Chapter thirteen: Kissing the Pain Away
♥ ▸⚬☉⚬◂ ♥
I never felt more nervous with a guy in the room, in my bed, sitting next to me, and what was I supposed to do? I didn't know. I sat with my legs crossed and my computer sitting in front of me as Daniel watched on the left side of me...hovering over me, ugh! Everything inside of me was going crazy in the best way possible, every emotion came out and I couldn't believe it. The last time I liked a guy was sixth grade and it ruined my life!
Five years later and here I am, I don't have the best taste in guys and picking them didn't come naturally, "You do know you can go back to sleep, right?"
"Uhm," he hummed, "I can't go back down."
"Oh," I shyly said, fiddling with my crossed legs.
He asked bluntly, "What are your hobbies?"
"My hobbies?"
"Um," I tried to make the conversation interesting by getting him to guess, "Can you tell?" I asked him, guiding my eyes for him to get a hint, he followed but he waited for me to continue, "By my room. The grayish-blue on my walls, the paranoids on top and the hanging of white lights all around.. Or maybe the bookshelf in between the front door and my bathroom door, can you guess?"
"Your room does tell a lot about you but you see, I rather not guess who you are or what you might like. It's your words that's so savoring."
Why, why, why, why!
I whined on the inside. The more he spoke the more desiring he looked. I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes back to my computer screen while awkwardly sighing just to calm down my heart from pounding so much, "I write."
"Huh?"
"I write and read books..."
"To keep your imagination going," he said, simply reading my mind.
Glancing over I knew I wanted to know everything about this boy that strangely made my heart melt, "What's yours?"
The question seemed to have phased him a bit, he squirmed in the bed thinking hard about it, "It's fine if you don't want to tell me."
"That's not it. I rather hear more about how you got into writing."
"Oh."
I realized Daniel covered himself more when asked about personal things. Going on telling him about things of myself I hoped he would feel comfortable to open up to me one of these days, "I didn't start writing stories until I was thirteen. When I was six years old I got fascinated in journals and wrote about my daily life, good and bad. Since then on my birthday I got a journal up until my thirteenth birthday. I continued to write about my life and one day I stopped and wrote a story without even trying. I filled that journal up with stories, quotes, and songs but I found myself stopping. I stopped writing about myself, stories, just because no one was interested in the things I wrote, I was wasting paper that'll soon be thrown away and burnt. It might look like I have a great family but sometimes they overlook me, they are not interested in the things I do or they just don't have anything to worry about."
"Don't you see you got it good."
"I do. I appreciate it every day but that doesn't mean I don't have my sad days with my family. It'll be nice to have them read my stuff and be impressed with it, support me and show they cared enough to show me a little of that. I thank my mom for everything. She's the one that got me my first journal, the upsetting thing about it is she's too busy to read it but I'm grateful she has the time to talk with me. Though that is so I stopped when starting high school because I slowly started to forget and I wanted my high school experience to be remembered only in my head so I know it's real, it's my reality, no one else's."
"It's not a hobby. Your writing. It's your future and your future always finds you, you'll write again."
I scoffed a laugh, "I'm not very good at it. That's part of why I stopped."
"I can tell you're passionate about it. I mean you still consider it a hobby and for sure will do it again and when you do, it wouldn't matter if no one reads it or not as long as it feels right to you, you are able to do anything."
"You believe in me."
"Where did you get that crazy idea?" he nervously said, wandering his eyes all around the room, avoiding my eyes.
"You're a cool guy," I said, tickling his chin.
"Don't! Just shut your mouth, we don't need to hear those words ever again."
"Are you telling me you dislike being cool than being called a dangerous man."
He raised an eyebrow and looked over to me, turning his body, "You sound suspicious... You used those words before, haven't you?"
Said it, ha. No. Thought it, hell yea!
I instantly changed the conversation tickling his chin again that he didn't seem to mind the first time. He pushed my hand away and I laughed showing my row of teeth, "I told you not to do that."
"You told me not to call you cool and shut my mouth."
He rolled his eyes twisting the ring on his index finger. I poked his side and it surprised me that he jumped, "You're ticklish."
Daniel gave a stern look for calling him out and I just laughed, his face didn't look so scary anymore. I uncrossed my legs, wiggling my way to him, Daniel already threw his hands up in defense when I tried to tickle him, we giggled and he got his hands around my waist tickling me instead. That was a mistake he made because something he doesn't know about me is that I'm a loud person that doesn't like to be tickled, I laughed so loud he got scared his hands fell.
The left hand wrapped around my mouth and jaw as his index finger shushed me, his right was near my left hand that was supporting me up so I wouldn't fall, and my right hand gripped his thigh in the shorts he wore.
Daniel sat so close it would be easy for me to wrap my legs around him, I feel my fingers curl up against his thighs by how shy I felt myself get. My actions were getting the best of me being in this trance that sparked just staring in his eyes. I only thought about how his hair would feel like tangled in my fingers as his locks of hair flowed in front of his eyes. It was hard not to have the thought and the movements of my left hand got the best of me guiding up his arm with the tip of my fingers, lured on his skin. He felt the soft touch glancing at it and back to me that didn't move but my hand. Curving up his shoulder and around the back of his neck coming into contact with his fluffy, drenched, and gray hair that fades black.
A breath left his lips, slightly closing his eyes from my intense grip and the rubbing of his thigh happened. I was doing something I had no business doing but it aroused me. To see how he would react and it was a pleasing face of Daniel that looked so cute when I made circles on his skin; it made him bite his bottom lip.
I took more focus into the way I touched him, my entangled fingers that were in his hair I shifted their movement, gilding them to his ear. I flowed some strands of hair behind his ear and rubbed the tip with my index and thumb at the top of his ear.
My lip slightly parted and my eyebrow raised up. I was surprised that he gasped, a little soft and sweet one forcing me to pause. Staring at his lips and him staring at me and my lips, I think we wanted to..to, um kiss. I knew I did but did he?
I didn't know if I was leaning in or was he leaning, or were we leaning in..I knew someone was leaning though.
An inch just gives me an inch and you will receive. Well in my case nope! We heard a flick from a light in the hallway shining under my door. It just had to be my mom. Now we didn't push each other away instead it took only one to pull away and he was the one to do so, Daniel easily and quickly went back to messing with that ring of his.
"That ring is really important to you, huh?"
"Hm," he cutely said, nodding his head, "Who's up at this hour?"
"Oh, it's just my mom. She goes to work this time in the morning."
"What time is it exactly?"
"Five am."
Daniel nodded getting quiet, I glanced over to the door seeing the light turn off and hearing the front door slam, "She's gone," I told him, but he stared at his fingers.
I did what he did. Taking this time to look at what he was staring at. Daniel was messing with a wound on his thumb and I frowned thinking he must be used to the pain. I reached over grabbing his hand and kissing his thumb.
"What are you doing?" he asked, flustered.
"Kissing the pain away."
"What's that going to do?"
"So you won't have to tolerate so much on your own. You don't have to weigh so much pain on your heart," I said, glancing up to him staring.
How many times will it take us to look into each other's eyes before confessing? How long?
She took notice of just seeing him. He took the time to let her.
© Ren Sherman Nonfiction
2020