Started With a Lie

Chapter Fifty-Two

               I turn away and look at some photos tacked onto a board as a holy-water escape before I sink into thoughts I shouldn't be having just because he is sitting on a bed and looks really nice. His parents are downstairs, gosh, Ivory, I reprimand myself.

             The photos on the board are a mix of many years of his life. Some photos have laughing or smiling Daniel with a little acne and bigger glasses. Others look recent like last summer as I see a photo with him and some friends around a bonfire. In each and every photo, he is smiling or doing something goofy with his face or body. I can just sense how much happiness he's spread over the years I never knew him. I'm glad people like him exist. People who are always happy for others even when sometimes they probably aren't. I wish I could control my emotions enough to be that for someone else.

            "Your photos are cute and nice contrary to your emo room," I say, running my hand over a baby picture of chubby Daniel.

           "Oh, don't look at that picture," Daniel says, his voice suddenly at my ear.

              I gasp and jump, turning abruptly, my back hitting the wall. He's suddenly not on the bed anymore but leaning his arm on the wall space above my head and being two inches away from my face. "Jesus, when did you get there?"

            "I have literally been lurking over your elf-sized self to see what photos you've been looking at for the past three minutes," he explains, his breath blowing pieces of my hair that string around my face. "You were just too caught up looking at the hot pictures of me. Except that ugly baby pic."

            I roll my eyes. "You look cute."

          He smirks, leaning closer. "Do I?"

             I playfully punch his chest. "Not anymore, you goof. Now you're just emo boner boy Daniel again."

            "Hey!" he says and we both laugh. But eventually that thing happens where the laughing subsides, slowly fading out. The playful fun twinkle in his eyes fades along with his laugh, his wrinkles from laughing smoothing over. The atmosphere around us changes like a bolt of lightning and suddenly my heart is in my throat, beating loud enough for the world to hear. Daniel uses his free arm to move away the pieces of hair that were beginning to tickle my cheek behind my ear.

           When he places his hand back to his side, I grab it with both hands gently, caressing it. His hands are boyish, rough and smooth at the same time. We aren't speaking but we can both feel the heat of the moment.

            Our eyes lock and my eyes can't help but slip to his lips. I can't help it—they're right there. He watches me and his eyes are questioning, looking for signs. I let go of his hand and trail one hand to his chest and the other hand behind his neck, playing with the edges of his hair. It must be sign enough...right?

            I suddenly feel like a fourteen year old girl again, having a crush on some random boy in class. It feels like the exact feeling I got when I first started liking Peter—that gentle, fragile, young feeling. The who's-gonna-make-the-move-first heart-racing moment. The stolen looks and secret smiles. Looking at someone and finding them looking at you. Knowing both of you feel the same way but having fun with the chase.

              I stay still, waiting for him to kiss me first. He does the same as if we're playing a game. A cocky smile appears on my face. I could hold out forever and win.

          Daniel smiles for two seconds before sighing out of frustration. "Damn it," he mutters before he suddenly grabs my hips and pulls me closer. The quick motion and urge would make it seem like the kiss would be hard but it's not. It's soft and long, his lips gently touching mine like two feathers falling together.