Chapter 1

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, NonConsensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, First, Oral Sex, Petting, Slow, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Aaron's ashamed of his life, and feels depraved. The one person he feels comfortable with is his childhood friend, Molly. As he develops feelings for her, doubts and worries cloud his mind.

"Oh fuck yes Aaron, give it to me!"

It was a phrase I had come to hear a lot ever since I started going to college. Peterson U was by no means the best for ... anything, really, but god damn if it didn't have the best girls on the planet. Every Friday night, like clockwork, I found a girl, danced with her, and was usually having my way with her in her dorm room. Tonight was no exception.

I thrust into her as hard as I could, loving life and loving the feel of the girl's beautiful, cute little ass. She couldn't have been any older than a sophomore, but I didn't really tend to mind. Age seemed to be invisible once kids were out of high school, in college, and mature enough to realize your age didn't really matter as long as you weren't breaking the law.

I grabbed the blonde girl's hips and thrust into her, enjoying how her body quivered as I shoved my whole eight inches into her. I reached below her and grabbed her tits - somewhat of an awkward angle, and there was barely anything to grab, but I still loved the sensation.

"Harder, Aaron! Harder!" The girl begged, lust and desperation fogging up her voice.

I chuckled at her. She was so easy to please. All of my conquests were. Foreplay was easy. It was all about her pleasure, and how she responds. Some girls were ready after maybe five minutes of me playing with their nipples, others needed some light fingering to really get them in the mood. By the time I'd resorted to licking their pussies, no one ever didn't cave. I guess I had what some people called 'the gift.' I could never describe it well, and God knows I was maybe the worst guy at sexting in the world, but when it came to showing a girl a good time, I knew what I was doing.

I thrust in and out, listening for the girl's pants and moans, timing my thrusts to help her reach a mind-blowing orgasm. I savored the feeling of her precious ass - it really was a work of art. If I weren't already deep inside her, I'd be on my knees in that moment, licking and kissing her cheeks for all their worth.

Each time I thrust into her, I made an effort for it to be deeper than the last, filling her up better and better each time. The girl was loving it, her voice an incoherent mess of shouts, pants, and words she couldn't even form thanks to how lost in her lust she was. She adored me. She worshipped me. She wanted me. And I was all too happy to return the favor for such adoration, drilling her with long strokes, long past the point of breaking a sweat with how much effort I put into going faster, all so she could have the roughest, deepest, best fuck of her life.

The girl's panting and moaning got shorter and closer to shrill screams, which was a telltale sign. I quickened my efforts, thrusting in and out farther to fill her up better. All too soon, the girl tensed up and her back arched. I thrust in one final time, keeping myself stationary so she could savor the feeling of me filling her up completely.

After a few seconds of gasping, then another few of silence filling the room, she exhaled sharply, signaling the blissful cooldown from her orgasm. Showtime, I thought to myself as I grinned evilly. Listening for the perfect moment, I found the opportunity, then, out of nowhere, started furiously pumping in and out of her beautiful tight pussy.

The way her skin rippled as I thrust her with force she didn't know I had, the shock painting her face as her head whipped around ... I lived for it. Just as I had suspected, her breathing quickened and I used her cooldown from her last orgasm to ride her back up to another one. If I thought she was moaning before, at this point I was sure she could have alerted people across campus what we were up to. As an added bonus, I smacked her ass a few times as I drilled her sweet, small pussy. She was bouncing back against me furiously, evidently loving what I was doing to her.

Just like last time, her breathing was quickening, except now instead of just shrill screams it was a chant of "Fuck, fuck, fuck" she was repeating, in between satisfied moans. Finally, she let out a prolonged "Fuuuuuuck!" while facing the ceiling, all while remaining still. Remaining buried in her, I leaned over and kissed her back tenderly, adding to what she was feeling. Yeah, I didn't get off, but so what? Sex was more than just a race to me - it was about who was in control, and that was me.

... Who was I kidding? Sex was a justification. Sex was a way to reassure myself I could do something correctly. I hated aftersex thoughts - I always loved to hide from the truth, but every time I had sex, I always had to deal with the guilt that washed over me after.

I looked at the girl with new eyes. Who the hell was this?! I didn't even know her name. What if she wanted something extra from what we just did? I was certainly going to disappoint her. Maybe it was all for the better that I practically never came when I was with a girl - I sure as hell didn't want to get a girl knocked up, and deal with her for the next nine months. I had enough trouble just dealing with myself - I sure didn't need a mini-me running around.

The girl sighed contentedly as I withdrew my deflating cock from her. "Holy shit." She mumbled happily. "You're the best fuck I've ever had in my life."

"I get that a lot." I shot back confidently, keeping whatever I was feeling internal. She got up off her knees and her back hit the bed as she sighed again. A few seconds passed and she patted the spot on the bed next to her, smiling innocently.

"I should probably go." I told her.

Her smile faded. "You didn't like... ?" She asked.

I sighed. "Look ... I'm an idiot sometimes. I don't really want to stay, that's all."

"Why not?" She asked me.

"Because if I stay and we get to know each other, feelings are going to develop, and they're going to be yours." I answered bluntly. "You're going to start liking me, and you're going to want to see me more often. I see what's coming and distance myself since I don't want anything serious. You can't get over me at this point so you call me a lot despite me not wanting to answer and both of us just become miserable because I had to listen to my dick instead of my head and fuck just one more college chick. You were great, babe, but you're not special. And I know you want to think you're special. That's why you should get attached to someone who thinks you are. I'd rather you get pissed at a stranger than have your heart broken by a friend. Got it?"

She said nothing at first, then inhaled slowly. "Whatever." She finally told me. "If you want to leave, no one's stopping you. Thanks for the night." She flatly told me. She pulled a blanket over her and turned away so that she wasn't facing me.

It always turned out like this. When was I going to fucking learn? 'No strings attached' were three words that just didn't exist in girls' dictionaries. You'd think after all this time I'd have learned, maybe just tried the whole girlfriend thing or even just stop having sex because this always fucking happened, but nope, I stupidly kept thinking 'This time is going to be different.'

I got dressed and left without another word. I hated the walk of shame I had to do. Being used to it just made it worse.

Dorm rooms were a fucking financial nightmare, so I'm really glad I just rented a place slightly off-campus starting in my freshman year. It was a really wise move. It was slightly inconvenient having to bus every day, but the savings were worth it. The only downside was, I never really got a say in how much privacy I would be getting.

As soon as I opened the door, still lost in my thoughts, I heard a very loud and peppy voice. "Aaron!" In from the living room bounced Chris, who hugged me immediately.

"Hey, Chris." I said to him flatly, annoyed by his constricting embrace.

He broke off the hug and pouted at me. "The bar wasn't good to you tonight, was it, sweetie?"

"I told you guys, I was just out studying." I lied. "I've got a big test about the Balkan Coast post-World War One coming up."

Chris wagged a finger in front of my face. "Don't even lie to me." He warned me in his flamboyant voice. "I know what you get up to. I know everything." His hips were cocked, which accentuated his hourglass figure quite well. I bet that's why Jerome waited until that moment to follow Chris into the coat room.

"Chris, leave him be." Jerome ordered in his low, gravelly voice. His natural disapproving look was displayed clearly on his chiseled face, and his judgmental blue eyes were fixed on Chris. "Don't make him uncomfortable."

"Aw, but Aaron's never uncomfortable about it." Chris whined. "Don't I get to ask him a serious question once in a while? We could do an intervention thing or something."

"Look, guys, I appreciate it, but I'm really fine." I protested. "I'll be fine. I'd just like to have some space."

Chris looked deep into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity. "You have the most beautiful hazel eyes. I have never noticed that before." He finally spouted.

"Chris." Jerome said sternly. Chris pouted and backed away.

"Fine." He conceded. "But if you ever want to tell us anything, we're here for you." He joined Jerome and stole a quick peck on the lips from him.

"Chris, not in front of him." Jerome snapped.

"I don't mind." I waved them off as I took off my shoes and plopped down onto the living room chair. The duo followed, with Jerome sitting down on the couch and Chris getting into some kind of cuddling position with him. Us three sat in silence, watching TV, with Jerome lightly stroking Chris' hair.

"You guys." I lightly joked.

"You just said you didn't mind." Chris piped up.

"It's not that." I replied. "I think you've been here more this week than I have. When are you moving in with us?"

Chris grinned. "Yeah Jer. When am I moving in?" He asked teasingly.

Jerome groaned and buried his face in his hands. It was hard to see all of his face considering Chris' big hair was in the way. It wasn't long, it was just ... big. Almost poofy, but not frizzy. Just a big brown mess. Jerome's hair, on the other hand, was short, blond, and seemingly well-maintained. The two looked like they were straight out of a Neil Simon story. Mine was the usual short Italian black hair you saw in practically every mobster movie, minus the copious amounts of grease.

Chris turned his attention from Jerome to me. "We're working on it." He told me. "Jer Bear spent half the night making arrangements, doing phone calls..." He reached up and rubbed Jerome's cheek sympathetically. "It's been a rough night."

"I was about to say, it's past 2am." I pointed out. "I figured you guys didn't spend the whole night watching Sci-fi B-movies. Are you staying over, Chris?"

Chris nodded. "Sleeping on the couch again."

"I offered you my bed." Jerome pointed out.

"But then you'd have to sleep on the couch." Chris pouted. I knew a way that neither one of them had to sleep on the couch, but I didn't know how open they were about that kind of thing, so I kept my mouth shut. "I don't mind. It means I get to spend more time with you. And Aaron and Molly, of course." Chris added.

"Oh, right. Molly." I said nonchalantly. "How's she been tonight?"

Jerome shrugged. "Same as usual. In her room."

"Poor darling's been cooped up in her room all night." Chris interjected. "Studying and practicing, making sure she doesn't make a single mistake all year. You know, I think it's better to learn from mistakes in university than always be too prepared. Wouldn't you agree, honey?" He looked up at Jerome with his trademark puppy dog eyes.

"Sure." Jerome answered gruffly.

"But she does have the cutest button nose." Chris went on. "And her beautiful red, curly hair. And her deep brown eyes."

"What, you thinking of marrying her?" I asked Chris jokingly.

Chris smirked. "Call me when she gets a sex change, then I can leave this oaf." Chris prodded Jerome in the cheek, giggled, then reached up and kissed him on the nose. "Besides, they keep the same hours."

"Oh, she's still awake?" I asked disinterestedly.

Chris nodded. "Last time I checked, which was maybe half an hour ago, she was."

I shrugged. "May as well go see her then." I told them flatly. "Then I'm gonna hit the hay. You two have a good night."

"You too, sweetie." Chris merrily waved me off. Jerome merely raised his hand, eyes still fixed on the TV.

Molly, true to Chris' word, was in her room, eyes glued to her laptop screen. From behind I could see her tight-fitting shirt, hugging a modestly attractive figure. She was more than one step away from an hourglass, but truth be told, that was a-okay in my books. A lot of girls may have looked conventionally sexy, but Molly looked real. It was a nice change, especially considering what I got up to away from the house. Her red curls hung down past her shoulders, slightly down her back, covering some kind of casual sweatshirt. She was so married to her work that she didn't even see me come in, creep up behind her, and hug her from behind.

"Hey, you." I started warmly.

She gasped in surprise at the sudden, unforeseen contact, but quickly relaxed. "You scared me!" She accused lightly, trying awkwardly in her chair to return the hug.

"Sorry." I said lightly. "Whatcha working on?"

"A paper for my classics course." She replied, looking over the screen. "How'd your studying session go?"

"Like the rest, I guess." I replied, trying to be subtle about keeping my hands on her shoulders. "History's bland. Don't ever switch into it."

She chuckled. "I don't think a classics major is that much different." She told me warmly. "Just a few ... y'know ... thousand years."

" ... Yeah. Other than that, same thing." I teased.

"Shush." She giggled. "I would have thought you'd think it was too late to bother me."

"Chris tipped me off." I answered. "We were all upstairs, watching TV and he got onto the topic of how lovely your hair is and stuff."

I could practically hear Molly's smile. I could picture it even though I was behind her. "Aw, he's such a sweetheart." She said lovingly. "He should be more serious about school though. He has a performance exam on Monday."

I snorted. "Y'know, people complain about stereotypes, and there he is. Theatre major, leather vest, flamboyancy that would put Liberace to shame..."

"So?" Molly asked. "It's not like he's harming anyone with it."

"Oh, I'm not saying that." I protested. "I'm just saying that he's going to give people the wrong vibes. Some people get weirdly angry when people are like that."

"Maybe, but that's their problem, not his." Molly argued. "You're giving him a hard time because of who he is. Lighten up a little."

Why was Molly the only girl in the world I had no clue how to talk to? "Sorry." I mumbled lamely, gingerly taking my hands off of her.

She sighed. "No, don't be." She said, closing her laptop and whirling around her chair to look at me. "I've just had a long day. I hate studying."

"So do most students." I told her. "That's why they don't do it much. They just have fun instead. Remember 'having fun'?"

She chuckled and stood up, hugging me. "Maybe I need a refresher." She told me. "Maybe I'll do something fun on the weekend."

"There we go." I smiled and broke off the hug. "Maybe we could do something together. How about I take you bowling? My treat."

"Bowling?" Molly asked me incredulously. " ... Bowling?"

"Hey, you liked it in grade 9." I justified myself, shrugging.

"Oh boy. Four years ago. Thank you, Sir White Knight, for realizing that I never change." Molly took an over-exaggerated curtesy.

I laughed. "Alright, alright. Bowling's off the table." I let a pause sink in for effect before I asked, "So, when are you going to find your White Knight anyway?"

"I told you a thousand times, I'm not looking." Molly answered me. "I don't need to be part of a relationship to make me happy. I'm just fine on my own."

I shrugged. "Hey, sometimes, things just happen." I told her. "You may think you're fine on your own, but suddenly some guy comes up to you and bam! All of a sudden you can't think about anybody but him."

"So you keep saying." Molly told me. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were hitting on me."

"Well, good thing you do know me better then." I answered with a slight chuckle. "We wouldn't be a good match. The age gap thing would be too weird. That doesn't mean I'm blind to the fact that you're a good catch though. I don't want some guy seeing that and taking advantage of you. I just want to make sure you end up happy."

"Aw, I've got a big, bad older brother." Molly teased, before skipping up and hugging me again. "Thanks." She remarked as she broke the hug.

"You're worth it." I told her, using my finger to sweep a stray strand of hair away from her eye. She smiled up at me then looked down, and her eyes remained glued to my pants. "Uh, Aaron..." she started.

"What?" I asked.

"Your fly is undone." She informed me uneasily.

"Aw, son of a bitch." I remarked as I quickly did it back up. "That's embarrassing."

"I mean, it's cool." Molly replied, a subtle finish in her tone indicating she was giving the undone fly's origin some thought.

"I didn't mean for you. My whole study group probably saw me come back from the bathroom with it down." I lied coolly. "This is going to be like the third time. I wonder why they didn't say anything."

"If it's the third time, maybe it's because they figured you're never going to learn." Molly giggled. Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now what about you?" She asked, walking back to her chair. "You haven't had a girlfriend since high school. If you're so sure I need a boyfriend, why don't you have someone to love?"

"You know me." I sheepishly replied. "I don't know how to talk to girls."

"Now that's just not true." Molly replied, working on her paper again. "I saw you every day in high school. You never weren't chatting up some girl. You're the smoothest guy on the planet."

"That's just your subconscious taking pity on me." I teased.

"You take one psych class and now you're a genius, huh?" She teased back.

"I am a genius, thank you very much." I told her with a smile. "Besides, I just don't think I've met the right girl yet. Or maybe I have, and she just hasn't noticed me."

"Well then, she's blind." Molly told me, still looking at her computer, away from me. "Any girl would be lucky to have someone like you."

My smile faded, but she couldn't see. "Yeah, sure." I replied, making it sound like the smile was still on my face. "Well, whenever you do get a boyfriend, make sure you run him by me first. I want to make sure he's worth your time. Us guys, we got a thing for detecting fuckboys."

"Huh?" Molly asked. "What's a ... that?"

"Fuckboys?" I asked. "Guys who are just in it for the sex, have no emotional attachment. They're usually heartbreakers, but girls usually can tell they're not worth it. Unless the girls just want sex themselves."

"Oh, that's just pathetic." Molly replied. "You'd think by university we would have learned that sex is more than just arbitrary humping. You know what? I bet those guys are really lonely on the inside."

I stayed quiet for a while. She didn't notice, content to sit typing away. "Bet they are." I finally said. Silence followed, broken by the vibration of Molly's phone on her desk. After a small period of her reading it, she turned the chair around with a smile on her face.

"I think we have a winner for this weekend." She told me, grinning, showing off those perfect teeth of hers.

"Oh yeah?" I asked her. "What's that?"

"How would you like to come over and have dinner with my parents tomorrow?" She asked me, smiling.

Molly and I were more than just childhood friends. Our families were lifelong friends, which made our friendship that much better growing up. Every so often, her generous family would invite me over to dinner and for every time I accepted the invitation, the happier I'd be for a next time. Not only was Mr. Sharpton a great cook, but all of the Sharptons for whatever reason loved my company. I often felt like they were happier to have me than my own family. Hell, I practically considered them family. Every dinner was a happy, special occasion without fail, filled with happiness, good food and laughter.

"So of course," I continued my story, "the prof has no clue this is happening. After all, the projector screen is behind him, so he isn't looking, right? So he keeps carrying on with his lecture while it's being shown to the whole classroom."

The family joined me in laugher. "The whole class saw it?" Mrs. Sharpton asked in disbelief.

"The whole class." I confirmed. "I didn't believe it at first. But then I realized, 'yup, that's definitely his e-mail address.' I thought I was going to die laughing."

"He came home still laughing about it." Molly reminisced happily before eating a spoonful of mashed potatoes. "As soon as he got home he rushed down and gave me the whole story."

"That is so crazy." Mr. Sharpton said amongst chuckles. "I never had professors that weird. Daisy, honey, would you like some more of anything?"

"No thank you." Daisy Sharpton answered in a quiet, timid voice. Daisy was that kind of twelve-year-old. You'd bet she'd be giggly and loud around her friends, but put her in adult company, at family reunions, whatever the case, and she would only speak when spoken to. I bet she was shy at the table even when guests weren't there.

"Alright." Her dad said, his tone reflecting slight worry at her. To be fair, she looked like a smaller, and I mean minuscule, version of Molly. Even for 12 years old, she looked noticeably skinny, and kind of short, but otherwise she looked like a slightly different Molly. Mr. Sharpton turned his attention to the rest of the table. "Anyone else?"

"I'm full." I immediately remarked.

"No thanks, dad." Molly sweetly responded.

"I'm fine, thanks." Mrs. Sharpton responded.

"Alright then, I'll clean this up." Mr. Sharpton declared, scooping up his and Molly's plates. "Molly, could you lend me a hand darling?"

"Sure, dad." Molly obediently nodded. Mrs. Sharpton excused herself and went to the washroom. Daisy got up quickly yet quietly, and as soon as she could, bolted for the basement.

Molly sighed, watching her. Slowly, she looked over at me. "Aaron..." She started slowly.

"Yeah?" I asked innocently, pretending not to know what she was about to ask.

"I know this must get annoying after a while, but could you please watch over Daisy and make sure she does her homework?" Molly asked. "She's falling behind again. Normally I would, but I'm kind of busy here."

"Molly..." I groaned.

"Please? It would mean the world to me." Molly begged, putting some plates into the sink.

I grunted. "Fine, but someday I'm going to start saying no." I warned her.

Molly beamed. "Thanks, you're the best." She told me. "I owe you one."

"That makes twelve now, does it?" I asked her bitterly as I started to go down the stairs.

I walked down the stairs slowly and loudly to show my distain to Molly. As soon as I got about halfway down though, and saw Daisy slumping in a chair, my steps stopped being so arduous.

"The coast is clear. It's only me." I told her.

Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God." She muttered aloud. She took her math book and threw it across the room, grabbing another book and crashing on the basement's leather couch. She sighed in pleasurable comfort as she laid down. "Thanks."

"No worries." I casually remarked as I sat down on the perpendicular couch.

"You think that after all this time my family would learn to talk to me properly." Daisy muttered aloud, beginning to read her book.

"Right." I answered sarcastically. "It's totally not your fault at all for not being honest. Maybe you should learn to communicate and make your feelings clear to them."

Daisy lowered her book. "That's big talk coming from a college junior who can't even admit to Molly that he likes her."

"Hey! That's different." I objected. In response, Daisy started making chicken sounds. "Oh, that's just immature." I told her.

"No. It's immature for an adult. For a preteen, I'd say I'm right on track." Daisy shot back.

I chuckled, then let silence fill the air. "So how's the hunt for her going, anyway?" Daisy asked.

"Oh, as poorly as ever." I answered honestly. "She has zero interest in me."

"Mmm." she lazily acknowledged me. "And let me guess, never once did you hint to her that you have zero interest in her too, just to avoid the awkwardness of having her know that you like her."

I bit my lip. "You can read me like a book, can't you?" I asked her.

"Practice helps." She answered. "I read both pretty often."

"If you're such a love guru, when are you going to get a boyfriend?" I asked her.

"Are you kidding?" She asked me, putting the book down. "I'm 12. How mature do you expect the people in my class to be? At my age, nobody's sexy. Definitely not a bookworm like me. I practically have 'future librarian' written all over me, minus the glasses."

"I think you're pretty sexy." I honestly admitted to her.

"That's because you're a fuckboy." She answered bluntly. "Plus you'd get arrested if you tried anything with me." She casually picked up the book again.

"I am not a fuckb-!" I angrily responded, cutting it off by a sigh.

"Aren't you? You ask me for advice about dating my sister and the next thing I know you're coming on to me. Look into my eyes and tell me that if I jumped you right now you would try to stop me."

I said nothing. She gestured towards me. "If you really find my sister special, stop doing that. I'm 12, for God's sake."

"You said that." I replied bitterly.

"Clearly you haven't internalized that." She fired back. "I'd be a lot more comfortable if the guy that ends up dating my sister isn't a potential child molester. And rest assured, I don't find you, or anyone, attractive in the slightest."

"I don't want to have sex with Molly." I pointed out. "That's got to mean something."

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Sure. It means she's the only girl you don't view as a sex machine. You realize that you're implying you've completely separated sex and love in your mind. 'I don't want to have sex with her but I'll still give her the time of day. It must be true love.' Do you even know the names of the ... I'm going to go with 'dozens' ... of girls you've slept with?"

"Why are you so mature for your age?" I asked her, trying to change the subject.

She shrugged. "Thank him, I guess." She pointed up, symbolically to the sky. "I understand sex. Whoa, what a weirdo. You know why you don't understand it and I do? You spend so much time having it, and I get to see what that does to you. You've sexualized someone who wants to be your sister. How sick is that?"

"You don't talk like you're 12." I protested. "So maybe you're living proof that I'm attracted to more than just tits and asses, seeing as you have neither."

Daisy cocked an eyebrow. "That's seriously your argument?" She asked incredulously. "Never mind. I can't imagine why Molly doesn't like a guy like you. You're one hundred percent charm."

I chewed my lip again. "Molly doesn't like fuckboys." I admitted. "She called them pathetic."

"That's because they are." Daisy answered. I sulked, and she took notice, putting the book down and sighing. She put her hand on top of mine. "If I thought you couldn't change, I wouldn't bother to help you. I want my sister to be with a nice guy, and I'd like you to be my big brother." She leaned against me. "So let's work towards a solution, huh?"

"How do we do that?" I asked her.

She reached under the couch and pulled out a notebook. She opened it before me, revealing that it was blank. "Every time that you have sex, write the date and instance down in here. Every time we see each other, I want the list to be shorter and shorter. And for every time that you do have sex, I want you to write down what you liked about the girl. Her smile, the way she talks about her major, her laugh, anything to get you thinking about them as people. Hopefully you'll learn to see girls as people instead of just potential sex partners."

"Nah." I told her, and put the notebook in her hands.

"What do you mean, 'nah'?" She asked me.

"I mean I don't want you as my psychiatrist." I answered, standing up. "You've taken your position too seriously. I wanted you to be my friend, instead you're trying to dictate how I live. I'm not having it."

"Well, that's a good notebook wasted." Daisy dryly commented, putting the notebook back under the couch. "Okay, fine. But you do have to change your ways."

"I know." I replied, sitting back down. "I just want to change them by my rules. Changing them by anyone else's makes me ... uncomfortable."

Daisy slowly hugged me, smiling. "That's understandable and I'll respect that, as long as you make an effort to change." She told me.

I kissed her forehead. "You're precious, you know that?" I asked her.

"Yes, I do." she answered me, before going back to her book.

"What are you reading?" I asked her.

"The Prince. It's a sixteenth-century treatise by Niccolo Machiavelli. It talks about political power in real terms. Some historians argue that it caused the birth of modern political philosophy." She answered me, not looking up.

"God damn." I muttered. "You sure know how to make me feel small. How was Leviathan?"

"Stupid." She answered. "Hobbes' justification of an absolute government may have been revolutionary at the time, but we should only read it for historical context at this point, and look for arguments for and against despotism in derivative works. It's a wonder his readers didn't enter a second Dark Age."

I scratched my head. "How am I the one going through a history major? Didn't you get a C in your last American history class?"

She looked straight at me. "School's stupid too." She flatly answered. "My teacher honestly believes that the invasion of Belgium in World War One had no significance towards England's involvement. That's just common knowledge. If I get a C in that class, I should be proud of it." She went back to her book. "iTunes U does a better job of teaching history, and that's saying something. Unless we're talking about that one on the early Middle Ages. Yale is bae."

Ugh. Preteen slang, combined with intellectualism. This girl may be going places, but not popular places. "I think I remember now why I prefer Molly over you." I grumbled.

"Yeah, because you are happy around her and you have things you like to talk about. I get the impression you ask about my books to be nice. You don't really care, do you?" She didn't let me answer. "Most of the time we only talk because I'm valuable to you. As you said, precious. I can help you get what you want. But Molly actually is what you want. She makes you happy, you like being around her."

"Thanks for telling me about my own feelings." I shot back. "I'm aware I like Molly. I'm not an idiot in all subjects."

"Your first draft on the Balkan coast was a joke." She muttered in response.

"How?!" I asked. I worked hard on that essay.

She waved me off. "I'll e-mail you later. Now you should probably get back upstairs. Just tell them I'm doing multiplication of fractions or something."

"And not debating fuckboys?" I asked her humorously.

"Hey, remember, you taught me that word." She answered. "Maybe if you wouldn't keep interrupting with your bad influences I would have finished my Khan Academy Calculus course at this point."

"Your parents are so naive, aren't they?" I asked her, grinning. I didn't believe they were, but it was nice to bond with Daisy.

"Yeah, they really are." Daisy grinned back. With that, I trudged back upstairs, stomping to put on a show.

Daisy's timing was, as usual, spot on, given that Molly had just finished with the dishes by the time I got back upstairs. "Hey." She warmly greeted me. "How is she?"

"As difficult to work with as ever." I grumbled. "I would just tell her to do it and she'd timidly tell me she 'doesn't get it.' I explain it to her, and she still doesn't get it. Does she have ADD or something?"

"Just be patient with her." Molly coaxed soothingly. "She's a bit of a slow learner. Maybe you were talking too fast."

"I dunno." I sighed.

"I appreciate you trying anyways. I know you don't like it. And don't worry." Molly said happily, giving me another hug. "I think she likes you, for what it's worth. We all do." She looked into my eyes and smiled. "It's like you're a part of the family."

I smiled back. She had no idea how badly I wanted to be a part of the family.

Author's Postscript: Hey all! Did you like the new series? Me neither, but stick with it and hopefully it will improve! If you want to help it improve and give me any feedback, or contact me for any other reason, there's always commenting, but you can also reach me at bashfulscribe<at>gmail<dot>com, or through twit ter with <at>Bashful_Scribe (the underscore is important!). If you like forum stuff more than one-on-one communication, hop on to the Adult Fan Fiction forums (google it) then look for Fan Fiction > All Other Subdomains > Originals > General. It's called 'Being More Social and other works of BS.' Tee hee.

If you know me from that other series, Being More Social itself, while possibly not posted to this site because of its rules (unless you're reading this on AFF or SOL) is still being worked on, don't worry. It's still being made. This story is a lot shorter per chapter so hopefully updates can be more frequent. Anything else you want to know, feel free to email or follow me. I don't bite. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

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