GONER

20 • Confess Confess

"So," he said gently, and I could feel his lips grazing my cheek, "you going to kiss me? I can spell it out if you'd like."

Not needing anything else, I turned around to face him, and didn't even let myself look at him before I pressed my lips to his. If I had looked at him, I would have lost all the nerve I've managed to gather. But I wanted to eliminate the space between us. I wanted to push against it until he disappeared.

He gave a small, surprised noise, gripping onto the back of my neck gently, and kissed me back. I couldn't even believe this was happening and I tried to remember how to kiss again, but it became increasingly difficult to even breathe. So when he pulled back, eyes alert and bright in the dark, I assumed I had done something wrong. On instinct, I went to apologize, but he just brought his face back to mine. More firm. More certain.

I didn't know how much farther this was going to go, considering the circumstances, but I didn't want to stop kissing him, and so I didn't. His hands were urgent and gentle and soft against my neck, and eventually my body was straddling his, and my hands were on his shoulders and he was warm and I was content and if it didn't go any further than that, no one needed to know but us.

~~~

For a moment, after I woke up, I totally panicked. I didn't know where I was or who had their arm slung across me like a cord keeping me on the ground, and I moved my head up lazily, eyes bleary and mind slow. Of course, my anxiety was silent and I kept to myself, but it all dissapated as soon as I saw his face. He looked cute asleep. Lips slightly parted and he looked a thousand times older and a thousand times younger, and before I could stop myself, I brushed the pad of my thumb against the space between his eyebrows. There was a crease there that sleep didn't get rid of.

He stirred under my touch, and I stirred under his, his skin heated and smooth. I shouldn't have been staring at him the way I was, but I couldn't stop. His facial expressions were quite fascinating, and I bit my lip at the sight of his flushed chest, kissing his collarbone as gently as possible.

"You're awake," he muttered into a pillow, having rolled to face it. "Don't look at me," he cried dramatically, taking my hand. "I'm hiteous."

"Shut up."

"No, seriously. I look like a garbage bag." He sighed, sitting up to look at me. His hair was just as messed up as it was last night, and my heart beat sporadically at the sight of it. And then the memories came running back at me like they did every morning after, and I couldn't stop smiling. Every time I tried to shove it down, it came right back. "What're you all happy about?" He feigned crankiness, making his frown as deep as possible. It just made the both of us laugh, and his thumb moved up to my cheekbone, making absentminded strokes against my face. I felt so creepy leaning into his touch, but I did anyway.

"You." I replied honestly, shrugging.

"Oh my god," he laughed, tipping his head back slightly. "I'll give you that, Ty. You're smooth."

"Like butter," I said gently, and he shook his head.

"Say that again and I'm kicking you out of my house."

"Are you?"

He nodded, "most definitely. Now move your leg off of me. I've got to pee."

So we spent the next twenty minutes washing up lazily, moving around each other in a slow and playful manner, until we made our way down to the kitchen and into the watchful eyes of his family. They all sat in the kitchen, his mom reading her magazine at the stove and his brothers throwing things at each other.