The Strip

Part 7

Rebecca POV:

It's inevitable, the way your eyes follow the blonde as she gathers her jacket and heads to the door; the way her fingers delicately maneuver the strings of her laces; the way a lock of her hair, messy from both sleep and your hands, is just too short for her to tuck behind her ear; the path her fingers take around her lobe as she fruitlessly tries to tuck the lock of hair anyway; the way she breathes in deeply before standing, as though she needs to gather her strength to leave.

Your body moves to her of its own volition. You wouldn't be able to stay in the kitchen with her being so near. You need to be closer, closer, closer .

She's so. Fucking. Beautiful.

"I'll call you," you breathe out before she looks your way; before she's able to steal your breath with just a glance.

Her smile is soft and, you think, a little relieved. "I know. I'll be waiting." She loses the battle with the lock of hair again, and chuckles nervously as you move even closer.

She's always so confident, it makes your heart hammer in your chest to see her be timid.

She shifts to her left foot, fingers of her left hand tapping nervously on her right. Her eyes shift between yours and you feel the air crackle with anticipation between you. You can't help but follow the bobbing of her throat as she swallows.

You reach forward slowly, hand hovering over her own as she continues to tap nervously. Her eyes follow, she lifts the corner of her lips, turning her hand over and interlocking your fingers with her own. "I'll call you," you repeat, much more softly; much less rushed; much more sincere.

"I know," she repeats just as softly. She squeezes your hand softly. "Be honest with her," she says. "It'll be fine," she says. "Call me later." She squeezes your fingers again. Your heart rate picks up at the impending conversation you're to have with your sister, and Freen's eyes shift to the hard beating of your pulse in your neck. She lets go of your fingers to cup your neck, her thumb tracing over the staccato rhythm until it slows to the pace that her thumb moves. You feel a warmth in your belly at the contact.

"You literally just said bye two seconds ago! You're like horny teenagers!" Ava scoffs and makes it pointedly obvious that she is watching you from the kitchen.

Freen chuckles, but doesn't move. You nod once, and she leans towards you. Her eyes close as she presses the most delicate kiss to your swollen lips; soft, quiet, intimate. It makes your stomach swoop like a rollercoaster.

When she pulls away, you struggle to let go, cupping the back of her hand on your neck with your own. She inches away slowly, reluctant to let go of your fingers, until your arms are outstretched as she backs up to your doorway. You feel like a fool, but the way her smile brightens and she giggles at the absurdity of the extended goodbye, you feel like you're full to the brim with helium, floating away with excitement and pure and utter joy.

Your hand settles in the grain of the wood after it closes, breathing in the remnants of her perfume that lingers in her wake.

You are so, utterly, hopeless. You can't stop the smile that hurts your cheeks.

Ava huffs again, and it's like a needle has been poked into your side, the joy and the happiness seeping out of you as you crash back down to reality with no control whatsoever.

Your back stiffens, you swallow once, and turn to face your baby sister.

"Kay, so I'm going to need an explanation," Ava immediately asks when you enter the kitchen. She jumps up onto your counter and swings her legs freely, knocking against the cabinet doors underneath with her dirty black running shoes.