All The Colors Of You || Bang Chan

Chapter Twelve - Perrie

"Okay, so we agree that Breakfast Club is worse than 10 Things I Hate About You?"
I sit next to Chan on my couch.
10 Things I hate About You is on the TV, but we're barely watching it.
Chan swallows the bite of pizza in his mouth and takes a sip of the sangria before he answers.

"Duh," he says, "Only one of them has Heath Ledger singing 'Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You' and that one is clearly the winner."
We giggle and I take my glass from the low coffee table in front of the couch.
Chan reaches forward to put his glass down onto the table and he leans halfway over my lap, brushing his arm and shoulder into my side.
When he leans back again, he's closer to me than before.
I pull my legs closer to my chest and let them droop to my right where Chan is sitting.
His hand finds my knee so naturally.

"You know what else is better than Breakfast Club?" He looks at me again. "Clueless."
I laugh and nod quickly.
"I love Clueless! I watched it all summer long when I was in Junior year."
"Yeah?" We lean in closer to each other and he shows me his dimples.
I reach out and poke it and his eyes widen.
"I'm sorry," I say quickly but he winks at me. "I just really like your face."
"I like yours too," he says quietly and I blush.

We're quiet for a moment, just watching each other's faces.
His hand is warm on my knee and his fingers are gentle. When he slowly moves his hand higher up on my leg, placing it in the middle of my thigh, my entire body erupts in tingles.
I swallow thickly.
The movie is still running in the background, the dialogue like a humming of white noise outside of our bubble.

Chan holds my stare then, and his voice is low and calm, almost as if he is speaking without thinking.
"This is the best date I've ever been on."
I grin and raise one eyebrow.
"Oh, so this is a date?"
Chan's face goes pale and he starts stammering immediately, "I mean, I don't know-... I just thought that-.. Because of the drinks and what we-... Do you not want it to be a date? Because I would totally respect that, I swear I didn't mean to impose or assume anything."

I chuckle and lean in closer, my hand finds his cheek again. His face is warm.
"I do want this to be a date," I say then. "And it definitely is in the top five."
Chan grins and puts an exaggerated mask of shock on his face.
"Only top five?" He chuckles as he leans in closer and bonks our foreheads against each other. "I thought I'd get at least top three."

We run out of Sangria when the movie hits the climax, so we decide to bust open the dusty old bottle of whiskey I bought months ago and stashed in the kitchen cupboard.
We mix it with cola, and it doesn't taste great, but it's not bad either.

Neither Chan or I are sober when the movie ends.
It's late, way past eleven, but I really don't want him to go and he doesn't mention having to leave, so we put on another movie.
As it runs along, Chan and I talk.
The movie is more or less background noise as he tells me about the progress he's made with his music.
I am all giddy and jittery inside when he says, "I like talking to you. I feel so comfy with you."

I take his hands in mine and we watch as our fingers interlock, loosen again, lock again. I press our fingertips together and my hands look so small compared to his.
I trace the lines of the veins on the back of his hands to his wrists. I graze the delicate skin on the inside of his wrists with my fingertips and hear him suck in his breath.
His eyes follow every move I make, like he just can't look away no matter how hard he tries.
So I whisper into the air between us, "I like the way you look at me."

He looks up at me with questions in his eyes.
I answer to them, "I feel like you really see me. Like you can see who I really am. I feel like you like what you see."
He chuckles, but he holds my stare.
"I do," he says, "I like the way you talk to me. You're not afraid to say what you think. I think you're brave."
"I'm not," I smile at him with heated cheeks, "It's just that I feel like you won't judge me. I don't need to be afraid of anything when I'm with you. That's how I feel when you're around."

"It's true," he murmurs calmly. He tries so hard to keep his voice steady but I know his heart must be beating way too fast. There's a vein on the side of his neck that hadn't been there before.
"I wouldn't judge you for anything you do or say," he adds.
"For nothing?"
He shakes his head. "For absolutely nothing."

"What if I tried this?"
I lean forward. Our noses brush against another, as do our foreheads.
My hands find his neck, the collar of his shirt.
It's like we're moving in sync and I can feel his hands wrap around my waist, pulling my closer to him.
I'm almost on his lap, our lips are almost touching.

I want him.
I want to kiss him and I want to touch him.
I want to be touched by him. I want to feel the warmth of his body, and what his skin feels like in places I haven't even seen yet.
I want him to pick me up from this couch and carry me to the bedroom, and then I want him to-...

Before our lips can touch, he pulls away.
His eyes are halfway closed and he glances down at my lips like he's not sure about his own decision.
But then he shakes his head slightly and blinks.
"You don't want to kiss me?"
I whisper. I don't trust my voice not to sound hurt or huffy.

His hand is still on my waist and he slips his fingertips in the space where my shirt meets my pants. He traces small patterns onto the naked skin, and then he gently pushes his forehead against mine again.
He grins crookedly and says, "I do want to kiss you. And I'm probably going to regret doing this right now, but I don't want it to happen like this."
He looks up and his lashes let dainty shadows dance across his cheeks.
"I don't want to be drunk the first time I kiss you, because then I won't be able to remember it as clearly. I don't want it to be just a blurry memory."

I sigh and rub his neck and his shoulders, before finally letting a bit of air between us again.
He's right.
And more than that, he's so considerate. Gentle. Honest. Good.
"Fine," I say and smile at him, "You're right. Doesn't mean, we can't cuddle a little though, right?"
The smile on his face is wicked and bright, and he immediately opens his arms for me to snuggle in and up against his chest.
My body fits perfectly against his, and being held by him feels almost as good as that kiss would have felt.