1.1 | Cherry Knots ✓

08 | oxygen

0 8

o x y g e n

"It's one of the most important things, basically," I said, that one day after school, when we had another of our kissing lessons.

Our previous conversation the other day had ended with hope. Or, at least, I hoped that Declan meant it in a good way when he said he still needed me. That he wasn't absolutely certain of his kissing abilities, and still needed me to teach him. So we were back to square one, only this time Stella was in the equation, and whatever I taught Declan, he was probably going to practice on Stella.

"What is?" Declan mused, absentmindedly, as he rummaged through the books on my shelf. One thing I had noticed about Declan - he could hardly keep still.

"Breathing," I explained. "Sometimes when you're kissing and there's tongue involved and everything, it gets kind of stifling. Remember to take deep breaths and that way, you won't get light-headed."

"Got it. Don't forget to breathe, and I - wait," He paused and pulled out a white bit of paper. "What's this?"

He waved the paper in front of me, and that was when my heart sank. Because it wasn't just a slip of paper. And I stared at it, stared at the undulated curves and shades of black and grey. My mouth was dry, I could hardly speak.

I reached forward and grabbed the paper from him. "It's nothing. It's not important."

Declan shrugged, but his gaze was sharp, shrewd as he watched me turn around to stuff the picture into my wardrobe. And I knew that he knew I was lying.

"So," Declan said, his tone casual, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't seen anything he oughtn't have seen. "I have to keep my breathing in check. Anything else?"

"You're in a hurry to learn today," I observed, eyeing him suspiciously. He never seemed this impatient or eager before.

He shrugged. "Stella and I are going out tonight."

I froze. "What?"

"I just don't want to scare her away with my shite kissing techniques," He continued, a rather rueful smile stretching across his face.

I had heard once that all you needed was ten seconds courage, ten seconds of complete and reckless abandonment, ten seconds to throw caution to the wind and just act on your impulses.

My feet closed the gap between us of their own accord as I crossed the room towards him. I stopped when I was barely inches away from him, and if I tilted my head up just a little, I knew that our lips would meet. "Well," I found myself saying, "Maybe it's about time to put those kissing techniques of yours to the test."

"What - " He began to ask, but no, I was never able to find out what he was going to say next.

Because, as I pushed myself up on my toes, I let my lips meet his. The contact was brief, the friction so light I hardly believed that I was actually kissing Declan, but his voice trailed off as he stiffened in surprise.

His lips were dry and warm against mine, his posture rigid as I let my arms snake around his neck, pulling him close to me. It was difficult to breathe, the feelings were indescribable, my knees were weak and he wasn't even kissing me back.

And then he was, he was kissing me back, slowly, smoothly. The heat rose between us, the air grew hot and heavy as he gripped my waist, holding me against him. Catching my bottom lip lightly between his teeth, he nibbled gently on it and a groan escaped my lips. Somewhere, in the back of the foggy haze that was my mind, I wondered where he learnt that mind-blowing move, for this was beyond all basic techniques that I had taught him.

But that thought quickly dissipated when a loud beeping sound dragged us, both albeit a little reluctantly, out of the trance that we had escaped into.

I was the one who pulled away first, my breath ragged. "Not bad," I murmured, at last. "Not bad at all."

His gaze was unreadable, his breathing even more uneven than mine. "El, I - "

His phone beeped again, and I stared at it, careful not to let any emotions betray me as I said, "You should pick up the call."

A sigh escaped his lips, and he turned around to pick up his cell. "Hey, Stella?" His voice sounded barely controlled, almost inaudible.

It was the trigger factor, the one that made me quickly back out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me. I leaned against the door and inhaled deeply. But it was difficult, difficult to breathe without feeling a sickening pang in my heart.

But then the door clicked open, and Declan was there, his phone in his palm and his gaze wary, searching. "That was Stella," He muttered, and somehow he sounded almost tired. "I have to meet her in five."

Courage failed me, and fear stabbed at my heart, pulled me back. "You should go," I found myself saying, instead. "You're going to do great."

Pushing past him, I headed back into my room and pretended to study the bookshelf. Because that was what I was best at. Pretending that nothing ever happened, pretending like I didn't care.

"You know, El," His voice was gentle, probing. "We should probably talk about - "

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There is everything to talk about," He exploded, and even though my eyes were trained onto the books on the shelf, I could imagine his frustration, the furrow between his eyebrows. "What the hell was that? Seriously, you expect me to go out with Stella after you just kissed me and pretend like nothing ever happened?"

No, of course not. And yet, the words never left my lips.

"It's so bloody difficult to understand you sometimes," He continued, his voice rising in aggravation. "For all the months we've spent together, it's like I hardly even know you. I can't even tell what you're thinking half the time. Every time I think I know you a little bit better, you withdraw back into your shell again. So what the hell is happening between us, huh? Or is there anything even happening between us at all?"

It was an open invitation, perhaps. But I did not take it, did not see the hope in his question, or perhaps I did see it, but I was too terrified to take it, to answer in the affirmative.

Instead, I shut my eyes and forced the words to leave my mouth. "You should go," My voice was soft, almost inaudible, but I knew he could hear it anyway. "Stella's waiting."

"Fine."

And that was it. I heard the angry rustling as he pulled his jacket on, and the door slammed shut with a loud bang. I sank down onto the edge of my bed. Declan was pissed, and rightfully so.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, and I glanced up. The doorknob twisted in a clockwise direction, and the door opened gently, the action seemed slow, almost apologetic.

It was Declan.

He was standing by the doorway, an inexplicable expression on his face. His breathing was erratic, his cheeks flushed as if he had been running for quite some distance. I willed myself to stay rooted to the spot,. Just his presence rendered me speechless, made me feel a rush of emotions that were too difficult to comprehend.

His jaw was clenched, and it seemed to take him quite an effort to force the words out of his mouth. "I just - "

He seemed quite unable to say anything more after that, his hand grasped tightly around the doorknob, and exhaled in frustration. He seemed quite unable to take the plunge.

So I did it for him. Lifting my head, I met his gaze. "I know."

That was all I needed to say. Nothing else. He crossed the room quickly, closing the gap between us.