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Your name is Jake English and you don’t think you’ve ever been more amused or embarrassed by your boyfriend in your entire relationship.
You hadn’t expected anything like the eyeful you got as Dirk opened his door for you, leaning against the frame with his smug Strider-patented smirk. Seeing as your school looks down upon homosexuals and anyone not included in the binary, you simply figured the two of you would go as a pair of incredibly close boyfriends best bros, just as his younger brother and his date best friend had done! Sadly, your chosen companion can get a little…carried away at times. He’s normally incredibly level headed...or so most think; those that don’t know him well enough.
Your jaw had dropped as soon as you’d laid eyes on him. On her, rather. Jesus Christopher cringlefucker he’d really…well…he’d honestly outdone himself! Who in their right mind would have thought a pair of bright orange pumps would make his legs look so good? Cripes, you couldn’t help but wonder who had even planted such an idea in his hea—Oh. Well golly that makes so much more sense. One look at his face and it was pretty evident one of your best female friends had assisted him in this…transformation. She was always nagging you two to dress in drag, saying it was a simple joke. You both knew better, obviously. You’ll have to speak to Roxy about this later. She should know better than to convince Dirk to indulge her ridiculous fantasies! And where in the world had they found a tangerine hued prom dress on such short notice? Actually, never mind. You’re not sure you wish to know.
You hadn’t been lying when you said he’d outdone himself. He looked pretty damn convincing in your opinion! If you didn’t look too close or directly at him or speak to him or really have any contact with him, in actuality. The “disguise” was honestly crap. Not that you couldn’t enjoy your time and get a few laughs out of it, of course! Which you do. After you finish blushing like a flustered mess, that is.
“D-Dirk!!” you had exclaimed, the tips of your ears burning a bright pink which you knew would soon light up your cheeks, so you had ducked your head, covering your mouth to hopefully hide that embarrassing blush of yours. You were fully aware he was grinning at you, more than content to see you bothered by any image of him, really. Not that it took ever took much. You’ve always been rather easy to make flush, your cheeks turning a ruddy rouge. You couldn’t honestly help it, his thighs looked damn scrumptious—Oh bleeding hell no, there’s no way you were thinking about that. No no, you had a lovely evening to attend at your high school gym with your lovely…date. You sure as hell hoped at least the wig was convincing enough.
Which it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. You strode up to the doors, arm in arm, your palms sweating anxiously. The attendees had given you a few strange looks at first, and you couldn’t see why the hell they wouldn’t. From afar, it must have looked like you’d actually managed yourself a girlfriend! One with breasts made of tissue, might you add.
It was Jane that noticed you two first. She had crept up seemingly out of nowhere while Dirk’s back was turned. Oh god, she eyed him like a predator. She was suspicious! As to be expected, her reaction was one to alert the entire dance hall. You couldn’t really blame her, seeing how the initial sight had caught you off guard as well too! You tried to shush her, Dirk explaining in a low whisper about the situation, and she thankfully calmed down. It was far too late, however, to avoid the looming chaperone approaching. Your eyes widened in fear and you snatched up the blonde’s wrist, attempting to drag him off, but he stood his ground. How impeccably Dirk of him. Too bad what you needed right then was to abscond immediately.
So now here the two of you sit, alone, on a school bench, kicked out of your senior prom. With a sigh, you rest your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands, gazing out at the dimly-lit grass. You sit like that for a few moments before you feel Dirk shift beside you, a hand resting gently on your back. “I’m sorry.”
After a slight pause, you glance over at him, his luminescent apricot eyes meeting your own, rather plain green ones (in your opinion, at least. He always insists the opposite.). You’re glad to see them stripped of their usual dark confines and you give a small smile despite yourself, his eyes always having been a weak spot for you. “It’s…it’s not a problem, mate,” you reassure him. You don’t want him to necessarily feel bad about it, but he should know it certainly wasn’t practical! “It was rather amusing, after all. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have any fun at all.”
He flashes one of his small, rather rare smiles and you swear your stomach flips. Cor, what that tiny gesture does to you. You can feel yourself growing bashful once more, and you look down at your hands, a small jolt running through you at the feel of him gently taking one in his own, your cheeks heating as he gingerly laces your fingers together. You look back up at him, your smile shy and he scoots a bit closer, stopping until your thighs are pressed together. He never breaks your eye contact, although you know how anxious it makes him to be without is shades. They’re like his safety net.
Without another thought you lean in and swiftly press your lips together, your head buzzing quietly. Three months together, and you’re still caught up in tender moments like these. When you pull away, he’s quick to move back in, the feeling of his smile against your lips sending a happy shiver down your spine. Suddenly, you don’t care just how outrageous or ridiculous he is; those times he goes completely stoic and unmoving. The only thing on your mind is a phrase, made up of five simple words.
I think I love him.