𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝟏𝟏| 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞

Antoinette

          My facial expression was completely blank as I stared at the stainless-steel gas stove. Over the distant sound of all of the workers throughout the home, my brother's voice could be heard as he held a conversation with someone on the phone. The same exact person that he's been on the phone with for the previous half an hour. I flipped the grilled cheese over, allowing it to darken on the opposite side. My brother has been running around a lot more than often, so I was really surprised when he called me downstairs to spend time together.

Due to our large age differences, Andrew and I never exactly hung out much during our childhood. He was entering the sixth grade when I was a newborn... like I said, we never exactly had anything in common. Now that I was older, I appreciated every time that Andrew wanted to hang out with me. But the happiness I had when I came downstairs faded away when my brother began to complain about how hungry he was and has been for the entire day. I found it astonishing that my brother had all of these workers around here and he has yet to hire one cook.

As my eyes stared at the burning bread, there was only one person who ran through my mind—Michael. The way he looked at me that night sent shivers down my spine. Although I wasn't the best at reading the room, it felt like we were on the edge of something electric, like we were going to kiss. I could still remember the warmth of his breath as he leaned closer, the way that his searched mine for something that I couldn't point out.

Up until that moment, I hadn't realized just how bad I wanted to kiss Michael.

How much I longed to feel his lips against mine—a gentle brush that would ignite something deep within me. Just the thought of it sent a rush of warmth through my body, filling the empty spaces in my chest. I imagined how he would feel, probably like ice against fire. These thoughts spun me in circles because I had never experienced this intensity with anyone else. Sure, I'd had crushes before, but none had consumed my mind like Michael Benedict did. With Michael, everything felt different. Never in a million years would I have imagined trusting someone enough to let them take me for a ride on a motorcycle, but with him, I didn't hesitate. It was strange—despite his erratic behavior, I felt a sense of safety. I trusted Micheal Benedict, even after he promised to hurt me one day. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew my trust in him could lead to trouble down the line, but in that moment, I didn't care. The thrill of being with him overshadowed any warnings. I was caught up in the excitement, savoring every second, willing to embrace whatever consequences might come.

Right now, all that mattered was the freedom I felt being by his side. My mind kept replaying the exhilarating moments on the motorcycle, the rush of adrenaline coursing through me. Even though we were surrounded by dozens of people on the road, it felt like it was just the two of us against the world, weaving through the city streets as if we were the only ones that mattered. The tension that lingered after the motorcycle ride filled my mind. Did Michael want to kiss me too? I could sense his discomfort with physical affection, and I wanted to be mindful of his boundaries. The last thing I wanted was to push him away or ruin whatever connection we had by making him uneasy. It was a delicate balance—wanting to bridge that gap while respecting his space. I found myself caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty, torn between the desire to lean in and the need to hold back. Adding to my uncertainty, I realized I hadn't even had the experience of kissing someone before. The thought made me feel even more apprehensive. It wasn't just about the potential awkwardness; it was the weight of the moment, the significance of sharing something so intimate with him.

As I mentioned before, Michael had a habit of acting erratically. That thought nagged at me, especially when I considered sharing that moment with him. What if he suddenly did something that would make me regret it? I didn't want that moment of connection to turn into a memory that I wish I could erase. Another thing that nagged at me was the unsettling thought that while I felt all these emotions for Michael, he might not feel the same way. The possibility that the idea of kissing me hadn't even crossed his mind during that moment loomed large. I wanted some sort of sign,