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MidReal Story
Intimate Encounters: Kendall's Forbidden Desire
Anonymous
May 13
Scenario:Kendall Hedlerson goes to a little sleepover at her friend, Hazel Jenson house, but Kendall, who is sober, can't sleep and accidentally bumps into her friend's insanely hot brother, WIlde, who was high out of his mind. Soon, Kendal found herself held up against the kitchen wall as Wilde kisse down her body and said "God, princess...you don't know how much ive needed this"
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I’m not a drinker.
I’ve never been drunk, and I’ve never been to a party where people were drinking.
I’ve never even seen my parents drunk, and I’m pretty sure they only drink wine at Thanksgiving because it’s what adults do.
But tonight, my parents are fighting.
They’re screaming at each other, and I can hear them through the walls of my room.
It’s not the first time they’ve fought, but it’s the first time it’s been this bad.
I don’t know what to do, so I text Hazel.
She’s my best friend, and she only lives a few houses down from me.
Can I come over?
My parents are fighting.
She texts back almost immediately.
Of course!
Do you want me to come get you?
I tell her that I’ll walk over because I need to get out of the house anyway, and then I grab my backpack and throw in some pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow.
When I get to Hazel’s house, the garage door is open, so I walk right in.
I’ve been here so many times that I don’t even knock anymore.
“Hazel,” I call into the kitchen.
She’s not there, but Wilde is.
He’s standing at the island, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid that I’m pretty sure is whiskey.
It’s late, and that can’t be good.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sorry,” he says.
“This is my house.
You’re the one who doesn’t belong here.”
I roll my eyes and ignore him, moving around the kitchen to the pantry where Hazel has a stash of chocolate chip cookies that she swears are off-limits, but we eat them anyway.
“What’s in the backpack?”
Wilde asks, and I jump when I realize he’s standing right behind me.
“None of your business,” I snap.
He reaches for it, but I move it out of his reach.
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but you shouldn’t have come here this late at night.
I know your parents are fighting, but it’s not safe to be walking around at this time of night.”
“I live five houses down.
It’s not like I had to walk through a bad neighborhood or anything.”
“What do your parents have to say about this?”
I shrug, feeling like a kid who got caught sneaking cookies after bedtime.
“I don’t know.I didn’t ask.”
He narrows his eyes at me and moves closer until his chest is nearly touching my arm, which is still holding the backpack against my body like a shield.
“Did they tell you to come over here?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“It was my idea.”
He lets out a harsh breath and takes a step back, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
“You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“Why?”
I ask, confused.
“I haven’t done anything.”
He shakes his head at me, like he’s disappointed, and then moves away from me and back to the island where he picks up his glass of whiskey again and takes a big gulp before setting it back down on the counter with a clunk.
When Hazel finally shows up, she has two pillows and a blanket in her arms.
She sets them down on the couch in her living room, where I’m sitting with a book I grabbed from her nightstand, even though I’m too distracted to read it.
“Your parents are still fighting?”
she asks, and I nod, tucking my feet up under me so there’s room for her to sit beside me on the couch.
I’m not sure if I should be listening to their fight right now or pretending like nothing is wrong.
I don’t want to make things awkward for Hazel, but I don’t want to pretend like everything is fine either, especially since I came here for a reason.
My parents have never fought like this before, and I’m scared.
“Can I stay here tonight?”
I ask Hazel in a quiet voice so Wilde won’t hear me from the kitchen, where he’s been for the last twenty minutes making himself a drink and then cleaning up the mess he made in the kitchen while he waited for us to come home.
Hazel is twenty minutes younger than me, and she has this thing where I’m always her older sister instead of her friend, even though we share the same birthday and the same grade at school, so when she nods and puts her arm around my shoulders, I know she’s doing it because she thinks it’s what I need: protection, and someone to take care of me, even if we’re more close than ever since we started high school a few months ago, and she made all these new friends, and we sort of drifted apart, which has never happened before.
She gives me a one-armed hug and rests her head on my shoulder, her long, blonde hair tickling my cheek as she nods against me, and then she says, “Of course you can, Kendall.You’re always welcome here.”
Her parents went out of town this weekend, so she’s alone at home for the first time ever, and I don’t blame her for being happy to have someone here to keep her company, even if it is the older sister she’s never had and has never needed because she has the most overprotective brother in the world, and that’s no exaggeration, even though he’s three years older than us and he has no right to act that way anymore.
“Thanks,” I say, grateful that she’s willing to let me stay here tonight, even if she does make me sleep on the couch instead of sharing her bed with her, like we usually do at sleepovers.
I’ll take what I can get right now.
Her house is small but cozy, and it has all the same distinguishing features as mine because we live in the same neighborhood: vaulted ceilings, big windows, and lots of natural light coming in from all directions, since the house is surrounded by pine trees and greenery.
The smell of vanilla wafts through the air from candles that Hazel’s mom has lit all over the house, and it makes me feel warm and comfortable despite the churning in my stomach from worrying about what’s happening at home without me there to witness it firsthand.
“Do you want some tea?”
Hazel asks me when we sit down on the couch together after we make a trip to the kitchen to microwaver popcorn and grab a few cans of soda from the fridge that we pop open in unison, like twins or something.
“Yeah,” I say, tucking the blanket around my legs and accepting one of the pillows that she hands to me.
“Thanks.” I take it from her and fluff it up before I lay it against the arm of the couch so I can lean against it while we watch TV.
We have no intention of actually sleeping on this sleepover, which is why I brought my backpack with me, but I appreciate the thought nonetheless.
She’s always looking out for me, even when there’s nothing she can do to help me.
I watch as she walks back to the kitchen to grab us some mugs because that’s what you drink tea out of at sleepovers: mugs that are usually filled with soup or ramen noodles when it’s not three in the morning on a weekend.
It’s only been ten minutes since I texted my mom about why I wasn’t home, but it feels like it’s been hours, and it’s going to be hours longer until she’ll be able to text me back, which means I need to keep up the pretense of being here for a sleepover when I’m actually only here because I don’t have anywhere else to go, at least for now, so I clear my throat as a distraction, and then ask, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”
Hazel considers it for all of two seconds before she shrugs and says, “Sure.What do you wanna watch?”
“I don’t care,” I tell her as I shrug, too, since I’m trying to act as normal as possible, even though normal is the farthest thing from what I’m feeling right now.
“Do you want me to order us a pizza while you pick something out?”
I feel guilty for ruining our sleepover, since Hazel was so excited about it, and she told me earlier that she’d even rented a few old movies for us to watch tonight, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t really want to watch them anymore, at least not right now.