A barista in a café stumbles over a black-haired artist often ordering the same: a cup of plain black coffee.
When she ventures to enter his life, who makes her heart flutter like no other, life slaps back with a "not too fast". She discovers his s...
❝I'll let you into my heart, but wipe your feet at the door.❞
12
CONFESSING 告白
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. . .
I had no idea how much I slept.
However, the strong light from the window and the warmer weather told me it was at least noon. I stayed in bed for a few minutes, giving myself enough time to wake up fully. I felt as if I was lying on feathers—it was so comfortable until a headache entered the scene.
I looked more into my surroundings. Those weren't my pastel sheets, and that wasn't my room—that all wasn't my house. Then the memory hit me, and a stronger headache had stricken. I was with Blake last night, and I got drunk and stayed at his house.
From the eventful night, I also remembered one significant moment.
"I think I like you."
"I believe I like you."
I buried my face in the pillow as the headache increased. That was absolutely not the best time to confess any feelings to anyone... and then I remembered we kissed, and I slept on him feeling me.
How would I face him again? How would I leave that flat without any embarrassment? And my clothes... I was wearing his clothes. I didn't even know where mine were gone.
I was soon answered when I found them neatly folded on a chair in the room, smelling of a clothes softener. He even washed them? My stomach filled with butterflies at the thought.
A knock on the door echoed in the room, followed by Blake's voice, "Cassandra, you really need to wake up now."
That got me to look at the wall watch. It was twelve fricking PM. Fuck. My shift was in an hour.
He opened the door slowly, found me sitting on his bed. He blinked at me a few times then smiled.
"I'm sorry. You should've forced me up earlier—"
"No, it's totally fine. You looked comfortable, and I didn't wanna interrupt that." He leaned on the doorframe. "Need some hangover soup?"
I nodded silently, not really focusing with him, and he gestured me to follow him to the kitchen. I sat awkwardly on a stool by the kitchen counter and had a soup Blake prepared for both our hungover selves.
By the time I was there, I had already changed back into my clothes and thanked him for lending me his. The guy was such a gentleman—polite, kind and understanding.
"Thank you for everything, Blake," I thanked him once I finished my bowl. It truly helped soothe my headache.
"It's nothing. All worth it."
I blushed. We yet had a lot to talk about.
Blake walked my way until I felt cornered by him in front and the counter from behind me. He stopped one step away from me and looked into my eyes.
Brushing hair behind my ear, he spoke, "I know what's going on your head right now, Cassie," he surprised me, "and yes, I meant it when I said I liked you."
I took a breath, inhaled, exhaled. Although it was hard with our proximity, I mustered my courage and told him, "I feel the same."
Because I truly liked the guy and willed for our bond to grow.
I was tongue-tied and timid before the guy I grew feelings for. I could only gaze up into his eyes and search for honesty in them. His stares were hypnotising as his hand reached for mine and intertwined our fingers together. He leaned in, and on instinct, I leaned up and hugged his lips with mine.
Kissing Blake felt even better when sober, hotter. He pulled me up to sit on the counter, but he never disconnected our lips as he kissed me with an eager need. God, it had been a while since I felt that kind of heat creep up my spine then explode in my head with tantalising feelings.
Somehow, his hands ended rubbing at the sides of my chest while he kissed me, where I visibly looked needy of him. I felt an extraordinary mix of timidness and need, as in even though I didn't want to look that needy, it felt daring to let him witness it.
His lips left mine, and I almost whined as mine tried to reclaim him, but his lips were quick to latch on the curve of my shoulder as the hem of my shirt moved a significant distance up my tummy.
"Blake," I called in a barely audible whisper, to which he replied with a hum on my collar that vibrated through my body.
My phone rang, and I fought the urge of emitting a train of curses. Blake got off me and gave me my space. I knew damn well who was the caller.
"I'm sorry," I excused myself. "It's my friend. I'm probably late for work."
He nodded and tried to busy himself with the most trivial things to ease the atmosphere.
I excused myself to leave because I had to go to work even though I was undoubtedly unprepared, physically and emotionally.
"Do you want a ride? It sucks to walk in this weather and get sunstroke. I would also love to go and have a coffee, too."
I smiled and agreed, "Would love that."
. . .
it takes every inch of me to write un-awkward kissing scenes lol. it's hard to imagine and jot down for me, and my taste in intimacy is different than readers, so it's hard to satisfy everyone, yk?
if you think their relationship is progressing fast, don't fret. it's intended, although not that fast.they're not dating —merely enjoying each other's company.
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