OPEN [boyxboy] ✓

twenty-three:: when you're not exactly John Bender.

I leaned my head back, reveling in being around the guy I liked and having him hold my hand and just being able to feel these things without guilt. Fuck, it felt good.

Since my mini-breakdown the night before, Paul had been a little more careful around me, not asking questions and just holding me when it looked like I wanted to be held. And he was always right, "What time does detention end?"

I wasn't expecting his soft voice to ring through the car but when it did, I peeked one eye open before the other, lifting my head to look straight at him, a habit my mother had gotten me into since pre-k. Apparently was polite to look someone in the eye when speaking to them and it just felt natural to stare straight at Paul.

When someone is speaking to you, you look them in the eye. I could still hear her voice in the back of my head introducing me to new members at the church each week. She would push my shin up with the tips of her fingers only once and if I'd lost interest, it would be followed by a slight pinch.

Shrugging, I waved him off; Paul didn't have to go out of his way to pick me up everyday. I felt as if I was wasting his gas, "Four but you don't have to pick me up, Ben's gonna be there too. I'll just catch a ride with him."

"I'll pick you up at four."

The way he'd said it, so bluntly, so assuring just made my heart pound faster. He cared, he really seemed as if he cared about me and about how I felt and he'd always be there. In his actions, his looks, the way his hesitant smile flickered before he became confident, as if that confidence wasn't his first move and I saw Paul more humanly and a bit less than an angel.

Really, that only made me like him more, "But-"

Rolling his eyes playfully, he squeezed my hand before flicking my nose, "No buts."

His jokingly-condescending tone didn't go unnoticed by me but at the fact that his lips looked a raw reddish flesh-tone, as if they'd been bitten or kissed and the fact that I was the only one he allowed to do so, all teasing flew to the back of my mind. And I smiled before checking my surroundings discretely, careful not to anger him again, I leaned over the counsel to press a soft kiss to Paul's lips.

It was a quick peck but nonetheless, it was enough to get my heart racing and goosebumps to erupt all over my skin. Pulling away, I was stopped short by Paul's assertive fingers brushing my chin and craning me back towards him. I couldn't help but think of the first time he'd done that, in the restroom of the pizza joint, the first day we'd become a little more than friends.

The look in his eyes was the same as it was then, that confidence and dominant side that I rarely saw coming to play and I kind of liked it. "Kiss me again."

Who's kidding? I really liked it.

I ignored the fact that he was making me the girl in our situation, a blush forming in my neck and creeping up to my face. I watched him bite his lip, my breath leaving me in short bursts, "You're gonna be late, babe."

"I don't care," he'd dismissed, his hands curving up to hold my jaw and thumbs stroking my freckles cheeks. I felt like I was under a microscope, Paul seeing every flaw and every piece of me I'd tried to cover up. Clearing my throat, I gently pulled his hands off of me, my eyes casting downwards as I attempted to get out the situation as quick as possible.