Fingertips | ✓

one

Every damn time you walked into the room my heart stopped for just a second.

I had tamed my heart whenever you weren't around, told myself stories about how we were perfect as friends and anything more was going to ruin what we shared. Our companionship was special. We were close, perhaps closer than friends should be and yet I could never really cross the line.

But when you were around I had no control over my heart. It beat fondly to the melody of your words. When you weren't in my presence I tried to convince myself how I wasn't in love with you, how this was just a phase and that our friendship was not worth risking for your love.

What if I lost you all together?

I don't think I could have survived without you.

You had never shown any interest. I'd never risk our friendship for a kiss, for one night with you.

But then, that night you came with your heart broken and your breath stale from all the alcohol you had chosen to drown yourself in. I couldn't do anything but invite you in when you showed up at my flat, drunk and looking like you were at your lowest.

I helped you onto the couch. I asked you what happened after I had gotten you a glass of water. Your hand went straight for the wine bottle that sat on my coffee table on top of a coaster. I had been indulging in a couple of glasses but I was not as tipsy as you were.

You were piss drunk.

I took the wine bottle from you and went to the kitchen, storing it away and and when I returned I found you sprawled across the couch, quietly calling out my name.

"Bradley," I started, walking towards you, "why are you whispering?"

"Shh," you managed to get out when I got close enough. "Don't scream, Kareena."

"I'm not screaming, sweetheart," I laughed, nudging my hip against your abdomen. You shifted back against the couch and I sat in the small space you provided. My back was pressed to your hard abdomen.

I felt your fingers brush my elbow then and I smiled at you as you smiled up at me. I tried to ignore the buzzing feeling that came over me at your simple touch. I tried to ignore the way my skin tinged. I tried to convince myself that the ache to feel your skin against mine was not real.

When you were not around it was easier to push sinful thoughts out of my head but when you were within the same room as I, when you were within close proximity as you were now, I could not control my heart.

My mind betrayed my heart. My own body seemed to be betraying me.

"I broke it off with Cheryl," you said. "She was getting too fucking clingy."

I laughed, honestly relieved that you had decided to end it with her. I never liked her but perhaps my opinion of her was biased. Either way, I was glad you had gotten rid of her.

"Didn't you complain that your last girlfriend before Cheryl was not clingy enough?" I laughed, trying to create a bubble of humour around us.

The truth was that I was thinking about your touch, those kissable lips. I was dreaming in the dark, quite literally since the hallway light was the only light that was on and the soft light from the hallway shone partly into the living room through the arched doorway.

"Well actually, Cheryl broke up with me because apparently I got too clingy," you chuckled darkly, your laugh void of any humour.

You sat up, one leg still behind my body and one hanging off the edge of the couch, so it was like I was between your legs. My thoughts couldn't stay innocent longer, not that they were innocent to begin with.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to my temple. I tried to control my breathing but with your hot breath tingling the side of my face, warming my neck, I found it almost impossible to breathe.

Your fingers were playing a dangerous game on my arm. They started out in a slow dance just above my elbow, slowly dancing their way upwards till they reached the thin strap of my tank top.

I was dressed in what I felt most comfortable in. It was almost time for bed and I had indulged myself in a little wine. It made me feel relaxed but with your fingers dancing on my skin I suddenly felt buzzed.

"Bradley," I breathed, my voice so soft and high pitched. I found it difficult to breathe. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know, Curry," you whispered, smiling sideways at me. I found that nickname ridiculous. You had once said when drunk that a shorter name for me would be Karee since Kareena was a mouthful for you. Then you went on to say that Karee sounded an awful lot like Curry and you thought it was fitting because I was Indian. I could have brushed you off then, or told you off for saying something as ridiculous as that. But I couldn't because I liked you then. Now I loved you and I'd do anything to make you keep smiling the same way you were smiling at me.

Your face was close to mine, your body invaded my own personal space and with your body so close to mine I could practically feel the heat waves emanate from your body and kiss at my open skin.

Your fingers travelled the rest of the way and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I seemed to have been paralysed, the sudden pleasure taking me by surprise. Yours fingers finally managed to make their way to my chin before they gripped it hard and directed my gaze towards you.

We'd never gone this far.

"Curry," you whispered again, your forehead resting on my temple as your hot, stale breath kissed my cheek and tingled the skin at the nape of my neck.

My head automatically turned, my cheek now touching yours. The seconds seemed to flit by in an agonising pace and the more I felt your breath touch delicately at my skin, the more aware I was of the close proximity between our bodies, and the less I was able to control myself.

In one single tilt of the head, my lips met yours.