Exotic

~ will they, won't they ~

I turned. Watched Caleb right himself and come to stand just opposite me. The last time it had been just him and me, we'd fought. The time before, we'd kissed. I didn't know what to expect this time. We'd not exactly created an easy-to-follow pattern in our interactions with one another.

Taking a risk, I stepped forward. He mirrored the movement, and we approached each other like old friends, not quite sure if they were recognising the other but still drawn closer by some gut instinct. We stopped when we were practically nose to nose. Or throat-to-nose, with the height difference and all.

I raised myself onto my toes and my arms went over his shoulders. I wrapped him in a hug, because I had no idea what else to do, and I breathed him in, face buried in the curve of his neck. I squeezed his shoulders, relieved when his hands came up to encircle my back and pull me into him. We remained there for a while. Probably far too long for a first hug. I couldn't make myself break away.

When we did, neither of us spoke. After a moment of both of us opening our mouths and failing to speak, he took my hand and began to lead me up the hallway. The warm pressure of his hand in mine felt so secure, I would have followed him anywhere. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then wondered why I did when Caleb seemed so unphased by holding my hand where anyone could walk out and see us.

We stopped outside one of the art rooms, and he rattled the handle, pushing through when it gave way. The room was shadowy, the only light coming from the thin rows of windows across the back wall. The sun danced across the splintering, ancient tables and spilled onto both of us, hovering by the door.

Caleb turned the lock. Something inside me twisted with it. He released my hand and beckoned me over to one of the tables, where he pushed himself up to sit on it. I followed suit with considerably more effort – the tables were tall, and my upper body strength was minimal – but after a beat we were sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, facing the paint splattered sinks below the windows.

I sucked in a breath. "I'm the reason Aidan found out. He overheard me talking to Alba. Ms. Hassan. The school therapist. I was careless and that got us into this mess and I'm really, really sor..."

I squeaked in surprise when he leaned his head around and kissed me on the mouth. I would have fallen back on the table if his hand hadn't shot up to keep me upright. It was an awkward angle for the both of us until I turned my head into him and relaxed into it. His other hand found my knee, and mine found a comfortable loop around his neck, and we stayed there for a while. A stolen kiss in a locked classroom. It felt so middle school. My chest was alight with warm pulses, and my jaw was so relaxed it felt like it was about to become unhinged. I was startled when fingers touched my cheek, before realising they were Caleb's. How many hands did people have? I had forgotten. His hands felt like they were everywhere at once.

I pulled back and rested my forehead on his. "That was a long time coming."

He breathed out an achingly sweet laugh, fingers curling around to cup my head, and went in for a second, deeper kiss. His fingers settled in the short hairs at the back of my neck. I allowed myself to be halfway reclined to the table, arms holding onto him for dear life and legs all in a tangle. His mouth was fucking life support. I wanted to taste it from every angle, in every classroom, on every top of every table in the world, every wall, every bedroom, every bathroom stall...

I released my grip on him and fell back until I was lying on the table. When Caleb went to follow me down automatically, I placed a hand on his chest to keep him at a short distance. He looked down, cheeks dusted with pink and hair all a mess. My doing. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to mess it up worse.