The Selection ✓

thirteen - it wasn't wasted

Well, it really wasn't anything. I had to say, Lucas had gone through lengths to make this date as 'me' as possible. Well, I had asked for it, I just didn't know that he would be so strangely empathetic about a request telling him to be more...boring.

We had made our way up, carrying every possible thing under the sun before sliding the very familiar door open and making our way in. But then, Lucas walked to the edge and did the unspeakable: he picked up a guitar prepared earlier and began to strum on the keys. 

He cannot sing

Or play. He can't do that either. 

What he does, however, is entertain me, to the point I find myself beginning to suffocate from laughter. Truly the most hilarious performance I have ever seen in my lifetime. "Am I a great musician, or a great musician."

"I think I'd rather pay to just see you pose, rather than have you pose and sing," I mutter.

"What's that," he winked, "Did the untouchable Holly Mane just give me a compliment. Because I heard she called me handsome just now."

"And that's how gossip goes. You say a thing, the media says another." I shoved his remark back in his mouth, making him eat his words. Though had to admit, he really was good looking. I really was starting to enjoy being around him, and the butterflies in my stomach confirmed this thought. Wait, did I just admit to myself on having a crush on the prince? Was this a joke? "I hear you've learned the ropes." My remark doesn't quite have the same effect now that I've had some sort of realization.

"You win."

The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, "I don't really want to."

"Wait, what?" he asked, giving me a curious stare.

My mouth clamped shut tightly, and my jaw clenched.

"Well, um, I don't really know. I guess I just wanted to lose, I know it makes me sound cocky or something, but, oh I don't know." I blabbered, while he stared at me curiously, "I know I talk a lot, like a lot, a proper lot, and people eventually just give up arguing me because it's pretty much pointless, and it's really hard to explain," I breathe, "Maybe I just want somebody to care enough to finally shut me up. Okay, now it just sounds weird like I'm reenacting my first love or a fetish. I promise it's not that way. I guess, I always imagined a moment, my moment, in a way special. Something perfect, a balance of both. It's confusing, I'm mixing myself up, I know, I don't expect you to get it and-"

Suddenly I was cut off from my blabbering when Lucas wrapped his arms around my figure and slammed his lips onto mine, nearly knocking out all the air in existence. My heart was beating faster and faster by the second, was this addiction? My brain was lit on fire, and the warmth spread throughout my body. It was uncontrollable, even during the cold winter night. He pulled apart for only a moment, allowing us both to gasp for air, but pressed his lips back on mine in that same second where a dent had already formed. A dent made for his lips. It was like a puzzle, and it fit perfectly.

He wore a smile, I did too. 

My breath hitched and I untangled myself from him staring at the blue orbs he had as eyes, lit up against the dark background. It's hue, shining like a star. The moment wasn't perfect, but it was everything I needed.

"I hope it did your speech justice," he whispered, voice hoarse into my ear.

"It did," I smiled, my tongue still sugary sweet. "What about you, just one of the other kisses you've shared with any other girl?" 

He seemed taken aback, a stoic expression forming before turning back to me. "That was my first kiss."

It was my turn to be shocked, which then proceeded to melt into a genuine smile as the droplets of rain began to drip against us, creating stains on his plain white shirt. He held me in his arms as I whispered into his ear, "Well, I'm glad you wasted it on me."

"It wasn't wasted."

That night, my sleep was better than any other I've had, I was neither tossing nor turning, the sensual need for home relaxing, and no distraction could've interrupted my thoughts. In fact, I couldn't take the kiss of my mind, and the thought remained stuck in my head all throughout the night, and halfway through breakfast until finally, the girls at the table had asked how my date had gone. I had a detailed response prepared, one devoid of any mentions about the kiss. 

I could've sat at the table reiterating every single detail of how perfect the moment was, and that nothing could've been better, but I held my tongue and made my way my favorite room, where I knew a certain woman with a head full of red fiery hair would be engrossed in another People's magazine, her eyes dancing as my actions and complaints about the life of being in the Selection amused her and brought back a major deja vu.

Where I could vent without being afraid of having a knife in my back.