Running Parallel

Part 2 - Luke

 Stumbling, I catch myself on the railing before I can smash my teeth on the steps or break my neck falling down the stairs. Holding tightly to the railing, I drag myself the rest of the way up.

Downstairs, music continues to blast from speakers outside, although at a much more manageable volume up here. Ceiling lights have been shut off, lamps turned on, and laughter spilling from rooms on the first floor.

I'm pretty sure it's after midnight, but honestly, after that last drink I downed when I watched Caleb disappear inside with diamond earring dude, it could be well after two in the morning or still as early as eleven. I shouldn't have drunk so much. I know better than to get plastered like this, but in this moment, I can't remember why. Nor do I give a fuck.

Caleb's probably shacked up in his bedroom with the guy from earlier, and here I am so drunk the house is tilting. Or maybe I am?

"Crap," I mutter, sitting on my ass one step away from the top of the stairs. I bust out laughing, not sure what's funny, but laughing anyway. It feels good to laugh.

I'm gonna go find Caleb. I gotta see. Gotta tell him . . . tell him . . . Huh?

I blink. I'm standing in front of a door, squinting at it. It's closed. Why's it closed?

"Caleb?" I whisper, then chuckle to myself. He has no idea. No idea I'm coming to see him. Find him. Kiss him.

I try the handle, surprised when it turns. I don't know why I expected it to be locked.

"Caleb?" I whisper, squinting in the darkness. Crap, is it ever dark, too. It's like Syd's room, blacked out to the max, except no computer monitor is lighting my way.

A rustle from the bed is my only response.

I blink, trying to adjust my vision, but everything's dark, dark, dark. I swear, if that guy's in here with him . . .

With that thought in mind, I stumble forward, shutting the door behind me. Oh god, that's even worse. And I thought Syd's room was bad? This is like stepping into a void.

Another rustle from the bed. I feel my way to the bed, nearly face-planting twice. Skimming my hands along the soft comforter, my fingers come in contact with what must be his foot. It jerks away from my touch at the same moment a startled gasp comes from the head of the bed.

"It's just me," I hum, not wanting to scare him. Continuing to explore the bed with my hands, I realize with a start that there's only one pair of feet in this bed. I listen, but I only hear his breathing and my own. He's alone. We're alone.

The party continues below us, a separate entity so near yet so far removed from this moment. My hand touches his foot again, but this time he doesn't flinch away. My tongue is heavy in my mouth. My heart is beating crazily in my chest.

Gently, oh so gently, I run my hand up his foot, listening to his breathing stutter. It makes me stupid, crazy, insane. I caress his ankle through the blanket. His throat clicks with a swallow.

Fueled by unknown amounts of alcohol and the strongest desire to kiss him, I put a knee up on the bed. The mattress dips as I slowly crawl up him, straddling first his calves, then his thighs. I lean forward, hands braced somewhere near his head, and close the distance until our noses touch.

"It's just me," I breathe against his lips, revelling in the sound of his quick inhale. The smell of his minty breath. "God, you don't know how badly I've wanted to do this."

He breathes out through his nose, the long sigh almost sounding . . . content.

I cup his face, angle his head back slightly, and brush my lips against his.