Cheryl Again

“I can’t believe you!” Cheryl raged, storming down the stairs into the living room. “I bare my body to you and you go and, and k, kiss that, that bitch! After how, how she’s b, been treating you!”

What is it with these girls, Gerald wondered, setting his book aside, again. What do they see in me that no one else does? Especially Carmen. He grumbled, considering his best friend at school and her latest boyfriend. The louse was as bad as the previous ones, and after every one had hurt her, she came to him for comfort.

“Are you even listening to me?” Cheryl screeched, towering over him.

“I’m sorry,” Gerald said to her. “I was caught up in my thoughts.”

“Men!” she spat, rolling her eyes. “Holly told me that she and Katrina saw you kissing Lisa! How could you do that to me?”

“To you?” Gerald’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I can assure you it was unintentional.”

“But wasn’t it?” Cheryl gasped. “Then who? Or what?” Her brow furrowed in concentration.

“What are you talking about?” the young man asked, suddenly worried that she had realized what he had done earlier.

“I, I heard a voice,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Earlier. When I, I showed you my, my-”

“I remember,” Gerald nodded. “What about it?”

“Afterwards, I thought about that voice and I thought that it had been you, talking to me in my mind.”

“It was probably your conscience, Cheryl,” he said. “Sometimes it speaks to you as if it were another person. It can help you work through some things that way.”

“But, I thought-”

“It’s not possible,” Gerald said with finality. “There has never been any verified, documented evidence that our species could do such a thing. Telepathy, which is what you’re thinking of, does not exist.” He hoped his words would sink in.

“I guess,” she pouted. “But in the stories-”

“Stories are fiction, Cheryl. They’re not real. Just products of imaginative minds. Understand?”

“Yes, Gerald,” the blonde sighed, dismay written on her face.

“And again, I am sorry about upsetting you,” the young man said, trying to change the subject. “I didn’t want to ruin your evening with your friends.”

“It might,” she said, her eyes glinting with hunger. Gerald groaned mentally, wondering what she wanted of him.

“Kiss me,” Cheryl demanded. “Kiss me and you’ll make my night.”

“That I can do,” he smiled softly, standing up and taking the young woman into his arms. Who’s next, he wondered, his lips passionately embraced with Cheryl’s. Holly probably, he recalled her envious expression. What could she possibly want?