Fish Eyes

23

I haven't heard from you, she typed with her long acrylics. The same tapping was audible as she repeatedly hit the "Delete" button and got rid of the message. With a hearty sigh, she threw her phone into her lap and put her head in her hands.

She knew she'd overstepped. From the times she invited herself into his studio, made him an accomplice to her skipping, and also made him an accomplice to her running away from home, this took the cake.

Lawrence had explicitly said, "We're friends." Dalia didn't know what in her brain warped that into "Kiss me."

She couldn't keep looking at him, not knowing how he smelled up close. How he tasted up close.

Her lips crashed against his with startling confidence. She hadn't done it before, and both of them knew, but anybody else would be confused. Well, there was Cole, but he didn't really count where it mattered. The only thing that gave her away was her arms standing still at her sides.

His hands came out of his pockets and snaked under her shirt. Her back was still wet from her hair.

She quivered and grabbed onto his arms in search of stability; if he hadn't grabbed her the way he did, her knees might have given out. Her arms moved with his as they tickled the skin under her panty waistband.

He pulled away first, snapping her back to reality.

"This feels wrong," she said, out breath. It was much too late for her to be realizing that. He was still holding her, and their bodies were still pressed together.

She took a step back and looked up at him, shyly. "Sorry." Her hair hid her face for her.

Lawrence reached up a hand to do something, but blinked and dropped it back down to his side.

To make a long story short, he didn't get his camera back.

"This was like two weeks ago. I know that I'm bad at break-ups, but you just might be worse than me," Wendy spun around in a Writer's Cave rolling chair.

Dean was there that time, which was new.

"So you mean to tell me, you just kissed the dude?" he asked.

"Yes, that's clear, Dean!" Dalia retorted.

"And he had a problem with that?" he snorted.

Wendy hit him in his gut. "I'm your girlfriend."

"Yes, Wendy, we know," he slid his hand around her neck and into her bra. "But if we're being completely objective here, that makes no logical sense."

"I was disrespectful," Dalia admitted. What she couldn't understand was how he reacted so quickly and fervently, only to pull away and give her the daunting look he did. "I just want him to know how sorry I am, for everything."

Julia spoke. "If he won't meet you in the center, maybe you should go right field."

On the bus, Dalia realized that was a baseball reference.

It wasn't her intention to confront Lawrence; that would hammer the nail in further than it needed to go. He hadn't responded to her messages since that day-- he clearly didn't want to talk.

She had his camera in her lap, along with a bouquet of roses. She didn't know if he liked those or not; they sure reminded her of him, though.

The time she'd spent with Lawrence's camera was not spent in vain. Lawrence's hand was powerful, so she convinced herself that her's was too. If he could make her feel beautiful, she could take something and learn from him.