*Chapter Notes*
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Chapter 5
The kiss lasts merely a moment. Brian gives me the smallest of pecks before disconnecting our lips.
"I dare you to give me a proper kiss." My voice is unintendedly laced with want and desire.
It's really hard to read him. His breathing is heavier than usual, I can see his chest going up and down at an uneven pace. His eyes seem to have trouble focusing on anything in specific, they frantically move from my lips to my eyes, to an empty spot behind me that may or may not have the answer to his confusion.
He shakes his head slightly. "It's my turn," he says in a raspy tone.
"Fuck that game. I want you to kiss me. I want you to fuck me, for that matter, but I can settle for a kiss right now."
As if a bucket of cold water had fallen on his head, he seems to be instantly taken out of our sensual trance by my words. Very easily he pretty much lifts me by the arms and places me, once again, on the seat next to him.
"Okay, now, like, really, why is that?"
"Why is what?" I ask, confused.
"Yeah, I mean, like, you are always saying how much you wanna fuck me, or whatever, why?" The look on his face is pretty much as lost as mine, I'm sure. It's almost as if the question is dawning down on him as he's pronouncing it.
I'm still not sure if he's being serious but I still prefer to take the easy way out. "Oh, Momma, if you are fishing for compliments..."
"No," he interrupts me. "It's not like that."
"Nonono. I'm more than willing to make them rain on you, darling," I assure him.
There is a small sigh, an indicator that he's not really in the mood to deal with this. He is the one that opened the topic, though. I was doing just fine with the stupid game we had started. There was no need for him to turn it into something real. Yet, if he really wants to, we can totally talk about it. I've said it many times, I'm not one to lie. I will always have a straight answer for any straight question. It's just taking me a minute to figure out if he's really trying to get a truthful explanation from me, or if this is just his bad mood making his words come out in a mix of emotions.
"Ugh. Fine." I can virtually see the wheels in his head spinning, trying to come up with the ideal group of words, strung in the correct order, to express what he's needing to know. "Like, you have been umm around a lot..."
"Yeah, I'm a slut, continue."
He looks at me with his head tilted to the side, knowing the clarification was not necessary.
"I've said it before: you are very fluid with your sexuality. Like, it's not hard to turn you on..."
"But once it gets hard..." One more time, my mouth gets a life of its own and starts spitting bad jokes without my permission.
That's it for him. He gets up, throwing his arms in the air. "You know what, never mind. It's impossible to talk to you."
I stand on the couch, stepping on cushions, trying to catch up with him. Only by standing on the armrest is that I manage to get a hold of his arm to stop him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just very confused. My mind doesn't work properly when I don't know what's going on. Please, please, continue."
It takes a moment but he turns to me. I look down at him, maybe for the first time ever, pretty much begging him to sit back down. And he does.
"Are you really attracted to me?"
"Yes."
Finally, a straight question, deserving of the straight answer I promised.
"But, are you still now? Or is it a joke that has been going on for too long?"
Now, that is something that I hadn't thought about. By this point I am so used to the idea of having to mascarade my feelings for him, throwing jokes and dirty innuendos on top of them, that now I have no idea what are the real feelings, what are funny one liners, and whatever is in between.
Apparently, I'm taking too long to respond because he runs a hand across his forehead. "You know, you just called yourself a slut. I feel, like, umm, you are always so willing to have sex, no matter the person, I feel like I can't take your, umm, invitations seriously."
"Oh, they are serious, Momma," I assure him. "Okay, yeah, maybe, yeah, there may be some kind of joke-like, double meaning sentences, but between the whole 'funny-haha' it's a big: I will totally do it if you are down for it. In a way, yeah, I have a tendency to cling onto what I can't have, and you completely desexuaized me since the first moment we met. You put me in this friend concept where I..."
"I did not, did not, friend-zone you. Never."
His interruption is not welcomed, not when it's a lie.
"Oh, girl, come on."
"I'm serious! There was a part of me that never thought you would take me seriously. You always talk about guys being, like, disposable. That's not what I want. We have completely different ideas of what a relationship is. We could never work, so I never even went down that road."
As much sense as his explanation can make, there are just so many things in there that are not true.
"First of all, I thought it was all about fucking, I didn't know we were talking about actual relationships. But, I guess, that's the main premise of your whole argument. You want a house and a husband and all that shitty love story, I don't. I don't believe in love, at least not in that way. I have no issues telling you that I had a very profound sexual attraction for you. I can say straight to your face that I have jacked off to mental images of you, many a-times, darling. But have never, not once, pictured ourselves, thirty years from now, holding hands, sitting in a porch, watching kids play."
"You would probably be throwing rocks at them." Now that is an interruption I can get behind! The sensitive topic is put aside, even if it's just for half a second, as we laugh wholeheartedly.
One of my many voices takes over as I support this new fantasy. "Get off my lawn, you mother fuckers."
He submerges himself in thought for a moment before landing back in the reality of the latent subject. "So you are still attracted to me?"
My answer comes out without hesitation. "Oh, yeah."
"If I tell you right here, right now, let's do it; would you?"
"One hundred percent." As honest as I can be, I also need to know his side of this whole ordeal. "Are you asking, though?"
