too often,” he mumbles, releasing a hazy breath. I stand there, biting my bottom lips, cheeks reddening. “And when you started wearing a training bra, it got worse. You kept sleeping on my bed only with the bra and a short pair of shorts on. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“It was hot,” I mumble.

“I can’t have a thirteen-year-old sleeping on my bed with barely anything on.” He ground his teeth together, “Please understand my position.”

I stand there, tucking my lips over my teeth, feeling his hot body radiating towards me. Slowly, he places a finger under my chin, lifting to meet his eyes. “How about a fort in the living room tonight, on the carpets, just like the old days?” he suggests, changing the uncomfortable subject, and I nod my head.

Neilson lifts me, princess style, carrying me to the living room. He went upstairs to grab pillows and blankets. I laid it out then rolled on top while he threw the sheet on top of me, causing me to throw into a loud laugh.

He went under the blanket with me and started tickling me, causing my laughter to heighten. “N-Neilson! Stop!” I shout, trying to get away, but he pulls me back, wrapping his limbs around my body.

He stops, and I look up. “I’m glad you’re back.”