Baking With Boys |✔

45. Ras Malai

I was sure I was dreaming. Lost inside the myriads of shapes, colors and foreign objects-swirling and dancing behind my closed eyelids. The night before had been spent in a tense silence, looking over and monitoring the tabloids and news channels. So far, there was nothing. But the stark lack of activity proved to be more stressful than relaxing. It was a trap, depleting our energy, making us weaker. And when we don't have an ounce of strength to fight back; they'll attack.

Probably it was the blast of cool air from AC which woke me up. I nestled deeper into the thin duvet, a shiver of chill raising goosebumps on my skin. My mind was groggy, filled with unexplainable randomness and irritation at the sudden decrease in temperature. I peeked a small eye open, to read the temperature, but it was futile. The image of the room swam in front of my eyes, as the haze of the sleep blurred everything out. I managed to catch a peek of the shards of grey light filtering through the crevice between the curtains. The dawn was breaking soon. Which meant I had only a few hours of sleep left before the ruckus of the day ahead caught up to us.

Giving up on my inner banter and focusing on going back to sleep again -which shouldn't be hard- I scooted further and deeper into the bed.

That's when it happened.

Brandon and I had sort of made a truce. You know how children in kindergarten used to do. Divide the bed in half. His side and my side. From day one (since Brandon came to Singapore and we had to share the bed) we had kept our distance. Or me, to be specific.

He had had his fair share of seducing going on, bent on coaxing me to do things my mother wouldn't (I'm not really sure) be proud of. But I had managed pretty well so far.

Talking about right now, I had been sleeping with my back to Brandon, on the far left side of the bed, closer to the big French doors and balcony. The AC had just been over my head, and all I wanted was to scoot closer to Brandon and share some warmth... Bad decision.

The mind-boggling sleepiness was replaced by highly attentive and over-active imagination. My regular heartbeat changed into a shipwreck, and my breathing was as erratic as an orgasming pig.

Just because of that thing touching my thigh.

Now it wasn't as if it was my first time feeling a—what am I saying? It was exactly my first time feeling it. I didn't know what to do. Each and every muscle in my body was pulled taut, frozen at their spots, the moment I had brushed past the noble object at question. What was I supposed to do? Was Brandon awake? If I moved... will it move?

Or will I lose my virginity today? Far from home, on a cold bed, in a hotel room, in a foreign country? If I think about it... the setup was pretty nice. Better than losing it in the back seat of a car, or with hushed whispers in the school hostel, like most girls I knew did. This felt far more romantic, and not to add, exciting.

An inch below my buttocks, the area seemed to have sprung to life. It was there, there was no doubt it. I was painfully aware of the hardness, even though the thought of what was happening made me blush like a maiden (which I was).

Books had served me justice in the aspect that I knew what to expect. Though the amount of scenarios that conjured up in my head... I gulped.

The sound was loud in the otherwise cold, dim and relatively silent room. The only other thing I could hear was the even breathing of Brandon, and the hyperventilation I was beginning to go through.

He couldn't still be asleep, could he? Was it a wet dream? Was I featuring in it? I mentally kicked myself for the childish banter and scolded myself to do something about the situation. I could just leave it like this, be nonchalant about it, pretend not to notice and go back to sleep.