He Was A Skaterboy | COMPLETE

fifteen

"Senin için deli oluyorum," he whispered, his eyes roving all over her face as he looked at her. Her sooty lashes, darkened with the strokes of mascara fluttered against her cheeks. He admired the simple but artful strokes of her eyeliner that made her eyes look like pools of rich, decadent espresso. Her grip increasingly tightening on his wrists. His fingertips caressed the soft silk of her skin and he noticed her lightly trembling lips pressed together. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips; she was nervous, but still anticipating his kiss.

Emre knew that the sweet scent of her cherry blossom perfume would be clinging to the fibers of his clothes, on the warmth of his skin and he relished in it.

Biting his lip, he closed the gap between his lips and her cheek, pressing a soft kiss on the flushed skin. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, or was it mine?, he wondered absently. Lingering, he savoured the softness of her skin and the warmth that suffused his lips. The tight grip that Kiara had on his wrists fell away - leaving a warm, pliant body under his touch. Lifting his head slightly he studied Kiara's face again, her lips parted, her warm breath a whisper on his lips. Caressing her jaw, her neck, his nose sliding against Kiara's, lips almost touching –

BANG!

Kiara sprang up in shock gasping, whirling around facing the door that had opened with loud crash, roughly slamming against the wall. She stood looking at her mother with fear radiating off her every pore. Her fisted hand pressed tightly to her chest as she breathed harshly. The delicious pink flush on her skin fading, leaving her ghostly pale. Emre didn't like what he saw on Mrs. Moussa's face; there was a chilling cunningness in it that made him squirm in discomfort. Standing up, he tried to impart some of his strength to a trembling Kiara beside him.

"Kiara. Come," her mother simply commanded and Kiara with unsteady movements collected her glasses, putting them on with trembling fingers and walked towards her mother. "Fix your makeup, before you come cut the cake," she ordered, as she walked out the room with Kiara in tow. Not sparing a single glance at Emre, like he ceased to exist the second Kiara left his side.

Emre sat down with a huff on the piano bench, his eyes falling on the bracelet still sitting pretty in the box on the white keys. Untouched. Emre hunched forward balancing his elbows on the edges of the piano, his hands interlaced as he rested his chin on them. Although his eyes were trained on his gift for Kiara, his mind kept going over what had just happened. Did that really happen?, he frowned. Yet, he could still feel the warmth of her skin on his lips. He could still smell the remnants of her feminine perfume in the hushed room.

He felt...confused...

Emre knew how protective her father was of Kiara. They were never really left alone whenever he was over all those other visits. Maria was almost always sitting in, or she had left the door open to be able to check in on them. To catch them pressed up close, no doubt to be had that they were either about to kiss or already done so, Mrs. Moussa was too calm. It wasn't that he was ungrateful that there wasn't a scene, he was. More for Kiara's sake than his, he was thankful that Mrs. Moussa hadn't thrown him out of the house kicking and screaming. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass Kiara in front of all the guests. But there was something cruel in the way she had looked at Kiara, and that uneasiness he felt at the hall returned with a vengeance, settling in his stomach making him feel sick. He swallowed harshly, the taste in his mouth suddenly going bitter, an odd feeling enveloping him as a sudden worry flared in his chest. Kiara.