Chasing Blue

#22: Unwritten Chemistry.

Present

Isabella

His lips feel soft but hungry. They move on mine fervently. His hand tugs my waist until I'm glued to his chest. His other hand holds the wall behind me for support. The more he deepens our kiss, the more his hand pulls me closer to him. My hands carelessly rest on his chest. His lips are an obscurely captivating spell that is putting me in trance. His kiss melts all my anger, all my sadness, all my breaking. It's the most underrated way of healing. 

How does he know how to do this so well? How does he know the pace and the firmness and the road to make me want this more and more? Despite how pissed off I am with him, I want to take out all my frustration by kissing him until neither of us feels our lips anymore. 

But I suddenly remember what happened today. I recall how he'd left me alone when he'd promised me he wouldn't. I push his chest away and my hand slaps his cheek, lightly, but it's out of sheer agony. 

He takes a step back, grazing his cheek with the tips of his finger. He slowly looks up at me from the ground. I mirror his appalled expression because I can't believe I slapped him too. My lips miss his and I'm even angrier that he's so far away. 

I don't understand my own emotions. My actions don't match my feelings and my feelings don't match my words. It's all a confusing spiral. In a fraction of a second, it dawns on me that my craving for his lips is more than my fury so I pull his white shirt from under his black jacket towards me until his lips are back on mine. 

I grip his shirt tighter inside my palms and I push him to the wall space beside me. He looks puzzled when his back hits the wall. He gasps for air as I turn around and cage him between the wall and me, still clasping his shirt in one of my palms. 

"I am so mad at you," I say clenching my teeth. 

He slowly nods, because I continue kissing him immediately. I feel his body lean against the wall. His hands grip my waist and he pulls me to him. I let go of his shirt and swirl my hands around his neck, pulling his face lower and deeper into my lips. 

"I know," he mutters on my lips. 

I groan, grasping his hair. When I tug it, he moans against my lips. He lowers himself and he lifts me up, turning us around and pushing me back to the wall. When my legs touch the ground his lips leave mine. His hands take support of the wall behind me from either of my sides. He leans against my forehead and I notice how we're both matching our breathing paces. He closes his eyes and pushes himself off the wall and takes a step away from me. 

"I know I have a lot of explaining to do," he says closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. "But I just couldn't control myself when I saw you." 

I was gasping and nodding too. I exactly knew what he meant by 'couldn't control' because I couldn't either. "What does this mean, Austin? Why are we doing this?"

"Okay," he says more to himself as he stares at my shoes. "There's no way of sugarcoating this, so I'm just going to explain myself but I have a request before that." 

He looks up into my eyes and I impassively rivet at him. His eyes fall to my lips and he instantly shuts his eyes looking away. He casually holds his waist and takes another step back. I know he's controlling himself so much not to end up kissing me again, but this makes me want to kiss him more. 

"Anything," I tell him. 

His eyes meet mine again. He licks his lips and folds them, framing the request in his head. "I need a clean slate, for the next thirty minutes." 

I lour at him. "I don't understand." 

He takes in a sharp breath and his hands fall down from his waist. "For the next 30 minutes, I want you to forget that we're best friends. I need a clean slate to say the things I want to say."