Under the Bridge

chapter forty two- "we don't talk about country music"

"WAIT, SO HARRY DOESN'T LIKE HERMOINE?" Liam says, besmirching my favorite franchise. Right now, we're watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and I'm sitting on his lap with his arms wrapped around my waist and mine around a bowl full of candy mixed with popcorn. 

I look up and sigh. "Liam, please don't make me hit you." I say. "We were doing so well up until this point." 

He laughs and pulls me closer to him. "Babe, if you wanted to hit me, I wouldn't mind. I won't kinkshame." He whispers into my ear. I know he's kidding, but it doesn't keep me from blushing and trying to jump away, only to be held onto even tighter. 

"You're the absolute worst." I grumble, feeling his lips slightly graze my neck. Are we doing this now? Because I don't really mind. I have the lines in this movie memorized. 

"You're cute when you blush." He says, placing his lips up at the top of my jaw. "In fact, you're cute all the time." He mutters, setting another wet kiss lower on my neck, breath making it feel cool, which causes me to shiver. I can feel the smile in his voice. "Do you want to pause the movie and do this instead?" 

I nod, looking up to see a playful smirk dance on his lips. In a second, the television is silent and I've turned around and straddled his waist, feeling him kiss me deeply and passionately as I ran my fingers through his smooth hair. It's become a regular occurrence for the two of us to make out now, and to be honest, there's really no way I can get sick of it.  Every time, our hands get a little lower or a little higher, and our lips get a little more swollen and a little more addicted to the tastes of each other. 

To be honest, as any addict, I wanted more. It wasn't like I had some Catholic girl's perception of  virginity or sex, but I couldn't articulate anything about any sort of sensitive subject without clamming up and feeling like I was going to die. 

So instead, I'm waiting for Liam to say or do something, but I think he's afraid of hurting or offending me. It's moments like this where I feel jealous. Even if I was confident, girls aren't supposed to have sex drives. We aren't supposed to talk about what we want. It's situations like this where I wish I was my mother. 

It also makes me feel inferior. Liam is always the one to break away, to control the situation, yet he doesn't ever really go any farther than need be. Am I so much worse than anyone else he's been with that he doesn't want to sleep with me? Has he already caught on to the fact that he deserves so much better than me? 

This time, I pull my lips from his and loosen my arms from around his neck setting them on his chest. "Liam." I whisper, brushing my thumb back and forth on his shoulder. His muscles are hard under my fingers, like he's made of steel. "What was it about Andrea that you liked so much?" I ask, the words escaping before I knew I said them. 

His expression drops a little. He bites his lip in thought, before the word comes out brashly and surprisingly. "Convenience." 

I suspected as much, but before he could say anything else, I ask another question. "Then what is it you like about me?" I ask, softly. 

A gentle smile shifts onto his face, the kind that can only appear naturally, without force, as it's more the crinkles at the eyes than the curve of the lips. "Olivia, are you asking me for Shakespeare?" He says, with a laugh. 

I look down, feeling guilty for what I asked. "Liam." I say his name, mostly just to taste the syllables on my lips. "I don't know why someone as amazing as you would stoop so low as to date a stupid, anxious, girl like me." 

Liam moves his hand to my cheek. "Don't say things like that. Ever. Do you know why I feel what I feel for you? Because I don't know why I do. I don't know why your hair looks like the fucking rays of the sun or why every time you smile I feel like I'm going to drown in happiness because a girl as beautiful as you has acknowledged my existence. When you talk, I can't stop listening because of how much I love your voice. Babe, you're so much more than you give yourself credit for." 

I feel a single tear trickle down my cheek. "I didn't ask for Shakespeare." I sniffle, feeling his arms pull me into a hug. 

"What caused all of this?" He asks, softly. 

I bite my lip. "I don't know." I answer, maybe true, maybe false. I didn't really know where any of my feelings truly manifested themselves from anyways. 

He sets a kiss on my forehead, the kind that lingers all throughout my body and makes it feel like he's kissed every part of me.

"What do you want for your birthday?" He asks, changing the topic of conversation to something more pleasant. I'm really grateful for that. 

I shrug. "You don't have to get me anything." I tell him, truthfully. The gifts he got me for Christmas were spectacular. The simple necklace has been on my body since the day I received it, and the mixtape has been on my desk, saved for a rainy day. 

Liam shakes his head slightly. "Babe, if I neglected to get you a birthday gift, I'd probably be the worst boyfriend on the planet." 

I realize that I'm holding onto the fabric of his thin shirt, that my hands are on his shoulders, and that in this position, my legs are wrapped around our torso. Whatever comment about him being better than Edward Cullen or something was shoved aside in my mind, because I realized exactly how close we were. 

How had I been unfazed like this while kissing him? 

Heat of the moment, I guess. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, running his fingers under the hem of my shirt ever-so-slightly, cool skin making me blush, but also feeling calming, in a way. 

"Yeah, fine. Don't you have to get going to your show?" I dodge the question and look up at the clock. The Earthworm Activists have a concert in a few hours, and Liam and the band have a pregame practice. 

I'm taking Hope today, which is probably a bad idea. When I told her about the band, she asked what genre they were. I told her they were an indie punk band and she said: I love punk! Paramore is one of my favorites!

I'm not sure if this is going to be her scene, but I do know that I'm happy she's going to be in attendance. Watching Liam perform is an amazing feeling, but I hate being alone in the crowd. I'm just praying that everything will go well. According to Liam, this show is a lot less indie and a lot more punk than most of their concerts. 

I don't mind punk music, in fact, I like it a lot. I'll listen to any genre so long as it's well done. (Except for country, we don't talk about country music.) My fear is that it's really not Hope's sort of music, and it's not really the kind of scene either of us can deal with. 

"I should be going, but I'd rather sit here with you." He says, dipping his head down and kissing my cheek. 

I roll my eyes and shove him gently. "Get going. I'll see you in a couple hours." 

so some of you have commented on a sex scene, and i want to clear the air. this book isn't going to have hardcore smut. 

there's gonna be some steamy parts though ;)

of course, it's not going to go completely out of character. there's nothing more annoying to me than when the character who is a complete virgin is like a sex beast and they have perfect, marvelous intercourse and they both have a night straight out of 50 shades of grey. 

there will be no daddy kink, either. 

the first of these scenes is pretty short and in chapter forty six. half of it is jokes. don't worry if you're twelve. 

also if you're twelve, that's weird. i don't even remember being twelve. i was head deep in my emo phase and i'd like to have it all erased. 

back then, MCR was still together, too. 

i also wrote very bad poetry.