Closed Doors [#Wattys2016]

Contrast

"Without having experienced the cold of winter, one cannot appreciate the warmth of spring."

-Chinese Proverb

My eyes are squeezed shut and my lips are pursed tightly with apprehension as I feel Reed moving in closer and closer, slowly invading the comfortable distance I've grown so accustomed to.

Why am I allowing this? What exactly is there to gain? I shouldn't even let this start between us; I know I'll just get hurt in the end. I always do. It's only a matter of time before Reed realizes that he's seriously deluded in his vision of me, and that this... thing he wants could never work out.

Still, I can't say no to him.

How can I? I owe him so much already. I reflect upon the thoughtful lunches he left me so long ago, this job that I'm so thankful for, the rides he gives me without complaint or compensation, and, most importantly, how he treats me like I matter. Like I'm special. Like I mean something to at least one person, even if that person doesn't really know me at all.

A kiss shouldn't be too much for him to ask for and, really, it's the only thing I can actually offer.

I feel ferocious butterflies in my stomach and my body is trembling. I need to breathe.

If only I could.

Suddenly, my eyes flutter open and I see that he's only a few inches away from me. I feel panic. I shake my head and try to gather my wits. I tell him in a quick whisper, "We really shouldn't, Reed...."

His hands leave mine and move to each side of my face.

His eyes stare into my own with such intensity, such desire, that my cheeks burn warmer and I have to abruptly look down to avoid them. It makes me feel strange to see him look at me like that, and not strange in a bad way at all; strange in a confused way. When I make eye contact with him, I get the odd sensation that he can see every thought in my head, like he can read me like a book, and that he actually wants to.

Looking down does me no good either, though, because I just wind up staring at his mouth-now curved up on one side in a playful half smile. He has full lips, though the bottom is much thicker than the top, and they are a perfect shade of light pink. My own feel chapped, imperfect in comparison, and unworthy to even be touched by them.

"Why not?" He asks curiously. His tongue then moves slowly over his plump bottom lip and I have to look quickly to the side, away from him, to think normally again.

What is wrong with me?

I shrug half-heartedly, seemingly unable to find my voice or even think straight enough to combine words into a coherent sentence. I can't help it, I look back at his mouth again; his bottom lip is now between his teeth, but the half-smile still remains.

"Scared you might actually like it?" He teases in a joking manner.

I look into his eyes again, knitting my eyebrows together in slight indignation, but he just grins wider.

"No," I retort, though I know he has a point. "It's kind of inappropriate-"

"How?"

"It... it just is. We're at work-"

"I assure you, no one here will find it inappropriate."

"But what if-"

"Danielle."

"But I really don't think-"

He places a finger gently to my lips, and I close my eyes as he leans down next to my ear, whispering softly and soothingly, "Shhhh. You worry way too much. Just relax."