The Fate of Our Hearts

Chapter 30 - The First Time

Ren

We open the main bedroom's sliding door and creep around the back side of the house. It's pouring rain now, and we run up the drive laughing in our intoxicated state, almost tripping on a hose in the gravel, setting off the security lights. Once we get on the road, I grab on tightly to Gio's arm. He wraps it around my shoulders and guides me quickly through the rainy blackness. We get back to his house, and it's just as dark. All the lights have been turned off.

He heads to his room, but I pull him back. "Can we get something to eat first?"

We're thoroughly soaked from the rain, and I want to shed our clothes as quickly as possible for two reasons, but eating something now is important—I don't want to wake up to a hangover with him tomorrow.

We enter the dark kitchen quietly, take off our wet shoes and jackets, and turn on the hood vent light, which dimly lights the counters. I'm feeling the alcohol more and more, and then spot the empty wine bottle on the counter.

After he finds some bread and cheese, we work together to quickly make some melted cheese toast in the oven. While it's cooking, we take turns going pee in the bathroom.

The thick midnight silence in the house accentuates the momentous energy building up as he stands unnecessarily close to me as I quietly cut and plate the toast. I accidentally drop the knife with a clang. "Shh!" we both say, giggling, though I don't know why we found it so funny.

We eat its cheesy deliciousness in the strange and beautiful stillness of his house at night. Backlit by the oven light, we lean against the counter, shoulders barely touching—static crackling around us. When we're done, he puts the plates in the sink, takes my hand, and leads me back to his room.

Gio quietly opens the door to his pitch-black little house, and we step inside. I carefully inch forward, trying not to trip over anything because I can't see a damn thing, and I hear the sharp click of Gio turning the lock behind me. Undaunted by the no-lights situation, he crosses to his stereo and bends down to press play on a CD. 

Strange drifting music increases in volume, and "The Voice Of Enigma" comes on as he stands to face me—I can just make out the shape of his body in the darkness. Remembering his earlier urgency, I expect him to rush me, but instead, he moves toward me slowly—intentionally. The air is thick with anticipation.

He stops mere inches from me, and we stand un-touching for just a moment. The touch he withholds builds a tingling want within me until I'm nearly crazy for it. My heart thuds in my chest, and I can only see his silhouette and hear his shaky breath going slowly in and out. 

"Shit. My heart is beating so hard, can you hear it?" his voice sounds in the darkness.

"No, can you hear mine?" 

Suddenly, I feel his fingers locate my chest, and he presses his hand against my heart as if to judge if the speed of mine matches his own. Then he moves his hands down under my shirt and, with just the softest touch, feels the skin of my waist, sending waves of silvery shivers up my body. For a delicious moment, he just slides his fingers up and down, feeling the soft skin and tracing the curve.

The music floats into my ears like nothing I've ever heard before. An eclectic mix: Amazonian flutes, electric beats, monk chants, French words, heartbeat, breath. It's simultaneously relaxing and erotic, and it's serving to lower the pounding of my heart by a subtle fraction.

Slowly, my eyes adjust, and I take his beautiful face cast in shades of blue and silver from the moonlight coming in his window. His eyes are gently closed, dark hair perfectly tussled, biting his bottom lip—to me—he is the utter definition of hot.