Writer

Chapter 15

Paisley

My head was fuzzy.

It wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't good either.

I forgot where I was, so when I realized I was in a moving car, I almost flung myself out of the window.

"Hey, calm down." I heard his voice from the side of me, and I immediately felt a fuzzy feeling overtaking my body.

But this fuzzy feeling was much nicer.

Turning towards him, I smiled cheekily.

His black eyes devoured me and I made mine devour him back.

"You look lovely when you first wake up, Paisley." The way he said my name gave me goosebumps.

I've noticed recently that there was a lot of ways he said my name.

There was the angry Paisley.

There was the happy Paisley.

There was the sad Paisley.

There was the smug Paisley.

There was the confident Paisley.

There was the answer-me-or-else Paisley.

There was the you're-all-I-need Paisley.

And there was the desperate Paisley.

Desperate Paisley was the worst kind of inner torture.

It wasn't an obvious desperate but I could tell in the way he said it and the way he touched me, that he needed me.

And I didn't know how I felt about that.

He was driving. It was night time.

I realized I must've fallen asleep when we were in the office looking room at his parents.

I immediately felt bad for drifting off.

He must've noticed because his hand that was once on his knee shifted to my own, and squeezed lightly.

My eyes drifted back towards him, and I ached to touch his tousled hair.

Brown waves of shiny perfection fell in his eyes.

Perfection.

He was perfect. He didn't know it. Or maybe he did.

I never knew what he was thinking.

And I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"He asked.

I could ask the same to him.

Rye averted his gaze to me rather than the road.

I froze, nervous of the consequences that could occur if he wasn't more careful.

"Paisley, I'm fine." He reassured me once again, and turned his eyes back to the road.

"I, I'm just happy." I said out loud, and did something unexpected. Carefully, I grabbed his hand that was on my thigh and gently pressed it in my own.

Warmth.

The action was so unlike me, but I found comfort in holding onto his huge hand in my stringy frail ones.

I heard a groan escape him and his lips pressed into a thin line.

A frown formed and I wanted to question him on it, but instead I let go of his hand. "No, Paisley. No." He went back and grabbed my hand.

"I don't want you to let go of me." His eyes roamed me briefly, gouging my nonexistent reaction, and he remained silent for the rest of the ride.

His hand never left mine.

When we got back to my dorm, Rye walked up with me, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

Usually I'd protest.

Usually I'd walk alone.

But I wasn't being usual today.

"So, from what you know, how do you like my family?" Rye's eyes searched mine, and a glint of desperation hid behind their blackness.

It made me feel slightly uneasy, but I pushed the feeling away and smiled.

I was always smiling with him.

"Nice." I smiled and nodded, and he moved closer to me.

"That's all?" He pondered and placed one of his hands behind my neck.

Again, I didn't protest. I smiled, trying to push away my protesting mind.

My brain was saying I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

My heart said I loved it. I loved it a lot.

"Uh." I kept repeating the word as I awkwardly searched for the right thing to say.

But really, when was there a right thing to say to him?

I was always saying the wrong thing.

"We can talk about that in the morning." He concluded, and moved a step closer so our bodies were flush against one another.

I blushed, the heat making me sweat. I knew all I needed to do was breathe, but somehow it was hard. When I was this close to him, everything was hard.

I didn't think it would ever become easy.

His eyes were roaming mine to find an answer, and I was trying hard to hide anything from him.

I enjoyed watching his black eyes roam my own. I enjoyed watching him look at me as if I was the only one in the world.

It was new. It was pleasant.

"Can I kiss you?" Rye asked, and it took me a moment to process what he said.

He asked to kiss me.

He asked to.

I eagerly nodded.

I wanted this.

I didn't care what my mind thought.

He leaned in quickly, closing the gap between our lips easily.

They were so soft, so inviting.

My heart race picked up.

He didn't know, but he was my first kiss.

I didn't want to let him know, let alone admit that my first kiss was freshman year in college.

Even though I didn't have any prior experience, I knew it was special.

It felt like a movie. Except there were no cameras surrounding us. There was no one telling us what to do and how to do it.

We were making our own scene, our lips becoming one.

I wanted to stay like this forever.

But I knew it had to end.

Pulling away, I looked towards my closed door.

"Is anything wrong?" Rye asked, his voice hoarse. I shook my head and let a small smile play on my lips.

"Damn it, Paisley. Tell me what you're thinking." He groaned as his hand moved to my chin and tugged.

His eyes were beaming down at me, a new glint to them, and I felt my lips opening in response.

"You, you.. You were my first kiss."

What I didn't expect was his expression to soften, a dark look in his features.

"I know."