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GIGGLES FILLED THE corridor down to Isabella's apartment as she and Charles made their way to her apartment, hand in hand. Isabella scrambled through her handbag, a small humming sound coming from her mouth as she searched. She pulled them from her bag, holding them high above her head as she grinned. "Ta-da!" she called out in her very drunk state. Charles giggled childishly, taking the keys and opening the door for her.
They both stumbled in, Isabella dropping her stuff to the ground, and throwing herself on the couch with a sigh. Charles made himself on the couch beside her, the flowers he'd bought Isabella hours prior laid on his chest as his legs were stretched out before him. He turned his head to look at the blonde beside him, who's head was leaned towards him, staring at the wall, in her own world. Her blue eyes fixated on the small fake fireplace as her hair fell over her face.
"You look very pretty." he mumbled, knocking her out of her trance to look up at him, "Thank you," she whispered, smiling. "You look very pretty too.". Charles smiled, brushing small bits of hair out of her face. The gap between the mm grew smaller as they slowly leaned forward. It didn't occur to either of them what they were doing until it happened.
They kissed.
Isabella snapped away from the kiss, a look of horror in her eyes as she'd realised her drunken mistake. Charles had more of a look of shock, between both the kiss and the look in Isabella's eyes. "I.. I'm sorry, God.. I'm gonna.. yeah I might head out." mumbled Charles once again, panic setting in as he almost lept off the couch, he put the flowers down on the table, brushing any bits of pollen of his shirt before grabbing his jacket. "Erm.. Have a good night, Bella." he nodded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that nothing had happened. He opened the door, quickly shutting it behind him.
Isabella hadn't said a word, the look of shock still very apparent in her face as she laid back onto the couch. She brought her hands to her face, dragging them down before letting out a groan of disappointment. Disappointed that she'd allowed that to happen.. but also that she'd stopped it.
Charles, on the other hand, was wishing he could face his heavy hangover now in hopes of it blocking out any sort of memory of that horrible situation. He'd now realised he'd possibly blown any (if not all) chances with Isabella, all because he allowed his dick to speak for him rather then his head.
He sat on the stairs just outside Isabella's apartment building, just like her, he had his head in his hands as he tried to figure out if he had any chance of coming back from that. The look on her face played over and over every time he closed his eyes. The look of pure horror that had taken over her would make a man never kiss anyone again out of fear of being a shit kisser.
