Pyromaniac

Chapter 5: Drink and Forget, Drunken Regrets

            “That’s ’cause I’m looking for a shooting star.”

            Estella raised an eyebrow, looking at the sky and then back towards him. “A shooting star?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I wish I could freeze time, right here and right now.”

            As soon as he said it, he broke his gaze with the stars and locked eyes with Estella. She would have been startled if she was sober, but merely peered into his eyes with a slightly empty look. She found a convincing look of passion and desire within his green orbs of eyes, rings overlapping vortex lines until they reached the gaping black hole of nothingness.

            She cracked a smile.

            “Do you ever stop being an idiot?” she asked, tearing away from his glance easily, facing Jonah’s neighborhood and everything beyond.

            “What’s that mean?” Drew grumbled, clearly unhappy that his cheesy movie line hadn’t done its magic on Estella.

            “You’re a player when you’re sober and drunk.”

            “I’m not a player.”

            “And I’m poor,” Estella replied sarcastically, shooting him a facetious grin.

            Drew, whose gaze hadn’t wavered from her, gave her an unimpressed frown. “At least I’m not one of those obnoxious guys who only talk about themselves.”

            “When they’re drunk?” Estella questioned.

            “When they’re drunk and sober,” Drew clarified.

            Estella shrugged in agreement. Point taken. “I guess. At least you’re not stumbling over yourself and… er, interrupting everything I say by yelling.” She blinked a few times. She could hold her alcohol well, but she had drunk more than five or six beers, and that wasn’t giving her an easy job.

            He nodded. “At least I’m not trying to attack you.”

            She glanced at him, amused. “At least you’re not ugly.”

            “At least I get good grades.”

            “At least you…” Estella trailed off due to lack of things to say. She didn’t know Drew that well. They practically spoke for the first time in the ice cream parlor the other day.

            “… have a good personality,” Drew finished.

            She broke the pattern by lighting up with a smile. “Hey, let’s not get too cocky now—”

            “At least I’m good-looking.”

            At that point, Estella was conscious of the fact that she was taking a step back. And if she was taking a step back, that meant Drew was taking a step forward. And if he was taking a step forward…

            “At least I’m good at kissing,” he continued softly.

            Oh, God. She saw where this was going. And even though she was drunk and craving for attention, she just broke up with Stephen. Wasn’t this a little too impulsive? In hopes to ruin the mood before things could carry on in the wrong direction, Estella spread open her lips and hastily added, “At least you’re…”

            And then he kissed her.

            It was gentle, light, and quick. His mouth was softer than she thought it would be. His lips left hers quicker than she anticipated, leaving her mortified at the fact that she was disappointed. Her eyes flickered up at him, and her heart buckled when she found his eyes centimeters away from her. Not only his eyes, but his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw, his stubble, his lips…

            He was inching closer to her, and Estella knew she was in deep shit when she found herself not wanting to push him away. When she could feel his breath on her, she impetuously concluded that she was drunk, so, to hell with everything—she kept her eyes fixated on his and let his hand wander to cup her cheek. When his lips touched hers for the second time, she let her eyelids fall.

            His kiss deepened into her mouth, parting slowly. This time, before he could pull away, Estella responded by capturing his lips with hers. Slowly, torturously, their mouths parted and closed, moving in sync.

            Losing track of time, the world transformed before Estella. Instead of the back of her eyelids, she saw gold. She saw the most brilliant, most inner part of a firework, a spark.

            She snaked her arm around his neck as his tongue surreptitiously slipped between their parted lips and Estella followed suit, each other’s mouths becoming their own, both bodies pulsing with lust and surging with desire.

            Estella tried to recall—did kissing Stephen ever feel like this? She didn’t think so. Maybe it was because Drew was an amazing kisser, or maybe it was because of the alcohol. But there was one thing that was clear as day, painted on all angles of her mind: she did not want to let him go.

            Her heart and her lips throbbed as one as the slow, tender, but agonizing kiss had somehow become faster and wild. He took a step forward, leading her out of the balcony. Someone—one of them—grabbed the glass screen door and slammed it open, waltzing right across the room and dropping onto the bed, lips locked all the while.

            His hand left her cheek and their kiss broke momentarily to rip off his shirt. Estella’s eyes fluttered open to find nicely toned abs and pecs in front of her. The slightest of cocky crossed his face as he watched her caress every ripple on his abdomen with her eyes. Her lips lifted upward in the smallest smile, and she tugged off her shirt, deciding right then and there that this was what she wanted. For now, anyway.

            Instead of her lips, his mouth found her jawline, planting small and feathery kisses along it, leaving her tingling. His hands wandered her upper body, feeling and building a picture for what his eyes weren’t seeing. He never pulled away from her, gently grazing her skin with his lips. A low moan escaped her lips when he bit her neck, and she reached down and slipped off his belt with agile fingers. Drew tangled his fingers in Estella’s hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist, closing her eyes as he went down.

            Well, there was no going back now.