She couldn’t look up. Her body wouldn’t comply. She kept staring at her hands, playing with them, her fingers knotting together only to be forced apart and then knot all over again. She couldn’t focus on their movements either, though, which is why it took her a while to realize she had ended up spinning her engagement ring. And on the same moment her fingers flinched back, as if the piece of jewelry had burned them. And it might as well have; she had never been more aware of its presence on her finger.
Her thoughts were spiraling. They were so many, so loud, that a constant incoherent bubbling was echoing in her head, and she couldn’t possibly make sense of it. She didn’t attempt to try. She didn’t think she wanted to. Instead, she kept playing with her hands, marvelling at the way the shadows were dancing on her skin under the pale street light.
She ignored her screaming thoughts. She ignored the burning piece of jewelry. She put on her poker face so that for just a moment she could pretend that everything was right in the world. Just like she had done earlier in the night. Just like she had been doing for the past four years.
Her movements halted for a brief moment, just enough for her to realize so and break the stillness before it really settled.
Her gaze was still low, her pulse was still pounding in her ears. But thank goodness, she could no longer hear the faint footsteps behind her. Every single one had been a punch to her stomach, so violently painful that she’d felt sick. Yet now that she could no longer hear them, she felt empty. She couldn’t decide which was worse.
The shadows shifted in her hands, again and again. Their patterns, such edgy artistries in the late spring night, became repetitive.
Her throat was tight, but she managed to finally raise her chin. Her gaze followed reluctantly.
The empty parking lot laid before her, eerie and oddly unfamiliar. She didn’t think she had been here this late again. Or maybe she had, just not alone. She didn’t remember how the single light pole shone directly at the entrance of the lot, leaving the side she was facing to fade in the darkness. She couldn’t recall the bushes behind the metal fence rustling in the crisp breeze the way they did now, nor how the distant cries of the crickets filled the silence in such an uncanny way. She had looked at this parking lot countless times, yet it suddenly seemed like she had never really seen it before.
She had missed a lot of things.
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it inattentively. The jumbled rambling that were her thoughts was becoming way too loud for her liking. It was so hard to ignore. It made her temples pound, her head ache. Her teeth gritted together, the hands that had now fallen lifelessly to her sides clenching into fists. Yet there she remained, motionless under the white, flickering streetlamp. Alone.
What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to function? Why was she unable to put on her poker face, now that she needed it most?
Focus. She ordered herself. Snap out of it.
But as she stared at the darkest corners of the long parking lot, she could swear she felt shadows hiding under the night’s cloak. Her own demons lurking, demanding to be faced.
She wanted to yell at them; at herself; at nothing. Not tonight, she wanted to scream. I can’t do this tonight.
She swallowed with difficulty as the shadows grew. They shifted in the darkness, crouching over her. Threatening. Suffocating.
She took a few steps back, stepped on the pavement, then walked up to the entrance of the building.
There was faint light emitting through the glass, distant yet pounding music, muffled voices and laughter. All promising an environment far less hostile than that judgemental, empty lot. She stepped inside hurriedly, and that ghastly feeling that had been crawling on the back of her neck dissolved as soon as the doors shut behind her.
Only then did she wonder if he had gone inside as well.
Was he still here? Had he left?
She looked around, but the lobby was empty. The music and voices were all echoing through the halls from down the warehouse. And even though she had just proved that she couldn’t stand to stay alone tonight, she couldn’t bring herself to head downstairs either. What was she supposed to do? Go back for another round of cards? Choke down a few drinks? Chit-chat and make small-talk until it was late enough to excuse herself? She had no idea how she would get home, Jim was supposed to be her ride after Roy had left.
No, tempting as disappearing from this place was, she couldn’t go home either. Not right now. Not so… soon. Not while the words were still ringing in her ears, in the same tone he’d spoken them. Colored by a tinge of surprise, as if he’d just realized he was saying them the moment they were out. Unfiltered. Aloud.
She couldn’t believe he’d said them.
On their own accord, her legs began to move. They took her upstairs, her heels echoing through the walls as she climbed the staircase. The lights on the second floor were out but she didn’t bother with flipping any switches, she just let them be. She pushed the glassine door away and headed straight to reception, collapsing on her chair as if her knees could only keep her uptight so much. Once settled she was panting, yet her breaths were quiet, the air flowing rapidly but silently in and out of her lungs.
She really couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t believe what he’d told her.
Thoughts swirling once again, she rapidly looked around for anything to occupy herself with. She was so desperate she was willing to even work, she hardly cared. She scanned her desk with her gaze, looked through her drawers, but –you see- she had been so moronically eager to finish up everything earlier today. There were the results for actually doing one’s job.
And as she searched her desk, she happened to open her right drawer. And her frantic movements briefly halted. Her eyes caught a flash of green in the corner, buried behind some documents, and instantly she remembered exactly when she had shoved the bag of French-onion-flavoured chips in there. They had probably expired, that day in the dojo felt so long ago. His bribing chips, turned to apology chips after he had crossed a line while picking her up that day. She hadn’t eaten them. She never found out why she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had simply shoved them in the drawer.
Turns out this was her thing.
And now, tonight of all nights, the green spot that peeked through the papers seemed to be glaring at her with the same intensity that she was glaring back at it.
She shut the drawer closed and got up, unable to sit still in one place. She walked up to the door of Michael’s office and rested her back against it, facing the dim-lighted office.
There it was, all dark and empty for a change. Reception, accounting, sales… The large clock on the wall was ticking the seconds away, the only sound in the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest holding her torso in place. A necessity, since she could feel her entire body slightly trembling. She quivered uneasily, glancing around the empty room. She gulped once and yet again, but her throat kept getting all the tighter.
She didn’t have a choice, as it seemed. She couldn’t possibly avoid this.
So be it, then.
She closed her eyes, and with the deepest, most steady breath that she could currently manage, she let it engulf her. She released all those thoughts, deafening as they were, and allowed them to fill her mind, to come forward, to yell and scream and shout all they wanted, because keeping them back was too exhausting and she couldn’t go on like this for another second.
And shout they did. Oh, they did.
Hypocrite, they called her. Liar.
They crashed and burned their way into her brain, so overwhelming, so devastating. They became all she could hear, overpowering every other thought.
Every other, apart from those five words. Those damned five words of his.
She had to feel the drops falling on her crossed forearms to realize she was crying.
And the clock kept ticking. And the thoughts kept yelling. And the awareness of closed drawers and buried truths gnawed at her, clawed her, tore her skin.
And that’s when she let herself realize that it was true.
She really was a hypocrite.
Tonight was as good as any other night. She just never wanted to face reality.
She could lie to herself all she wanted, she could pretend she had missed all the signs and was taken by complete surprise by those five words of his.
But she knew she had only missed as much as he had misinterpreted.
Nothing, that was.
It was the first word she had spoken since he’d left. It was barely a whisper that slipped from her lips like a sigh on a silken pillow. Yet it was enough to break this posture of calmness she had compelled herself to maintain. It was enough to strip her off her poker face.
Then she was left more exposed than she had ever felt in her entire life.
It all came back, all at once. Every glance, every smile, every tease and every touch. The pranks, the winks, the mischiefs, the inside jokes. The candle-lit sandwiches on the rooftop, the gentle swaying to music from shared earphones, the prolonged silence on the deck of a ship on a chilly night. Those chips of apology, those lines that sometimes seemed to haze and others they appeared so stingingly sharp.
“Oh God.” She sobbed, a hand flying to her mouth, the tears forming rivers down her heated cheeks.
What had she done?
For four years now she had allowed for this to go on. They had been flirting back and forth, masking it as friendship, yet it was obvious as the sun shining on a midsummer morning. The lines had been crossed more times than she could fathom, and it wasn’t anybody’s fault but her own. She was the one that was engaged, she was supposed to set those lines. Why hadn’t she?
She had no answer for that.
She had one answer for that, but she daren’t phrase it, not even mentally. Granted that she would never want to hurt him, and that – from what she firmly believed – she was not a terrible person, there was only one other option that seemed to make sense. One reason that would justify her leading him on, beyond all facts, beyond all logic.
But she would not put that possibility into words. Because that alone was enough to bring her world crumbling down.
It couldn’t be true.
And if… it was… then what would that mean? For her, for Roy? For everyone involved. For her entire life.
Her heart was beating frantically inside her chest, the silence deafening. The walls were closing in. She felt as if she was choking on the same oxygen she breathed.
She couldn’t bear this. She couldn’t do this alone. It was too much.
Two strides forward and she was by the closest phone in reach. She brought the speaker to her ear and dialled the number she had memorized by heart with her free hand.
And then she waited.
It rang a few times, the monotone sound only pulling on her already strained nerves. She was gnawing at her lip again, clutching onto the phone so intensely that her knuckles turned white. She was so desperate to hear the soft, calming voice on the other end that she couldn’t even imagine what she would do if it never came. Thankfully, that was the one thing she didn’t have to deal with tonight.
“Mom, it’s me.”
The words left her mouth before her mother had even managed to phrase that single word of greeting. She could hear how strangled her own voice came out. Her mother heard it too.
There was a brief, strained pause. Then, “Is everything okay?”
She wanted to say yes. The logical part of her mind insisted that everything was okay. This wasn’t the end of the world, it was just a setback, they would figure this out. Just a setback, nothing more. Eventually everything would fall into place again. Everything was okay.
“Pam? Answer me baby, what’s wrong?”
“I…” she gasped, shaking her head, mouth agape. She had been so desperate for her mother’s comfort, yet now she couldn’t force the words out. “I’m okay.” She managed at least, because if she hadn’t, her mother would have assumed the worst – and she couldn’t blame her.
“Nothing, nothing, just…” she closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing and put her thoughts into order. “Just…” she winced, the words not coming once again. So she took it from the top, buying herself some time. “It’s casino night tonight, remember I told you about it the other day?”
“Yes.” The word seemed measured, calculating.
When she didn’t reply, her mother jumped to conclusions. “Oh honey, did you lose a lot of money?”
“No, no.” she shook her head. “That’s not it.” She’d actually won plenty. She’d been so smug about it for a few blissful moments. It was insane how much could change in such little time.
As a reminder, the sound of the ticking clock registered in her ears again. She closed her eyes, blocking it in the one way she could. “Roy left early, I’m still here. And Jim said something to me, and now I don’t know… I don’t know what to do with it, mom.”
“Okay. First of all calm down.” Her mom’s tone shifted from cautious to absolute. “Okay? Stop panicking.”
She frowned, clutching onto the speaker. “Mom…”
“Calm down, Pam.”
She unleashed a long frustrated sigh, her head hanging forward. She obeyed, though, measuring her breaths, forcing her frantic heartbeat to decrease. Forcing her thoughts to slow down and the room to stop spinning. She’d been near hysterics. She had to pull it together, her mom was right.
As her eyes focused to the objects in front of her in a struggle to keep herself sane, it finally registered to her that she was, in fact, standing above Jim’s desk, using Jim’s phone.
She almost dropped the speaker.
It made sense; it was the closest desk to where she had been standing before - leaning against Michael’s door. But there was more into it than that.
There always was.
And for the first time, she was done pretending there wasn’t.
On top of the desk, picture frames of various shapes held photographs of him. Him and his brother, him and his baby niece. His hazel eyes glinted as he stared into the camera.
“He said he has feelings for me.” She mumbled, looking into his eyes uncertainly.
“What? I didn’t catch that.” Her mother’s voice came perplexed from the speaker.
In the photograph, his eyes were bold, piercing. Say it, they challenged. Acknowledge it, once.
She didn’t tear her gaze away. “He said that he’s in love with me.”
The words were clear this time. Sharp. Unmistakable. They rang in the empty room, causing a cold shiver to shoot down her spine.
But she wasn’t strong enough to keep looking at his face. She shied away, tearing her eyes from it, yet it wasn’t enough. She went as far as to turn her back at it, twisting so she was facing Michael’s office now. Emotionally drained, she leaned back to rest her hip on his desk, feeling her eyes sting once again.
The silence hung heavy in the room.
“Aren’t you gonna say something?” she asked, the hopelessness and exhaustion all evident in her voice. She sounded lost.
“I… I don’t know what to say, Pam.”
She nodded, even though the gesture wouldn’t translate through the phone. That made two of them.
The next question took her aback. “Did you know?”
She didn’t expect it to come so soon. She never thought her mom would catch up to her mind-set so quickly, and so brilliantly on point.
What did she reply to that? Did she share the truth, horrible as it might make her seem? Did she cover it up as she had done a million times? She had called her mother for help. If she wanted to be helped, she couldn’t keep the facts in the dark.
“I suspected.” She allowed, gulping with difficulty.
There was a sigh from the other line. “You said that you were just friends. You insisted there was nothing more going on between you two.”
“Why did you lie?”
Her vision blurred. It was becoming hard to speak. “I didn’t intentionally do it. I never wanted to hurt anybody.”
“Oh honey…” her mother’s tone softened at the sound of her breaking voice. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you didn’t. You would never.”
She nodded a few times. It was hard to believe currently, with the immense amount of guilt eating up her insides, and her mom’s certainty on that fact was something she truly needed to hear right now.
“How long has this been going on?” her mother asked after a moment.
“I don’t know.” She mumbled truthfully. She let out a soft groan. “I don’t even know what this is, mom. There’s no this. Nothing happened, not really. We’ve just been hanging out. And I guess the lines got a little blurry, but we never actually… he just… Just tonight he told me.”
“Does Roy know?”
She gulped. “No. I told you, he left.”
“Does he know how close you and Jim have grown?”
“I don’t know.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. That wasn’t true, though. She herself had played it down numerous times. She knew he’d get ticked off, and she didn’t want to get him jealous over nothing, that was her excuse. “No.” she reconsidered. “He doesn’t.”
“Maybe you should tell him.” She suggested softly.
She blinked, two hot tears dripping at the action. “Yeah.” Her voice was hoarse.
“I just mean that, no relationship should be built around secrets. If you communicate this with him, I’m sure you’ll be able to work this out.”
“I know.” She mouthed. She never found her voice.
There was a hint of wonder in her mother’s tone when she spoke next. “Unless,” she considered. “that isn’t what you want.”
And for a second it felt like the droplets froze on her cheeks. Unmoving, just like time suddenly went.
She couldn’t mean…
That was not an alternative.
There was no alternative.
Her mind hadn’t gone there, the wedding was in four weeks.
“What does that mean? What are you saying?” she came off harsher than she intended, and instantly regretted it.
“I’m not saying anything.” Her mom stated. “I’m just trying to understand why you sound conflicted.”
Taken aback, she blinked at Michael’s door. “I’m not conflicted.” She argued. “I’m just-”
And her mind went blank. She had nothing to properly fill that sentence with.
Eventually she gave up trying. She wiped the tears away from her cheeks with her wrist, then grabbed onto the cord of the phone in need of something to occupy her hand with, because the stillness was driving her insane. “I don’t know what to think mom. I can’t process anything yet, it’s all too fresh. I just can’t believe this is really happening.”
“When did he tell you?”
She glanced up the clock before answering. She’d been so aware of its presence that it was a major shock to realize just how little the hands had actually moved. “About ten minutes ago.” She muttered, tugging on the cord in her hand.
“What did you do? Did you reply?”
“No.” Not really. Not in any way she would have, if she’d been able to think properly. “I didn’t know what to say.”
And because of it, she’d screwed it all up.
It was fair to tell him that she couldn’t - it was true, wasn’t it? She was honest when she’d confessed how much his friendship meant, because heaven knows, it did. But the instant hurt that spread on his face the moment that damned word left her mouth was the image she knew she would never be able to forget.
She’d done that to him. She had hurt Jim tonight, in the most unfair and dishonest way. It was the worst thing she could have said, and of course she’d said it.
How would she possibly make this right again?
‘Everything will be okay’ suddenly seemed like such a childish statement.
“Pam, you have to talk to him about this.” Her mother’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.
“Yes, I know.” Of that much she was certain. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew it, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she never gathered the guts to tell him that, no, he hadn’t read more into this than there was. He wasn’t crazy, and she wasn’t blind.
It truly was all her fault.
He had to know that. He had to know.
“And you also need to decide what you’ll do, baby. It’s never too late to change your mind, if that’s what you want.”
And there it was again. The seed of doubt.
She managed to control another frustrated reply.
She didn’t get it, though. Why was she doing this to her? Why was she planting that forsaken seed? It was the very last thing she needed. She was seeking guidance and comfort, not doomed possibilities and false… hope? No, it wasn’t hope what she was feeling bubbling in her stomach, fizzing in her chest, waking up her body. It couldn’t be. Because what would she be hoping for? To be with Jim?
“How do you feel about him?”
“Um…” She mumbled, her pulse pounding in her ears. She clutched the cord of the phone in her fist. “I don’t know, mom. He’s my best friend,” she uttered. And even though that phrase had been falling effortlessly from her lips for years, it sparked something in her this once.
Shapes appeared before her eyes. Images of long, slender fingers entwined with hers. Of warm hazel eyes so close that, with each blink, silky lashes tickled her cheeks. Images so vivid that she could feel the messy hair at the nape of his neck against the tips of her fingers, and she could smell the fabric softener emitting from his clothes. Images created by a foolish, naïve mind that was oblivious to the hell of flames and destruction that they would leave in their tracks. Images that were unnatural, and strange, and captivating. Images that she wasn’t seeing for the first time.
That night… after the Dundies. With the bitter aftertaste of alcohol still in her tongue, and his sharp inhale still ringing in her flushed ears. She had lain in cold sheets and traced her fingers across her tingling lips. And she’d thought about him.
That day of the dojo. She’d parked at her front yard and sat in the truck for minutes, fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel. She hadn’t moved, only clenched her jaw as the skin across her stomach burned, the fire travelling further south. She hadn’t been mad, just… burning. And as the fire engulfed her, she’d thought of him.
That night at his barbeque. When the cameras had walked out the door and left them alone. She’d lain back on his bed, the most intimate place of his – and he’d let her. He’d watched her, briefly, then looked away. But later on, alone on her couch with some movie playing in the background, she’d imagined the sound the chair made as he stood, the thuds of his footsteps on the carpet, the creak of the bed as he lay beside her. Her fingers had found the hem of her pajamas, sneaking under it, sliding towards the heat. And as her breath hitched and her heart pounded, she’d thought of him.
Nobody was going to know. Those images were hers alone to keep, and they were hers to disclaim and deny.
And lust… it comes and goes. She’d felt it engulf her once, a lifetime ago. And then she’d also felt it fade, so gradually she’d barely noticed it. She wasn’t a child anymore – she’d learn to use her brain to make decisions and not her heart. She would not uproot her life over a flirt.
Only at the Dundies, when the person that was supposed to listen had his ears closed, Jim was there. He let her steal his beer, act silly, be loud - and he wasn’t ashamed but rather he joined her. He clapped and cheered and yelled, he sat with her at that bench in the dark and he didn’t push for answers. He just stayed.
Only… on the night of the dojo he’d called her after work hours for the first time, with torment in his voice. He was scared that he’d hurt her, horrified that he’d lost her. And somehow, she’d ended up at her balcony whispering into the speaker until the early morning hours. They’d never stayed together for so long again, talking about nothing… and yet hearing all they didn’t say.
Only… he’d cut his picture out of his high school yearbook just because it had made her laugh. He’d put it in a teapot of her favorite color, which he knew she wanted. He’d also put in there two packages of hot sauce from that time that they’d gone out for lunch and she’d burned her tongue and he’d rushed her back to the kitchen and poured her a glass of cold milk and rubbed circles on her back as she gulped it down. Her tears had been a reaction to the spices, but he’d still wiped them off her cheeks in concern, his touch light as a feather’s. That yellow pencil was from that day he’d faked a sales call just to sneak her out for a round of mini-golf, around the time when they first met. He’d cheated, she’d thrown her pencil at him, it had scratched his arm and he’d held it as evidence for the police investigation that he’d warned her would follow. The mixtape was of all the songs they’re heard in the parking lot that chilly night, swaying with the breeze until they got tired of standing and sat at the back of her truck. Her legs had been dangling off the edge, but his had stood solid on the ground. And as her life spiraled around her, he was always there. Steady. Staying. Waiting.
Only, for three years he’d shared himself with her, expecting nothing because he knew she couldn’t give it to him. He gave her onion chips and jinx-coke and watercolor brushes and a teapot full of memories – of giddiness, encouragement, warmth. He’d shared with her his lunch, and his music, and his pranks, and his thoughts and his laughter and all those precious moments that meant the world to her even though she’d never told him. All that time. All that effort. All for her. Jim always put a lot of effort into what he loved.
She wiped hot tears off her cheek, her chest throbbing.
Only… this was not a flirt.
‘In love’, he had said.
Her best friend.
‘I’m in love with you’, and a single tear had dripped from the ocean of his eyes.
“Jim is a good guy.” Her mother’s voice only brought her back to the present halfway.
“Yeah, he’s great.” Her voice was rough.
Her best friend…
“You’re in love with him too.” A statement. A fact.
…and yet, so much more than that.
And brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down.
He was right.
He’d always been right.
He didn’t misinterpret.
“Yeah,” she breathed. Fresh tears spilled down her face. “I think I am.”
Everything happened fast, then.
She caught a shadow moving with the corner of her eye. Someone had entered the room, and she looked up to identify them. She was met with a head of messy brown hair, a black sweater with rolled-up sleeves, and two eyes that were glued to the ground, refusing to meet her gaze. Despite that, he was steadily making his way up to her.
Her heart flew to her throat.
“Um, I have to go.” She mumbled quickly to the speaker, turning quickly so she could hang up. The second her back faced him, she felt his eyes pierce at her skin. He was looking at her.
“Oh. Okay, call me back when you have news.” Her mom quickly instructed, catching up.
“I will.” And she ended the call.
She could see his tall, slender shadow on the floor to her left. She glimpsed at it as it shifted and grew with every step he took. He was still walking towards her. He was still looking at her.
A shiver ran through her body.
So he hadn’t left, after all. He was here. And this was her chance to talk to him. It was all too soon, but maybe this was a good thing, maybe it was for the best. Perhaps she could undo the damage while the wounds were still fresh. The least she could do was explain. The very least was to try.
She took a sharp breath and turned around.
His gaze slid to the floor.
She would get him to meet her eyes again tonight. That was her instant goal.
She didn’t see it coming.
She thought he would stop two feet away as he always did, but he crossed that boundary and took one extra step. She felt her voice mute in wonder. Before she could process it, his hand found her waist and his lips met her own.
Of all the things he could have said and done when he next saw her, she never expected him to kiss her.
She was too stunned to think, too shocked to move. For a second all there was, all she could possibly comprehend, was the way his broad hand held her steadily against him, the way his nose grazed on her cheek, and how impossibly, unbelievably soft his lips were against hers.
She should have expected it. After the immeasurable amount of hours she’d spent studying and sketching them, watching him smile and grin and smirk, talk and frown and chuckle, you would think she’d learned everything there was to know about his lips. But not in her wildest dreams could she have imagined how warm and gentle they would be against her own.
His kiss was the faintest of whispers. The most tender caress she had experienced in her life. A touch so feather-like that it wouldn’t burst a bubble, yet so electrifying that it sent shivers down her entire body, making every inch of her, every single inch of her skin, break into delicious goosebumps. It awoke her body and heightened her senses, and she knew that she had never been more aware of anything than she was now of his velvet touch.
She could feel his determination. She could also feel his fear. The caress of his lips was so delicate, so hesitant. Afraid, like a child on whose shoulder has landed a butterfly, and he’s too afraid that he’ll startle her, that he’ll scare her away
Somehow, despite her state of daze and wonder, she regained control of her body. And instantly she shifted against him, she raised her arms and placed her hands on his shoulders. Only… only instead of pushing him away, she allowed her hands to travel further up, to the nape of his neck. To those rebellious locks of hair that covered it. She let them slide through them, she marveled at the way they felt beneath her fingertips, so similar to the one she had imagined. She sighed against his mouth, opening her own just enough to envelop his lips into hers, in her own little caress.
There was the briefest second of utter shock on his part. She felt him freeze against her, she swore she could hear the wheels turning in his head as he realized what she was doing, that she was responding. But she found herself in autopilot, all restrictions suddenly flown out the window. When another second went by and he still remained frozen, she used her hands to pull him down, pull him closer, press their lips together feverously, with an urgency that came out of thin air.
That’s when he snapped out of it.
She felt his arms, both wrapped around her back, unlock – only for both of them to travel higher so that his fingers could burry inside her own hair, the sides of her head engulfed by his palms, his thumbs both pressed against her heated cheeks. A groan of torment emitted from deep within his throat, and she felt it vibrate through her, lighting her brain on fire.
And then he truly kissed her, and the world fell away. All she could grasp was the way his lips were moving against her own, so desperate yet so full of adoration that knocked the air out of her lungs and had her melt inside his arms. She pressed herself to him, chests meeting inch by inch, and she could feel him everywhere. She felt his heart beat against her own, and their breaths mingle together in the brief moments between stillness and action. She felt him speak her name against her lips, she heard that one syllable whispered at her in a voice so familiar yet in a brand new way that she’d never conceived could exist.
She didn’t register how it ended. She didn’t pull away – he definitely didn’t. The urgency fell away slowly, tenderness taking its place once again. They found themselves back to the beginning. Her hands released his hair and slid down to rest against his chest. As his lips gave hers a final caress, his palms left her cheeks to travel lower. She felt his fingers graze on the outer part of her arms, tracing an invisible pattern down her sides, until they finally settled on her hips.
His forehead rested against her own, their eyes still closed. His breath was warm on her face, lightly panting and irregular.
And then she felt it.
His gaze was gentle, yet it was intense. Unmistakable. Finally, he was looking at her again. She could feel his eyes settle on her closed ones, urging -begging almost- that she would let him in.
With a small, steady breath, she opened her eyes to look right into his own.