Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 7

I swallowed the lump in my throat, the room instantly growing warmer even though I was dressed only in a pair of old pajama pants, the bottoms frayed and barely reaching my ankles. "I told you," I forced myself to answer, fidgeting with my hands in an attempt to find a comfortable place to put them before deciding to rest them on my hips, "I can't sleep."

"What's keeping you up?" he mumbled as he scratched his crotch through the floral, silk robe he'd thrown on—most likely unbeknownst to Freddie that he'd borrowed it—and shuffled over to the square dining table we had, pulling one of the chairs out and plopping down in it, spreading his legs outward a bit to get comfortable. He turned his head and met my gaze with half-opened eyes, anticipating my response.

I ran a shaky hand through my messy blonde hair and replied, "Uh, I-I'd rather not talk about it, John. Why don't you just go back to sleep?"

I prayed that he would take the rather blatant hint that I wanted to be left alone, but his judgment must have been just as impaired as mine was this late at night, because he shook his head in refusal. I heaved a sigh of defeat and took the seat across from him, clasping my hands together and setting them atop the table. "My mind's just a bit restless, that's all."

"Thinking about what happened today?" John guessed, dropping his jaw and letting out a yawn he tried to disguise behind the back of his hand. I tilted my head down, unable to bring myself to meet his tired but interested gaze, fearing that I would lose it if I did. "You know, you're not the only one who felt it," he confessed softly, his eyes boring into me as he waited for my response that he knew wasn't going to come. He shifted awkwardly in his seat and continued, "It's all I could think about since we left the beach."

"Same here," I admitted sheepishly, restraining myself to those two words alone as I began to tap my fingers on the linoleum tabletop, the sound carrying through the silence that had been cast over the flat when the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

The steady rhythm my fingers had taken on and the hum of the refrigerator hung heavily over us like a blanket, filling the gap in the conversation that we weren't sure was going to continue or not. Neither of us would meet each other's gaze, or rather, I wouldn't meet his, knowing full well that if I did, I'd have to face the truth. I'd have to admit to my feelings; I'd have to explain them, make them real. I wasn't ready for that. What if it ruined everything I...everything we'd been working towards?

I snapped back into reality when the sound of the legs of John's chair scraping against the floor hit my ears, bringing my attention up from my lap and seeing that he'd risen from his seat and was now standing over me, just like he was at the beach—except this time it wasn't the sun masking most of his features, it was the shadows. He reached his hand out and slipped it underneath my jawline, a comforting warmth transferring from his skin to mine as his thumb swept across my cheek and his bottom lip got caught underneath his front teeth. I stared up at him, waiting for him to say something, or do something. I had no preference, believing either response would provide me at least some kind of solace.

Impatience drove me weary, and as John dwelled on the conflict raging inside of him, the less control I had over myself. Anticipation quickly got the best of me, causing me to jump up from the seat—unintentionally ripping John's hand away from my cheek—and crashing my lips into his. The kiss was sloppy and unprepared, but well received, John hesitating for only a second before eliminating the distance between the two of us. The moment was short in actuality but felt much longer as time slowed down and the world around us melted away.

John suddenly pulled away to catch his breath, our inflating and deflating chests mirroring one another's and his eyes staring down at my still parted lips. Desperate to regain the feeling the kiss had incited, I leaned back in—only to be stopped by John's hand moving up to my bare chest, sticky with sweat. I stumbled back, my eyebrows knitting together as he retracted his hand to his side, but not before his fingers trailed down my skin, his nails creating faint, white lines as they lightly grazed the surface. We both looked up and, without a saying a word to one another, knew we'd done something we'd never come back from. Whether that something was for the better or worse, I couldn't tell quite yet.

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head to the side, staring at the floor as the bassist brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck. After pure silence had fallen over the flat once more, the refrigerator going quiet and my hands tucked underneath my arms, John chuckled slightly. I shot him an angry glare that he didn't seem to notice as he shook his head and whispered, "That was..."

"A mistake?" I attempted to finish his sentence, regret and guilt starting to build up inside of me as I wondered how we were going to move on from this.

"No," he objected quite confidently, finally meeting my glare and almost instantly dissolving it as he explained, "It was actually quite incredible."

I scoffed and sat back down in the chair, resting my elbows on the table and putting my head in my hands. "You're just saying that because you're tired," I tried to convince him and me, "You probably won't even remember this when you wake up."

"Well I guess we'll see if that's true later, now, won't we?" he countered teasingly, punching me playfully in the arm as he brushed past me and back to our shared bedroom. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder, wishing he would turn around and come back to me, enveloping me in his arms and satiating my growing desire for him. A spark of hope ignited inside of me as I watched him glance back, catching a quick glimpse of me before sinking into our room and closing the door behind him with a soft click.

I sat there anxiously—my leg shaking incessantly and my heart pounding against my chest as if it was about to make its grand escape—before I punched the table and jumped up from my seat, rushing into the bedroom after him to find that he'd been waiting for me, standing in the center of the room; in between our two beds. Without saying another word, we met halfway and embraced one another, our lips coming in contact for the second time that night. The two of us stumbled over each other's feet as we moved ourselves to one of our beds, falling back on it together; all without letting go.