A/N: I wanted to take a small break from writing my usual dark themed fiction and work on something that could be related on a much broader spectrum. Also, I am highly disappointed in the quality of fiction in the Rugrats section. I leave for a year or two and this happens? What happened to sequence of events, a true plot, depth, perception, and most importantly literary cohesion? Tsk. Well, here is my story. It'll be relatively short because I am working on my other one in the "M" rated section and I plan to make that into a sequel. I promise this shall be more tamed. HOWEVER, Suggestive content is to ensue. Enjoy.
The Scarlet Letter
I do not own anything. Used under creative expressive purposes only.
It's been about a year now since we made things…official. With my heat-of-the moment confession of unrequited love, his excitement, my relief, and a searing tongue-dueling kiss we became an item. Not only were we an item, we were thee item. Glances were thrown each and every way as we walked the endless corridors of our high-school, holding hands, and giving the occasional kiss on the lips as side-comments and stares bombarded us from various directions. At first, it was rather difficult. Being the "popular" girl in school was a cliché role out of a teenage comedy, but I fit the part rather perfectly. I was mean, malicious, snotty, and spoiled. Girls desperately tried to mimic my every move with blonde hair coloring and sequin mini-skirts as boys attempted to seduce me with empty, soft words of heartless expression and flattery.
In contrast, he was the typical nerd out of such a teenage comedy. Wore glasses, annoyingly intelligent, absolutely terrible fashion sense, and a member of the, dare I say, chess team. Despite being the height of even the tallest of our high-school's basketball players, with the muscular build to match, his extensive Yu-Gi-Oh trading card collection and addiction to RPG gaming kept him at the very bottom of the social hierarchy while I was sitting comfortably at the very top.
Despite our similarities and differences, our childhood naivety on quixotic emotions sparked the forbidden flame of lust, crystallizing into a more definite form of love. True love. Charles is the only person who has ever, who will ever, seen the real side of Angelica Pickles. He is the only person who knows my exterior is as vulnerable as my guarded heart, the "mean girl" act I put up daily just to survive my last few months of high-school all being a façade to simply "fit in". He knows I have a birth mark in the shape of Louisiana on the inner-part of my left thigh. He knows my favorite ice-cream is mint-chocolate chip. He knows my favorite food of all time is mashed-potatoes and gravy. He knows I am afraid of lightening. He even knows the duration of days of my monthly cycle. He knows everything. I don't know what it is or how I have gotten to simply adore that man; but I am helplessly, hopelessly in love.
I pushed my glasses to the brim of my nose and continued tapping furiously against the battered keys of my keyboard, biting the pencil embedded between my teeth harder in an effort to concentrate. I had less than six hours to get yet another last-minute assignment done before I could get at least a few hours of sleep in before class. I scolded myself for waiting until the last minute to write such a hefty research paper but, as usual, I overestimated my abilities in cockiness. I pressed the "Save" button within my word document and let out a small sigh, reaching for the forgotten can of cola and half-eaten ham sandwich in my lap. I leaned back against my headboard, stretching. It was a little close to midnight and I was already ready to pass out from exhaustion. Between dance practice, after-school math tutoring, studying, making out and dinner with Chuckie, and homework, I was well spent and deserving of a goodnight's sleep. I yawned and fought the urge to simply close my laptop and drift off. My eyes grew heavy.
"Wake up, Gelly." A small peck was placed upon my lips as soft, masculine hands cupped my cheek. My eyes fluttered open. "No sleep just yet."
I growled and pushed him away. "I am sleepy."
"I told you about waiting until the last minute to do your assignments." I watched carelessly as Chuckie began to remove the trash and debris from my bed spread, sitting down on the edge softly. "If you would have listened, you could have had this paper done last week."
"I'm not a nerd like you, Finster." I hissed. "I actually have a social life."
"Oh?" he crossed his arms against his toned chest, raising a single eyebrow. "And what sort of social life is more important than school work and good grades?"
I rolled my eyes and re-opened my laptop. I used one of the many multi-colored rubber bands around my wrist to put my hair into a messy high-waited bun. "Your non-existent one." I countered. "Seriously, you are invited to all the parties I go to you know."
He scoffed, scooting further away from the edge of my bed and laying back against the wall. He grabbed my cell phone and began to rummage through my texts. "Only by association." He paused. "Wow, Savannah is pregnant?"
I snatched my phone and gave him the Rubix cube I had sitting on my night stand. Every evening, to no avail, I would try and solve it but end up inevitably failing. "No, because you are my boyfriend and somewhat expected to go." I pressed the backspace button several times to get rid of some week- old peanut-butter residue off of the backslash button. "And yes, she is."
"By Trevor Hunter?"
I nodded. Not looking at his direction. "Of course."
He let out an amused chuckle before tossing the cube back in my direction, solved and completed. I felt the familiar ping of jealousy. "And your friends do not like me. They only invite me because I am your boyfriend."
"Not like your friends are clamoring to invite me to your little gatherings."
"Actually, they were at first." He pushed his glasses up and rested the back of his head against his forearms, closing his eyes. "But we figured you wouldn't grace us with your presence, your highness."
I flipped him the finger and remained typing. "I sincerely do apologize Athens, but this is Sparta."
He laughed quietly, snorting softly. I smiled at the sound. His snorting had become somewhat of his signature trademark that I gave grown to find incredibly cute. "Funny." He yawned. "So, Savannah keeping the baby?"
"Seems to look that way." Chuckie let out a small 'humph', earning a glance his way. "What?"
I growled. "Finster…"
"I just think she is a bit…young to be having a baby." He sat up fully erect, crossing his arms against his chest again. "She doesn't exactly have the best father figure let alone stereotypical "baby daddy"."
I finally closed my laptop after almost three hours of constant, annoying tapping against marred keys to be gifted with a well-written, finished English research assignment on the transformation of female sexuality throughout the twenty-first century. I huffed loudly, tossing the warm machine into one of my many bean bag chairs to my far left. "Trevor and Savannah both come from money, Chuckie."
"Money does not make the parent, Angelica." There was a pregnant pause, his eyes shifting as his mind began to scan the infinite file folders within his head in search for the right words to say. He swallowed hard, gazing sympathetically into my eyes. "You can vouch for that."
He was right. My parents were never home, not that they ever were to begin with for that matter, and used their endless bank accounts to satiate my insatiable desire for company. They were always so preoccupied with work and their "significant" others to make familial time like they attempted to when I was much younger. When I was younger, they compensated for their parental neglect with toys, candy, sweets, and trips to Reptar Land with my trustee side-kick, Cynthia, in tow. Now, I am a blossomed eighteen year-old and trivial gifts were no longer an option. My toys became exotic, foreign vehicles in pristine condition as my candy, sweets, and trips to Reptar Land catalyzed into jewelry from Cartier, Chanel and Prada hand bags, and vacations of Mexico respectively.
"I know but who am I to tell Savannah to not have her baby?"
"A true friend."
I sighed, knowing he was right. When she first told me in the girl's bathroom earlier this week she was pregnant, I wanted to hold her and allow her to sob in my arms until she felt content enough to talk- even if my sweater was cashmere. As her best, truly only real friend, I felt I was somewhat obligated to talk to her and be realistic about her situation. But I held back, in fear of having her spark another uprising about me unable to relate to her problems because I bore the scarlet letter. I was still a virgin. How could a virgin understand?
I bit my bottom lip, nibbling slightly as I quickly turned off the two small lamps on my night stands. I reached for Chuckie's glasses and placed them softly atop of one of them, tugging his shirt gently, urging him to follow me. He blinked and then smirked, placing a hot, wet kiss upon my lips as he followed me downwards into my fortress of pink pillows. I moaned into the kiss as it deepened, his hands beginning to roam my exposed thighs as he pried them open, placing himself in between. I ran my manicured nails through his orange mane, gripping his sweet locks as he began to roam my taut stomach. He stopped at my belly ring and began to fiddle with it slightly. Ever since I got the thing it has been a secret obsession of his.
"Chuckie…" I breathed.
"You…never…did…answer…my….question." he breathed amongst kisses. I reached up and undid my poorly constructed bun, allowing my blonde tendrils to gracefully frame my face and run down to the valley of my breasts. He began to gently palm my soft mounds, caressing the growing soft nub that protruded through my sheer tank. He earned a soft sqeak. "Hm?"
I mewled at his touch, feeling myself grow uneasy at the inching tightness in between my thighs. "Chuckie…"
I felt him press against me, tapping gently at my entrance through the cloth of my panties. I never seen it before, but I touched it gently on accident one time at a cookout two summers ago during a quick game of Marco Polo. He surely did not disappoint.
"Angelica…" he deepened the kiss, becoming more forceful. I scraped against his shirt, fumbling to unbutton it in a last-ditch effort. I grew so frustrated that I ripped the damned thing open, watching two silver buttons dance their way to my plush carpeting through the cloak of midnight. I ran a single hand over the hills of his abs and the contours of his firm pectorals, smiling inwardly at my own personal playground. Chuckie may have been a nerd, but he damn sure had the body of a Greek god. I finally rested my hands upon the growing bulge in his jeans. I twirled my index finger amongst a small patch of orange curls. He froze. Cautiously, I slowly reached for his zipper….
My eyes widened as he bolted from on top of me, clumsily finding his footing and balance without failing to knock over a thing or two. He switched on the light-switch near the door and brightly illuminated my bedroom. I rubbed my eyes to adjust and sighed. Damn, again!
He was flustered, sweaty, crimson, and certainly aroused. He turned to face my door to sentential his some-what form of nudity. I grew frustrated as I felt myself try and ebb my desire to become a lioness and pounce on my unsuspecting cub.
"I'm sorry, Angelica." He breathed lowly. He turned to face me, eyes seemingly more interested in the cream shaded carpeting than my own. "I am sorry."
"Finster, no need to apologize." I forced a small smile, curling my finger as I hither him to come forward. He kissed me gently. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, ok?"
"I know you are lying. Every time we make out its gets to the point where we…you know." He grew bashful, cheeks tainted with red. I kissed him again.
"You can say it, you know. It's not a bad word."
"C'mon, I know you want to."
"Three little words is all it takes."
"SEX! S-E-X, SEX!" he yelled, heart racing. I watched him amusingly as he reached into one of my night stands and pulled out his spare inhaler, taking a small breath. "…Damn you."
I giggled and stood to turn off my lights. He watched hungrily as I sashayed across the room in nothing but a practically see-through sleep tank and my turquoise panties. He silently fumed at my seduction, though it was highly welcomed. "Charles, shut up and strip down to your boxers so we can finally get some sleep."
"You sure you aren't upset, Gelly?" he asked, shedding himself to nothing but his underwear, just like I asked. I shook my head at the sight of his Yu-Gi-Oh adorned garment, eyeing the softening, yet still stiff bulge. He waved his hands frantically to get back my attention. "Hey!"
I threw one of the decorative pillows that were placed in the sectional I had in the corner of my bedroom, walking passed a now startled Chuckie and into my California King bed. I snuggled deep inside the soft Egyptian cotton sheets and allowed my beloved to wrap his arm arms around me.
"Angelica…" he stopped. "You sure you aren't mad?"
I nodded and tried my best to force myself to drift off to sleep. Truth be told, I was frustrated and a little disappointed, but not mad. It was not easy being the only virgin in my social class of friends. Whenever the subject of sex would arise, I would pretend to know what I was talking about and throw around the terms "BJ" and "climax" just to make myself seem rehearsed on the topic. Everyone knew I was a virgin, but thought I was heavily skilled in the oral sex department. I may have lied one time to impress my friends and since then, I have been attacked with questions and concerns concerning proper fellatio techniques. I secretly had no clue. Every time I tried to get somewhat intimate with Chuckie, he would freeze up and run away like he did tonight. I began to think on the possibilities of if he truly found me attractive or not; was he really into me? Was there someone else? I know his ex, Samantha Shane, has been trying to get her claws back into him several times over the course of our relationship but has been shot down on multiple occasions when Chuckie politely rejected her advances and made it known of his undying love for yours truly. I allowed myself to rid my thoughts as I felt the light snoring of my beloved tickle the small hairs of my neck. I smiled, slowly joining him.