Aug 12, 2008 21:48
It’s torture. He’s so close.
She sits in front of a lap top, tapping away at the keys. She doesn’t see him arrive. The girls do, even some of the boys stop to stare at him. She was told he was coming, by all those that stopped to stare. She didn’t notice. What she did notice was the pants. The pants and then the dancing. She loved watching others with skill work on their art. He was the first one she had seen do this ‘shuffle’ before. She’d seen hundreds of videos and knew far too much about it for some one who’s never actually tried. She was hooked. From the second he begun she was ensnared, mesmerized and barely breathing, scared to blink just in case she missed it.
He’s so close. Their noses touch, neither dare to move.
Shirts off. A song begins to play and suddenly everyone is shirtless. She takes hers off but keeps on her bra, a predominately male gathering, no bra could end badly. He comes to her and goes to pick her. For a second she hesitates. She hates being picked up. He grabs her and lifts her over his shoulder and begins to spin.
She moves, but away from him. He’s intoxicating.
They slow down and he puts her down. They smile at each other and small words are exchanged. The song finishes and she leaves the room. She stands against the wall where no one can see her if they’re not looking. Her heart rates through the roof and she feels her old dizziness settling on her like a mist that slowly weighs her down. He comes around the corner and starts talking to her. About anything and everything.
They stare at each other in the dark. He moves forward and their noses meet again.
They talk for what seems like moments but is really hours. He has scars on his shoulders and scars on his hands. Like her, places that do not really raise suspicion and can be hidden easily. The scar that sits between the knuckle on his ring finger and his middle finger is shaped like a love heart. She’s not sure why but this amuses her and she brings it to her lips and kisses it.
They stare. She’s barely breathing, her mind in turmoil.
It gets late quickly and they decide to avoid the others and camp down in one of the other rooms. They lie down on the compacted carpet just above a concrete slab with her black cloak as a blanket for the two. He faces toward her and she lies stock still on her back. She knows what she wants to do, she knows she shouldn’t. She also knows what will happen.
He edges forward and their lips almost meet.
She rolls in toward him to face him. She keeps her distance, knowing what she wants knowing she shouldn’t want that. He puts one arm around her, the other under her head. She lifts her hand and covers his, lightly lacing her fingers in with his. She sighs and it feels as if a weight has been lost of her shoulders.
She leans forward that tiny space and their lips finally brush.
Her mind spirals into a cacophony of thought, her body craves more but her mind is content.