"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart, it was not my lips you kissed but my soul."
- Judy Garland
February 10th, 2014
CARTER HAD MOVES- I had to admit. I mean who would ever guess that him, of all people, would be so smooth out on the dance floor.
Experience I guess...
A song with a steady beat starts and I continue to jump and laugh with Carter, our eyes lingering on each other- and only each other.
He was staring into my eyes so intensely, I almost had to look away. His blue irises demonstrated every emotion, whether he knew it or not... and right now, I saw desire.
I wasn't ready for what happened next, as Carter grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to him, his eyes scanning down my body hungrily.
I feel a rush of heat overtake me and bite my lip in anticipation as he intertwines our fingers. He starts to move us in unison, taking the lead the whole time.
His eyes never left mine.
I ignored the pool of desire rising in my stomach as I studied how truly sexy Carter looked right now. He was so carefree, so confident, so... attractive.
He leaned closer stopping only when our faces were a centimeter away, "Kennedy," he whispers breathlessly. I feel a flutter at the mention of my name from his lips, "I need to-"
Carter is cut off by a wave of blond who steps in front of me.
I stop dancing.
"Dance with me!" She yells at Carter over the loud music, "you're fucking hot!" She adds.
Carter stifles a laugh while giving her a confused look, but I knew he loved it. Of course he did, she was beautiful.
She shakes her hips to the beat and a seductive expression makes it's way onto her face.
I would've laughed from her absolute ridiculousness if it wasn't for my continuous trance on Carter.
He was charmed. He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking at her.
I didn't know why I was jealous, and I hated that I was.
I look back to Carter, his eyes already on me. An unrecognizable look was in his eyes, he cared. At least it looked like he did...
Please don't look at me that way. I pleaded internally. Especially when you have a girl in the palm of your hand right in front of you...
I needed a drink.
"I'll be back," I yell, "have fun," I add with a bitter tone that I didn't expect.
Carter gives me a confused look, motioning towards his ears and shrugging. He couldn't hear a thing.
I restrain myself from an eye roll, which took me all of my willpower. I instead point to the drink table at the end of the room and don't wait for his reaction. I didn't want to see.
I trudge off in a trance of anger, not caring about anything other than the fact that I not only just got ditched, but that Carter was literally about to tell me something important.
"Watch it!"
I am suddenly struck with cold, smelly reality in the form of cheap vodka.
"I'm so sorry!" I say, even though I was the one with the wet clothes.
However, the culprit was long gone. Probably to get another drink, or to grind up against anything that moves.
"Ugh!" I yell, but no one could hear me.
I guess that's one good thing at parties- no one can hear you, even if you were screaming.
Frustrated, I look around for help- possibly to see if I spot Georgia or Hannah. But they weren't here. All I see is Carter, who's forgotten about me all too quickly and already dancing with the pretty blond.
I sigh, very well knowing I was on my own for this one. I look around the McAllister house, scanning for any dark hallway that looked empty.
The stench of vodka made it's way up to my nose, making me scrunch up my nose in disgust and practically shiver. I needed to wipe this off, now.
I decide to head up the stairs, my best bet being there was some kind of washroom up there.
I make my way up the stairs and try my hardest not to slip on my heels. I try not to look into any of the bedrooms, praying to god that I didn't see anything that I wasn't supposed to.
I finally find myself a bathroom and slip in, closing the door and locking it for extra measures. I'm not stupid, I've heard the party cliche. My plan was not to have anything worse happen to me tonight.
I grab a towel from a rack near the shower and pray that Nick doesn't use this to clean anything explicit. Although, I was desperate, so at this moment I didn't really give a damn.
I turn the hot lever on the sink and let it reach it's highest setting, then I run the towel under the water and start to rub my dress.
Did I need soap?
Was that a thing? Do people clean vodka with soap? I mean I guess that's the point of washing machines but-
My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden ding on my phone, which lay on the counter next to me.
It was from Aiden.
Where u at?
Bathroom upstairs.
I reply, rolling my eyes as I do because I know that I've interrupted one of Aiden's make out sessions with my problems.
Something happen?
Nothing really, what r u doing?
I'm coming upstairs.
Aiden was sweet, I had to admit that I was surprised he was ditching girls for me. He was kind, a good friend, and would do anything for me.
"Open up! Only if your descent though- actually open up then too, that'd be a nice treat-"
I grab the door knob, before anything else inappropriate can slip out of his mouth, and yank the door open.
"Pervert," I say with a look.
He smirks, "thanks babe."
Mental Note- Aiden is cheeky when drunk.
"What have you been doing?" I ask, curious to know if he "scored" with one of the pretty girls we saw earlier.
"Socializing," Aiden says with a smile.
"Socializing? Hmm, is that code for having your tongue down some poor girl's throat?"
He gives me a strange look but then shakes it off, "and why would I be doing that?"
"Oh shut it Aiden, I know you all too well," I say as I lightly punch his shoulder. He stumbles backward slightly, already so drunk.
He gives me a lazy smile, "I know you well too, you know."
"True."
"And if I know you so well, then I would know that you're not up here doin' your business, you're avoiding- aren't you?"
I shake my head, "I told you, I don't like parties."
"You're such a goody-two-shoes! Let yourself go once and awhile!" Aiden says his words with a smile, but it still stings.
For as long as I could remember I was always insecure for not enjoying parties as much as my group of friends. I wasn't one for saying no, so I usually went. Yet, I always left early, and am constantly wondering if my friends were annoyed with that.
"Sorry that I don't particularly enjoy drinking myself dry, Aiden," it comes out more bitter than expected.
I was being such a bitch tonight. But the words just kept on flowing. How many people am I going to push away tonight?
"What the hell, Kennedy?" Aiden's frowning now, he's upset- and I'm an idiot.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that," I look into his eyes and see a vulnerability lacing his features.
Silence closes in. An awkward, horrible silence. That was my fault. All I can hear is the slight beat of the bass from the hardcore rap playing downstairs and the chatter of excited party-goers.
"What's up with you?" Aiden says quietly, "did something bad happen?"
"I don't know Aiden, sometimes I just feel so confused, and I don't understand what I'm conflicted about and why I'm making situations more dramatic then they are. But I hate parties. Hate them," I sigh and look away, feeling the sting of tears burn the corners of my eyes. I wanted to go home.
"Everyone's just as confused as you, I promise," Aiden answers. The look on his face is serious and caring. The hardness from his eyes is gone.
In this bathroom Aiden is my best friend, my confidant, my sweet, sweet Aiden.
"I'm sorry, the pressure just sorta gets to me sometimes."
"It's okay, I understand," he answers.
He didn't.
"C'mere, I think my Kends needs a big hug."
I walk forwards a few steps to reach him and he engulfs me in a embrace.
"I'm sorry that I'm confusing," my words are muffled by his shirt, but I meant it.
"Compared to many other girls I've come across, you're nothing."
We both laugh. Because Aiden was a player, and we both knew that. He played with girls. He slept with them, broke their hearts, did it all over again. He didn't even try to pretend anymore.
Which is why I don't know why I did what I did next.
I look up to Aiden and every single practical thought is erased from my head.
Why was he so handsome? Why were his eyes so blue? I could stare at him forever.
And he's staring at me too. He's memorizing my features, he's looking into my eyes- and I see his vulnerability again. I see so many things swirling in those eyes of his.
And so I kiss him.
I reach to the back of his neck and pull him down, all while pushing myself upwards on the tops of my toes and letting our lips meet.
He was surprised, but in a way I think he expected it.
He's gentle at first, testing the waters, letting us become more comfortable with each other. And then he's sliding his fingers down my back and to my waist, pushing me against the wall and taking more control of the kiss.
I feel like gasping for oxygen because I couldn't breathe but I didn't want to stop. I never knew that a kiss with Aiden could feel this good.
He deepens the kiss, and all I want is to be closer to him. All I want is to be with him.
His fingers slide down my back feverishly, the palms of his hands coming dangerously close to uncharted waters, yet still I continue on. Feeling as if I couldn't get close enough to him. My fingernails rake through his hair and pull him closer, wanting to feel his body against mine.
Aiden takes a quick breath before turning and placing me on the countertop. For a split second we're just looking at each other. My breath becomes delayed as my lips immediately miss his. He's panting and staring at me with a strange look in his eyes, a look I've never seen before.
"Come here," I say in below a whisper, my eyes giving him a once over.
He's panting.
"Kennedy I-"
"Come here," I repeat.
It doesn't take much. Soon he's back. Kissing me like it would be the last time we'd ever see each other, kissing me like he's been waiting to do it for years.
He starts to trail kisses down my neck, my jaw, my chest, before he reaches back up and clashes our lips back together.
I trace his jaw with my fingertips and caress every open piece of skin that I could reach. I trail my hands down his back before reaching up his shirt and tracing his chest.
He suddenly pulls apart.
He's disoriented. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are red and swollen, but all I want to do is trace them with my fingers because he's so beautiful.
He stumbles backwards and mumbles something incoherent.
Right, he's drunk.
Regret and guilt fills my chest. We may have just ruined everything.