Smoke And Steel

• Eleven - Whiskey Lips and Sunrise •

Ebony

As I stepped out into the warm night I could see a familiar figure standing in the drive way, surrounded by a cloud of spiced smoke. In the bright light of the moon I could see his hair was disheveled and there were large bags under his eyes. He looked like a wreck. I stood back, fearing that he was about to lose it despite his calm demeanor on the phone. I hugged my arms closer to my body, trying to not give away that I was really shaking.

"You look cold, Princess," he said as he blew a thin stream of smoke through pursed lips. His voice alone never failed to make my heart skip a beat; it was deep, and dark, and his accent made it ever more so sexy.

Stop admiring his voice! My subconscious snapped at me.

"No, I'm n-not cold," I said, cursing the nervous stutter.

"Why won't you meet my eyes, Princess?" He asked. I watched as he dropped the cigarette, grinding it under the sole of his boot before stepping forward and closing most of the distance between us. I continued picking at the loose thread on my borrowed shirt, hoping he would get to the point. "Someone might assume that you were, oh I don't know, nervous?" he had a wicked grin on his face, that told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was now close enough to touch, but I was standing my ground.

"Do I make you nervous, Princess?" he ran his hand along my arm. I felt as though his touch had left a trail of sparks, my eyes involuntary closing at his touch. "Do I make you want to abandon all coherent thoughts? Do I make your heart race? Does your skin tingle under my touch?" I felt his warm, alcohol-tainted tickled breath tickle my neck, revealing just how close he was to me.

At that moment the tiny shred of confidence that I'd been clutching at flew off into the night, waving the metaphorical panties that I'd just dropped.

As I felt his lips brush my jaw, my heart practically stopped. This was the closest I'd ever been to a boy, and my heart was practically leaping out of my chest. The rational part of me didn't want my first kiss to be at three am with a boy who smelt like a brewery and was still probably angry at me despite his actions now. But then there was the teenage girl part of me who was screaming LATCH ONTO HIS LIPS AND DON'T LET GO. I blushed at the thought.

"I love the effect I have on you, Princess, I can practically feel your pulse racing from here. I can see that you want me."

I forced myself to step back, breaking the spell. He made my thoughts muddy and clouded my judgment, I couldn't think rationally around him. I hated it.

"You said you wanted to talk," I said, my voice coming out all dreamy sounding. I had tried to fake a cool exterior, but obviously his steely gaze still had me in chains.

"Ah, yes. Talking always has to ruin everything," he sounded a bit annoyed, though not angry.

"I'm serious, Avery. If you don't actually want to talk then I'm going back up stairs to get more beauty sleep."

"You don't need any more of that," he said randomly.

"What?"

"Beauty sleep. You don't need it," the way he said it made me feel like I should've known what he was getting at but I truly didn't. "Never mind, come on." He took a step towards his motorcycle, obviously intending me to follow.

"No freaking way, José. I am not getting on that deathtrap with a drunk driver. I wouldn't get on it with a sober driver."

"She is not an 'it,' or a deathtrap, she is called Jennifer," he said, smiling at what was obviously a private joke.