Ambition

Chapter 11

Harry

My breath is tight, catching in my throat as my face awaits inches from hers. She smells wonderfully, like vanilla, and the scent is heavenly.

"Rosalie..." I whisper, testing the courage of my voice. I carefully raises my hand towards her face, silently asking her permission to stroke the soft curvature of her cheeks with my fingertips. She blinks softly, her long black eyelashes fluttering against her cream skin, and I greedily take that a granted permission. Her skin feels incomparably smooth against my fingers and I sweep them up her cheek and down the soft angle of her chin, "the great thing about being gray," I continue,  "is you get to find your own way of becoming rich that's all your own."

She stared at me, her hazel eye locked by my own gaze. I could practically hear my own blood pounding in my chest, and silently prayed she was unaware of the way my hand shook ever so slightly against her face. Her gaze shifted as she stared at the different aspects of my face: my eyes, my hair, my nose, my lips. The way she hesitated at my mouth made me realize we were both wanting the same thing, needing the same thing.

I gripped her face with my other hand, closing the small space between us- crushing my lips to hers. She tasted heavenly- like fire. My insides were burning at her touch. She slid her hands to rest on my chest, spreading the flames as she went. She stifled a small groan as I swept my tongue along her lush bottom lip and my body craved for things in a way I didn't understand.

But the best part of all was that she was kissing back, and it felt so unexplainably filling to be so wanted. I released her face and began to pull back against my body's complaints, wanting to make sure this was okay, that she was okay. She pulled back too, but took her hands from my chest and rested them along the sides of my neck. She gently pulled me closer to her, barley grazing her lips along mine before releasing me.

My heartbeat was still racing in my neck where her hands had been; the feeling left me tingling with alertness. Here in the empty forest, I felt more alive than any memory I can remember having back in England.

We just stared at each other for a moment, not saying anything. I don't think my lips could have formed words even if they had wanted to. My thoughts were hazy, clearing slowly with each pulsing second.

"Was that okay?" Rosalie questioned softly. Her expression seemed nervous, like she was contemplating if her kiss had been what, unmemorable?

"It was very okay," I tell her, "the best first kiss I've ever had."

"Will there be a second?" she asks, her voice barely audible through the gusts of wind breaking over the trees and making them shiver.

"Even if you didn't want one," I tease. I can't help the giant smirk that grows across my face at the sight of her unease. She obviously doesn't do this much, I think, and the thought is alleviating.  

She slides herself off the swing, gripping my hand lightly as we walk to where we left our shoes over by the other side of the pond. I don't miss the small smile she casts downward at the ground when I do not protest.

The Sunday afternoon is beginning to sink through the trees as we slides into our shoes. "Do you swim?" she asks suddenly.

"Of course," I reply instantly, wondering if she was indicating she wanted to swim here. Now. But as she leads our way towards the hill we had ascended from it is clear she has other intentions.

"We could come swim here sometime," she tells me.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" I can't help but be forward about this. It feels like my entire body is suddenly aware that the time I had remaining with her tonight was dwindling with the sun.

"Oh-" she starts, "I have classes until eleven forty-five, but after that I'm okay." Her hazel eyes are downcast onto the thick grass, avoiding my gaze.

I sulked, remember that I had classes of my own tomorrow. "Mine end at eleven," I say. "Maybe I can pick you up?"

"That would be nice," Rosalie says agreeing, "Which campus are you at?"

"Brookhaven," I respond, "But they're all online credits- so I'll just go to a library, not the actual campus." The education structure in this country was a lot different than in England- the main difference that had really mattered to me was that it usually took an extra year to complete. Ever since we mood from England, my mother has been pushing me to enrol in classes here rather than wait till I was old enough to move back home and continue courses on my own.

"I'm at DCC," she says, "There's a couple libraries around there I think." I laugh lightly, our situation was humoring. We were both prancing around the idea of seeing more of each other without either one of us indicating it directly.

"I'll pick you up and we can go together," I suggest- trying not to pussyfoot around something that both of us wanted, but were too shy to say, "What time?"

We'd been walking the entire conversation and were just reaching the edge of the long fence line. The sky had turned a dark indigo and a few stars were peeping through a light layer of clouds that cast over the night. We both climbed over easily, and walked the short distance to the car before driving away.

"Seven thirty," she explained, "I'll meet you outside the bookstore."

"You know," I start, "I really don't mind picking you up from your home." I was trying not to sound so desperate and creepy, but there was a part of me that really wanted to know where she lived. A house is capable of explaining the people inside it sometimes better than they can explain themselves.

Rosalie ignores the offer, giving me simpler- less sudden directions as we pull onto the highway. "Where exactly am I taking you?" I question, wondering if perhaps she lived far closer to town than I had envisioned her living.

"The bookstore," she remarks, much to my surprise. "I'll have someone pick me up there."

I nod slowly, contemplating in my head if this someone was another guy... She hadn't indicated she was seeing anyone when she admitted that I was the only one she'd ever brought to the pond, but that didn't mean I was the only guy in her life. The others just weren't special enough to have experienced what I had, and the thought gave me some reassurance to whoever it was, it was just a friend.

I turn on the radio to an oldies rock station, allowing the cab to be filled with the gentle hum of the music and we traveled towards the glaring center of the city. A few popular songs came on that we'd both been familiar with, and we'd sung along softly. The sight of this beautiful girl, a girl I'd just met, singing in a slightly embarrassing tone in my car was more than I could handle. Everything about her was so different, so unexpected. I loved how she thought about things in a way I hadn't- forming her views as if they were full of accuracy instead of opinion. She looked so carefree now in comparison to the first time I had met here, so at ease by the simple pleasure of a Sunday night spent with a guy who was practically a stranger to her. It almost worried me how much trust she had already invested with so little knowledge.

We pulled alongside the curb of the street and I felt a small groan developing in my throat as I realized she had to go. You will see here tomorrow, I reassure myself, she isn't going anywhere. Rosalie didn't say a word- not even a goodbye. She just reached across, filling the small gap between our seats as she kissed my cheek and left, disappearing into the double doors of the store.

I was internally screaming at myself to follower her in and insist to drive her home, but I couldn't. I didn't want to suffocate her in all this desire. So instead, I turned down the street and drove home, thinking the whole way how I was never going to let this girl out of my grasp. I would never give her an excuse to leave me.