Don't Pull The Trigger
- Reads 207
- Votes 38
- Parts 12
What do you do when your high school Senior prank goes horribly wrong and puts you and your best friends entire future in jeopardy? How could a simple prank turn into being accused of murder?
An old friend decides to tag along on your escape. He pulls you through the hardest parts of the journey being your shoulder to cry on, and overall support system.
**
I grabbed his hand, and I shook my head, debating whether to burden him with my ignorance. "I don't think we will make it, James." forcing back the tears swelling in my eyes.
He pulled me into a sincere hug, muffling my tears into his already damp shirt I whimpered, "Why did this happen to us James, what else will happen to us?"
He rubbed his hand thoughtfully on my back, "Shh.. no matter what happens we will make it together."
I wiped my eyes somewhat embarrassed at my outburst. "I-I'm sorry.."
He wiped the remaining tears out of my eyes. "Don't be."
For a moment time froze looking into his beautiful eyes. All these years I had known him I fought my feelings for him because he was an inmate, yet now I didn't see any difference in him and I both so broken yet so strong. I was pulled from my thoughts when a strand of hair fell onto his forehead. I fought the urge to push it out of his face.
"Like what you see?" He teased, clearly noticing my daze. I'm certain my face went as red as blood. I quickly removed my gaze from his gorgeous face and into my lap.
He smirked, "I didn't hear you." Lightly grasping my chin forcing me to look at him.
I giggled, relaxing into a soft smile. "No," I teased. "I want more." breaking into fits of laughter this time.
hand intertwining our fingers. "Thanks for being there for me."
"I always will be." He whispered.
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"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked at last, his voice deep enough to crawl right under it. I shook my head. "No." Something in his expression sharpened-approval, maybe. "Good." He didn't come to me right away. He took his time, pushing off the door with deliberate slowness, each step closing the distance in steady increments. I didn't move. Couldn't. My back found the wall before he'd even touched me. He stopped just short-close enough for the heat of him to seep through the small space between us. His scent hit me first-smoke, whiskey, and something clean that didn't fit the chaos of the party outside. His head tilted slightly, studying my mouth, then my eyes, then my mouth again. His hand lifted-not to grab, not yet. Just to trace. The backs of his fingers skimmed my jaw, slow enough that I could feel every millimeter of skin they passed over. They trailed down the side of my neck, pausing in the hollow of my throat, not pressing-just resting there. "You've got that look," he murmured. "What look?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "Like you want me to ruin you." I should've laughed. Teased. Something. Instead, I held his gaze. "Maybe I do." The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but something hungrier. Still, he didn't touch me the way I wanted him to. Instead, his knuckles dragged down my collarbone, over the bare skin just above my dress, grazing the swell of my breast without claiming it. "You sure you can handle forgetting?" he asked, his voice lower now, as if we weren't already breathing the same air. "Try me," I said. That broke something in him. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones, holding me still as his eyes searched mine like he was committing the color of them to memory. Then-finally-he kissed me.
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