Random

Looking at Her

I was looking at her; sitting on my bed, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in her hand; the cold snow fell with soft sounds as it hit the ground and the whisper of the cold morning air hitting the windows, they were the only sounds we could hear. She was wearing my blue hoodie and the soft fabric was pulled past her fingertips. She was reading a book, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration. She looked beautiful. She always looked the most beautiful when she wasn't trying to be. And I could tell her a million times that she was beautiful, but she wouldn't believe me but if she saw herself in my eyes she wouldn't feel so insecure. I could look at her all day. She looked up at me probably feeling my gaze on her. And then she smiled. Her heart-stopping smile. And I swear when she smiles the sun shines brighter and the stars twinkle a little louder. She moved closer to me on the foot of the bed with her legs crossed, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She lifted her hand trailing her warm fingers, despite the menacing cold outside, across my cheek. She always touched me so gently, as if I was precious, special. As if she loved me. But I knew that would never happen because she was incredible, and I was just me. So, all I could do was wrap my arms around her neck and close the distance between us. All I could do was kiss her a little harder, a little more desperately, and enjoy it while it lasts.

The space between us-or the lack of it rather- was making me nervous. I pulled back to look at her. Really look at her. I looked at her brown eyes that were speckled with gold. I looked at her sun-kissed skin and the freckles that dotted her face. Looking like constellations on her pale skin. I looked at her plumped lips from kissing that was pulled up to a sweet, soft smile. A smile that made me want to kiss her all over again. So, I did. A moan left her mouth, vibrating from the back of her throat, as I bit down on her bottom lip, the sound spurring me on. I detached my lips from hers trailing soft kisses down the nape of her neck, down to her collarbone. She gasped as I brushed my lips right at the base of her neck and I bit down gently on that spot and then she pulled my head back up and attached her lips back on mine, kissing me so fiercely as if she was frustrated that I had stopped kissing her for such a long time. And I kissed her back just as fiercely as I tried to calm the rapid pulse beating a too fast rhythm against my skin. And at that moment, a fleeting thought passed in my head that she might actually love me.

And now I was looking at her as she leaned against the grey lookers of our school. She was still wearing my blue hoodie. She said she wanted to cause it smelled like me. She was sporting a purple bruise on her neck-courtesy to me-and she looked beautiful. People were having a conversation around me, but the sound of their voices hazed in my head as I just looked at her. She was mine. And the revelation of it made my heart beat a little faster and my head start spinning. She looked up at me, a lingering smile dancing on her lips. Her eyes glinted with amusement as she realized I had been looking at her. She walked to me and entwined our hands together. Nobody batted an eye. Cause nobody cared. Because we were just another couple to them, despite how different we looked from most.

We were in her room now. Her light purple walls covered in posters of Lana Del Ray. She was lying on her bed, me on top of her as I kissed her slowly. She was half relaxing underneath me. I felt as she smiled against my lips. I pulled back slightly to look at her eyes, they were sparkling with something I couldn't distinguish. 'Why are you smiling?' I asked. 'Because you make me happy.'

I remember the first time I had looked at her. It was at a party. The house was fairly big. Paintings surrounding the walls. It was beautifully furnished if you didn't count the red solo cups that scattered the floor and the sea of sweaty, alcohol-infused bodies moving in and out like waves dancing to the rhythm of the song blowing through the speakers. She was wearing a black V-neck top with straps and a tight light pink skirt with white converse. Her sandy brown hair was curled at the ends. I suddenly felt self-conscious in my light pink cropped hoodie and ripped boyfriend jeans. She held my gaze so intensely that I couldn't look away, my heartbeat mingled with the sound of the roaring music. She walked up to me and asked if I wanted to dance. So, we did. And with my hoodie stained with the smell of nicotine and alcohol rushing through my veins, I felt like I could do anything. Even kiss her, fairly certain I would forget about it in the morning. But I should have known I would never forget. No matter how many solo cups I threw onto the dance floor and clouds of smoke I created. Because the feeling of her body pressed against mine and our lips moving together was a feeling I knew I would never forget. She tasted of cheap beer and nicotine and night-time and I couldn't get enough. So, we continued dancing, our hot breaths mixed together and music blasting in our ears while other people danced around us, some dancing alone others, body pressed together just like us, but I felt like we were the only ones. And I knew, right there, as she kissed me hard over and over again, that I had found something special.