Jessie looks at me, haunted. For what seems like an eternity. I notice he is closer than before, our noses almost touching, his hand holding my neck. He leans in a little more. I subconsciously do the same. His breath is warm against my face, minty. He smells good, inviting, like a predator, drawing in their prey. I close my eyes without thinking about it and tilt my head.
When his hand leaves my neck, I get taken out of the haze and open my eyes.
He smirks and leans back.
My breathing is shallow, but somehow, after composing myself I say, "that was anticlimactic."
He raises his eyebrow, "I can do it again if you want."
"What? Invade my personal space and force me to share oxygen with you?" Nice one Lizzy.
"Get you all excited that I'm about to kiss you to prove you want me," he corrects me.
It takes me a second to think of what to say next, "news flash Jessie, not everyone wants to kiss you."
"I know... Mostly just you," he answers.
"Give me a break, I wouldn't kiss you if it were that, or walk barefoot through hell."
"I don't think you'd be that upset about it," he says stepping closer to me again.
*****
"We aren't anything but friends," is what I told everyone. But it wasn't true. Not for me anyways. There was so much emotion building up in me every single day, whether it was hate, irritation or affection, it was stronger than anything else I had ever experienced. But what else can you expect when your day is crammed with Jessie Overstreet.
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