No Strings Attached | ✔

XVI. Good Night

        Jonah pulls up at my house, parking in front of the porch. I unbuckle my seatbelt thinking I'd be alone as I travelled to my doorstep, but I hear Jonah's seatbelt click before I'm even close to pressing the button to my own. I look up at him and he simply smiles at me, pulling his key from the ignition and getting out of the car.

         I follow suit, making it to his side and walking to my door with him. Oddly enough, I actually felt a tinge of relief when I watched Jonah smile and get out of the vehicle. A part of me wanted to spend a little more time with him. Actually, cut that--all of me wanted to spend a little more time with him. And that, my friends, is a really bad thing.

        We stop in front of my door, looking from it to each other then back to it.

        "I . . . had fun." Jonah says suddenly, a small chuckle following. My heart slightly sinks at that. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the date too, but . . . The night hadn't started off so strong. Or rather, it had, but not in a good way.

        I sigh heavily and say, "Listen, Jonah, I'm sorry for mentioning the mafia earlier. I just--I don't know. I wanted t--"

        "Hey, don't apologize." Jonah interrupts me, his pretty blue eyes so soft and gentle with the shame and guilt in mine. His hand reaches my face and the pad of his thumb is caressing my cheekbone with so much care I melt into it instantaneously. "At least now we're closer, right?" He adds in a mumble, and I can only hum back until I'm pulled into a nice, tension-breaking kiss.

        At first it's just one smooch. But then it turns into another, and then another, all of them tired, emotional and lovely. When I pull away, I can't help the little smile tingling at the corner of my lips to see Jonah looking at me just as tired, just a softly as I him.

        "You know, I never told you this but . . . Your lips are very nice." I say, leaning off his touch and straightening my posture. He laughs a bit and removes his hand from my face, the warm breeze chilling my once delightfully cool face. "Yours are better." He tells me. I shake my head.

        "I don't use chapstick." I admit, smirking.

        "And yet they're softer than any of the other ones I've kissed before." Blondie counters. I laugh, not really knowing how to take the flirt. It's really nice, but I'm the flirter, not the flirtee.

        I also apparently used to be a top, but I guess that career is down the drain now thanks to this prick. Goodbye, masculinity.

        After a few moments of eyefucking, I clear my throat and turn to the door, smiling at it like it was Jonah who was the doorknob. I'm maybe suffering from a flustered panic though. Jonah's just-- Wow, he's--really . . . Good. A good man. Yeah. Good men are good men. I like me some good men. I like me a Jonah Clayton.

        Jonah coughs too, exchanging the same awkward grin as me. When I'm done fumbling with my own house keys and unlock the door, I turn back to Blondie and say breathlessly, "I should, uh--get going."

        "Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, right." Jonah nods, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets. Oh my god his face is so angelic I think I might puke. What the fuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!!!!

        "Well, I'll get going now. I'll see you soon." Jonah turns to his car, ready to leave, but I grab his arm and pull him back a step. He looks at me and I feel my cheeks flush, thinking of what to say. I just--don't want him to go. Not yet.

        "Don't go." I say softly, then a little louder I repeat the same phrase, "Don't go."

        He smiles and shakes my hand off his arm. I honestly thought he would shake his head and kiss me goodbye, but instead he took my hand as quickly as he shrugged it off, pushing the door open wider. "Come on. Let's get to bed."

        The word "let's" really sends a shiver through my spine. Let's go to bed; let's make love; let's be serious about us.

        It's funny. I've only known Jonah for about a week and I already want him moving into my place. Maybe it's because I'm just lonely. Or maybe he's a keeper, and I'm willing to commit. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

        We get inside the home and head to my room, silent conversations being shared as I dressed into more comfortable clothes and Jonah stripped himself of his shirt.

        I offered him a pair of shorts to wear, but he just said he'd sleep in his jeans. Really uncomfortable for him to do, but okay I guess.

        We lay in bed face-to-face, staring at each other in the relaxing silence. When the tiredness finally kicks in, Jonah asks, "Are there strings attached between us now?"

        I hum, half conscious. "Maybe yes, maybe no. What about you? Do you think there are strings attached between us?"

        Jonah hums back, probably mocking me. "Maybe yes, maybe no."

        Definitely mocking me.

        I roll my eyes, smiling lightly. He does the same. "Well then, Jonah Clayton," I say, "get back to me when you have a solid answer."

        Jonah's smile grows and I admire its beauty before he shifts to kiss my forehead. "Night, Finley."

        "Good night, Mr. Clayton."