"Joe, fucking sit still! I have a hot iron in my hand and you're shitting yourself if you think I'm afraid to use it."
He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. His hands were already covered in burns, and the look on his face told me that he was not looking for more.
It was my own crazy idea, I'll admit, to straighten his huge mass of steel wool-esque hair. What was crazier was the idea that he would sit still for close to an hour and a half in my tiny, one hundred degree bathroom. But, hey, a girl can dream.
"Celina!" he whined, wincing as the hot metal of the straightening iron grazed the top of his ear. "You're fucking burning my skin off."
I raised an eyebrow and clamped the iron down on a chunk of hair near his face. He scrunched his eyes up as it fell, steaming and straight, onto his forehead.
"If you stopped moving, I wouldnt have to burn your skin off." I ran my fingers through the straightened areas, mussing them to perfection. "Man up, Trohman. Pete does this everyday without incident."
"Yeah, well," he growled, "Pete's half a woman anyway."
"Jealousy is not becoming."
"Your mother is not becoming." Joe mumbled, stomping a foot.
I ran the iron through his hair one more time and unplugged it, reaching for a bottle of hairspray.
"No! No hairspray!" He yelled, his eyes widening.
"Joe, there is no way your forest is going to stay that way without it!"
"Oh fucking well! No hairspray!"
He grabbed my wrists, shaking the hand holding the hairspray until the metal can fell from my grasp and clattered to the floor. I waited for him to release me, but he didnt. I tried to pull my hands away and he grinned, tightening his grip. He pressed me back into the wall, his face moving close to mine.
"Joe, what are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
He pulled back a bit and furrowed his brow. "I dont really know."
I slid away, backing out of the bathroom. He watched me go with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground.
I heard the fans before I saw them, whirring and clunking and blowing hot air around. I walked into my living room, greeted by three pairs of eyes. Peter was sprawled across the couch in his underwear, Andy sat on the floor in front of a window fan, and Patrick was holding a sweating can of Mountain Dew to his forehead.
"I hate July." Pete groaned, fanning his face with a magazine from my coffee table. His pants were tossed over the back of the couch and his shirt was in a heap on the floor.
"So do I," I muttered, throwing myself down onto the floor and spreading my limbs out against the cool wood paneling.
"Where's the Jew?" He asked.
"Upstairs still."
"Putting his clothes back on?" Patrick snorted, shooting me a grin.
"Shut up, Stump." I glared.
"Aw, come on Celina. You know you want his body." Pete laughed.
"Wentz, I swear I'll come over there and castrate you." I pointed a menacing finger at him. Patrick laughed and I turned on him next, "You too, Stump. Don't think you're safe."
"Aw, 'Lina, you know you're just mad because we know what's in your heart better than you do." Patrick laughed again.
"You're lucky it's too hot to move." I sighed, turning my head and pressing my other cheek to the floor. I heard Joe coming down the stairs and found that I was glad I was facing away from everyone. I was blushing.
"Jesus Christ, its fucking hot in here." Joe said by means of an entrance. "Hey, how come Pete gets to take his clothes off?"
"Because he's Pete." I said simply.
"Yeah, well. I'm Joe, and I'm taking my clothes off too."
He instantly unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans. Stepping out of them, he took his shirt off too. I looked away, embarrassed to be watching (and sort of, well, enjoying) his semi-public stripping.
"Well, now three out of five are half nekkid. Who's next?" Joe grinned, sitting down on the floor near me.
"Celina's not half nekkid." Andy said in my defense. "She's wearing shorts."
"Yeah, booty shorts." Joe rolled his eyes.
"No, they are not! They're perfectly respectable!" I protested, tugging my shorts down slightly.
"Sure they are, 'Lina." Pete sighed. "Keep telling yourself that."
We had been sprawled around my living room for about an hour when I saw bruised, purple lightning flash across the sky. Thunder rumbled low under the dark, thick, grey clouds.
"It's going to rain." Andy muttered, looking out the window.
"Sweet." I grinned, pulling myself up and leaving the room. I skipped like a child to the front door, pulled it open, and ran outside just as the first drops began to fall.
"She's crazy." I heard Joe mutter from the living room.
The four boys followed me outside reluctantly, each hesitating before they stepped out into the yard. Peter was the first to join me in the driveway. He stood next to me, catching rain drops in his palms.
"So, Celina. Joe is totally checking you out." He muttered, only for my ears.
The rain had already started to soak through my clothing and run in rivulets over my skin. I suddenly felt very self conscious.
"I'm sure he's not." I sputtered, purposely looking in the opposite direction of Mr. Trohman.
"Oh, bull shit! He's certainly not looking at me," he said, "Though I wouldnt really blame him if he was. I'm sexy soaking wet."
"Well, there you have it. Maybe Broseph Jewman is secretly gay. That would solve a lot of problems, wouldnt it?" I pushed my dripping bangs off my forehead.
"HA! Right. Like the issues you have with denial?"
"Denial? What denial? Joe is like a brother to me."
"Yeah, but you want his cock." Patrick said from behind me, making me jump.
"I do not, Patrick Stump." I said, blushing at his brazenness.
"Look at that blush! You totally do!" He said triumphantly.
I opened my mouth to protest again, but I didnt have to.
Patrick got nailed in the side of the head with Joe's handful of mud. I burst into peals of laughter while Patrick swore revenge. He bent down to the exposed areas of dirt at the edge of the lawn and threw his own handful. He missed Joe and hit Andy, who retaliated. Soon, all five of us were completely covered in mud, laughing and dodging flying wads of wet dirt.
Joe caught me around the waist and began using me as a human shield.
"Joe, get off." I said, squirming against his iron grip.
He laughed and spun me around. I stopped laughing and stared at him. Water and mud ran down his face, dripped of his chin. His grin faded, and he looked at me with an appraising expression.
I reached up and tugged on a lock of his hair, smiling slightly.
"All that time with a straightener, and you were stupid enough to come outside and ruin everything." I muttered.
"Yeah, well. Maybe I wasnt putting up with the burns just for the straight hair." He murmured back.
Before I could protest, he pressed his mouth to mine. He kept an arm around my waist and put a hand on my arm. I tasted his cigarettes and his favorite grape jolly-ranchers along with the saltiness of sweat and rain.
"What are you doing?" I asked, wide-eyed.
"I dont really know." He grinned, "But I dont think you're complaining."
He kissed me again and I heard loud 'whoops' coming from Pete and Patrick across the lawn. Andy just laughed.
"Alright! That's what I'm talkin' about! 'Lina's gettin' the Jew!" Pete shouted.
"Getting the Jew?" Joe chuckled. "Is that what you're doing?"
I shrugged. He laughed again.
"Damn straight 'Lina's gettin' the Jew!"
lips pressed close to mine, true blue.
HAHAHA.
Get that Jew Booty!
happy birthday, 'Lina!
