Making It (On Hold Indefinitely)

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It was odd, sitting on my bed, cross legged as I lightly brushed the tip of the pencil against the paper. For months and I hadn't picked up a pen or a pencil, nor had I sat down and drew something. For a second I didn't know how to hold the pencil anymore, it took me a good thirty seconds to find a way the pencil felt nice in my hand. I had started with his jaw, erasing it five times before settling and moving upwards. I  tried my hand at free drawing a, not so, rough sketch.

My lingering gaze on him must've woken him up because soon his eyes—

"Hellooo.." I flinch as a pillow comes in contact with my arm. Dropping my hand and rolling my tongue over my lower lip to rid the feel of the pen pressing against my flesh. Slowly I turn my head away from my laptop to look at the culprit. Brooklyn looks highly annoyed as she waits for a response to a question I never heard. "Are you packed for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow. . . what's tomorrow?

My gaze drifts over to my computer screen, the cursor blinking patiently at me.

"You know, I'm surprised you still have a boyfriend. You've been so absorbed into you're writing and work all summer, you forgot we were heading up for the weekend to see the boys." Brooke tsks, shaking her head as she stands up from her spot next to me on the couch. Her words click instantly and I'm sure it shows on my face as I mentally smack myself in the forehead.

"I completely forgot. My editor has been up my ass. . ." Pulling my laptop screen down I close the computer and set it in Brooklyn's spot. I knew there was something I was meaning to do. "I'll go pack right now." Hopping up from my spot on the couch,  I tug on Taylor's shirt and march my way to my room, more like slide across the hardwood floor in my calf high socks.

Tucking my hair behind my ear I drop to my knees to grab my canvas bag out from beneath my bed. Dusting it off I stand back and throw it amongst the messy surface of my bed. As I'm digging around in my dresser my phone rings from the messiness. Huffing I hop my way over and flounce into the fluffiness. I notice right away that it's Taylor and smile as I answer his video call.

My heart flutters as his lips slowly stretch into a smile, his teeth jut barely grazing over the metal ring stuck in his lip as he bit down on the flesh.

"I always forget how sexy you are." He mutters after a few seconds, settling back against the headboard. I roll my eyes and shuffle out of my bed, still clutching my phone in my hand.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Taylor-tot." Walking back towards my dresser I set my phone against my mirror to prop him up. It doesn't take him long to realize that I'm wearing his shirt.

"I thought I was missing a shirt." He runs his fingers through his lengthened hair and a part of me feels a bit jealous. I then remind myself by this time tomorrow I'll be able to do the same. The longer strands look dark and inviting. I want nothing more than to run my fingers through them and the prospect of doing it in 24 short hours sent my stomach knotting in excitement. 

"What this?" I hold out the shirt from the hem of the fabric, looking down at it's eccentric design and dusty brown color. When I look back up at my phone Taylor's nodding his head and slowly running his tongue over his lip. The ball and bar trapped between the flesh of his tongue sticks out just a bit further as his lip pushes against the piercing. The hungry look in his eye is unmistakeable, it sends an electric spark across my body.

"What are you doing, Princess?" Once again he shifts his position and I have to stop myself from saying that I was packing. Instead I shrug my shoulders and continue looking for outfits for the next two days.