Jed
I think Fiona's about to pass out.
It's not possible to be this red and still function. From the very moment the dinner started, her face has been getting redder and redder. Now, when we're done with the main course, it's almost redder than her hair. I guess she's still nervous about how she showed up in her pajamas. Guess she didn't know my Mom was coming.
Well, neither did I.
I was positive I was going to come to the dinner alone. Daylen is busy as usual, Dad's not home, and I doubted Mom was going to want to go out. Turns out, I underestimated her. I put off telling her about the invitation until yesterday, but once I did, she was all too happy to take it. I guess she misses going out on daily basis and takes whatever chance she gets. I didn't want to go at all at first - I'm not fond of letting other people know my Mom's disabled. It's not that I'm ashamed of it. I'm not. The thing is, once people get to learn someone you're close to is sick, they view of you changes. They start looking at you differently. Treating you differently. I don't like it, and neither does Mom. But it didn't feel right to keep the secret from her, so I told her. And once I saw the light appearing in her eyes at the news, I just couldn't tell her no.
I get to see that light less and less nowadays. I'll do everything to see it more often.
And so here I am, sitting exactly opposite of Fiona, and having the pleasure of watching her get even redder. It's ridiculous, really. If she doesn't stop one of the veins in her head is going to pop.
"Ada?" Her head swings up sharply when I address her. "Would you mind showing me to the patio? I need some fresh air."
Her eyes narrow in on me. She's definitely trying to spot a bluff.
"It's the big door in the living room." She says.
"Which one?"
I know there's only one pair of doors in the living room, but I enjoy the way her jaw clenches way too much.
"The -"
"Ada, honey." Her Mom cuts in. "I think Jed asked you to show him to the patio. Not give him the directions."
"But -"
"Ada." Warning sounds in her Dad's voice. "Please."
"Fine." She does her best to hide her scowl and stands. Rounding the table, she comes to a stop next to my chair and extends her hand.
"Please come along, Jed." She says with a sweet smile.
I excuse myself and quickly make sure Mom's going to be okay without me before standing. I eye Fiona's extended hand suspiciously, but take it, curious of what she's going to do. The moment I place my palm in hers, her fingers close around mine with a lightning-fast speed and squeeze my hand painfully.
"This way." She says, tightening her hold.
I send Mom a tight smile before following Ada into the living room. The moment we step out of the adults' sight, Ada lets go of my hand as if it's burnt her. Not caring to spare me a glance, she storms across the room and approaches the French door. She opens it with such force I'm surprised the handle didn't remain in her hand. She doesn't bother to wait for me and steps out into the night, clearly waiting for me to follow.
When I do, I'm attacked before I can even step outside fully. "What the hell was that?"
"What was what?" I frown.
"This." She waves her hand in the air. "The show of wanting to get some fresh air."
"It wasn't a show." I shrug casually, sliding my hands into my pockets. "I really needed some air. It's really hot in your house, you know."
"And why did you need me to do it?"
"I didn't." I sent her a brief grin. "But you were so red I thought you could use some cool air yourself. What's going on, by the way? Were you hot, too?"
"No."
Ada curls her arms around herself for emphasis. She's changed before the dinner started, coming up with some poor excuse about not feeling well and having slept the whole day. Her Mom gave her out, though, when she asked me if I liked the stuffing Ada had made. I think the moment was the apogee of her redness.
The jeans and black t-shirt she's wearing now don't seem like any protection from the cold if the goose bumps spreading along the skin of her bare arms are any indication.
"You're cold." I observe.
Again, "No."
I sigh. This is going better than I imagined.
"I wish I could give you my jacket, if only I had it here with me." I tell her honestly "I left it on the hook in the hall but if you're going to freeze to death, I can make the sacrifice and go grab it."
"Don't bother." She shakes her head. "I'm not cold."
"Right." I don't believe her, but if there's anything I've learned about her during the few weeks I've known her, it's that she's even more stubborn than I am and arguing with her leads nowhere. "So, back to the topic." I rock back on the heels of my boots. "Why so red?"
"I wasn't red." She protests.
My brow arches. "You were. You still are."
For some reason, her cheeks flush even more. "You're seeing things."
"Uh-uh."
I take a step closer towards her and she takes one step back "So you want to tell me you're not read as a beetroot right now?"
"I'm not."
I take another step forward, she mirrors my action in the opposite direction. "You're not Ms. Tomato?"
"Nope."
"You're as cool as a cucumber."
She lifts a brow. "Could you stop with the vegetable comparisons?"
"Sure." Step forward. Step back. "But only when you admit you're red."
"I'm not red."
Another step closer, another step back. Only this time, where I still have plenty of space to go, Ada is limited by a wall pressed to her back. I can only imagine the string of curses running in her head when she realizes she's cornered. I don't give her the chance to escape, though, as I take three more steps, stopping a mere foot away from her.
"What about now?" I murmur, leaning in so that we're now at eye level. I don't know if Ada realizes it or not, but the girl is short.
"Nuh-uh."
Am I imagining things like she said or does she sound a little out of breath?
Intrigued by her sudden lack of self-confidence, I close the last of the distance between us. We're now so close that my chest brushes hers with every breath, and thanks to the speed she's inhaling with, it happens quite often. I slowly raise my hand and grasp the loose strand of hair that has escaped her high ponytail and turn it between my fingers. I don't miss the way her breath hitches and her body freezes altogether.
"You look like you caught on fire."
"And you look like you want to get punched again."
I smile. She was aiming for a threat, but all she managed to do is made me enjoy it even more.
I tuck her hair behind her ear and run a finger down her cheek. Her lips part on a shaky exhale when I cup her red cheek, not at all surprised to find it hot under my touch.
"I touched fireplaces cooler than your face." I tell her.
She looks like she wants to say something but changes her mind when my thumb brushes the skin of her cheek lightly. I intended to do this only once but some reason, I repeat the action once, and then twice. Each touch is slower than the previous one and by the third swipe, the tip of my thumb brushes over the corner of her parted lips. Ada bows her head a little and the stubborn strand of hair escapes the valley behind her ear and falls forward once more. Needing to get it out of the way, I raise my other hand and brush it back. I planned on doing just that, but once the problem with her hair is solved, my hand runs down. It stops on the curve of her shoulder, running over the column of her neck first.
I'm glad she decided to wear her hair in a ponytail. This way, I can see the patch of color spread lower. I run my other thumb over the elevation of her collarbone, following the blush. My cool hands cause goose bumps to appear in the places where my skin touches hers. I'm fascinated with the way my touch affects her. It's almost as if I have some sort of power over her. A power she's not able to resist.
Little does she know, so does she.
Because when she leans into me subconsciously, my entire body freezes. I can't tell if my heart stops or speeds up, it seems to do both all at once. My entire being focuses on the way the air escapes her parted lips or how hey eyelids drop and her gaze becomes hooded. She doesn't touch me back, her hands hang limply at her sides. I don't care. The pulse I feel fluttering beneath my fingertips tells me all I have to know.
"What about now?" I ask again, my voice barely a whisper.
She shakes her head. A corner of my lips tips up. Stubborn little thing. She'll deny it forever, even though she knows I'm right.
I lean in closer until my lips hover just above her cheek. My mouth brushes against her skin softly as I speak. "And now?"
Another shake. The strand of hair comes loose again. Deciding I don't care about it getting in my way, I ignore it and move my head to the side. Mere inches separate our lips now. If I move forward, they'll touch. If she leans in, they'll touch. We're both painfully aware of it and yet no one dares move. We become frozen in time, close enough to share a breath but not yet to touch. My hand leaves her collarbone and slides up the wall behind her to rest beside her head. We don't break eye contact through the whole process and the air between us feels like it's electrified.
I feel like I'm the one on fire now.
My gaze drops to Fiona's lips. They're still parted. A quiet sound escapes my throat, startling both of us. She has no idea what she does to me. None whatsoever.
I wonder what she's thinking right now. If her lips tingle the same way mine do now. If she tastes like fire she resembles or like the dark chocolate she smells like. I wonder if she'd hit me if I tried to lean forward, or if she'd meet me halfway. There are so many things I want to know.
And just one way to find out.
I brush the tip of my nose against hers and smile when I see her eyes widen. They close once more, though, when she spots me lean in closer. I stop an inch from her lips just to whisper.
"And what about-"
"Hey, you two -"
The spell breaks. Fiona's eyes snap open so wide I'm afraid they might pop right out of their sockets. I don't have the time to marvel over the fact that she finally places her hands on my chest, because she applies a little too much pressure and pushes me away. Taken off-guard, I stumble back a step, nearly falling over. I gain my balance before I can get her the satisfaction of almost killing me again and look to my right. My eyes zero in on Ada's brother standing in the doorway, watching us suspiciously.
"I came to tell you the dessert's on the table." He says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "But I guess you're not interested."
I open my mouth, intending to tell him we are, in fact, very interested, but Fiona beats me to it. Pushing off of the wall, she storms past me and into the house without a word. Everett glances after her before turning to me. He lifts a brow.
"Guess she's a sweet tooth." I voice the first words that pop into my head.
Everett nods, once, clearly not convinced. Deciding there's nothing left to say, I brush past him, heading back to the dining room.
In the doorway, I feel a hand closing in on my shoulder. I pause, bracing for whatever's about to come. I've messed around with enough girls to know that older brothers are not overly fond of finding some looking for trouble prince charmings in the near proximity of their little sisters.
But the two words he murmurs before leaving are not what I expected to hear. For a second, I wonder if I misheard him but he just pats my shoulder with a nod, and disappears into the house. I pause for a second before following. Strangely, those two words are probably the most accurate ones that anyone has spoken to me in quite a long time.
"Good luck."
Oh yes. I have a feeling I'm going to need it.