chapter fourteen
Liam’s POV
Zayn had guided me to his car by linking arms. There’s something so different about linking arms with the guy you pay to guide you versus the boy you like. When you link arms with the guy you pay to guide you, in this case Louis, it’s kind of awkward at times. Sometimes even though I may not be able to see, I feel the stares because I know Louis has this very professional, cautious look in his face that makes it obvious that he’s watching a disabled person. But, when you’re with a boy you like, in my case Zayn, it just feel natural, real, normal. And let me tell you normal for a blind person like me is a miracle that rarely occurs, normal isn’t a word I use on an everyday basis, but when I’m with Zayn I catch myself thinking and saying that word along with natural and real very often. And that’s something.
Zayn set me down on the shotgun of his Cadillac car which he told me is the color of black, but the navy-black, the kind that looks navy, but it is really black. He didn’t describe it as shitty as me; he described me as a poet, a poet who specialized in imagery and descriptive writing.
I heard shifting in the driver’s seat and the door close, but I didn’t hear keys rattling in the ignition hole. Instead, my sixth sense–the one that developed after I lost my sense of vision–struck out. This sense was kind of like my sense of feeling, but this one told me when someone was watching it just gave me this… this kind of… I don’t know... this feeling that someone was looking at me. I’m sure you’ve had this before, normal, five sense, humans call this their gut feeling or their instinct, but this more than a gut feeling or an instinct to me, it’s more magical. It’s hard to understand, sorry.
“Are you looking at me?” I mumbled smiling down at my hands.
“Possibly,” The sixth sense hardened, he was staring harder at me, I could feel it.
“Stop that,” I said feeling a blush trickle up my the pores of my cheeks.
To think that just five minutes ago I was being all dirty sucking his finger and now we’re back to square one blushing, mumbling and giggling.
“One question.”
“Speak.” I smirked, looking at him.
“Can I kiss you?” Immediately my heart fluttered and my stomach sank like the Titanic. That one question always gets me. I like it when he randomly kisses me, but I love it when he asks for my permission if he can kiss me. It’s so innocent yet so filled with desire. It’s as if he sees me as a beautiful flower that he must take care of and that makes me feel pretty damn nice.
I bite my lip and close my eyes feeling my eyelashes flutter against the skin under my eye. “Yes, yes you can.”
A soft hand in my cheek.
Another sneaky hand around my waist pulling me.
Hovering lips.
Goosebumps.
Noses brushing.
Swallowing the lump in my throat.
Suspense.
Soft breaths.
Unsure eyes. Closed lids. Small opening of the eyes checking. Closed lids.
