Hey all! I came across this
No Kiss Blogfest just today, celebrating all the near kisses in the world. The idea just captured me and I wrote this scene today (Yes, today. All of it, today. Meaning: I haven't really edited it much. Sorry. Some of the pacing is not what I want, but that will have to be fixed at another time.) As it's due up by tomorrow and I have a date with the hubby tonight, yeah, this will have to do! :) The scene is technically in my newest WIP (work in progress - for those of you non-writerly peeps) so I wasn't sure I wanted to post it, but then I just couldn't help myself. :) I hope you enjoy! (for those of you interested, the scene came it at 1,390 words)
As I pick up the last discarded cup on the corner table I
glance out of the corner of my eye. Jake is cleaning off the coffee table. He’s
the only one left. We’re alone. Why was he still here? “Thanks for helping.” I
stand and smile at him.
“No problem.” He surveys the room, “You need it. I thought
this kind of mess only happened when there was actual drinking involved.”
I purse my lips. I don’t like the implication that he’s been
to those parties. Who am I kidding? I know he’s been to those parties, I just
don’t want it to be true. Deep breath. Keep
it light, “Nope. Kids are slobs with or without alcohol.” I pause and place
my hand over my chest and give him my most overly sympathetic face possible
with a dash of shock to get the point across, “I’m so sorry! Did you somehow
think we were perfect? I’m sure we dashed that preconception tonight. Now you
won’t ever want to hang out with us again!” I fake pout.
He gives me that half smile that sends tingles down my
spine. How does he do that? He’s all the way across the room! “I don’t know, I
suppose I can stand one more gathering…as long as you’re there.”
Um. Did he just say that? I think dumbfounded is the
appropriate term for what I am experiencing. Honestly, no words will form. He’s
standing there looking perfect and waiting for my reply. I open my mouth to say
something, but I have no response to that. He’s not… We’re not… I mean, we’re
friends. That’s it. I finally manage a lame, “I usually am,” before I turn to
drop the cups into the trash and proceed to the plates on the floor next to the
chairs. I can’t hear him. Is he still standing there, or did he start picking
up again? I strain my ears, but it’s hard to hear over the beating of my heart
doing double time through my veins.
Get a grip! I’m sure it was just harmless flirting. No big deal. I
take another deep breath and stand with my arms full, and he’s there – right in
front of me. I’m embarrassed that I inhale sharply and jump a little – maybe a
lot. He drops his armload into the trash and reaches out to steady me. His
hands on my arms do not steady me. Goosebumps spread from point of contact to,
well, everywhere. My mouth goes dry and I feel like I can’t get enough oxygen.
He’s a plate away from me and looking at me like, well, like he wants to – no,
that’s not possible. I must be reading him all wrong.
His eyes go from concerned to
soft and he smiles a real smile – one of those that spreads sunshine through my
veins and wraps the world in welcome. He lets go of me and takes the plates out
of my hands and drops them in the trash. Now there’s nothing in between us. He
takes a step forward, “I meant what I said, Brooke.”
He’s not actually touching me,
but I have never been more physically aware of anyone in my entire life. It’s
like I can feel him through the air. Like sound waves bounce around and you
hear them from across the room, he’s giving off some sort of vibration my body
is interpreting. I feel like I need to step back so my brain can start working
again, but I can’t seem to make my body do what I’m telling it to. “What do you
mean?” I manage to whisper. I can’t actually look him in the eyes, but looking
at his chest just makes me want to reach out and touch it. I can see his firm
muscles underneath the midnight blue t-shirt he’s wearing. It looks soft.
“Look at me.” I shake my head
slightly. I’m afraid. He lifts his hand to my chin and gently tilts it so that
I have no choice. Sure, I could refuse – I doubt he’d push hard – but my body
only seems to want to do what he wants rather than what I am telling it. His
finger is soft and warm, but I can feel the guitar callous on his fingertip. Where
is the oxygen in this room? And I am now way too warm. My eyes finally succumb to
the direction of my head and I find myself looking into his eyes. “That’s
better.” His eyes search my face and his thumb starts gently rubbing along my
jaw line. Fire and ice simultaneously blossom across my cheek and down my
spine.
I close my eyes to try to get myself under
control.
“No. Please. I want to see your
eyes.” He leans in and closes the distance between us to a millimeter (or at
least that’s how it feels). He cups my face in both his hands, his pinky
fingers tingling a particularly sensitive spot just behind my ears.
My mouth opens involuntarily and my
eyes fly open at the shock of it.
“Brooke. If I wasn’t clear before, I want to be very clear
now. You have hypnotized me. I think about you all the time. Your smile. The
crinkle in your eyes when you laugh. The way that piece of hair falls into your
face and you impatiently brush it back. Your thoughtfulness – about everything.
Your kindness to everyone you meet. The way you like to dance down the hall
instead of just walk. Your joy. You are infectious and I want to be near you
all the time.”
That’s not something I hear everyday. Okay, I’ve never heard
it. Ever. I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ seems trite. “Wow. I’d want to
hang out with me to.” Is what I manage to say. Nice.
Jake threw his head back and laughed. I watched his neck
muscles contract and that adam’s apple thing moving and I just wanted to lean
in and see how it felt against my lips. Whoa. “You see!” He continued,
startling me out of the impulse, “You never say what I expect! How can I make
this more plain? Go out with me, Brooke. I want you to be my girlfriend.”
Again, that’s never happened to me before either. Well,
assuming you don’t count the check yes or no note I had passed to me in social
studies in fourth grade. Boys just don’t go around asking me out. I wasn’t
prepared. “Um,” is all I manage, which is pretty impressive considering the
circumstances. He leans closer and I can feel the heat of his breathing against
my face. He smells of peppermint mixed with his musky cologne. It’s intoxicating.
I close my eyes and just breathe it in.
“That wasn’t an answer.” I can hear the smile behind his
words, let alone feel the movement of his lips just across the void.
“I’m not allowed to date yet,” came out of its own accord.
That isn’t what I wanted to say, but it’s true nonetheless.
“Hmmm.” His hand moves from my cheek to cradle the back of
my head and the other hand traces fingertips down my neck and arm, sending
chills and making my legs feel like jelly, to finally grasp my hand. “I suppose
we can wait a couple months to make it official.” He leans in closer and my
heart is about to explode out of my chest when the front door opens. We jump
apart.
My parents are home. They’re laughing as they come through
the door, then their eyes rest on us and they both go silent. They just stand
there staring. I must have the most surprised/guilty face ever seen on anyone.
I clear my throat, “Welcome home. We were just, um, cleaning up. How was the
show?” I smile a frightened little unsure smile and my dad purses his lips and
swallows.
“We had a great time.” He looks around now, “Looks like you
did to.” He turns back to Jake, “Thanks for your help, but we can take it from
here.” He holds the door open for him and raises his eyebrows.
“Yes, Sir.” Jake mumbles as he nods his head. He glances at
me for a moment before walking out the door.
