Poles Apart

Chapter Seventeen

I pull away from Arjun first, gasping for breath. Though I'm aware of my hands around Arjun's neck and his hands around my waist, I only concentrate on bringing my breathing back to normal.

Kissing Arjun is as good as getting drunk; I have no idea what happens when I do either.

He leans his forehead against mine, causing our breath to mingle. I don't move, afraid the slightest moment would cause our lips to meet and send my senses into overdrive.

Arjun's large calloused hands cover my cheeks, rubbing soothing circles onto them. I feel the mental exhaustion coming down on me. My closed eyes help conceal the wetness. I'm not breaking down, not now.

"I'm sorry," I let out, regaining my senses.

"For what exactly?" My eyes snap open at his loftily addressed question. I move back, letting my hands slip down to his strong shoulders, and a little further down, just about his chest, and try to push him away.

Perhaps the physical strength is too weak; maybe my emotions rule my physical capacities also. Arjun stays put where he is.

"For myself."

He takes my hands within his own, fitting his fingers into the grooves between mine. His warm hands spread warmth across my cold ones.

He looks into my eyes, all playfulness lost. "I'm not," he says sincerely.

I shake my head. He doesn't have to be sorry for delivering the truth. "You don't have to be."

Arjun doesn't say anything in turn. He looks at me, searching for something in my face. His gaze makes me want to hide in the crook of his neck. The urge startles me.

I look down at my lap, willing the urge to go away. "It's creepy to stare." I meant to taunt him, tease him at best, but my voice comes out in a low whisper.

"Aw," he coos. "Am I making you nervous, tomato?" I lift my eyes just enough to see the smirk on Arjun's face before I look away, resisting the urge to press my lips against his, once again.

As if the nickname had invoked the tomato in me, the blood rushes to my face. I didn't think I'd ever say such a thing, but I missed that nickname; the teeniest bit.

Arjun chuckles, caressing the back of my hand in circles with his thumb. I look up to catch the smile on his face before it turns into the infuriating smirk he always seems to wear.

I look away when his eyebrows raise, a knowing smile on his face. "It's creepy to stare," I defend myself.

"So you are nervous?" he implores, playing with our interlinked hands.

"I'm not," I insist, still not looking at him. Why is Arjun such a nerve-wrecking creature?

"It's rude not to look at the person you're talking to," he teaches like the mannered human he is. I can only wonder where all his manners go at all other times.

I look up at Arjun, trying to appear confident. "I am not nervous," I repeat, hoping to have established it, fully aware of the white lies slipping my mouth. Well, it should count for at least half the truth? I'm not only nervous, but I'm also comforted. No?

Arjun's presence how much ever annoying, teasing, and vexing it is, it's also strangely comforting. He smiles before faintly kissing my cheek. His stubble brushed against my cheek, causing a tingling sensation across my skin. "Good for us, then," he whispers in my ear, his lips seemingly touching my ear lobe, but also not.

Goosebumps spread across my skin. I let out a silent gasp. I look down, resisting the urge to hug him. Kissing Arjun is one thing, and relying on him for emotional reassurance, another.