Lexi
The friends we have as children shape us. Some of them we keep forever, some of them we lose along the way... but all of them leave something behind... or in his case, take something as they leave.
Mason Jennings held my heart in his hands at...
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In 5th grade when I was irritated with Logan Maurice for copying my pop quiz answers every week in Biology I 'accidently' spilt my water on his paper so he'd have to retake the test and our teacher would realise there were stick insects who could put in more effort than he did. That landed me as his target when we played dodgeball in gym. He was even mad enough to use a basketball instead of the softer foam balls we were meant to play with.
My choices have had a habit of putting me in unfortunate situations.
But after he left in a cop car while I ran back into my house crying and avoiding his shouts for me, I never thought my choices would lead to his hand on my waist and lips performing sweet torture against my own.
It stung as his tongue slid past the cut in my lip but I didn't stop him. I wasn't sure I could and even if I was able to, I didn't want him to stop. I pulled him impossibly closer with the hand I'd wrapped around the back of his neck so that his body settled properly in between my legs. He wasn't close enough for me to feel everything and I felt myself getting hotter at the thought of him drawing me in and closing the distance.
A single kiss wasn't supposed to lead to this.
I just wanted to have someone lips on mine that weren't his - because I allowed them to be there.
It wasn't meant to effect me like this. I shouldn't be afraid to let him go.
But I am.
It felt like his touch was my life support, his lips providing the kiss of life and pushing oxygen back into my lungs. Gone are thoughts of Derrick; gone is the sting in my lip, the ache in my side and the pain in my head; gone is everything that isn't him.
Wow Shakespeare had nothing on this shit.
I only pull away, reluctantly, when my lungs burn for the air that I can't get through kissing him.
Our foreheads rest against each other, my eyes still closed and hearing tuned to our heaving breaths. Mason runs his thumb along my cheek tenderly which I take as an indication that he wants my attention. So I open my eyes and pull back slightly as to see him clearly.
He looks worried and my heart sinks as I think maybe he didn't experience the release I did. Did he lie to me when he said he wasn't uncomfortable? Did I take advantage of his kindness tonight?
"Are you okay?" he whispers, his eyes flicking rapidly between mine.
He doesn't sound angry but he doesn't sound happy either. So I nod and take a chance to ask, "Are you?"
"No." he replies, his voice holding a shaky quality. I start to recoil away from him, taking down my hand from his neck and lowering my other from covering his on my face but he grabs the latter, squeezing it as his eyes widen in clear panic. "Don't do that. Don't pull away from me." he begs.
