Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 28

I clasped my hands behind my back and began to slowly waltz over to John, the man intently watching me with every step I took. I joined his side—facing out into the parking lot while he kept his back to it—and took in a deep breath, breathing in the warm, summer air that reminded me of our first night on the roof of our flat. I exhaled slowly and wrapped my hands around the stone railing, making a conscious effort to not return John's gaze that had fixated on my profile.

Eventually, he spun around and matched my stance, keeping the distance between our bodies but slowly inching his hand closer and closer to mine. I couldn't hold back the blush that surfaced in my cheeks as my hand became consumed by his, his long, calloused fingertips running across my knuckles.

"I'm nervous," I admitted, finally daring to meet his lustful gaze. John was the first and possibly only man I felt this way towards, and the thought of losing him—the thought of losing this—stirred my insides like my first ever gig did. I knew it could lead to something more, but if I were to mess things up for whatever reason, I knew I'd never live it down.

The bassist provided me with no verbal reply, rather, he shortened the distance between us and brought his hand up, his fingers caressing the side of my face as he turned it towards him. He brought our heads together, our foreheads touching and our lips so close that all we needed to eliminate the gap was a single breath. However, that breath would never come as I broke away from him, venturing over to the small garden the university had begun to harvest, my fingertips grazing the tops of the plants in an absentminded manner.

John peeled himself away from the roof's edge and trailed behind me, cautiously maintaining the space separating us and stopping abruptly when I did to comment, "This place is nice, John. A lot nicer than ours."

"I know," he replied, scanning the vast, empty rooftop that was only occupied by the two of us and the garden, "Brian was the one to tell me about it."

"Oh, did he now?" I teased, flashing a smile in his direction. He returned the gesture and joined my side as I stopped to get a closer look at one of the plants. While holding the flower in the palm of my hands, my eyes flickered over to the bassist, his hands in his pockets and his eyes locked on me in anticipation of my acknowledgement.

I said and did nothing for a while, allowing the silence that hung in the warm air to make its presence known before slowly turning towards him and burying my face in his shoulder, my lips pursing out ever so slightly to give him a soft, gentle kiss. I nuzzled my nose against the black fabric before finally meeting his brown eyes that twinkled in the moonlight, his lips parting to form an amused grin.

"You okay?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

I nodded my head and pinched my bottom lip underneath my front teeth, muttering, "Me okay."

I looked away from him and—for the second and last time that night—departed from his side, pacing around in a small circle before gravitating back towards him and falling into his chest. His arms wrapped around me, one hand snaking around the back of my neck and the other resting in the small of my back. I instantly melted into the embrace, nearly sinking to the floor before I reached up and slung my arms around his shoulders as if I was drowning in a body of water and he was the life preserver that had been thrown out for my rescue.

John and I held each other close, pressing our bodies together and creating a friction I'd been itching to feel all day. We reveled in the feeling—our heads placed in the crook of the other's neck as we took a second to appreciate the moment that both of us had been waiting for. Growing somewhat impatient with the tension that had quickly become irritating, I arched my spine and cocked my head back, tugging slightly at his hair before dragging my hands down to his cheeks, my body relaxing as I met John's aroused gaze.

He brought his hands up to the sides of my neck, his fingertips weaving themselves into my blonde locks. He leaned back, inviting a small amount of distance between us so that he could admire more of me, and whispered, "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, please," I replied with a quiet desperation I'd never experienced with anyone else. I leaned in, more than ready to accept his lips with mine, when he gently and tantalizingly pushed me back. I wanted to frown, I wanted to whine, but he didn't keep the act up long enough for me to, his impatience that matched mine becoming evident with the tug he gave to my shirt and the tender kiss he gifted me with shortly after, but only on the corner of my lips.

A kiss was a kiss, though, and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head as his lips traveled from the side of my mouth to my cheekbones, then to my forehead. An undeniable electricity surged between us, pushing us apart, but his hands cupped around my neck kept me close. The two of us stared into each other's eyes before John dove in again, dipping his head into the crook of my neck and planting a quick kiss on my skin. I wished he stayed there longer than he did, breaking away from our embrace and turning his back to me. I reached out for him as he spun back around, the two of us draping our arms around each other once again and eliminating the distance between us.

I lifted my legs up in an attempt to perch myself on his hips, but the move was unsuccessful—despite John's attempt to help pick me up off the ground. He and I ended up stumbling backwards, sharing a brief laugh as John balanced the both of us, his eyes scanning my body down and up.

"What are you doing?" I asked him with a grin.

"Nothing," he answered slyly, his hand coming up and tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. I leaned into the gesture, only for him to slip away again, wandering over to the opposite side of the roof and sitting down on a raised bed of grass contained in one of the many blocks scattered about the rooftop that had yet to be cultivated. John kicked off his shoes and swung his feet back and forth like a child, raising his hand and curling his index finger towards himself to draw me in.