twenty one :.: joshler

VII

Super fluffy chapter, okay, I know. BUT it's hella long, so maybe that makes up for it? Bear with me. <3

- Tyler's P.O.V -

"Josh! You're soaking wet!" I giggle as he slides into the driver's seat of his car, sopping with rain water. He should've let me share the umbrella with him, but he insisted on being a gentleman.

"Cold." Is all he says with a shiver, laughing as he turns the key in the ignition. Before pulling out of the parking lot, he grabs the back of his shirt collar, yanking the entire piece of clothing off of his torso. I inhale sharply, admiring how each and evey muscle in his back and shoulders and chest flex and move accordingly to his movements.

"Hot." I breathe, my lips parted slightly. I blush, cursing myself for saying that out loud. He notices me staring and smirks. Without a word, he tosses his dripping wet shirt into the back of the car and pulls out of the theater parking lot.

The specific cinema had been showing reruns of some of my favorite movies. Josh took me to see The Sandlot, at my disposal, after a very long, indecisive conversation inside my head. It was hard to choose.

I could hardly focus on the film with Josh's hand on my thigh, rubbing circles against it with his thumb. My hands would begin to tremble, ball into fists, solely because I longed for more than just his hand on my thigh. I don't say that, however.

And now, as he sits beside me, eyes on the road as he drives to a location unknown to me, he places his hand on my thigh while he steers with the other. He squeezes it lightly, I exhale.

I'm not accustomed to the feeling it gives me. The pleasure is something absolutely foreign to my brain and my body, but I love it. I crave it in it's absence.

I want to thoroughly memorize every inch of his body, kiss him until my lips are swollen and bruised from his teeth sheathed around them. I want him bite my neck, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I want to sing him love songs and hold his hand, and I want to write about him, I want to tell the world about him because he is so, so unbelievably ethereal. I want to know him, I want to know his fears, his doubts, his aspirations, his goals. I want him to trust me, so much so that there's not a single thing he couldn't say. There is not a thing he could say, ever, that would change how completely and entirely and irrevocably gone I am for him.

"Dollface, you think too much." Josh says, removing his hand from my thigh, and instead, lacing my fingers with his. I sigh, smiling shyly, almost embarrassed at myself.

"I c-can't help it." I grasp my bottom lip between my teeth, glancing out the window at the trees and buildings merging together as we accelerate in speed. I examine the raindrops on the outside of the glass pane, looking for shapes strewn into the mess of precipitation.

"What's on your mind?" He wonders, looking over at me curiously as we approach a red light.

I shrug, "A whole lot."

"Enlighten me."

"I-I think about you... So much so that I'm reminded of you in the most simple things. I'm reminded of you when my eyes fall upon the color pink, or when hear the song Island In The Sun by Weezer, playing quietly through my car radio (lol) on my way to work. I think about the galaxies, the depth in your mocha-brown eyes, and the way your lips move against mine. It makes me feel so high. It's almost as if you're a drug, addicting, but then again you're not a drug because you have no negative affect on me whatsoever. I'd come crashing down from some sort of drug, but with you, no. No, the high never leaves. I think about things like oceans, how mind-blowing it is to imagine the ninety percent of the vast expanses of water us humans have yet to discover. And then I think of you again. How there's so much of you to discover, underneath your impression of being thoroughly uninteresting... So much for me to discover... I-I most likely sound utterly obsessed and overbearing, I'm sorry, but it's true." I accidentally bite through too much skin on the inside of my lip, tasting blood as it coats the surface of my tongue. Sometimes I cease to even notice my habits when they're taking place, and then as my cheek begins to burn from the wash of saliva, I curse myself for having said habits. I curse myself for pouring my heart out to Josh like an obsessed little girl.