Not Enough

112

"I know you're pissed at her Evan, but don't you want things to get better between you two? The only way that'll happen is if you just give her a chance."

Even though Jacob has a point, I don't say anything, my mind too fucked up to really think anything through at the moment, and wanting to just avoid eye contact with either of them right now I look back over at Saniya by the bar to see that she's now holding a glass of red wine. All I can do is watch her as she takes sips from the glass, but just as I'm about to look away I see a man approach her.

He seems to be around our age, has pale-ish tan skin, a military style buzz cut, and is only an inch or two taller than she is in those heels. He's dressed in an oversized graphic t-shirt with a pair of baggy cargo pants, giving him a sort of grunge-y look. I can just barely see his face as he turns his entire body to face her, leaning his elbow on the bartop, and it's clear from here that the bags under his eyes along with the discoloration in his features means that he's either high or drunk, maybe both.

My hands subconsciously turn into fists as I watch him begin to say something to her, a smile plastered across his face. At first Nya ignores him, which encourages him to get closer to her so that their bodies are mere inches apart. That's what causes her to finally acknowledge him, turning her head to face him and give him a small smile back that, even from where I'm sitting, I can tell is fake.

I feel my breathing pick up its pace as my anger grows, but all I can do is sit and watch as the man continues to talk to her, the conversation obviously one sided, and even though she doesn't say anything and barely even acknowledges him he still doesn't seem to get the hint. She takes sips from her glass, and everytime I notice how his eyes glaze down her entire body, and just as I finally grow sick of his ogling she gives him one last fake smile before walking away and back towards us with her wine in hand, I assume growing sick of him as well.

Even though I would figure that this guy would finally take the hint, he doesn't, instead continuing to stare at her—more like her ass—with a disgusting smirk, and when Nya finally gets back to where we're sitting I get an impulsive idea that, even though it's stupid, would show him that she isn't available to anyone else but me.

Well, I guess that's more of something for her to decide, but right now I just don't give a fuck.

She's about to walk past me to sit back in her spot on the couch when I catch her off guard by standing up in her way. She nearly bumps into me, and the confusion is clear on her face as she looks up at me where I practically tower over her. I notice that our close proximity allows me to inhale her sweet scent of coconut and vanilla, and I can even smell a hint of the wine she's been drinking.

"You wanted to apologize, right?" I ask in a low tone.

Her lips part, as if she's hesitating to answer, before she eventually does.

"Yeah . . . ?"

With her answer I don't waste any time before abruptly leaning forward and connecting my lips to hers, and I can't help the flutter in my heart as I hear her adorably surprised gasp, as well as feel her soft, plump lips against mine for the first time in four weeks. Her shock causes her to keep her entire body still, which allows me to take the lead and bring my arms forward so that they're now wrapped around her waist. I let my hands travel along the length of her back, my fingertips gliding along her soft skin that I had gone so long without touching.

I feel her lipgloss get all over my mouth and my lips, but I completely ignore it, instead focusing on how it feels as she now—hesitantly—moves her lips against mine as well, almost instinctively. Her tongue runs over mine, over my piercing, and I can tell by how her breathing grows harsher that she missed this as well.